Pirates! Prepare to Board

In Germany, state elections are coming up in Schleswig-Holstein on May 6, 2012, and in North Rhine-Westphalia one week later. For two reasons, these elections are called Schicksalswahlen (Does not any election determine the fate or future of politicians or governments?):

Will Red-Green* (for the color-coding of Germany's political parties, read my earlier blog) majorities seize power in those States and thereby secure a majority in the Bundesrat (Germany's Senate), delivering a decisive blow to Angela Merkel's Black-Yellow Federal Government?

Will the (Orange) Pirates replace the Free Democrats (Yellow) as the new liberal force in those state parliaments?

Cover of  Der Spiegel No 17

The Pirates are the result of a post-democratic movement where particularly young people are fed up with the aging caste of politicians and their entanglement in financial and/or sexual affairs. In fact, the traditional liberal topics of freedom of the press, voting rights for women, and free trade are no longer anything to write about, whereas freedom of the net with urgent questions like how much YouTube, Twitter, and Facebook people need polarizes the modern world. Still learning the political trade, the Pirates were already elected into the state parliaments of Berlin and the Saar. With the wind in their sails, they boom and thrive, Avanti Dilettanti, as Der Spiegel titled a week ago. They demand free internet and free public transport for everybody. With their request, the young Pirates honor some Ur-German heritage. 

Many old people over here still expect free services, while for citizens in the States, it is natural that all services used must be paid for. The Pirates' first demand may be financially feasible, and the second is utopian.

With intentions to vote Orange at up to 10%, the established political parties are irritated, notably the Green Party, which the younger generation had been in love with up to now. Desperately but somehow maladroitly, the established political parties try to climb on the bandwagon or, rather, board the pirate ship. 

A good example is Bavaria's Ministerpräsident (governor) Horst Seehofer, an avowed Christian politician who fathered an illegitimate child in Berlin while away from his family in Munich. He wants to beat the Pirates at their own game by inviting his friends on Facebook to a party at a noble disco in Munich. Somehow, Horst must have misunderstood the Pirates' quest for liquid democracy when he offered the first drink free. Will one drink be sufficient to convince the party-goers to vote for Bavaria's Christian party?

Practicing liquid democracy in Bavaria (Photo FAZ)

Marina Weisband (Photo Wikipedia)

Presently, the Pirates hold their party convention way up north in Neumünster, Schleswig-Holstein. The party's secretary, Marina Weisband, urged the assembled deputies: "Lasst uns einen geilen Vorstand wählen" ("Let us elect an awesome party committee" or do you think her demand should be translated differently?).

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Bach Forever

Johann Sebastian Bach was born in Eisenach in 1685. Following his education and stays in Lüneburg, Weimar, Arnstadt, Mühlhausen, and again Weimar, he was offered the position of Konzertmeister at the court of the Duke of Saxony-Weimar in 1714. In Weimar, his sons Friedeman and Philipp Emanuel were born.

A memorial tablet with a grammatical mistake (wurde instead of wurden)
stands at the site of Bach's first home in Weimar.
Now, the tablet decorates the wall of the Elephant's parking lot.

Later, Bach was held in custody at the duke's court for a while before he was allowed to leave for Köthen in November 1717, taking up an assignment as Kapellmeister at the court of Anhalt-Köthen. Already in May of the same year, Bach had signed the contract without the consent of his previous ruler. 

Was Bach's "imprisonment" the reason it took such a long time before Weimar, the city of writers and thinkers, erected a monument in honor of the musical genius? Forget it; nowadays, any reason is a good reason to hold a Bach festival in Thuringia, the man known to many of us as Thomaskantor in Leipzig, Saxony.

Bach's bust in Weimar was cast in 1950, but was posted at the present location
between the marketplace and Anna Amalia Bibliothek only in 1995

Three of the major opening events of the Thüringer Bachwochen concerned the Reformation and Music. Since they were scheduled in Eisenach, our group took a coach that drove us from Weimar through blooming landscapes (what former chancellor Kohl had promised in 1989 to East German voters) on newly built first-class roads - those you will only find in the east of Germany.

