Costa Rica Coffee tour at Britt’s

It is Saturday, and we have booked a coffee tour with Jorge from our school. Jorge takes us to Britt near Heredia.

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Britt offers a didactical tour to demonstrate the history, plantation and production of coffee. It is a tour with stops in a marvellous, shady garden. There are samples and panels explaining it all.

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Origin of the coffee

Originally the coffee beans come from Ethopia… it seems that goats liked them. Via Saudi-Arabia and Europe they traveled to Brasil and then to Costa Rica.

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Why coffee in Costa Rica and where?

It is the combination of altitude above sea level, rain, volcanic soil and acidity of the terrain that is excellent for the coffee plant. Costa Rica only grows the Arabica plant.


 

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There are several regions that grow coffee, for instance in the central valley around San José or more to the south near Carthago and the Chirripo volcan. The coffee beans from the various regions can be blended or sold as coffee originating from one region.

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Growing a coffee plant

Under the leaves are the seeds that then ar planted out, replanted into the small bags and then into larger bags… it takes three to five years, until the plant can be harvested. image

A coffee plant bears fruit for about 20 years. The red fruit is being harvested from December to February/March. The harvesters are paid by bucket harvested. 11kg of beans give 1 kg of coffee.

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The cleaning and roasting process

Each seed contains two coffee beans that have to be uncovered in a multistage process. Then the beans are sun dried and roasted from 7 to 16 minutes, or from light brown to dark brown. Professional testers perform the quality control, using similar techniques and words like I know from wine tasting. The lady guiding through the tour with a lot of humour illustrates all this in a show at the end. We can taste the different coffees, but for us it is difficult to sense the difference. We just think that the coffee we get in Costa Rica has a very balanced taste.

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The gorgeous Britt garden

The Britt show has given a good overview of the process of growing coffee… but now I should take Ursula to a real coffee plantation like the one of former Los Peters in Sarchi.

The Britt garden is gorgeous. To complete our visit, we walk through it, enjoy it and take some fotos.

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A short afternoon in San José

The school Don Quijote offers an excursion to San José. It turns out that we are the only participants of that excursion. Michel is our guide. For 315 Colones, the bus takes us from Santo Domingo to the busy city center of San José. We can feel, hear and smell that we are in a city. People are rushing in the narrow streets,  street sellers are shouting out, what they have to sell and the many busses are exhausting stinking, black smoke. This is the sprawling center of a metropolitan area of about 1.6 mio inhabitants. It is the capital of Costa Rica, but it had to fight for that. Until 1823, the older city Cartago was the capital. In the battle of Ochomongo, San José won and took over.

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On the way to the Plaza de Cultura – some shopping

The bus station to Santo Domingo is not far from the post office, elegant in yellow.

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A surf shop? Ursula buys goggles for swimming. A book shop with a German name, Lehmann?

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Yes, says Michel, around 1900 many Germans immigrated to Costa Rica. Right, my grand uncle and grand aunt also came to Costa Rica then. We enter and buy a children’s book by Joaquín Gutierrez – he is an author from Costa Rica and Michel loves this book. Let me see, it might come in handy for my telling fairy tales, when back home.

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The Teatro Nacional at the Plaza de Cultura

The Plaza de Cultura is full of Josefinos. It is dominated by the Teatro Nacional, built in 1897. The first enactment, I hear, was Goethe’s Faust.

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Inside is a beautiful lobby with statues.

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On the ceiling there is the famous painting about coffee and banana plantations that has been produced in Italy and shipped to Costa Rica. The theatre has this plush atmosphere that we both like, for me it is a “real” theatre. It reminds me of Buenos Aires and Ursula of Florence.

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The cosy coffee bar inside the theater serves excellent coffee (from Britt) and has enticing cakes. I take the fresh fruit juice named Saraquipí.

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Towards the Museo Nacional and the Parque Nacional

The Museo de Oro closes soon, and we put it on our agenda for later. We follow the Avenida Central. From this street I could see the Museo Nacional six years ago (when I was here with Ernst), but now a modern building stands in the way. It has been built in 2014 and hosts the Jade Museum. Also for later.

The Museo Nacional is in the former arsenal that became superfluous, when Figueres eliminated the military after the civil war of 1947.

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I liked this museum six years ago – it gave an excellent overview of the history of Costa Rica.

We continue to the Parque Nacional and admire all the government buildings of San José. In the parque there is amemorial that reminds of the battle of Santa Rosa (1856), when Costa Rica defended itself successfully against invadors from the North.

