September 18-19, Friday-Saturday, Peine Germany

BLOG ENTRY: Friday-Saturday - September 18-19

Negotiating our way in Germany, where neither of us speak the language, through the maze of taxi’s, buses, trains (and their ticketing and reservation procedures, platform numbers, car numbers, seat numbers), finding an address, or a bus route, knowing where to get off, finding a toilet and the fee for entry (0.5-1.5 Euro) - - - is becoming something we do with confidence, we think! On trains and buses there is always someone who pipes up, in response to “Does anyone speak English”, and says “I speak a little”. While driving a car might be more like at home, I have a feeling it would not be any better.

Friday we packed our bags and went to the breakfast room of our Hotel Pension Messe at 8am, adding our blog entry (still no wireless in our room), and having their great breakfast. We talked to people from Holland, Germany, France, Poland, and Italy. They were retirees like us, students, workers from Poland, vacationers, and even a professor from England (he was complaining that he could not get the unadvertised free wireless internet in his room). After breakfast we thanked the three staff, had them call a taxi for us, went to the closest S-Bahn (that’s the above ground train network), got our Eurail 4 day pass validated, and took the first train to Berlin HBF to catch the 11:10 train to Hannover.

We arrived at the station early by 9:15, so we took some time to explore the huge train/mall/subway station. It is 5 levels, 14 platforms on various levels, with a largely open centre area around which the mall stores, restaurants and banks etc were located, six glass podular elevators, and escalators between all levels for the main flow of traffic. Our tour guide yesterday said its estimated cost of less than one billion rose to 3 billion. Near completion a large centre beam that the architect said was “too large to fall”, fell. Luckily it was early in the morning and no one was killed. We had a latte at McDonalds. Afterwards Rose sat and listened to a live classical piano performance, while I sifted through the stores, looking for a charger for the batteries for my video camera. I found a Sony Store where the attendant showed me a universal charger for 50 Euro. But it was with European plugs which a converter for use in North America for another 20 Euro – not worth it, since I had purchased my charger to $40 CAD.

By this point in our trip we have no trouble finding our train platform and even the section of the platform on which to wait. We boarded and were off on our smooth, comfortable, quiet ride to Hannover arriving at 12:55. My internet research before leaving Saskatoon showed me that there is a regional train going to Peine from Hannover (maybe 50kms) every hour until 14:55. Rose’s cousin Doris (Stanicki) and husband Marcel Tauscher wanted us to arrive after 3pm so we had 2 hours to look around the Hannover station.

Hannover with 500,000 people but serving and area with likely a 1-2 million people has a 4 level station, for trains and metro, and a modern mall in the form of a long hall stretching about ½ km crossing and under the train tracks. We had lunch at a modern Thai restaurant, and checked on our train times. At 14:45 we went to platform 9 and later boarded a double-decker train of many cars which was packed full. The train delivers workers to and from smaller surrounding cities to and from Hannover. Arriving at Vohrum which, we thought was our stop, we learned that Peine was the next stop. We waited by the door for the next stop, and a young man (58 we later learned) came walking by looking in. He pointed at me (I was wearing my Canada-Whiterock T-shirt. I opened the door and it was Marcel. So we made it to Vohrum-Peine, two smaller cities near Hannover.

Doris (and her husband Marcel) was the only only 1st cousin of Rose’s that we had never met. Rose’s mother’s family of 7 siblings had been ripped apart by WWI, WWII, and the Russian communists, leaving them spread throughout Europe and Canada. Most of their children, Rose’s generation, were not even aware of each other. Those in Germany had been brought there as ‘slaves’ by the German Nazi’s and had no country status. Those who had been forcibly moved from their original homes in Poland to Ukraine were no longer allowed by the communists to visit each other. Rose’s grandmother died of broken heart shortly after being moved to Ukraine, with nothing but the shirts on their backs, with 2 of her 7 children. Emotional problems seem to be common in the family.

Marcel and Doris Tauscher live in what started out in the year 1100 as a mill on the Fushe River (looks like a large creek at this time of year). In the 1600s a top level was added. A local two lane paved road curls around the ‘mill’ house and passes over a small bridge on the Fushe at one end of the house. The paved road is in perfect condition bordered on each side with about 2 feet of small square paving stones, the street curb, and then more modern paving stone sidewalks on each side. Marcel parks across the street which is also the parking lot for a small stable and horse pasture. We crossed the street being careful to watch for cars which often come around the curve, and walked up a steep flight of 15 ‘chicken’ steps to their ‘flat’. They have the top floor of the old mill place 2500 sq feet (250 sq meters), which they rent from the owner who lives downstairs. They also have the large attic of the mill, which is still showing the old wood of the mill, including a wooden ‘pulley’ (see our photos on Picasa), and which they use for storage and in which their three, now adult, children played. Their flat has a lot of character, being fit into the different shaped large rooms of an old mill. There are lots of windows, tasteful decorations with comfortable furniture, paintings by Doris (she taught herself using a book about Van Gogh’s art) and photographs by Marcel, and by their children, macramé and hangings, plants on the window sills and floors, 6 guitars of Marcel’s, piano, saxophone, and Ukulele.