 We arrived at the Bachhaus in the midst of demonstrators demanding that the state government of Thuringia continue subsidizing the Eisenach theater and, in particular, spend an additional 2 million euros to fill this year's financial gap. The supporting words Luther had once said during one of his famous table talks were written on a banner: Fürsten und Herren müssen die Musik erhalten, denn großen Potentaten gebühren die guten freien Künste zu erhalten. Und da gleich einzelne Privat-Leute Lust dazu haben, können sie die nicht erhalten.

In school, my teachers taught me that when you use a citation, you must quote literally. So here we go again: Könige, Fürsten und Herrn müssen die Musicam erhalten; denn großen Potentaten und Regenten gebühret, uber guten freien Künsten und Gesetzen zu halten. Und da gleich einzelne, gemeine und Privat-Leute Lust dazu haben und sie lieben, und doch können sie die nicht erhalten.

Protest banner in front of Bach's monument in Eisenach

Only to translate its gist: Luther meant that the taxpayer should finance cultural activities since private subsidizing is not always guaranteed. Is Luther a socialist? One of Germany's richness is the variety of its cultural heritage, the legacy of those small territories formed after the Peace of Westphalia. All those wannabe rulers wanted to show off their own orchestra and theater. Nowadays, their heritage is a nightmare for all public coffers.

Kitsch as kitsch can:
Bach's head illuminated the discussion panel.

Before we were allowed to listen to music, we had to participate in a panel discussion and sing in an ecumenical service. The panel at the Bachhaus, with two specialized professors, the musical director of the Festival, and the Landesbischöfin of the Lutheran Church of Thuringia, discussed Luther's influence on Bach's music. The 500th anniversary of Luther's posting of the ninety-five theses loomed on the horizon. The region where the reformer dwelt is preparing for the 2017 commemoration: In the beginning, was the Word.

1517-2017: 500 years of Reformation: Im Anfang war das Wort

I must admit that many of the wise ideas about Luther and Bach presented in the expert discussion escaped my brain, for my mind was concentrated on an early remark the bishop had made in her introduction. 

She had claimed that the church's wheeling and dealing with the authorities had fortunately ended in 1919 with the toppling of the princes following the 2nd Reich's defeat in World War I. Sorry, but this was not just a makeshift. It had always been a two-fisted community of throne and altar wholly united in the formation of obedient subjects.

Later in the public discussion, my query concerning the bishop's remark was one of only two from the audience: I claimed that the pact between the throne and the altar did not end in 1919. It is sufficient to mention the formation of the Lutheran Reichskirche in 1932 and the Konkordat that the Reich signed with the Holy See in 1933 during the Nazi period. Even nowadays, the influence of the two Churches on German society is still significant, while the number of churchgoers is declining.

Later in the afternoon, our group participated in an ecumenical service at the St. Georgenkirche jointly celebrated by the already-known lady bishop and the Catholic (male, what else?) suffragan bishop of Erfurt. It was Palm Sunday, and I enjoyed singing old hymns familiar to both Catholics and Protestants. We also listened to Bach's Praeludium BWV 244 in h-minor, during the service to his cantata Tritt auf die Glaubensbahn (Step on the path of faith) BWV 152, and to the Fugue BWV 244 in h-minor as a postlude.

St. Georgenkirche in Eisenach

The highlight of the day, or rather the evening, was Bach's Passion, according to St. Matthew BWV 244, performed by the Scottish Dunedin Consort under the direction of John Butt again at Eisenach's St. Georgenkirche.

The orchestra was assembled, and I waited for the choir to appear. Eventually, only a dozen soloists stood before the musicians, completing the whole setup. This small company sang solo and chorus parts, thus interpreting Bach's music with an unheard dynamic. The singers seamlessly continued without the usual pause between solo and chorus. We listened for three hours with only one short interruption. Although some of my body parts started to ache, Bach's wondrous music filled our hearts to the end: Wir setzen uns mit Tränen nieder (With tears of grief, dear Lord, we leave Thee).

Many regard this final chorus to be the apotheosis of Bach's work. Yet, my particular favorite is a weeping violin in concert with an alto: Erbarme Dich mein Gott, um meiner Zähren willen! Schaue hier, Herz und Auge weint vor dir bitterlich. (Have mercy, Lord, on me, regard my bitter weeping, look at my heart and eyes both weep to Thee bitterly.)