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In the Auto Mercado, we buy Swiss cheese and risotto. We want to cook some Swiss meals for our homestay family. Thank you, Michel, for helping us to find everything and then helping us to carry it.

In the Friday evening traffic jam we return back to our quiet Santo Domingo. The air is much fresher here. We breathe deeply and are happy to have decided to stay in peaceful Santo Domingo.

 

 

Semana Santa in Santo Domingo de Heredia

Semana Santa re-enacts the last days of Christ up to his resurrection

In Semana Santa (Holy Week) the catholics re-enact the last days of Christ and his resurrection: On Palm Sunday his entrance into Jerusalem (the crowd waves with palm leaves), on Holy Thursday the Last Supper of Christ with his apostles, on Good Friday his arrest, trial, crucification and death, and on Sunday his resurrection.

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A countless number of activities in Santo Domingo de Heredia

We came to Costa Rica late on Tuesday of Semana Santa and observed the activities of the rest of this week in Santo Domingo de Heredia, our small hometown for the next four weeks, a little off the beaten tracks. Already on Tuesday we heard the “bumpbump” of the drummers accompanying a procession. The number of processions and services to follow in this week were countless… several on each day.  Impossible to attend them all. We visited only a small part… some ten hours in all. Let me share my impressions with you.

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Santa Misa y Procesión solemnel dedicada a Jesú atado a la columna

On Wednesday there is the procession dedicated to Jesus attached to the column (and then Barrabás will be free, not Jesus). Three platforms with figures are waiting in the choir. One of them shows Jesus attached to a column. At six pm, the service starts in the Basilica de Santo Domingo de Guzmán.  Though it is still a working day, the church is almost full. The priest tells the story of Jesús from being captured to resurrection. The drummers and ratcheters enter the church, led buy Roman soldiers. Then the heavy platforms with Jesus at the column leave the church, but this is not easy. The platforms are being carried towards the door, carefully put down to the ground (the leader knocks and all the carriers let the platform down like one hand),  pushed through the door on wheels and finally the platforms  are being balanced down to street level. The procession walks 100m north, some 100m west, 100m south and again some 100m east to get back to the Basilica. We follow them for a while, take a photo of the Basilica and then go home.

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I wonder, why there are Romans participating in the processions. They were never in Latin America, right? Yes, right! But this is the enaction of the life of Christ, and the Romans were part of that and hence belong on this stage. Ursula laughs… remember there was the emperor Augustus at that time, she teases me.

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Solemne Procesión de la Humillación

On Thursday from 3 to 5 pm the holy procession of the humiliation takes place. Again three platforms are waiting in the Basilica. Jesus now stands on a mountain looking down at three persons.  Perhaps he is now in the garden Getsemane. On the second platform there is Maria in a blue dress. On the third platform I can see  three men, perhaps apostles (I recognize Petrus with the key and a friend tells me later, the others must be Jacobus and Johannes).

Again the Romans, the drummers and the ratcheters enter the church – and leave them.

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Again the three platforms are carefully moved out of the church to the street.

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I sense the odor of incense. The men carrying the platforms wear white shirts and a blue ribbon that says ” Jesús del Consuelo.” There are many carriers, and they carry the platforms in changing shifts, as they are heavy.

 

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Some of the ratcheters are small girls that fight with their ratchet to produce the “ratch” noise that accompanies the drummers.

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It is all hard work. The sun is burning down on the procession. Some spectators give water to the carriers, the drummers or the ratcheters. I follow the procession for two hours, until they go back to the Basilica.

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Wrapped up in incense the statues “walk” back to their places in the choir.

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In the evening there is the misa vespertina della cena del Señor, hora santa y adoración al Santisimo, Procesión del Silencio and at 3 am the Trisagio y Prcesión de la Penitencia con Jesús del Consuelo. As we feared to walk alone in the night, we did not attend these events.

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Catching up with the Trisagio y Procesión de la Penitencia

However, at  5:30 am I left the house trying to catch the end of the night procession at the first daylight. I find the procession in the second large church of Santo Domingo, en “el Rosario”. The cargadores (that carried the platforms) are sitting outside of the church and prayers are entering the church. The platform of Christ stands near the choir. I join the prayers. The church is full. The prayers are standing. This service finishes soon, and many people are leaving saying, “necessitamos un descanso” (we need a rest). I can understand that, they have been up from 3am to follow the Trisagio service and the procession. And now it is after six in the morning. The children that had operated the rattle are sitting in the cemetery. This has been a long day for them. They have taken off their white and red gowns and hold them in their hands.

