Small-Town Bavarian Christmas
On December 24th, Hansi, Clemens, Fabian and I hopped in the car and drove to Unterbrunn, Bavaria. It's a town with just 1,000 inhabitants, situated on the southwestern outskirts of Munich. The trip took just over 2 hours; we arrived at Fabi's cousin Julia's brand new house just as the sun had set. Her street is so new that it's not included in most GPS systems yet. There's a rocky moat around the two-story construction where the landscaping will eventually be, and the view out back is of green pastures and skinny, densely-growing spruce trees.
Julia and David welcomed us most graciously, but little Laura, their 20-month-old daughter, needed a few hours to warm up to us. I think the fact that we share a name made it even harder for her to understand who I was. Uncle Rudi and Aunt Regine were already there, Regine busy in the kitchen. Julia poured champagne and we all toasted to Christmas, to a safe arrival, and to our hosts' new abode. Little Laura scarfed down eight Christmas cookies before dinner, so to stop her from ruining her appetite (which we now believe is impossible), we sang carols and started opening gifts straight away.
Fabian and I received books, homemade jams, sport clothing, chocolate, tree ornaments, and a Heidrich family cookbook. We gave wine and chocolate mostly. His father though, got a power washer for the garden (ah, my Kärcher-salesman boyfriend) and Clemens got a 1-day ski trip together with his brother. My handmade teddy bear for little Laura was a 1-minute wonder, until she unwrapped the wooden duck on a string. Then she was busy circling the tables and couches, the little duck quacking along behind her.
Dinner came next - an appetizer of salmon tartar (which I misheard as "salmon tatas" and laughed about until Fabi corrected me), followed by sprout salad and puff pastries filled with pork and mushroom gravy, with rice. Our dessert was cinnamon-flavored ice cream stars dipped in chocolate, served with warm plums - and a large dose of political conversation from the menfolk, which spurred me to call my parents and try to hurry up our Skype date.
Around 9:15 p.m., I sat down to the computer and connected with my parents and sisters over the ocean for the 3rd Christmas Even in a row. Little Laura sat on my lap, mesmerized. She absent-mindedly ran her tiny fingers through my hair as she watched. The Heidrich family sang "Silent Night" in German, and each side got a few words out in the other language. We only had time to give the basic summaries of our days (what's for dinner, what's up next), but it was wonderful, as always. We then prepared for Christmas mass.
There is one small and ridiculously ornate Catholic church in Unterbrunn, built by a few wealthy families in the town during the 15th century and decorated during the Baroque period. Bavarians are deeply Catholic and very into shrines. It looks like someone took all the golden trimmings, clouds and cherubs from the castle in Beauty and the Beast and shoved them into a box the size of an American home. Each row of pews could seat about 8 people, and there were only 20 rows. The rows were also labeled with family names written in calligraphic old German, left over from some silly battle that happened between parishioners years ago. In the center of the altar stood a full-size Mary statue, with gold radiating from her person, and peasants (or saints?) clothed in medieval-European robes looking up towards her. On both sides of Mary were much-too-large Christmas trees, covered with much-too-large ornaments and straw stars. Above our heads was a tiny balcony with a miniscule organ, and just 4 more rows of pews. Absolutely nothing more could have fit into that church.
Mass was apparently relatively short, according to Fabi's family - just one hour instead of two or two and a half. The message of peace and thankfulness was nice, but they turned off the lights every time I wanted to sing along with the prayer books. Everyone except me knew the songs by heart. At Communion, the priest ran out of hosts just as I came forward. "One moment please!" he said with a smile. The servers giggled and the locals had a good chance to stare us down. It was as if the priest knew just how many people come to mass on Christmas in this town, but he hadn't counted on the foreigners from Baden-Württemberg who showed up.
Back at the house, the adults finished off a bottle of wine and chatted quietly while little Laura slept. Around midnight, Fabi, Clemens, Hansi and I headed down to "Mama's Guest House" on the main road, where we slept on slightly-uncomfortable, but warm beds with lousy European pillows. But the bathroom was spotless. The hotel was quite German in that way - hard and practical, but flawlessly clean.
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We awoke on the 25th around 9 a.m., packed our bags and walked back up to Julia's house. Little Laura was already running around in her corduroys, babbling about the pretzels her mom was putting in the oven. The whole family sat around the table with cappuccinos, bread, marmalade, cheese and sausages. We "breakfasted" until midday.
