Do you want to eat lettuce for the vitamins and fiber but can’t stand the taste?
Does the color green seem off-putting?
Do you hate vegetables so much you want to drown them before you stab them with your fork and slowly chew them to bits?
If you answered yes to any of these questions, then German salads are for you.
[Cue Music]
Here in Germany scientists and culinary artists have worked to make sure you never have to taste those disgusting vegetables again.
It’s called German Yogurt Salad Dressing, and you want to pour it on every veggie you see!
Especially these guys (wink)
And don’t worry that this dressing will be too thick and lumpy! Bavarian experts have specially designed it to be the consistency or water.
Thanks to the wonders of modern technology, you too can make this wonderful sauce of wonder. Just click on this link, your gateway to the future: LINK TO THE FUTURE
Let’s check in to see how Betty is using this new recipe in her Kitchen of the Future. While showing her daughter what is is store for her (lots of ironing), Betty’s husband called.
I love ironing!
Oh no! The boss has invited himself over for dinner. Now Betty needs to whip up something quick. It looks like it is time for the Salad Dressing of the Future.
Close, Betty (or was it Nancy?), but there are still a few square millimeters that aren’t completely covered. You don’t want to embarrass your husband in front of his boss with exposed vegetables. Wink!
Does it seem as if my favorite things more and more often are strange paintings in the Neue Pinakothek? I can hardly be blamed for this. Most of these paintings are odd, funny, or just plain awful, unlike those in the Alte Pinakothek. Also unlike the paintings in the AP, most of which I know about specifically or can fit into my general understanding of art history, those in the NP are by artists with whom I am completely unfamiliar or about whom I am rather apathetic. (That is when I don’t actively loath them. Gauguin, I am looking at you, punk!) This is great, because I am forced to do some very extensive research and learn something new–but only once a week.
Perhaps one of the most disturbing paintings in the NP’s collection is the painting entitled “Im Spiel der Wellen” by the nineteenth-century Swiss Symbolist painter Arnold Böcklin.
What is it about this painting that I find so jarring? Is it the overly scaly merman-thing? No. Is it the distressed look on the blonde’s face, while all the others frolic? No. Is it her bangs? Yes!
Somehow I cannot wrap my brain around a pseudo-mythological creatures scene in which the central figure is sporting bangs (that is fringe to you Brits or der Pony to you Germans). [Aside: I have never before realized how stupid all these names are]. The fact that she looks like a Finnish friend of mine does not help.
According to the website of the museum, a personal experience was the impetus for Böcklin’s rather odd fantasy painting. Apparently, Böcklin was on vacation with the German marine biologist Anton Dohrn and they went for a dip off the coast of Naples. At one point Dohrn went for a long underwater swim and popped up amongst a group of women who were rather startled by his sudden appearance.
Still none of this really seems explain this painting, until you see a picture of Dohrn.
Now I get it!
Apparently Böcklin was quite influential. According to a reliable source, he inspired Surrealists like Dali and de Chirico as well as composers, such as Rachmaninoff and Heinrich Schulz-Beuthen, who wrote symphonic poems based on his painting “The Isle of the Dead”. The English language wiki site for Schulz did not include a picture, but I believe he looked something like this:
I see NOTHING...except an awesome painting I want create a composition about
Another composer, the German Max Reger, wrote four tone poems inspired by Böcklin’s work, including “Playing in the Waves.” It is not a bad piece. You can listen to it here. Maybe I should reassess my feelings about this painting. But maybe not, after all Hitler loved Böcklin and owned 11 of his paintings.
Disclaimer: I am in no way qualified to be a critic of Munich’s clubs/bars. (I wonder if there are night courses or something you could take to get a certificate in club criticism). I can’t dance, am easily bored by a lot of music they play, and hate getting elbowed repeatedly. Also my personal motto, which I stole from Groucho is “whatever it is, I am against it.” Unlike Groucho, I do not sing this line.
The wonderful thing about Germany in general and Munich in particular, is that it doesn’t matter if you can’t dance. Many people here can’t dance, but that doesn’t stop them. It seems like at some point in the night–whether it is a small party or a huge club–someone shouts the following and the bouncing and wiggling starts.
(Also I watched this clip about ten times this morning)
That being said, I realized Tuesdays didn’t really have a theme, so naturally they should be devoted to thoughtful and insightful critiques of Munich’s night spots. So here goes:
Heart (on Lenbachplatz) kinda blows.