The celebrations now continue seamlessly after the night procession. The cargadores enter the church. Today they are wearing vests of bordeaux red color with a foto of Jesús on their backs. They surround Jesus in the garden and stand still. Someone attaches the cross to Jesus making him ready for his march to Golgatha.

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A young priest starts to plea for the ill… one after the other, and always, he repeats: “Nada es imposible”. People are mourning and some are crying. One lady is so overwhelmed that she has to leave the church temporarily. The priest then asks all to embrace their neighbors. Some of the cargadores come to the back of the church to embrace their parents and brides. In the end we all take our hands and pray together. To complete the service, the priest tells us the next events… the activities will last all day again. The service for the ill ends at about eight am. Some of the participants have been up since 3 am.

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Bendición del Fuego on Saturday evening

On Saturday evening we attend the service “Bendición del Fuego”. The theme is: The Light is back. The believers enter the church at 8pm with candles in their hands. When we arrive, they are already in the church. It is full, not one seat left. People are even standing. Aoother procession is just coming back from their turn around the city and is entering the church under the bumpbump of the drummers, the ratchratch of the ratcheteers and the sounds of the brass musicians, enwrapped in a cloud of scenting  incense.

When all the platforms with Christ and his environment are back near the choir, the service starts. The priest tells stories from the Old Testament, Genesis, Abraham and Izaak, Moises, Jesaia, Ezekiel and from the New Testament (the grave is empty on Easter morning’ and a man dressed in white tells Maria Magdalena and two other women not to be afraid, because her son has resurrected). For one topic there is always a sermon, a lection and a prayer (“oremos”). A professional voice is singing beautifully. The believers are listening, are clapping their hands, are praying, and are also looking after their children – with love and care – many of them have brought their favorite plush animals with them. It is all natural and chlidren belong to that. A baby is baptized and also an adult after having confirmed his “yo creo”. Later the lights were switched on, to indicate that Christ has resurrected. In the prayers, people hold their hands up.With the holy communion the service ends. Charo y Jesús have come to meet us and take us back home at 11pm.

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Easter service at 10 am on Sunday morning

On Sunday we go back to the Basilica with Charo and Jesús at 10 am. Another processiom has just returned and the statues on their platforms are moving into the Basilica.

The Basilica is again full. Not one seat is free. Families have come with their children and plush animals, mothers in hot pants and sleeveless tops, young couples – the girls in short sleeveless dresses – it seems to be normal to come to the church and celebrate another service with fervor. Singing, lections, prayers, preaching. The songs are vivid and all believers sing, move their bodies with the beat of the music, clap their hands, hold their hands up to demonstrate their faith in God. They sing “resucitó”, “ame”, “gloria”. The service ends with the sacrament – there are four long queues that patiently wait for their small piece of holy bread. One and a half hours later, the priest announces more processions… how many more will take place? I am losing track of them.

While we walk back home, Ursula and I admire the fervor and enthusiasm that the catholics show here in Costa Rica to celebrate Semana Santa and re-enact the last days and the resurrection of Christ. But, we also feel fear. Can such a mass of people not be seduced… by wrong leaders and by the wrong messages? This is just a short thought.

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 Nothing  is impossible, this is the message of hope that I take with me

We both are protestants brought up in Switzerland. We do not take all the events of the Semana Santa by the word, but like beautiful symbols. We enjoyed the atmosphere of solemnity, fervour and peace of the celebrations we attended. “Nothing is impossible” or “nada es imposible” means hope for me… hope that there will always be men and women that despite the recent attacks and the wars around us keep up their vision of peace and are willing to act. We do hope that nothing is impossible and that we will find peace again. Or, as the NZZ of March 27th puts it: “Death does not have the last word, but the last but one word”. Shall all be possible… and nothing impossible.

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Some Tico specialties such as giving directions

The people of Costa Rico are called Ticos. We are meeting many friendly Ticos. Especially in the small town of Santo Domingo they are very hospitable. In the streets they all say “hola” or “buenas dias/tardes”.  But… we have to get used to some of their specialties, for instance how they give directions, prepare coins carefully in the bus or walk carefully in the streets.

