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Oderbrücke, Frankfurt (Oder) / Słubice, Germany / Poland

Bridges on Sundays comes to you from a place today that brings the Bridge as my symbol of connection between cultures to quite a literal level.

Oderbrücke, Frankfurt / Oder - Slubice, Germany - PolandThis photo was taken out of the train on Oderbrücke that connects Frankfurt / Oder in Germany with Świecko (Słubice) in Poland. The river Oder has only marked a border since 1945. Before, both sides of the river were German. After World War II Germany lost its Eastern territories, namely Silesia and Eastern Prussia, to Poland, while Poland lost large parts of Galicia, the Wilna and Nowogrodek areas to the Soviet Union. This map might make it clearer. In 1949 the Odra became the official border between the newly founded German Democratic Republic and the Polish People’s Republic. The Federal Republic of Germany didn‘t recognize this border officially until 1970 when Willy Brandt was chancellor. He had brought on a political course of rapproachment with the East. It was perceived as scandalous back then. Federal Germans felt that Brandt was giving up on land that was actually theirs to re-obtain one day. Thankfully those times are largely behind us, and hardly any German wants these territories back, but resentments die hard, and there is still mistrust between Poles and Germans when it comes to this, especially in older generations.

I only visited Frankfurt and Słubice for the first time last May and walked across a different bridge then that is open for cars and pedestrians. I remember feeling elated. There was no border control. There were no fences or gates or barriers. There was, simply spoken, just free access between the two countries. I thought “Schengen”, thought “European Union”, but this meant so much more than politics. It meant bridging the gap between two countries and removing all obstacles for people to come together and work through the hardships that history has burdened them with.

If you have read My Mission statement, you know why I love bridges. To me they are the most universal symbol of connection, of bringing people together and overcoming anything that may seperate us. I want to present to you pictures of bridges that I really love in places that I really love on my blog every Sunday. If you have a picture of a bridge that you would like to share with my readers as a guest post, feel free to contact me!

Thinking of Kraków…

Dieser Post basiert auf diesem deutschen Originalpost.
My first visit to Poland was when I was 8. The second visit of this place that I would come to love so truly didn’t happen until 13 years later. I had been learning Polish for two years and was excited and curious for this country that I had but a dim and distant memory of. After all, I had decided to make it part of my life by studying its language, culture and, above all, its literature. I signed up for a four week language course in Kraków.
Krakow Panorama, Poland
Back then, one rather chilly day in early March, I got off the bus from the airport at the main station just by the Planty, a green belt, a little park that encircles the old town. Looking up to a grey sky and breathing in Polish air for the first time as an adult, I was full of anticipation and a giddy nervousness, as though I was going on a first date. The church towers led the way, and I walked towards them in the direction I supposed the old town’s center to be in. I walked down Floriańska Street towards the Rynek, the main square. I didn’t know that Floriańska was a famous street. I didn’t know it led to the Rynek. My legs carried me on as if they knew they way, as if they’d walked it a hundred times. A feeling, nay, a certainty came over me that I had been here before. There was music everywhere. Pictures flashed in front of my inner eye, pictures of heavy red velvet curtains that I would see at Cafe Singer in the Jewish quarter Kazimierz later during my stay. My soul seemed to recognize the city from a former life. Until today I feel sure that this first visit to Kraków wasn’t actually the first. Instead, I was coming home in many strange, yet very natural and sensible ways.
Sukiennice
When people ask me today why I love Kraków, this experience is really the only answer I have for them. To be quite honest I don’t understand the question. Kraków was the first city I ever really fell in love with. I have been there many times since, and every visit just makes my love for it grow.
A collage of memories:
Sitting bei Wisła (Vistula) River, just below Wawel, which is the castle hill. A sunny day in early April. The river is making a large bend here, and it runs calmly and proudly as though it couldn’t ever run wild and burst its banks. In this moment I realize that I have never felt like a stranger in this city.
CIMG2229
Or having my first Zapiekanka at Plac Nowy (New Square) in Kazimierz. Zapiekanka is the Polish version of fast food: a baguette, essentially with mushrooms and cheese, grilled in the oven and topped with lots of ketchup and chives. Yum! And there’s no place in all of Poland where they are better than at the Okrąglak, the funny looking round building inmidst of the square that used to be a market hall. So say the locals, and so say I.
Okraglak, Plac Nowy, Krakow, Poland
Running across the Rynek, hurrying to meet someone or other, and from the tower of Mariacka, St. Mary’s church with the two unevenly high towers, the melody of the Hejnał is sounding out to my ears, falling right into my heart, and I have to stop and listen to it. „Hejnał“ (which funnily enough is pronounced something like „hey, now“) is derived from a Hungarian word for Dawn. It is a very old Polish signal melody. Legend has it that when the Mongols tried to invade Poland in the middle ages, a guard was keeping watch on the tower and sounded the Hejnał to warn the people of Kraków when the army approached the city. He was shot mid-melody so that he couldn’t finish. Until today, every full hour an interrupted Hejnał is sounded in all four directions from Mariacka’s tower. Yes, even in the middle of the night. No, it is not a record. Listen to it here.
Mariacka, Krakow, Poland
Having a kosher* dinner at Klezmer Hois in Kazimierz and accidentally stumbling upon a Klezmer concert in the room next door. I’m standing in the door way, covertly hidden away. In front of a  delicate dark red curtain with golden ornaments, there is a man with a double bass, one with an accordion and a young woman with a violin. Their play is sweet and snappy, lively and melancholy. Hava Nagila. Bei mir bist du scheen. The woman will at times put down the violin and start singing. Her voice is deep and velvety, it sounds like the dark wood boarding on the walls. Like the stone pillars and the lace doilies on the tables. From dark depths, the voice is softly climbing up, sighing high, desperate, the way Klezmer clarinettes usually do. I feel like sighing myself. Magical, magical Kraków.
Klezmer Hois, Krakow, Poland