The Space: It is not really set up to be what it is used for now. As a restaurant it is fine, but if you want to go out to drink and dance this is not really the place. To help you visualize the space, I have created a diagram that unlike Doc’s models is completely to scale and painted. I did however forget the “t” in support.
That is right, there is no space between the disgustingly bloated bar and the booths. My friends were dancing on the small step above the floor that is next to the booths. This only works if you wear a size 6 shoe (I am going to say size 36 European) or studied ballet. It wouldn’t be so bad, but like most places they want to pack it with as many people as possible. Thus, every square inch of the floor (white on the diagram) is packed with people.
The place is pretty enough as you can see from the photo…when no one is in there.
The People: I guess it is trying to be shi shi, so the people are rather dressed up (an anathema to me!) Generally the people seemed a little snobby (since I am unemployed, to me everyone with a good job looks like a jerk). On the Saturday I was there the median age would be about 42.3. That is the one good thing about Munich’s clubs/bars; it doesn’t matter how old you are you can still go out and drink and bounce.
The Music: Like many places here in Munich, the selection of songs would strike many Americans as odd. Yes, some places play the electric/dance stuff that is currently popular but you will often hear music from the 50s-90s (and not always the classic songs, it seems more often to be the B-sides). Perhaps the DJ wasn’t very good that night but there seemed to be no order to what he was playing, no interesting mixes, and he let the songs play to the end.
Why is that bad? Well, although I love Paul Simon, when I am out at night I don’t really want to hear all of “You Can Call Me Al” or the theme to “Beverly Hills Cop.” Great songs, yes. Songs for a club, ehhhh not so much.
But don’t worry, what the music lack in appropriateness it made up for in volume.
Sue’s Club Rule Number 1: If there is no space to dance, turn the music down so at least we can talk. Otherwise you just get to stand there awkwardly and have your hearing damaged.
Alright, I am off now to watch Chevy Chase lip sync and tower over Paul Simon. (It really is a great song).
The German stereotype of Americans I hear most often is that we are fake. Some have rightly said that with many Americans you cannot tell where you stand with them. I would agree that this, like many stereotypes, is somewhat accurate of many from my homeland. Nevertheless, sometimes I really miss polite, white lies.
Now you might say, Sue you are one of the most tactless individuals on the planet. You in fact relish in saying whatever is on your mind even when that makes you look like a crazy, heartless b*#&%. And you would be right. This should give you a sense of just how brutally honest many people in Munich are, if I find it uncomfortable.
Perhaps the place where this excessive honesty is most often on display is at dinner parties.
Now if you are like me and raised in what the those crazy kids in congress today are calling “The Real America”, you were taught that when you are a guest in someone’s home you eat what they serve. Just to be safe you should probably ask for seconds. It doesn’t matter if it tastes like dog food or, in fact, if it is dog food. You must be polite and eat it without comment, if you are not able to say something nice. The only way around this is to claim you have a food allergy. But you must carefully deploy this excuse. For example, the host has prepared a casserole (see I told you I was from “The Real America”) with melted cheese, crushed up saltines, and broccoli in some sort of off-brand cream of mushroom soup that tastes slightly of gasoline. If you say you are lactose intolerant, you better make damn sure that for the rest of the time you know this person you are never again seen with ice cream, cheese pizza, or other dairy products that make life worth living.
In Munich this, at least, is not a problem. Do you not like something? Well pick it out and shove it to the side. Don’t bother trying to hide it. If they ask you how you like something, say it is alright but you wouldn’t have used so much sugar. Pasta overcooked? Tell them to go back and make a new batch, you will wait.
What is most surprising to me is that German hosts don’t seem to mind. If you say something is good, be prepared to explain why otherwise they will be suspicious. I try to find one small thing I am not crazy about to comment on so they think I am being honest. Maybe the day I complain about the amount of salt in the soup, I will know I am a real Municher.
Pictured: No holds barred honesty. (Actually this is the first picture of a dinner party I found. Everyone agreed the food was amazing. Probably because so many of the guests were Canadian)
Most visitors to Munich focus on the area to the west (I think, I am bad with directions) of the river. After all this is where the Altstadt, the art museums, the Englisher Garten, and the fairgrounds for Oktoberfest can all be found. So I thought I would post a few pictures from the east side (that and the fact that it is where I took a bike ride on this gorgeous February day).
Since I am tired from the bike ride–read: since I am very out of shape–I thought I would be lazy and make a slide show.
But I Don't Like Beer: Life in Munich 