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How Ticos give directions

Ticos seem not to have absolute addresses as we do. We may live in Spalenberg 77a in Basel. But a Tico would say: “I live 100ms west of the shoehouse Deiss  across the bakery Gilgen.” Just a few weeks ago, Deiss has closed down. Now the address at Spalenberg 77a would change to “I live 100ms west of the old shoehouse Deiss…”

When I went to Costa Rica for the first time six years ago, I received the following directions to our homestay:  Start at the Scotiabank, walk four blocks uphill, pass a car seller, walk up to the bridge and then turn left  to follow a large paved road… But six years later, the Scotiabank building has disappeared, and people might have forgotten that it has ever been there. The road description has to be revised.

This time, our homestay is described as painted in yellow with a black gate across the old palace of justice and not far from the Colombo school. But the Palace of Justice has moved to the city center and  the school has been renamed to Don Quijote. Our homestay still is described alng those lost landmarks. I am really happy that we had ordered a taxi from our school to pick us up at the airport. Non-local taxis are definitely lost with this system of addresses. Sometimes trees are used as reference points… and then they are cut down…

When I wanted to join one of the processions early in the morning of Good Friday, a friendly policeman told me to walk 100m south and 200m east. I was puzzled, but it was impossible to get another direction. Hence I went 100m south and 200m east… and arrived at the second large church of Santo Domingo. Aha! Yes, the procession has ended here, and the statue with Jesús in his green gown was inside this church, where a sermon was just about to start. Why could the friendly policeman not tell me to go to the Iglesia del Rosario? Then I would have known where to go… but that does not conform to a Tico’s mind.

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Prepare your coins precisely in busses

When we drove to Heredia, I had prepared 950 Colones in coins. This was stupid, two tickets costed only 850 Colones. The busdriver mumbled something and gave me back all the coins. I started over again, giving him 500 Colones – and was about to add the rest. He throws the 500 back at me. I stop, think, prepare 850 Colones (which is the precise amount)…  and now he takes my coins nodding. Why has he not just given me back 100 Colones in the first place?

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And, when you have recieved directions, walk carefully… 

Walk carefully, as the sidewalks end in small ditches…

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… and Ticos are dynamic car drivers.

 

Heredia – a lively small town

Saturday… let us go to Heredia

Heredia is the nearest place that is more “towny” than “our” Santo Domingo. Charo explains to us that the bus station is close to Macdonalds, 100m away from their home. As soon as we arrive at the bus station, the bus comes around the corner. 15 minutes later we are in the middle of a vibrant town that is about to wake up. It is a university city that has kept its colonial center.

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Walking towards the Parque Central

The Calle Central takes us uphill. The shoe shops and some dress shops are already open, and I have to be careful not to start emptying these inviting shops… Their choice is excellent. We reach the welcoming Parque Central with its music pavillon.

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The Basilica de la Immaculata Concepción from 1797. The sun stands behind the basilica right now.

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The walls are fortified and the church has withstood all earthquakes so far.

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Inside the old church with Jesús in the grave

The church is simple inside with white columns. I like to be in churches that are not too much adorned.

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Near the choir, a statue of Jeús rests in his grave.

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Some impressions from the Parque Central and around

The central square is a vivid place with stone benches that invite to sit down and have a chat.

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There is the Fortín, a tower that cannot be visited. We read that it is not safe.

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La Casa Cultural is an old colonial style house, now closed.

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Inviting fruit, vegetable and meat stands in the mercado

We keep on trying to remember the names for the tropical vegetables and fruits such as guyaba, maracuya or marañon.

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There are also food stands, but we decide to try one of the restaurants in the city. We end up in the China-Japanese Principe and have a Sushi meal with noodles. This makes a change to the everyday rice you get at Costa Rica.

We top the excursion with an Italian ice cream sold by the Gelaterio Golosa… the Costa Rican fruit flavors are enticing – I have a green cas ball and we eat our ice creams in another shady park, the Parque del Carmen in front of the namsake church el Carmen.

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Back to Santo Domingo in 15 minutes

In the early afternoon we take the bus back to Santo Domingo, hop out in front of MacDonalds and two minutes later we have reached our Costa Rican hone. We enjoyed to see Heredia, but we are happy that we have decided to stay in Santo Domingo to learn Spanish. It is more relaxed, and everyone greets us with a friendly smile in the streets.

 

Costa Rica – On the road again

Our plans for Costa Rica: Learn Spanish, travel and meet my family

With Ursula, I have traveled before – to Mongolia and to Florence. Now we are heading to Costa Rica to brush up our Spanish, to travel and to meet my family. Our adventure starts in the Easter Week, or as it is called in Spanish, die the Semana Santa.