First times and the Magic of Advent

My cousin recently posted a meme on facebook that read

„When was the last time you did something for the first time?“

I had to think fast, and yet I couldn’t really come up with a good answer, and that made me rather sad.

When we are kids, first times present themselves constantly. As we grow older, there are fewer opportunities for them. Partially because we have already done so much, but also because in our daily life and routine, we seek them out far too seldomly. Aside from seeing all the places on my Bucket List (and more) – what about my everyday life? Where’s the new, the unknown? It’s not like there aren’t things I’d like to do for the first time. I have never had absinthe. Or Haggis. Or snails. I have never done kite surfing. Or rock climbing. Or swing dancing. And there is bound to be more. I should really try to keep in mind that every day may grant me the opportunity to do or try something for the first time.

AdventskranzI think that the magic of first times is what we celebrate in Germany when we celebrate Advent. The number of first times, even if just for that specific year, increases dramatically in December.

There is the first of advent (which is today!), the fourth Sunday before Christmas Eve, when the first candle on the advent wreath is lit. The wreath holds four candles, one more will be lit each Sunday until Christmas. Christmas isn’t coming without and advent wreath or fir sprigs that hold all the little decorations I have found in my advent calendar over the years.

AdventskalenderThe advent calendar of course is most exciting, most special on the 1st of December. It consists of 24 little surprises, one for each day between December 1st and 24th. Mine is an embroidered beauty of the 26 letters of the alphabet, all formed by little Santas, surrounded by tiny packages that hold chocolates. It took my mom 6 hours to finish each letter when she handmade the calendar. She really must love me. But then again, for what by now must be 15 years I stand before the filled advent calendar every year on December 1st and am overcome by a childlike excitement and joy, and I know that Christmas is coming, and for some reason, that means that all will be well.

This year, December 1st and first of advent were both in one weekend. And that wasn’t all. This weekend also had the first snow – huge snowflakes in a graceful dance outside my window, covering the yard in a thin sugar coat that makes the grey and dull sight so much prettier. Unfortunately in Berlin, more often than not, snow melts right away. The city’s steaming body gets to it too fast. Still there’s magic in snowfall.

I also went to the Christmas Market for the first time this year and had mulled wine (now it wasn’t the first mulled wine of the season, but mulled wine is just too delicious to wait for it until December every year!). Weihnachtsmarktzauber at Gendarmenmarkt may be the prettiest of Berlin’s more central Christmas Markets. The white tents with the large Moravian stars on top of them are bustling with people of all ages. Some of them sell delicious Christmas Market specific food, like roasted chestnuts and sugar roasted almonds. In others they sell handicrafts, usually very pretty, but really expensive. Christmas Carols are played as well. Lately „Winter Wonderland“ and „Let it snow“ have driven out the more traditional German songs, but let’s face it: You can’t be sure that Christmas is coming until you’ve heard Wham’s „Last Christmas“ on the radio for the *first time* that year anyway, so you may as well make your peace with the fact that English Christmas Carols are saying that the holidays are coming just as much as German ones.

Weihnachtszauber Gendarmenmarkt

Oh Christmas Tree

Even though all these Christmas related things are „first times this year“, not „first times“, they remind me of the beauty of a new start and of the fact that I should treasure *first times* and try to make them happen more frequently.

By the way, I did come up with a very first time after I read my cousin’s meme. I had a dream that was entirely in Polish for the first time when I was last in Gdańsk. The realization of it made me feel giddy and exhilerated. Blessed with the new and unknown, with the excitement of discovery. What a feeling!

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