The time of the year...

....when I realize homeless people in the 'Furt have more active social lives than I do. It's a sad day when the sun is shining, the birds are chirping and you see that the homeless of Frankfurt greet each other anew in the streets, no longer cold or threatened by snow. It's like a party, and not just anyone is invited.

I'm not being insensitive. Just factual. I first noticed that the homeless in my adopted city seemed to be sort of clique-ish last summer. I was running into the English book section at Hugenduble, and about six men who were taking their time waking up that Tuesday morning admonished me for stepping on one of the corners of their sleeping bag. The guys were having a sleepover, and I, eager customer who saw the promise of a two-week old Vanity Fair behind the shop glass, was clearly cramping their style.

Since that day I've noticed them throughout the city. Groups no larger than 6, no smaller than 3, of multi-layered and urine-stained men who get all territorial in the warm months. It's like a high school cafeteria, and I oddly feel a little left out and jealous of their camaraderie. I only have 3 friends here, and we never travel in a pack. Nor do we travel with glass votives or makeshift vigils to the Blessed Virgin.

Cheese heals, for reals

Bonjour my friends!

I wish I was involved with someone who loved France. Someone who would make me live in France, who would "drag" me abroad every 2 or 3 years for "research" in France. Why? because we traveled there this past weekend (I needed to be in a real Catholic country for Holy Week) and France healed my stomach problems with her bountiful and stinky wine and cheeses. And her artfully subtitled movies. And her morning crepes. And people who might actually smile at you.

There was no work on Friday or Monday so for Erik's birthday, we boarded the train on Saturday headed towards the cultural capital of Alsace-Lorraine and the political capital of Europe, Strasbourg. This was Erik's first time, but a return trip for me. I was in Strasbourg 13 (!!!) years ago to visit my brother who was, at the time, doing a semester there. It was actually the first place I ever went to in Europe, and all I remember was going to Lafayette with my mom. Strasbourg is thus a very important city for Soucherays as it is where Andy met his wife Janell, and without her we wouldn't really be complete or have Mr. and Mrs., the two most beautiful children in the world (with Alice and Monster, of course).

Anyway, Strasbourg has it all: Dramatic history*, important waterways, cafes where C.B.S.** has sipped wine and a pretty impressive cathedral. We walked the cobblestones and went to church and ate about 5 crepes a piece. We also did a rockin' boat tour.

There are two words that epitomize urban vacation for me: BOAT TOUR. Nothing is better than being guided on a river or lake while someone describes architectural feats to you. Besides that, the only other thing I require when traveling is good food and wine. No beaches for me, no organized activities (besides the boat tour) just lots and lots of pre-travel reading of restaurant reviews and many, many glasses of Riesling.

Through my research, I decided we had to eat at Chez Yvonne for our splurge meal. It is a small cafe north of the cathedral which Jacques Chirac used to frequent. It was good, but the atmosphere was stuffy. I had coq a vin cooked in Riesling with special French sauerkraut. Erik had a smoked cheese and tomato pie with spring herbs. Our other must was a late-night visit to La Cloche a Fromage, or the cheese bell. This place might me worth a plane ticket to France alone. Cheese masters work with over 100 types of cheeses housed in a huge glass bell (the size of a VW big) and prepare cheese plates for the customers' palates. Bread and wine are the only other things on the menu. Some of the 15 cheese I sampled were awesome, heavenly creamy specimens. There were a few that actually died in my mouth, and a few that inspired Erik to start stage whispering "Cheddar is Better!"

I enjoyed the trip, and the cheese, a little more than Erik, who was a bit preoccupied with choosing our hometown for the next 5-7 years. After some aggressive hounding (did you know they offer grad students "signing bonuses"? Like baseball players?) we decided on North Carolina. So maybe this blog will become When Midwest meets Southeast. Or When Midwest Starts Going to Dangerous Lacrosse Parties. Or if I have my way and spend my last months in Europe correctly, When Midwest Meets a Guy from Eastern France and they Run Away Together to Eat Cheese.

*This part of France was once independent, then swallowed by France in 1681, then annexed by Germany in 1871, then back to France in 1918, then back to Germany in 1940, then back to France in 1945. Another way to look at it; that's the Franco-Prussian War, WWI and WWII.
** C.B.S. CARLA BRUNI-SARKOZY. I love her.

72 and sunny

Every single day this week! I left Frankfurt last week and it was 50, gray and rainy and the trees were naked and damp and now -- poof! -- spring is here. Everything is in bloom, pink and yellow buds line the river and the Germans have once again resumed their seasonal lunchtime ice cream habit with a vengeance. This is our first spring in Sachsenhausen and all the street life, cafes, apple wine taverns and gelato stores are taking over the sidewalks. Suddenly the city seems more populated even with the Holy Week holidays that have given us a half week of work.

Unfortunately I have only just begun to enjoy the weather because I returned to the 'Furt on Sunday and on Monday morning got a nasty stomach illness, one worthy of a trip to the hospital and then a very trustworthy German-Jewish doctor (an anomaly!).* As I laid on his table I looked up and saw a large wooden Star of David on his wall, next to his degrees. I said, "Happy Passover!" (we were speaking English, I don't do German if I'm sick) and he glared at me and said, "How do you know I'm Jewish?" I just pointed to the wall and he laughed and then said, "Oh you are American, you must know many Jews!" I just smiled, he was pressing on my spleen and I didn't really have the chance to enjoy the weirdness of the exchange.

I'm on the mend, enough so that I took a walk outside to get a vanilla shake at McDonald's. I saw three fashion forward European men in skinny colored capris. Spring has sprung.

* It's a bit more normal here to go the hospital and then get referred to a specialist if you're sick. This is mostly because doctors here are often alone in practice and keep very old fashioned hours, say 9:30 a.m.- 1 p.m., then 3 p.m.- 5 p.m.