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Crossing the big pond – a long, long journey

In Zurich we catch the tram at 5 AM. At the airport we buy some chocolate. The Kosovo Albanian shop-keeper loves to hear me say “falemers” and “s’ka problem” and gives us some red Lindt chocolate balls on top of the pralinés we bought. Our Iberia plane leaves safely and takes us south along the Swiss Alps – what a gorgeous view. We change planes in Madrid. We take off with a view of the Pyrenés.

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We then have to sit patiently in our window seats for eleven hours crossing the big pond. We land safely at 3:30 local time in San José.

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Jorge takes us to santo Domingo de Heredia, a suburb of San José, where we will stay for four weeks. Of course, Jorge offers us an excursion for tomorrow. May be next week, Jorge.

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A friendly welcome by our homestay family

The family of Charo gives us a hearty welcome. Only Bony, the little teckle, is not happy to see new guests and barks and barks, but he stops after one day and accepts us to be part of the family. We find two rooms with small bath rooms facing a courtyard with a nice garden.

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We go shopping with Charo to get a first overview of the area. We enjoy dinner, and then, we are extremely tired. 22 hours ago we have started our journey.  I fall into my comfy bed and sleep deeply into the next morning, here in Costa Rica.

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Wednesday – discovering our new home town

After a good breakfast with fresh tropical fruits we have a chat with José and Charo. Then we head off to discover our new small town. We find many nice shops, bakeries (we buy empañadas), a stationary shop (we buy cuadernos quadraticos or notebooks), a super market (Pali, we buy water, tea and biscuits) and a bank (no money exchange without a passport). In a super market we try to remember the names for the vegetables such as pepino for cucumber. There is a church surrounded by a garden with tropical plants (Iglesia de Nuestra Señora del Rosario).

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Nearby is a small city park in the very center of Santo Domingo – the palm trees are bending under the wind.

In front of the Basilica de Santo Domingo de Guzmán is a food market.

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We buy bananas and a mango.

The basilica is being adorned for the service and procession tonight. It will be the “Santa Misa y Procesión solemnel dedicada a Jesú atado a la columna.” This is Maria, ready for the procession.

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We look forward to some of the services and processions of the Semana Santa.

D’Schnitzelbängg and the football match Albania-Switzerland

Even a football agnostic notices that the upcoming European Championship will be special for the Swiss and the Albanian teams

Though being a football agnostic, I have noticed that the European Championship in France will be special for Switzerland and Albania: Quite some of the players in the Swiss team are from Kosovo-Albania and so are some in the Albanian team – all of them trained in Switzerland. When the two teams play against each other, they might talk in Swiss German. This has been commented by the “Schnitzelbängg”.

“Schnitzelbängg” belong to the Basel carnival (“Fasnacht”) that was celebrated in mid February this year: For three days my town was focused on nothing else but their Fasnacht. There is a lot to say (and love) about the “Basler Fasnacht”: The Morgestraich, the Cortège, the Guggekonzärt, the carpets of Räppli… and there are also the “Schnitzelbängg”.

Schnitzelbängg” are a kind of minstrels forming small groups that walk from one restaurant to the next in the evenings, presenting (mostly singing) short verses about what has happened during the year – in Basel, in Switzerland and in the world. This year they also commented about the match Switzerland – Albania in the European Championship. Here I am citing some verses, also trying to translate them into English and adding the links to the presentations of the “Käller-Assle” (the cheerful group of “cellar woodlouses”), the “Tam Tam” (The Tam Tam in their beautiful yellow trousers illustrate their verses with requisites they pull out of their large pockets – they won an award for their performance) and the Bataillioons-Glunggi (explanations below).

 

D Käller-Assle
(the verse about the football match starts at about 4:50 minutes)

Uff em Fuessballfäld dien sich bewege
Zwai Team, wo mit’nand Mundart rede.
Das passiert und isch kai Witz
Schpielt Albanie gege d’Schwyz.

On the football field there are running
Two teams that talk in dialect to each other
This will happen and it is not a joke,
When Albania will play against Switzerland.

 

Tam Tam
(first verse in the series)

Für d’EM z’Frankrych wird my Schtube zum Fussballstadion.
Drei Match am Daag uff der Kautsch, das bruucht Kondition.
My Frau schleppt’s Bier, pro Schpyl e Gatter. Voll yne, uuse läär.
Numme  Schwyz – Albanie lueg y nit. Do waisch nit, wär isch wär.