Note: I found the pieces of music on YouTube where the final choir and the soprano aria are not interpreted by the Dunedin Consort.

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Thuringian Food

Those who read my blogs know I eat local food wherever I go. This, quite naturally, is lobster in Boston and Speckscholle or Labskaus in Hamburg.

Considering regional food and drink a cultural heritage, I stuck to the habit during my recent trip to Thuringia, where I attended the Thüringer Bachwochen. The evening before our group set out for Bach's birthplace, Eisenach, we had dinner at Zum Schwarzen Bären (the Black Bear), Weimar's oldest inn adjacent to the Elephant Hotel.

Our tour guide had chosen the traditional Thüringer Sauerbraten mit Rotkohl und Thüringer Kartoffelklößen (served with red cabbage and potato dumplings).

The quality of a Sauerbraten depends solely on the quality of the meat and the duration of marination. Sauerbraten is known throughout Germany, but important regional differences exist in the preparation. In the Rhineland, e.g., they add raisins to the gravy.

The next day in Eisenach, we had nearly no carnal but an overabundance of spiritual food. This meant that the following day, back in Weimar, I could tolerate a Thüringer Bratwurst on the market for lunch and a complete meal in the evening.

Traveler, whenever you come to Weimar. Do not forget to taste a Thüringer Bratwurst on Weimar's marketplace at Bianka's wurst stand. You will no longer eat a Thüringer in other parts of Germany.

The Thüringer in Weimar is prepared on a charcoal grill and

Bianka serves it on her hand in a bun: simply delicious!

In the evening, I went to the Scharfe Ecke (Sharp Corner) restaurant, where the Kloß-Marie (Dumpling-Mary) greets you at the entrance.

Two of the items on the menu caught my attention. So I opened with a local onion soup (quite different from the one they serve in France), garnished with Thuringian micro-dumplings and plum mustard ...

... and continued with a Thüringer Rostbrätel (a marinated cutlet of pig neck, grilled over charcoal) served with roasted onions and (what else?) a dumpling.

I downed the food with two glasses of Köstritzer Schwarzbier vom Fass. Köstritzer is a local lager running from the tap in most places in Weimar. You may have noticed that I stuck to it during my stay.

Above is the photo of what you get when you order a large beer in the north of Germany, i.e., above the Main river line. You can barely read on the pictured glass containing only 0.4 l of Schwarzbier: Nach dem deutschen Reinheitsgebot, Köstritzer Schwarzbier (According to the German Beer Purity Law - it was initially Bavarian – Dark [black] lager from Köstritz).

The beer of only 0.4 l served in northern Germany is what Southerners call a Preußenhalbe, for when you order a small beer in southern Germany, you already get eine Halbe, i.e., half a liter or 0.5 l.

A similar situation arises for wine. When you order a Viertele in the south, you logically get 0.25 l. However, when you order ein Viertel Wein in the north of Germany, you get only 0.2 l, a Preußen-Viertele as we call it in Baden.

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Weimar's Elephant Hotel

The Elephant Hotel on April 1, 2012.
The rose building in the back is the famous Anna-Amalia-Bibliothek

While attending the opening concerts of Thuringia's Bachwochen 2012, my group stayed in Weimar in the Hotel Elephant, a truly historic place.

Duke Wilhelm Ernst of Saxony issued a concession to Christian Andreas Barrtig.

In 1696, the duke's cupbearer, Christian Andreas Barrtig, got a concession for an inn bordering Weimar's market square that he named The Elephant. Later, it became a stagecoach station and was enlarged to house all the merchants and visitors. When somebody asked at the city gate for Wieland, Herder, or Goethe in those days, he was directed to the Elephant because people were sure they would be found there. 

In 1938, Thomas Mann made the hotel famous when it played a central role in his novel, "Lotte in Weimar." Charlotte Buff had been one of young Goethe's sweethearts. Still, she had married another guy. Deceived, and in a dark mood, Goethe wrote his bestseller, The Sorrows of Young Werther -- a (still) famous/infamous book that brought early renown to Goethe. Mann takes Lotte's visit to Weimar and her stay in the Elephant in 1816, where she met the aging Goethe, as the starting point for his novel.

