temperance league

Authorities in Wuppertal are charging a gang of eleven who style themselves the Sharia Police with impersonating an officer of the law—with uniforms that consist of orange warning-vests—and the potential for intimidation, which, as the commissioner curiously puts forward in an interview with The Local, is the exclusive domain of the state. The group operates to discourage young people from drinking and gambling and other behaviours against the tenants of Islam—and the local government pledges to stop their intrusion before it becomes a menace to society. What do you think of this? The cloak of religious purity is unsettling and the police, I think, are right to stop this encroachment before it spreads. No formal complaints have been levied against the gang though intimidation cannot be ruled out, but that the State enjoys a monopoly on social engineering and have backed much more vicious thugs for the sake of the public good has an equally unsettling ring.

checkout-lane

I stopped at an outdoor café under the shade of umbrellas and plane trees while walking through town the other day. I didn't mind sitting with a refreshing breeze wafting through the square while I waited for my order to be taken. After some few minutes, the waitress, who was very friendly but seemed a bit anxious and distracted—not exactly inattentive but rather occupied with sending text-messages on her Handy, it appeared, the waitress finally brought me a beer. Returning seconds later, like an after-thought that one usually experiences after hanging the phone, she asked if I didn't mind paying right away.

She apologized for being abrupt, but explained it was the end of her shift—crews changing at an awkward time, and she had to clear all of orders before leaving. I also noticed that she was not messenging her friends but rather trying to figure out how to work a point-of-sale application installed for managing orders for the cafe in her personal phone. That explained her behaviour. I was always a little suspicious of these traditional point-of-sales systems (also given here, there is not anyone who does not pay in cash), with strugglingly awkward interfaces, incompatibilities, expensive, and quite an investment to maintain, hardware exclusively serviced by company technicians, and regarded them as the surplus of the military-industrial complex, unnecessary gadgets that contractors, pawning off what they could not sell directly to the government, convinced small businesses were indispensable. I've never actually seen one in use at a bar, but a few years ago, the hospitality industry was trying to sell an electronic coaster that would alert wait-staff when a customer had downed their drink, ensuring prompt service. I can't exactly say that's necessary in most circumstances. In theory, I concede, such a network could speed up orders by altering the kitchen to the next dish as soon as the order was placed and be a big help when it came to monitoring inventory and studying sales trends, as well as the obvious cash-controls. Providing that all one's employees report to work with the latest cellular contraption anyway and consent to being temporarily corralled, being able to try this system out on the cheap seems a pretty clever idea and the platform, I think, would be flexible enough to fit the café's exact specifications—or be dropped altogether for a pad and pencil when gains do not materialise for the effort.

if these walls could talk or windows to the soul

In probably the boldest and most shameless assault against the consuming public since—the last, a German marketing firm has announced its ability and plans to deliver, for a willing sponsor, advertisements to a captive audience through cranial conduction.
The company proposes that clients' messages be distributed on public transport, shaken into the passenger's skull when inadvertently or purposefully leaning against the windows of a bus or a subway or any chosen surface. It's a lot worse than regular commercial breaks spammy pop-unders while navigating websites, and if anything people who take mass-transit ought to be rewarded for not contributing to congestion, not submitted to focus-groups involuntarily. I am sure these beamed messages could be tailored to particular passengers and it is scary hoone's head.
w quickly this might escalate.  Chatty, shuddering coffee mugs or singing beer and wine glasses?  Such skeletal transmissions are not new but relatively novel things, but perhaps the means to speak with disembodied voices should not be first surrendered to marketers and demographers, who would always like to get into

brototyp or bakers’ dozen

In Germany, there are over six-hundred distinct varieties of bread and some additional twelve-hundred permutations of baking besides. Not including beer-brews, which Germany might be more renowned for and enjoy actually a legal status that classifies and protects them as a liquid bread, these hundreds of different recipes and preparations are governed, unsurprisingly and meticulously, by a system of standards that codify traditional variations on a theme.

This process is illustrated in development of Brötchen—buns, rolls, which go by many regional names, including Weckeln, Weggla, Stollen, Kipfle, Bömmeln, Semmeln, and Schrippen with further distinctions for topping, what kind of seeds or grains they are encrusted with, and how the dough is rolled out and baked, -laibchen (round, like a little loaf), -stangl (like a staff that can also be twisted in a pretzel) or -hörnchen, with a shape like a croissant. Each type has specific percentages of what kind of grains comprise the dough, usually a given ratio of two or more different wheats and barleys. Small bakeries keep the lesser known and uncommon varieties on offer and local interpretation and nomenclature alive. I wonder if anyone has managed to catalogue ever type of Brötchen in circulation and unraveled the etymology. We don’t visit the baker’s like we ought to but I am resolving to do so more often and see what sort of heritage breads—and their unusual names (I am not sure if it’s just marketing or what, but one bakery offers what’s called “Sündlicher Weck”—sinful rolls, as near as I can guess), that I can discover.

rebus

The borough of old London town have some quite fanciful street names, with some equally fanciful but probably incorrect folk-etymologies.