During the EM in France my living room will become a football stadium.
Three matches a day on the sofa, that will require physical shape.
My wife will carry the beer, per match a sixpack. Coming full and going empty.
Only Switzerland – Albania I will not watch. Because we will not know, who is who.

 

Batallioons-Glunggi (they furl the flag of Albania before starting with this verse)
(first verse in the series)

Mir hän ufem Wääg in Dienscht im Zuug die Faane gschwänggt.
Dr Ueli Muurer froggt uns, was das soll was hän der eych do dänggt.
E Skandaal syygs und vor Wuet do kunnt er grad e kli ins schwitze,
Drbyy hän mir nur welle d’Schwizernazi understyytze.

I am explaining the idea of this verse: The “Batailloons-Glunggi” come dressed up as soldats, as they pretend to be the “sloppy guys” (soldats) of the battalion. They are not serious about the “battalion” – this is a carneval/Fasnacht joke. They sing that they take the train to join the military service (many younger citizens are doing some practice days each year). In the train, they wave the Albanian flag. The head of the defence department (Ueli Muurer) asks them angrily, why they are doing so. They apologize (last line): “Well, we just wanted to support the Swiss national football team.”

The Albanian flag is the black eagle with two heads on red. Here it is with the bust of Skanderbeg in Lezha (Albania).

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Well, may be – even as a football agnostic – I will watch the match Switzerland – Albania, but then I will not know which team to support.

Wonderful, I will be a godmother (Gotte) – what does that mean?

“Will you be godmother to my son”, my nephew asks me…

Around Christmas, I try to calm down my nephew’s half year old son – I am his grand-auntie. Not his auntie, his GRAND-antie. Then my nephew asks me, whether I would be the godmother of my grand-nephew. I feel touched. Yes, of course, I agree.

I have never been a godmother before. Another new adventure at my – not so young-  age. I look forward to that and start to think about what matters.

After looking back to my childhood and listening to friends I think that care and love matter, being authentic and reliable, finding an atmosphere of trust, and living this by creating habits, by exchanging, by showing you are always there when needed and – yes, also – by making presents that will be remembered. It all has to come from the heart. Accept that this is a mutual relation and enjoy that. And it may become a friendship that lasts beyond the age of 20.

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Looking back to my childhood: I enjoyed the love and care of my godfather and my godmother though they lived far away

My godfather was Onkel Nante and my godmother was Tante Christine.

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Onkel Nante must have been my age (around 65), when he started his journey with me. He was my mum’s uncle and my grand uncle. He lived in Berlin. I could feel his love in the carefully selected presents, in the letters we exchanged and during my visits in Berlin. One present I remember were the Christmas angels singing “Holy Night”. It was a music box with a windup mechanism, and after some time, the tune would slow down: H-oo-oo-ll-yyy—- n-iii… and then it would fade away. These angels accompanied me every Christmas. When I was seven, Onkel Nante gave me a skirt with a matching vest, modeled after the red-green-white Scottish kilt, and I was proud of wearing it for many years – I also wear it on the foto. Then I received a summer dress in ice rose – so beautiful. And, when I was fifteen, he had a blue costume made for me to cover my (temporary) overweight. I often exchanged letters with Onkel Nante and his wife. Both were always interested in my life. When I was a student, I traveled to Spain staying in a tent, and I sent him a travel report. The result: An angry letter to my mum: “Please give your daughter enough money to stay in a hotel – tents are extremely unhealthy!” He was more than 80 years old by then, but he was still worrying about me. When I started studying economics at university, he sat down with me, looked at me firmly and asked, whether I will be able to earn a living with that. So – what I remember, are some great gifts and his loving care. And today, I always go to see his house in Berlin, not far from the mosque, to – virtually – say hello to him (his house has been sold).

My godmother, Tante Christine, was a friend of my mum’s and lived in Köln. She always lived alone and may not have had a lot of opportunities to travel. I have not met her often. But we regularly exchanged letters, and she always selected her gifts with great care. For my birthday and for Christmas, she would send me jumpers – they always became my favourite jumpers. I particularly remember an ice blue jumper. Through the letters and her gifts I could also feel her love. One day my letters were no longer answered. I was very sad. I think she must have been lonely and sharing her love with me was also important to her.

