Counting Our Blessings by Di Perkins

Author:Di Perkins [Perkins, Di]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Travel Writing, Biography - Memoir
ISBN: 9781742982984
Publisher: Sid Harta Publishers
Published: 2013-03-13T16:00:00+00:00

Goslar

* * *

Tuesday, 1 April

Dear Family and Friends,

Exiting Berlin at treetop level we appreciated how leafy, green and uncluttered the city is, with canals similar to Brugge. Our journey towards Hanover revealed flat farmland of green pasture, acutely yellow rape fields, wind farms, forests of spruce trees denuded of the lower branches to reveal a reddish bark, and huge woods of those translucently-lime linden trees. White asparagus is the rave on menus at the moment here and many fields of this delicacy were protected from the elements. Eventually we moved into more rounded hilly country with lakes inhabited by white swans, brim-full streams, and picturesque villages with church spires nestled into the valleys. There were signs of industry but not much pollution, token castles on small mountains, and one in particular with multiple steeples/towers. Listening to the toddlers saying “nein” I realised that the mandatory “no” that accompanies our little ones during the “terrible twos”, would vary with the language base. “Mama” and “Papa” resounded through the crowded carriages.

Returning to Goslar after twenty-eight years is especially nostalgic. Walking from the railway station pulling our bags, we felt the magic of this simple town in which the streets wound of their own devices, homilies were written around the girth of homes, the slated walls of homes looked as though they had stood an eternity of history and each roof had its own attic window with different designs and individual positions. Goslar possessed the same magic I remembered from 1984 and it was marvellous to walk towards Hotel Goldener Stern built in 1510. The ceiling above the stairs in our abode is low and you can feel the centuries creaking as you move along the hallways. As we meandered down to the village square, we experienced a sense of timelessness and were suitably awed. Noise grew as we approached the familiar Marktplatz and soon we happened on a large community activity. This yearly event has been celebrated for the last millennium. Walpurgis Nacht is a festival of the witches who are burned at midnight, as a welcome to the first day of spring and as a good omen for the following year. Effigies of witches and devils adorned the buildings in Goslar and waitresses took their fancy dress to the nth degree of seriousness, refusing to smile through their frightening witch make-up.

Band music, singing, stalls selling souvenirs, all variety of foods, drinks, with lots of folk sitting and standing around basking in the festive atmosphere. Immediately my eye was drawn to the Kaiserworth Hotel on the edge of the Markplatz where we had stayed in 1984. I gazed at the column beside which I had stood in deep conversation with an old, toothless German woman whose husband had been killed on the Western front. She just wanted to die and her daughter could not understand. Languages do not come easily to me, but this particular occasion confirmed to me the importance of persevering with another language, even when you are so aware of your inadequacies.

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