The thoroughfare and surrounding neighbourhood of Elephant and Castle, named for the tavern, and the public house Goats and Compasses seem more sensible one is told they are respectively corruptions of the exotic sounding “Infanta de Castile” (presumably in honour of the wife of King Edward I, Eleanor of Castile) and a mishearing of “God encompass us.” The accounts are tantalizing, in fact, except that an infanta is a princess not in the line of succession, which Eleanor was not (the notion and controversy of Spanish princesses would not become a topic of the English public until the fiancée of Charles I, some three centuries on), and pubs generally were not named after such lofty invocations. There are numerous cases of place-names being transformed to make sense in the vernacular, especially on the Roman side of the Limes (the furthest reaches of the empire into the territory of Germanica) like the city of Koblenz, from the Latin for confluence (die Zusammenfluß), positioned where the Rhine and Moselle rivers come together or Mainz, original named for the fort Mogontiacum, in deference to (or perhaps disdain for) a Gaulish god.

Schweinfurt, whose deep harbour presents an impossible challenge for swine to ford the Main river but rather came from an old Gothic designation Suinuurde, meaning the exact opposite, something akin to quicksand. The names of the British guesthouses likely naming is direct and intentional, relating to symbols adopted by venerable guilds that set up shop in these areas. It was more interesting to be disabused and learn that the Worshipful Company of Cutlers used as their logo an elephant (carrying a howdah on its back, a fancy carriage for the raj of India, named for its resemblance to the chess piece) for its ivory tusks, used for fashioning knife handles. Goats and compasses probably should be taken literally and could refer to a variety of trades, from people who actually cobbled shoes from goat skin to the enclave of Rheinish barrel-makers (coopers), whose craft was hallmarked by mathematical precision (a drafting compass) and a chevron (^) that stands for a fret, frieze or frontier for crossing obstacles reliably, much like a sure-footed goat, which has the same Latinate root.

consider yourself part of the furniture

Before living in Germany, I had never heard the word Stammtisch, although the phenomenon and culture of a table for regulars, a salon-society, and a designated meeting point, a reserved spot, for networking and politicking, like the word, had been long since an established fixture of many societies. That term sounded very formal, like holding court, and maybe that made me seek out a less down-to-earth translation or equivalent. It comes under other names, too, of course, including the cracker-barrel or Coffee-Klatch, which surely has German origins too, and all the different words with differing connotations of hierarchical sophistication. Cafes, guesthouses, inns (Gaststätte) and pubs usually distinguished the gathering point for their regulars with a special ceremonial ashtray or a table flag (Wimpel). Mostly the get-together has been sublimated in the form of a virtual presence, but in some places the tradition continues unbroken.

wies’n or the price of eggs in china

Der Spiegel’s English language site has an excellent essay—somewhat of an apology, on the opening weekend of Oktoberfest, which goes on to extol the virtues of the world’s biggest celebration. Though many Muffels summarily dismiss Oktoberfest as dilute and overrun with tourists, profoundly Bavarian and like Pinocchio’s Island of the Donkey Boys, this ode urges people not to succumb to this attitude and enjoy the traditions and atmosphere, which are still buoyant. All in all, there is little negative press surrounding the event (that’s propagated by word of mouth and wavering on plans to go) other than the annual constructive cost analysis on that litre mug (Maß) of specially brewed beer. The increasing expense of refreshment is intensely discussed as a macroeconomic indicator. Everything from the relative worth of the euro, inflation, grain supply and climate and fuel costs—including how much of said grain supply is on hook for bio-fuels, and the sentiment of the competing brewers, is encapsulated in the price of a tall drink. These incremental increases do dampen the mood, a bit and at first I suppose, but attendance and consumption is on the rise as well and I think, despite the crowds and excess, such dull cares ought to be tossed away at a monumental and historic party.

aperitif or alcohol-spectrum

Championing a national drink generally amounts to the exclusion of other equally distinct and fine products, like wines and other spirits, however, there are usually interesting connections and a story behind how one liquor, rather than another, came to be identified with one country and region. Greek ouzo and Italian grappa and sambuca are different branches, essentially, of the distillation experiments undertaken by monks on Mount Athos in the 1300s, although the idea of fermenting an elixir, brandy out of the leftovers of wine-making has far more ancient roots and traditions.

The anise-flavoured spirits themselves gained broader popularity and became firmly established in the early 1900s, after the ban on Swiss Absinthe, whose bad reputation was mostly undeserved but left a gaping opportunity for other competitors.

furor teutonicus

There has been much fanfare over the past week about a survey (Umfrage) of the American public that confirms a general affinity between Germans and their American cousins.