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Ernst, my husband, shared adventures with his godson

In my first summer with Ernst I heard him mumble: “My godson left a message on the answering machine. He wants to spend a few days with me. I will pick him up at the train station.”  We had a few wonderful days – I particularly remember the mini golf tournament that he won. Sometimes we all would take the camper, roast sausages, sleep near a lake in the mountains, go for hikes and climbs or visit the caves in the area. In winter we went out skiing. Every Christmas, Ernst renewed the subscription to “Spick”, a scientific newspaper for kids. After having finished school, the godson shyly said that perhaps he does not need the “Spick” newspaper any more. Now he is a scientist himself, and for his doctorate exam, Ernst promised him a globe based on his specifications… a wish that I eventually fulfilled, when Ernst was already a star watching over us. There was this regular tradition of presents and also sharing time and adventures. The relationship carried on into adulthood and I inherited it in a way after Ernst had left us.

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Some of my friends add that for them regularity, independent advice and a mutual relationship for ever are important

From various friends I gathered their godfather and godmother experience.

A friend of mine had a godfather that was a farmer with nine children: “He was not rich. But every birthday and every Christmas, he gave me a five franc piece (Fünfliber). He slipped it firmly into my hand looking at me with warm and kind eyes. I loved these moments. And they came back every birthday and every Christmas, with regularity. Being able to rely on this regular gift was very important for me”, he pointed out to me.

A couple told me that they had selected a very good friend as the godmother for their daughter. It all started well, but then the friendship broke. The godmother wanted to give back her duty. But the mother said: “Well, you may give back your godmother duties, but do not tell my daughter. She is very proud of you and she loves to think of presents for your birthday and for Christmas. We do not want to take that away from her.” So, the daughter, not knowing about the problem, continued to handicraft presents for her godmother. Eventually, the friendship between the parents and the godmother was restored and the daughter had never noticed the problem… Yes, the relationship between godparents and godchild is mutual.

My friend from Munich (now also in her sixties) told me that she has just visited Tante Bärbel in the hospital. She is her godmother and is now in her nineties. The friendship with the godmother lasted far beyond her childhood – beautiful.   And her husband added that he valued the advice of his godparents that added an independent view to the opinion of his parents.

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So – let me try to live up to that…

… and I do hope that I will be able to accompany my godson into his adulthood.

 

Albania – from Permet to Korça

Driving from Permet to Korça through the mountains takes around five hours on small roads. In the morning we stop at the Ottoman bridge with the thermal springs.

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The  Ottoman bridge of Permet and the thermal springs

Around 1800, the Ottoman bridge near Permet has been built by Ali Pasha, the mighty local administrator of the district of Epirus. On the “Reise Know How” for Albania, there are sheep on this bridge. No sheep here today.

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The spring near the bridge is like an infinity pool. The water is said to be good for the skin, Ben says. No one here, except us and a couple from Germany. We have a swim in the lukewarm water.

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There are more smaller ponds in the canyon. One of them is against rheumatism – Ben tells me that a priest who was bent from rheumatism got cured here.

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We walk up to look into the canyon from above. Ben is worried that there is a hydropower project going on here that might endanger this beautiful spot with the ponds and the bridge.

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Near the “infinity pond” we stop at a small coffee place. While the owner serves us coffee, he says: “I gave Tirana up for this place.” He also has a few guest rooms. Well yes, this is a beautiful spot with a lot of touristic potential, and I am happy that I can enjoy it without crowds of people. Ursula tells me that a year ago she was here over a weekend and the pond was full with joyful children enjoying a swim.

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Continuing through the mountains 

On the way to Korça, we now follow the river Vjosa going south.

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When we reach the border with Greece, we turn left and travel through hills that remind me a bit of our Swiss Franches Montagnes.  Behind the town Leskovic we overtake a farmer that walks along the side of the road. We look at one another, stop and take him with us. He was on the way to his tomato and pepper fields – about a two hours’ walk from his home. He dreams of growing his fields bigger and exporting his tomatoes. When we reach his fields, he insists on giving us tomatoes while his dogs and his son are welcoming us. Great hospitality.

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A few kilometers later, a policeman stops us. Hm, what have we done wrong? It turns out that nothing is wrong. The policeman – having visited his family here in the moutnains – just looks for a way to travel back to Korça, where he works. He joins us in our car.

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Lunch at Sotiro

Now, I am hungry. It is almost three o’clock. Ben knows a great place on the way, the farm Sotiro. The farm  has rooms for about 30 people, a nice camping site with a large swimming pool, cows and horses – and a pond with trouts. This would be a great place to stay and hike in the surrounding hills.

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I have a fresh trout, caught from the pond and perfectly spiced and grilled. Delicious.

