Weeks 7: Schinkenknochen
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A little tired of tapas and seduced by Ryanair’s spectacularly low prices (thank you Schengen), I launched myself over a few borders to Cologne in the state of North Rhineland-Westphalia in Germany to see the land of my forebears and connect with friends at Saint Peter’s Prep’s longtime cultural exchange partners, Clara Fey Gymnasium.
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Almost immediately I sensed Cologne was going to be my kind of place. I could feel it in my blood, in the timber framed houses and the clinking of tall glasses of kolsch, the sweet smell of kraut and the hissing of the crispy, garlicky skin of a roasted pork knuckle fresh from the stove, the cobbled streets branching out in every direction from Cologne’s imposing Cathedral lined with charming little shops and pubs, the endless rolling mountains of ochre and burnt orange in the Eifel, the rough sound of spoken German seemingly generated from the body rather than the nose that reminded me of my late grandfather, Charlie (Chuck) Reiser.
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I was happy to add a few new friends to a growing list: Rosie Schutt-Gerands (Principal of Clara Fey) and Marcel Meyer (History Teacher at Clara Fey). In part I have Jim DeAngelo to thank for putting me in touch with his long-time friend Rosie who proved an excellent host during my visit to Clara Fey which coincidental was putting on an Open House that same Saturday morning. Afterwards Marcel and I took a ride to Vogelsang, a former Nazi training ground now all but bones for visitors to walk through.
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Sunday morning mass at Cologne’s Cathedral was unforgettable. I had next to no idea what was being said. (I can now imagine what an illiterate peasant’s experience learning scripture through portrayals on stained glass with choirs delivering the pulse of the divine from the loft). Despite my limitations, the chants from the all-boys choir enlivened my prayer and brought my thoughts to my family back at home. For a brief moment in the pew after the conclusion of the liturgy I started hearing a faint call from home in my heart, a whisper of longing to be back in my parents' living room with the dog sleeping beside me. The approach of Thanksgiving perhaps induced the whims.
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Yet as quickly as my spirit started to falter, I was on my feet and pressing on. The world was waiting for me.
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Me and Rosie at Lunch!!!
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Schinkenknochen and Kraut...Mmmm!