An early photo of the Elephant around 1860.
On the right, Weimar's oldest inn: Zum schwarzen Bären from 1540.

In the 1920s, the Elephant became the headquarters of the local Nazi party that, as early as 1926, had two ministers in Thuringia's state government. The same year, the NSDAP held its first national party convention in Weimar when Hitler spoke from a window to the crowd in front of the hotel.

Peeping through a window of the Haus Elephant,
the NSDAP boss is greeting the crowd in the marketplace

During the coming years, the hotel looked rundown. With the pressure of the Nazis, who had governed the state of Thuringia since 1932 and had taken power in the Reich in 1933, the old, unattractive building was torn down and replaced by the present construction in 1938.

The newly built Haus Elephant is a national-socialist shrine

The most important addition to the new building was a balcony meant for der Führer to address the people in the marketplace. In the following years, self-proclaimed Nazi dignitaries used it more than he did.

New Year's Eve dinner 1943 at the Elephant.
Note: The courses have low and rounded prices but require precious food ration card coupons.

Today's interior still breathes Nazi architecture, a strange mixture of neo-realism and cold splendor, with marble door frames and metallic, luminous elements.

Entrance to a set of rooms

Following the Wende (the end of the German division), a new splendor
with illustrious guests and their interpreter

Nowadays, the balcony is crowned by Goethe's dictum: "Here I am, Man, here I may live up to it," the final line of the poem Osterspaziergang (Easter Walk), taken from his drama Faust. The Führer's balcony now serves as a place for cultural displays. During my last visit, Thomas Mann stood up there. Star architect Walter Gropius and femme fatale Alma Mahler-Gropius-Werfel decorate the balcony this year.

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Beer Tasting

During the past week, Toni's place on Freiburg's Münsterplatz celebrated its 10th anniversary. On the occasion, the Ganter brewery had revived a dark lager as the jubilee beer, and Ganter's beer sommelier organized a tasting. My loyal readers may remember my wine marathon last year. This time the stuff to be tasted and tested was beer.

We must face it: the variety of beers brewed in Germany does not correspond to the number of ways bread is baked and sold in my country. You may already have guessed why: the reason is the German Reinheitsgebot, the famous purity regulation first issued in Bavaria (where else?) in 1516, stipulating that only barley malt, hops, and water may be used in the production of beer. However, in olden times beer tasted different even when brewed at the same brewery, as the founding fathers had forgotten to codify the yeast. Only later, when beer fermentation had been fully understood, special yeasts for brewing were cultivated and added to subsequent charges assuring a similar taste. Although in Germany, adding cherry syrup or caramel as they do in Belgium is not allowed, there are still differences in the taste of beer depending on the type of yeast, the temperature, the length of fermentation, and the method and duration of storage before drinking.

The following photo shows the three beers we, as future experts, had first to describe and then identify. No, I am not, and I was not drunk: I counted four glasses too. The fourth glass, still full in the photo, was offered as a bonus after hard work and contains the jubilee dark lager beer.

Sommelier Bernd Ruth told us that beer tasting (also called beer sensory) is distinct from wine tasting. 80% of our impression of beer taste is determined by the sense of smell, whereas only 20% passes through the sense of taste. With wine, it is just the other way around. On a tasting form (Verkostungsbogen), we had to note the color, the clearness, the foam, and the smell of the brew. As for the taste when drinking, the connoisseur distinguishes between the beginning (Antrunk), the presence (Rezenz, whatever that means in German), and the past (Nachtrunk). This word in everyday German instead refers to the practice of some hit-and-run drivers. Following a collision, they rush home, open a bottle, and drink until the police arrive to prove that they had been sober when they caused the accident.

The first of the tasted beers was quickly identified as a Pils. For the second, I had difficulty recognizing it as a Weizenbier (white beer), for it had been served much too warm. The third one, showing the brown color, I got wrong, for I had marked it as the jubilee dark lager beer. It was, however, the Ganter Wodan strong beer that, contrary to Bavaria, where such a brew is served during the Lenten season, flows from the tap in Freiburg throughout the year.

The following beers were all on the house, but I did not stay on as the following morning, I had to catch an early train taking me to my next cultural event in Weimar.

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