For six years Doris and Marcel have been looking after his mother (84) who has progressing Alzheimer’s disease. She speaks, German and Belgium-French. Marcel had to keep reminding her who we were and she would keep saying, “vous parlez Français?”. But on Saturday for the late evening meal, she said perfectly a 4 verse blessing of food she learned from nuns when she was in kindergarten. Marcel said that his father had died when he was young. His mother raised him and his siblings and he is proud of the strength and guidance she provided for the family. At first he denied her condition, but now accepts it, even when she asks him who he is.

Before dinner that evening Doris took us for a 4km walk around their local ‘see’, lake, created by digging out soil for roads during an earlier era. The temperature was about 24 degrees, the sun was shining, there was a small beach with a few children playing, and full service beach house. With the surrounding trees it was a beautiful site. As we walked at the far end of the see we saw red several naked men sunbathing on the see shore. They made no moves to cover themselves and Doris continued as normal. It was good to see such a relaxed atmosphere to nudity.

That evening Doris and Marcel had prepared dinner consisting of pork tenderloin, pre-made gravy, mashed potatoes, sliced cold meats, cheeses and bums, and, believe it or not, a fine German dry red wine. We will buy some dry red German wines when we return home. After dinner Rose and I showed our photos of cousins and the DVD of Rose’s life which we made for Rose’s 65th birthday. Rose was feeling ill so she went to bed early, while Marcel and I watched his favourite soccer team lose. He reminds me of my son-in-law, Carter, as he makes exasperated comments when his team misses a chance and, finally, loses the game. Marcel said that when his team won the league championship a few years ago, the neighbours across the river heard his cheer. After the game, I was honoured that Marcel played on his guitar, a few pieces by his favourite singer, Neil Young.

Rose slept the next morning, while Marcel and I walked ½ km to the nearby grocery store for buns etc. Over breakfast I learned a little about Marcel’s past. His father was a handsome German soldier in WWII (it was a delight for me to meet the son of a German soldier and I had many questions). Marcel’s father had fought in Russia, throughout Germany and Belgium. He had many girlfriends during the war and before he married Marcel’s mother. Marcel said he had not talked much with his father about the war since his father died when he was young. He knew that his father had objected to the actions of some of his superiors and because of that was sent to jail for a time, and branded. His father joined the army as a young man of 18, but after the war must have been embarrassed at being involved in such a mistake. I mentioned that mistakes can happen anywhere, and recounted that I am aware that my grandfather had at one time joined an arm of the Ku-Klux-Klan which operated in the Regina-Qu’Appelle area of Saskatchewan, ostensibly as a conservative political option, but burned his card after hearing of a cross burning. Marcel’s father died at an early age of TB when Marcel was 11. Marcel seems though to have acquired his father’s positive outlook on life, regardless of the trails encountered. He believes that the war was part of another era, a tragic quirk in history, and I agree. But that does not mean that it will not happen again. It has in many areas of the world and we all bear a responsibility to try to avoid this ‘flesh eating disease’ of the human condition. I have made a mental note to read about the rise and fall of the German Nazis.

Saturday afternoon, Marcel and Doris’s daughter, Sara, arrived from Hannover for a few hours visit. She had been in Scotland where her brother is studying and brought her parents a few mementos of the trip. She stayed with Marcel’s mother while Marcel and Doris showed Rose the ancient and modern parts of their city of Peine. Peine was a major steel making city during the war, so it had been heavily bombed by the allies. The buildings along streets in the centre of town are a mixture of the ancient construction, since 1100 I believe, and the rebuilt more modern buildings. In the market square a festival-like atmosphere was taking place. The ‘sports clubs’ of the area were having a day devoted to encouraging children to be involved in physical activities, and which included entertainment for adults. We stopped at the ice cream parlour where Rose and I were finally allowed to pay the bill. The ice cream Sundays were unique. Marcel’s and mine included white and chocolate ice creams with whipped cream and a sauce made with raisons and a unique flavour. Rose and Doris had yogurt ice cream with strawberry topping. The cost with tip was 20 Euro – 36 CAD.

On returning home we had spent a few minutes with Sara. She was reviewing on her laptop, the photos she had taken with her analog photo camera in Scotland. She had them digitized but the resolution was poor and she was lamenting not having checked into that. She had the negatives so she hoped to be able to correct the problem. Soon it was time for her to go and her Dad took her to the train.

Over dinner (supper) that evening around 8pm Marcel and I fell into discussions of the Afghan war, climate change, nuclear power generation verses the alternatives. Marcel votes ‘green’ so we found ourselves not agreeing on anything, but we surprisingly kept the discussion positive, and a respectful exchange of our understandings of the real world. After dinner we all sat in the living room and visited more while Marcel had his cigarette. We made our plans for breakfast and the drive to the train station in the morning, and went to bed.