Then we drove down to Lake Starnberg - Germany's fifth largest freshwater lake. It's 21 km long, and from the train station you can see the Alps towering over the water in the distance. Unsurprisingly, it's a very wealthy area. The little lakefront down of Starnberg has an S-bahn connection into the big city and is just a 30 minute drive from the "skiing paradise" of the Alps. The partly-cloudy lighting was incredible for taking photos. I stole Hansi's camera and took multiple family shots. We walked a strip of trail along the shore for about 2 hours, laughing and talking. Fabian found a tree overrun by mistletoe, and pinched some off to hang in the apartment. The boys practiced skipping rocks, and little Laura practiced throwing handfuls of pebbles into the shallows.
Fabi's other cousin, Evelyn and her boyfriend Paul arrived that afternoon. They met us at the house when we returned from our lake outing. Regine immediately went back to the kitchen. I wanted to help, but Fabian stole the carrot-chopping duties, so I had the option of going on another walk or dozing on the couch. I chose the latter. An hour later I woke up to Fabi sitting next to me, and to the smell of vegetables in wine sauce. Of course, Evelyn and Paul had brought another round of gifts, so we opened presents again while we waited for the deer to roast in the oven. Little Laura ran around with half a pretzel in her mouth, Hansi chasing her and throwing her over his shoulder, holding her little legs so she dangled with glee down his back. She did not allow him to stop until Fabi and Clemens took over, swinging her around in a felt basket. "Mehr! Mehr!" (more! more!) she laughed.
What landed on my dinner plate on Christmas day was certainly different. We first ate a soup broth with semolina dumplings and liver meat balls: German "wedding soup". Then came - on one plate, all the flavors mixing and mingling - deer roast, red cabbage, half a hot pear filled with tiny cranberries, stewed carrots and onions, and a Knödel: a bread dumpling the size of a baseball. The meal was incredible.
We lingered at the table, ate some more ice cream cinnamon stars, and played with little Laura until around 8 p.m., when Hansi finally declared that we had better make our way home. The autobahn was empty, and this time we only needed 2 hours for the 160-mile trip. It was just as you'd expect a Christmas in the country to be - laid back, calm, great food and good conversation. (And for a first holiday since Fabi's parents separated, I'd say it went exceptionally well.)
Merry Christmas!
Julia and David welcomed us most graciously, but little Laura, their 20-month-old daughter, needed a few hours to warm up to us. I think the fact that we share a name made it even harder for her to understand who I was. Uncle Rudi and Aunt Regine were already there, Regine busy in the kitchen. Julia poured champagne and we all toasted to Christmas, to a safe arrival, and to our hosts' new abode. Little Laura scarfed down eight Christmas cookies before dinner, so to stop her from ruining her appetite (which we now believe is impossible), we sang carols and started opening gifts straight away.
Fabian and I received books, homemade jams, sport clothing, chocolate, tree ornaments, and a Heidrich family cookbook. We gave wine and chocolate mostly. His father though, got a power washer for the garden (ah, my Kärcher-salesman boyfriend) and Clemens got a 1-day ski trip together with his brother. My handmade teddy bear for little Laura was a 1-minute wonder, until she unwrapped the wooden duck on a string. Then she was busy circling the tables and couches, the little duck quacking along behind her.
Dinner came next - an appetizer of salmon tartar (which I misheard as "salmon tatas" and laughed about until Fabi corrected me), followed by sprout salad and puff pastries filled with pork and mushroom gravy, with rice. Our dessert was cinnamon-flavored ice cream stars dipped in chocolate, served with warm plums - and a large dose of political conversation from the menfolk, which spurred me to call my parents and try to hurry up our Skype date.
Around 9:15 p.m., I sat down to the computer and connected with my parents and sisters over the ocean for the 3rd Christmas Even in a row. Little Laura sat on my lap, mesmerized. She absent-mindedly ran her tiny fingers through my hair as she watched. The Heidrich family sang "Silent Night" in German, and each side got a few words out in the other language. We only had time to give the basic summaries of our days (what's for dinner, what's up next), but it was wonderful, as always. We then prepared for Christmas mass.