 I am sure that it is a combination of factors, like many Americans having some German ancestry, military partnerships—at least an understanding—familiar products, like beer, food and automotives, that could have endured as a tacit acknowledgment, as I am sure it has for years. Slow-news days are probably also a contributing dynamic. Depth of knowledge and stereotypes aside—the thrust of the battery of interview questions and responses seem to mainly involve economics—I wonder if American public perceptions of Germans aren’t a focus, an ideal corrective lens for how they’d like to see themselves. Secure and stable and comfortably bourgeois without the outward signs of massive inequity or fanaticism or hysteria; socially and environmentally conscious yet relatively conservative and traditional without excluding other persuasions. It seems this way, at least. The two acts are not connected, but it really does seem the antithesis (and not a reciprocation or extension—perhaps rather a back-handed compliment), but it does seem strange that the European Union parliament moved to back accords (Abkommen) to share air-traveler data between Europe and the US. The American security apparatus will have fifteen years to ruminate over their guests’ profiles, but the judgment that this was not in violation of individuals’ privacy rights rather lowers the standard, instead of giving America a standard to aspire to.

rosamunde

One would assume that all cultural trappings of a place are as old as the hills, however, like Oktoberfest, Biergärten in Germany just marked their two-hundredth anniversary this year. The German brewing purity laws had already been in effect for centuries when Bavarian King Maximilian I allowed that brewers could serve beer from their cooling vats in January of 1812.

For reasons of temperance and temperature, for fermentation and the heat from boiling huge quantities of water, beer could only be manufactured from early Autumn to late Spring, between the feast days of Saint Michael and Saint George. And though this ensured superior beer and reduced the risk for fires, suppliers, hoteliers and restaurateurs risked running out of beer for the summertime. As a solution, the bigger breweries in Munich (and spreading elsewhere) constructed giant cellars along the banks of rivers for storing the cooling vats. Shade from trees and gardens planted atop these buried barrels further helped regulate the temperature. Soon, the major brewers began serving customers directly. Quickly these bootleg establishments became popular retreats, but guesthouses in town, fearing losing more customers, petitioned the King to bar these garden-parties from serving food, other than bread which evolved into the host fare that one can find at traditional Biergärten. This appeased the smaller breweries (without property fronting the river) and restaurants, but also created a rich and enduring tradition out of a work-around.

o du fröhliche or shutter-speed

I suppose there is no bigger challenge for amateur photography than a lively Christmas Market (Weihnachts-markt, Christ-kindlmarkt) in its native setting, the festive glow of the booths under an icy sky and many attractions quite kinetic, like the giant Pyramid of the Leipzig, sort of a wooden carousel with Christmas figures that's propelled by the heat of flames. Leipzig's fair is among the eldest traditions in Germany, along with nearby Dresden and Bautzen, and decorated with the holiday trappings and influence of the Ore Mountains' (Das Erzgebirge) arts and crafts.

Beneath the spinning installation, a booth serves a insulating and potent cup of fortified punch called Feuerzangenbowle, a variation on Glüwein--a conditum paradoxum, a "spiced-surprise" in Latin. The sheltered arcades that crisscross the old city were also decked out dazzlingly, like this tall and illuminated tree around the corner from Auerbachs Keller, the historic restaurant, older than the Christmas market itself, that was made famous by Marlowe's and Goethe's Faust. Christmas trees, I understand, became the more dominant symbols of the season but still share a place alongside their highland and up-land forebears, the Pyramide, and creates a composition that really sets the mood--memorable, despite the challenges of sharing that scene and atmosphere in pictures.

elevensies

Quirks of the calendar are certainly something to take notice of, especially when one considers how these days were ordained, pre-determined since the beginning of time, driven by calendar-reforms, the base of our numbers systems, and other events. Today, I read in the paper, an area, in Germany where it is also the Feast Day of Saint Martin when geese are rounded-up and devoured like turkeys on Thanksgiving for giving away the reluctant saint's whereabouts to Church authorities and children parade with paper lanterns, holding a nighttime vigil, brother and sister (twins) are celebrating their eleventh birthday. Patterns tend to rise above the din, but that's really a story in itself to mark this day.  What would your story be?

tag des bieres

Today also marks another historical anniversary that has shaped the way beer is brewed and enjoyed for centuries: from Ingolstadt in the year 1516, Bavarian Duke William IV instituted the “Bavarian Purity Law”—the Reinheitsgebot (EN/DE) to standardize beer product and introduce price controls that would mitigate the spikes in demand for wheat and barley. With some puritanical influences building off of Emperor Barbarossa’s earlier call for an industry standard, the variety of beers and beer brewing processes and alternate ingredients which often produced much more intoxicating brews were by law curtailed and relegated to monasteries and registered brewers, and not experimental moonshiners. Setting down this standard has of course influenced the way beer is made not just in Germany but also where ever German brewers set up shop or lent their expertise to help get a company started, like in America or even the old German colonial city of Tsingtao, China. It is something to think about next time you are enjoying a refreshing beverage.  Prost!