The Getaway Car Postscript

By the way, I think I've figured out the German obsession with backing into parking spaces.

A conversation with German friend Livia brought to my attention the fact that in grocery store parking lots, it's exactly the opposite: cars are NEVER backed in. The reason is that the trunk needs to be accessible for packing up groceries. And I realized, that's the key! Trunk access! Hear me out ...

Germans use the trunks of their vehicles quite liberally. I think I opened the trunk of my car in the U.S. once every three months or so. Groceries, jackets, bags, etc., etc. always just went in the back seat or on the floor somewhere. But Germans actually use their trunks. I'm always a little confused and surprised when I catch a ride with someone and they offer to put my jacket and purse in the trunk before I get in, even for relatively short rides.

Keeping that in mind, one must also remember that German streets are really narrow. If you pull into a parking spot nose-first and pop the trunk and start rummaging around, you're taking up half the street.

And so they BACK IN! So they can put their stuff in the trunk without blocking traffic!

EUREKA!!!



JEM

Fahrrad

Jake got me a bike.

 Her name is ...

But you can call her ...

 She has a rearview mirror and a headlight and a little generator to power the headlight.

 

 And she appears to be pretty authentic DDR.

I think she's great. Thing is, I haven't really ridden a bike in like 10 years, and I can tell you that riding a bike isn't really like "riding a bike". In fact, I'd love to meet the person who came up with that saying and invite them to ride on my handlebars. I can't believe how wobbly and nervous I am when I ride now. Of course, I'm sure that has nothing to do with cargo I'm carrying along with me this time. Jethro always wears his helmet, of course, but knowing his well-being is reliant on my balance and awareness is a little crippling. He also adds a fair amount of weight that makes going up inclines nearly impossible for me. But we're trying. And I keep thinking, if all these 70-plus-year-old Germans I see riding everywhere can work it out, so can I. Right?



JEM

Fieldtrip: Pillnitz

This is Pillnitz.

It's a collection of palaces and grounds located on the east edge of Dresden dating back to the late 1600s, though it's seen its fair share of redecorations, remodels, and reconstructions since then.

Located pretty far from the bustling city center, Pillnitz served as summer residence for Saxony's royalty and also as home to at least two particularly beloved mistresses of Saxony's kings.

 

The Japanese and Chinese influence is unmistakable, but there's still some Baroque in there, in keeping with the royal family's go-to aesthetic.

 It's a quiet place located right on the Elbe River, and can be reached by ferry.

 And it has a hedge maze.

And on a summer weekday morning, you may there find a plentitude of gray-haired leisure-seekers in khaki jackets and sandals with socks, a photo-snapping gang of Japanese tourists, and these two — a woman and her child widowed and orphaned, respectively, by science.

In loving memory of my darling Jake who has been brainwashed by a doctoral thesis and dragged away by a grizzly band of academics. I guess we had a pretty good run.



JEM

Oh. My. Goth.

Let's begin the report of my day at the 2010 Wave-Gotik-Treffen in Leipzig by answering a few questions I presume you're asking yourselves.

1. Yes, I really went. All by myself. Voluntarily.
2. You mean, your idea of the perfect sunny spring Saturday doesn't involve wandering a city crawling with 20,000 children of the night?
3. Any good reporter knows that you should avoid standing out. You don't wear a three-piece suit to interview a farmer, and you can't wear a J. Crew sundress if you want to get in good with the dark ones. So, yes.


4. No, I didn't get you anything. Although I did consider this:


5. Did I take pictures?! Are you kidding me?!



I didn't actually buy the 66 Euro ticket, which covered four days' worth of concerts, parties, a film festival, a medieval market, and daily absinthe breakfasts (I'm not kidding). I figured a city overrun with 20,000 of the world's most enthusiastic goths would have plenty of free sights to see. Which it did.

I spent a good chunk of my day just strolling around downtown.



Then I headed over to Völkerschlachtdenkmal (Monument to the Battle of the Nations), one of Leipzig's most famous sights, which commemorates the Germans' defeat of Napoleon in Leipzig in 1813. It also happens to be goth-tastic.

Meant to embody German nationalism at its purest, the monument is somber, cryptic, and kind of creepy.

Just like many of its visitors on Saturday.


For 6 Euros you can climb the 300+ stairs to the top through tight, dank stairwells that look like this:


so that you can come out at the top gasping for air and look at this:




I enjoyed the view with a fitting crowd.




And then I strolled over to a huge neighboring cemetery, because few things are gothier than a German cemetery, and I knew I couldn't be the only person who thought so.

And I was right.

I found a number of exceptional goths wandering the cemetery including my favorites of the entire day:

I didn't notice until I was uploading these pictures at home that the eyebrow-less man in black above was pointing a gun at me.

After getting lost in the cemetery for about an hour (seriously — it was huge) I went back downtown and located the medieval market. I couldn't get into the market without a ticket, but since all the ticket holders went in and out through a single entrance, the area just outside the market proved to be prime goth-watching turf. I bought some dinner and took a lot of pictures.

Please note the old guy in lederhosen. I have no explanation for this.

From my perspective, the goths appeared to be (despite what one may assume) the ideal guests. They were friendly and respectful. They obeyed the crosswalks and didn't litter. They were generous patrons of the local businesses and services and more than happy to pose for a photo. But I couldn't help but watch Leipzig's conservative elderly residents throughout the day, as they boarded buses alongside men in black vinyl mini-skirts and women with waist-length purple dreadlocks, and wonder what they thought of all this.


But outside the medieval market, mixed in among the black Victorian gowns and floor-length "Matrix" overcoats, there they were in force in their tan spring jackets, pushing their walkers, snapping pictures, and grinning like it's Christmas.


And I realized that they get a kick out of this! Who'd have thought? I later found this video on the ProSieben website about the festival that seemed to capture the locals' attitude about it:

http://www.prosieben.de/tv/taff/video/clip/23664-gothic-festival-leipzig-1.1722211/

(Sorry, Americans. I think this can only be viewed in Germany.)

In addition to Leipzig's residents, the local businesses also seemed to be enthusiastically on board. Many shops' displays took on a gothic slant in honor of the festival.


Even the conservative C&A (think of it like Germany's Old Navy) pulled out their gothiest garb for this window display:


And finally, after a long day of traipsing in boots that were not built for traipsing, I dragged myself onto my Autobahn Express bus and went home, one tired and happy fake-goth.


Thanks to the very cool city of Leipzig and all the nice, accommodating, beautiful, spooky, and astonishing goths who let me take their pictures.

But I hope they'll all forgive me if I don't wear black again for a long, long time.



JEM