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Continuing to Korça

We continue our way to Korça. A large team of cyclists from Sweden – not young, they are in their sixties – climb up the turns of the road – sweating. They have started in Korça today. Very brave. Ben greets each of them: “Bravo, you are doing well.”

We need another break and have coffee at the Coloçare, a restaurant that is run by a cousin of our policeman. He admires the owner, because he has constructed and decorated the place all by himself. With a lot of phantasy, as for instance the bear with the guitar shows.

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Again we enjoy the great Albanian hospitality. The owner of the restaurant prepares a yoghurt drink for us and serves us butter and bread.

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Ben, the owner and the policeman exchange about politics. His son is studying in Italy right now, but will have to finish his studies in Tirana, because Italy is too expensive

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In Korça – beautiful Leon and a delicious meal in the Taverna – THE recommended place in Korça

In Korça we stay in the comfy and pretty guest house Buijtina Leon, right behind the cathedral. Korça is a European city with a boulevard, a beautiful park, well arranged. The restaurants mostly serve fastfood – except the Taverna –  tucked away in a small street. With the German couple, we share a delicious dinner. I have piglet. A regional Cabernet Sauvignon goes well with our meal and we forget the time, as Ben tells us the story of his life after the fall of the iron curtain.

The Rainbow – the treasures hidden at its end make me dream of conciliation

The rainbow near Gjirokastra in Albania

It rained all day until late afternoon, when I was in Gjirokaster in September 2015. With Ben I followed the tracks of Ismail Kadaré’s “chronicle in stone” – his house, the airport and the castle… (see  “On the tracks of Ismail Kadaré“). Late in the afternoon, the sun started to emerge and we saw the rainbow.

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This rainbow linked us up with Ismail’s rainbow. Ismail saw his rainbow in 1940 and he was 4 years old. “The houses in the town made of stone have cisterns to collect rain water… In the morning the river is flooding the road below the town, after having tried to get rid of the bridge. The child sees hatred between the river, the bridge, the wind, the mountains and the creeks attacking from the mountains – and between all this hatred is the town – all lonesome – with their stone walls that the boy loves. In the morning the boy sees a rainbow that makes peace between the elements, but Ismail is convinced that this is only a temporary peace (see my earlier blog)”.

Yes, seeing a rainbow near Gjirokaster linked me up with Ismail Kadaré’s rainbow.

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The rainbows in Switzerland point to buckets of gold (Kübeli Gold) or treasure chests (Schatzkisten)

In Switzerland you have to run fast,  when you see a rainbow. Where it touches the ground, there are buckets of gold or treasure chests (depends on the canton; in Berne – buckets of gold and in Basel – treasure chests; I do not know precisely about the other cantons). Whatever kind of treasure, you have to run fast to reach it.

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The Swiss – Albanian combination of rainbows made me dream of conciliation

Rainbows and their treasures, this made me dream of conciliation and peace. I wrote down my feelings for the turn of the years 2015/2016, first in German…

Ein Regenbogen…

Die Stürme – vorbei,
Die Kräfte – versöhnt.
Der Bogen verbindet
Zwei Schätze am Boden.

Zwei Schätze – verschieden?
Und dennoch – verbunden?
Zwei Schätze – versöhne,
Was scheinbar verschieden,

Du, mein Regenbogen…

 

… and then in some other languages to share my thoughts with more friends.

A rainbow…

The storms – passed,
The forces – reconciled.
The arc connects
Two treasures on the ground.

Two treasures – different?
Nevertheless – connected?
Two treasures – reconcile,
What seems to be different,

You, my rainbow.

 

Радуга…

Бури прошли,
Силы примирились,
Арка соединяет
Два сокровища в земле.

Два сокровища – они разные?
И всё таки – соединились?
Два сокровища – примири то
Что кажется разным.

О! Моя радуга.

 

Un arc-en-ciel…

Les tempêtes – passées,
Les forces – réconciliées.
L’ arc – relie
Deux trésors sur terre.

Deux trésors – différents?
Et pourtant – reliés?
Deux trésors – réconcilie
Ceux qui paraissent différents,

Toi, mon arc-en-ciel.

 

Un arco-iris

Las tempestadas passadas,
Las fuerzas conciliadas.
El arco conecta
Dos tesoros al suelo.

Dos tesoros – diferentes?
E sin embargo – conectados?
Dos tesoros – concilia
Los que parecen diferentes.

Tú, mi arco-iris.