Et hätt noch schlimmer kumme künne...

Fall in the Rhineland is a thing of wonder: annual metamorphosis, perennial beauty, idyllic, original, as striking as New England, yet refined with old world mystique. Ours has been the task of taking advantage of such circumstances and take our precious time enjoying our surroundings, before they are engulfed by winter and we are confined to crappy apartments to stream videos online and think about the homework that never seems to get done. Now that we have arrived at that time and the lull between seasons of QI, Community and How I Met Your Mother lends enough perspective to produce coherent thought, a blog entry (or two...) is well overdue... adventures abound and I will do my part to fill you in.

Düsseldorf
Despite its bad rep in Cologne, Bonn and, by proxy, the Rhein-Sieg overall , our day-trip to D-dorf and the ensuing month of whirlwind, blog-provoking action was a pleasant surprise. Overall the city is of a different stock than that of Bonn's patron cultural center of Cologne and not altogether inferior. The architecture, which wouldn't bespeak a city of  much size and splendour,  is brown, low-lying, inelegant and generally analogous to a suited down, stunted version of Downtown Kansas City. It is, however, speckled with the odd scenic avenue, as well as an impressive promenade along the Rhine, where the enigmatic Düsseldörfer can be found at their happiest, sitting, laughing, and having a chat over classically tiny portions of the signature local brew, Altbier, talking smack on their rivals to the south (namely, us). An idea of the politics attached to beer in this region is best demonstrated by the conviction that "Kölsch is the result of feeding a horse Altbier and waiting to see what comes out". It's a messy anecdote, but one worth sharing (I blame Volker).

To be at all pretentious in describing our trip would be to betray the laid-back atmosphere of this town, and I'm all about keeping it real. That said, we happened to show up for "Japantag", which was less a celebration of Japanese culture than it was just an orgy of thousands of German nerds dressed as provocative, wide-eyed, blue-haired characters from manga and anime. You never look quite more like a tourist than you do dressed as Naruto. Nevertheless, fun was had cavorting through Düsseldorf, as well as an incredible chilli lunch: so much fun, in fact, that I may well return. Because of patriotic reservations, I neglected to try Altbier... I now realize this was a mistake. My inner epicure is nagging.

Münster 
This was perhaps my favorite destination so far: picturesque, clean, autumnal and medieval, the whole city just screams "photo op". The culture in Münster was hard to judge, seeing as how we happened to arrive on the day where everything happened to be closed... barring the brewery and an impressive outdoor market, most of our plans were foiled by a proliferation of Saturday laziness on the part of our friends, the mysterious Münster-ites. All in all, however, I was very impressed. Fall foliage and gorgeous churches seem to juxtapose themselves here in a miraculous partnership of man's work and nature which caters as much to tourists with cameras as it does to American students itching to jump in a pile of leaves. A beautiful place made exponentially better by the laughter (CONSTANT laughter) of friends... just about as good as it gets. An inevitable return trip should help settle some residual qualms about the first: having discovered the most corruptingly decadent muffin on the way to lunch, I've prioritized ducking into the cathedral next time to repent...

Köln

The pictures I have as a record of my first trip to Cologne proper (disregarding the dozen or so times we've connected trains at the station) hardly represent the groovy, adventuresome, "off the beaten path" mentality they should, coming from a wide-eyed, wonder-struck twenty-something on a quest of discovery. In stead, they represent my attempt to quell the nagging urge to satisfy the baser instincts of an American tourist in control of a point and shoot digital camera: pub signs, alleys, cobblestones and plazas, complimented by a plethora of quasi-artistic snapshots of arches, spires and stained-glass windows from inside an impressive Gothic cathedral. What's that, you say? Textbook study abroad experience? Well, that may be... my saving grace for such an infraction on the laws of coolness is that Cologne is literally twenty minutes away, putting me within striking distance at any point during my stay. Plans are already in motion to launch an exploratory mission into the bar scene on Saturday, on the advice of my current favorite coffee-table literature, "111 Kölsche Kneipen Die Man Kennen Muss". We intend to kenn them all. A trip to the cathedral was little more than a pleasant formality; the quiet before the storm. More on that to come...