There is one small and ridiculously ornate Catholic church in Unterbrunn, built by a few wealthy families in the town during the 15th century and decorated during the Baroque period. Bavarians are deeply Catholic and very into shrines. It looks like someone took all the golden trimmings, clouds and cherubs from the castle in Beauty and the Beast and shoved them into a box the size of an American home. Each row of pews could seat about 8 people, and there were only 20 rows. The rows were also labeled with family names written in calligraphic old German, left over from some silly battle that happened between parishioners years ago. In the center of the altar stood a full-size Mary statue, with gold radiating from her person, and peasants (or saints?) clothed in medieval-European robes looking up towards her. On both sides of Mary were much-too-large Christmas trees, covered with much-too-large ornaments and straw stars. Above our heads was a tiny balcony with a miniscule organ, and just 4 more rows of pews. Absolutely nothing more could have fit into that church.
Mass was apparently relatively short, according to Fabi's family - just one hour instead of two or two and a half. The message of peace and thankfulness was nice, but they turned off the lights every time I wanted to sing along with the prayer books. Everyone except me knew the songs by heart. At Communion, the priest ran out of hosts just as I came forward. "One moment please!" he said with a smile. The servers giggled and the locals had a good chance to stare us down. It was as if the priest knew just how many people come to mass on Christmas in this town, but he hadn't counted on the foreigners from Baden-Württemberg who showed up.
Back at the house, the adults finished off a bottle of wine and chatted quietly while little Laura slept. Around midnight, Fabi, Clemens, Hansi and I headed down to "Mama's Guest House" on the main road, where we slept on slightly-uncomfortable, but warm beds with lousy European pillows. But the bathroom was spotless. The hotel was quite German in that way - hard and practical, but flawlessly clean.
-----
We awoke on the 25th around 9 a.m., packed our bags and walked back up to Julia's house. Little Laura was already running around in her corduroys, babbling about the pretzels her mom was putting in the oven. The whole family sat around the table with cappuccinos, bread, marmalade, cheese and sausages. We "breakfasted" until midday.
Then we drove down to Lake Starnberg - Germany's fifth largest freshwater lake. It's 21 km long, and from the train station you can see the Alps towering over the water in the distance. Unsurprisingly, it's a very wealthy area. The little lakefront down of Starnberg has an S-bahn connection into the big city and is just a 30 minute drive from the "skiing paradise" of the Alps. The partly-cloudy lighting was incredible for taking photos. I stole Hansi's camera and took multiple family shots. We walked a strip of trail along the shore for about 2 hours, laughing and talking. Fabian found a tree overrun by mistletoe, and pinched some off to hang in the apartment. The boys practiced skipping rocks, and little Laura practiced throwing handfuls of pebbles into the shallows.
Fabi's other cousin, Evelyn and her boyfriend Paul arrived that afternoon. They met us at the house when we returned from our lake outing. Regine immediately went back to the kitchen. I wanted to help, but Fabian stole the carrot-chopping duties, so I had the option of going on another walk or dozing on the couch. I chose the latter. An hour later I woke up to Fabi sitting next to me, and to the smell of vegetables in wine sauce. Of course, Evelyn and Paul had brought another round of gifts, so we opened presents again while we waited for the deer to roast in the oven. Little Laura ran around with half a pretzel in her mouth, Hansi chasing her and throwing her over his shoulder, holding her little legs so she dangled with glee down his back. She did not allow him to stop until Fabi and Clemens took over, swinging her around in a felt basket. "Mehr! Mehr!" (more! more!) she laughed.
What landed on my dinner plate on Christmas day was certainly different. We first ate a soup broth with semolina dumplings and liver meat balls: German "wedding soup". Then came - on one plate, all the flavors mixing and mingling - deer roast, red cabbage, half a hot pear filled with tiny cranberries, stewed carrots and onions, and a Knödel: a bread dumpling the size of a baseball. The meal was incredible.
We lingered at the table, ate some more ice cream cinnamon stars, and played with little Laura until around 8 p.m., when Hansi finally declared that we had better make our way home. The autobahn was empty, and this time we only needed 2 hours for the 160-mile trip. It was just as you'd expect a Christmas in the country to be - laid back, calm, great food and good conversation. (And for a first holiday since Fabi's parents separated, I'd say it went exceptionally well.)
Merry Christmas!
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