Trying to fake it as a local at the Regensburg Christmas market
Who lives in these towns and what do they do for a living, I wonder as I watch the landscape roll by. I’m on a train headed to Regensburg to visit my friend Michaela and the Christmas market. Two hours of reading time, yay, I think, but can’t keep myself from looking out the window at the never-ending beautiful scenery. Gently rolling hills and pine forests alternate with
But curious things happen when you transplant a holiday
When I moved to Germany over 30 years ago, nobody had heard of Halloween. I had a hard time explaining why people get dressed up as ghosts, goblins, Shrek or a Superman and go from house to house asking for candy. Not only was there no Halloween, the jack-o-lantern pumpkins were not sold anywhere, either. When nostalgia inspired me to throw a Halloween party, my American girlfriend Ruth laughed her head off when she caught sight of my muscat pumpkin jack-o-lantern. Never heard of a muscat pumpkin? Me neither.
Summer is over. Germany is like Camelot – at least regarding
the punctuality of the weather, not so much the bursting into song – so on
September 1st it cooled off right on schedule. But here in Munich,
there’s another sure way to recognize that fall has arrived. From one day
to the next, men exchange their Bermuda shorts for Lederhosen, women
doff their jeans for Dirndls –
it’s Oktoberfest time!
I’m strolling through the festival grounds
with my high school friend Susan and her husband Bill, who were looking forward
to seeing the beer tents. That is, until I tell them about something far more
intriguing than a bunch of drunks and a brass band covered by cloth on stilts.
Summer is over. In Germany the weather changes punctually, just like in Camelot, so on September 1st it cooled off right on schedule. But in Munich there’s another sure way to recognize that fall has arrived. Overnight men exchange their Bermuda shorts for Lederhosen and women doff their tankinis for Dirndls. It’s Oktoberfest time again!