Et bliev nix wie et wor...

Blissfully, as hoped, our fair burg, Bonn, has yet to disappoint me. I am happy to report having settled in quite comfortably, and having spend most of my time here wisely, learning lessons, taking chances and partaking liberally of the bountiful fruits of this, the European fertile-crescent, ever-green and lush with beauty, full of mirth and fat with beer. My heart goes out to those who cannot feel the utter joy of taking subways free of charge to meet a group of foreign friends for drinks and vegetate amongst a palate rich with orange, golds and auburns; Hefe, Kölsch and (“was auch immer”) British brews at “Irishpubs” (neuter, pl.), working multicolor magic into evenings, where laughter, shared, transforms the foreign into something homey. Gifted with a balmy autumn, it hardly takes imagination when conceiving of its brilliance: relaxed, refined, recumbent, fun and fancy-free, with scarcely time to check your watch as distractions turn to pressing business when flunkyball is on. “The life” is how I might describe it, speaking as one from surely many who, in daydreams, stories, songs and pictures of perfection, see only time spent smiling widely, walking tall, talking, laughing, sharing new adventures, beginning with a cup of tea, ending with a beer and perpetuated through an appropriate number of sweets along the way. How strange it is, and what a joy, to call this "every day", instead. Sunny days and clear, quiet nights yield -or, have yielded- perfect weather for such endeavors, of which there have been many, homeward-bound from Ippendorf and Endenich by foot with exceedingly charming company or taking shameless advantage of train privileges for adventures to Cologne, Ikea and beyond. On the subject of Ikea, it has nothing but my profuse approval: cheap shit and delicious meatballs are the essence of progress.

Notably (since last I posted anything) our trip to Aachen embodied everything, good or bad, that the Rhineland has had to offer; a storied past of Franks and Teutons, baked goods, plazas, pedestrians, proximity to Belgium (arguably, a downside) and pretty, pretty churches. The Cathedral there was a pleasant, surprise discovery and infinitely more inspiring than the neighboring sulfur-tainted hot-springs: at least twenty euphoric minutes were spent between two Kansan linguists deciphering the Latin written in the Mosaics. It's a beautiful thing. 

On the subject of Belgium, I offer my sincerest apologies to the city of Brussels: such cities should not have to play host to such train stations. I can still smell the slick on the urine-soaked walkways of Brussels-Midi: sickening and sweet with the remnants of white wine, waffles and moules frites (all heinous diuretics, apparently). No pictures will be provided.

An unfortunate side-note -and tragic inevitability- was a return to God's country (by which, obviously, I mean England) this weekend on the Eurostar. Although I gleaned much from my brief visit -my first trans-chunnel train ride, the full English á la Michael Cummings, proper cheese, a peek inside the British library and a particularly valuable jar of peanut butter-, the reason for my trip was far from desirable. After a long and colorful life, my Great Uncle, Gordon, succumbed to cancer and passed away a week prior to my journey, as such made to attend his funeral. There is far too much to say for one so clever, quick and lively, and I am glad that the one to do so was Nick, his son, who spoke fondly and beautifully of him, as was only appropriate. "Tumultuous" would begin to describe the kind of summer we have had, and I do not take this recent tragedy lightly in comparison. It was lovely to be there, and lucky that I was able. Stuart & Michael were kind enough to make the stop at Cherington, and my Grandparents' graves, on the drive from Brailes, as I was strong enough to get past the gate without tearing up. I sense another trip on the horizon, hopefully where I can be as useful a nephew in someone's life as I seem to be upon their death.

Naturally, the weather has turned cruel and drizzly in nature's impish attempt to cut my fun short and keep me boring. Luckily, I am an optimist--Winter is coming, which can only mean one thing: cuddle-weather.

Eirik, dressed for the German winter. Norwegians...