If I were a landscape ...

... I would look like this: Rock, trees, colors, views ...

... views, rock, colors, fields ...

... fields, views, rock, colors ...

... views, rock, fog and the Elbe river ...

... color, leaves, tears, beautiful ...

Pretty old graffiti on the rock ...

... and a whole lot of people climbing the Lilienstein with babies on their back. 

Is it strange to develop romantic feelings for a landscape? Saxon Switzerland was great, colorful, dark, bright, high, low, warm, cold, and a little bit scary. I love it.

Evil on the rise: The breadification of a once culturally diverse neighborhood.

The bad seed has been planted: In November another bakery (blue arrows) will open 

on Grindelallee.  In the once diverse neighborhood yeast culture is yet growing stronger.

If there's anything we do not need in this neighborhood, it's another bakery. There are about 7 within a hundred yards - not counting the numerous cafes, grocery stores and newsstands that are selling bread, rolls and pastry just by the way. I was quite happy with the One-Euro-Store next to the head-massager-and-tabletop-fountain-store, but unfortunately it went out of business in September. Last week I first noticed the sign announcing the opening of a new franchise self-service bakery store. I'm confused. I'd like to think it's a conspiracy, but then it's too obvious to be one. To me it's becoming pretty clear that bread is taking over the city! Doesn't anybody see? Doesn't anybody care?? One night we'll wake up from a yeasty smell, and there will be dough all over the place, dough pushing open the bedroom door, dough coming through the cracks in the walls, dough creeping into our beds, winding its way under our blankets, covering our feet, legs, bodies, and before we can even scream it will fill our mouths and noses and ears and lungs and ... and... and... HELP!!!!!!!!!!

I don't think people my age should be Defense Ministers.

No, that's not true. Of course they should. I just wonder how people of the same generation can be so different. Some grow up. And others just get wrinkles. 

Impressions from Braunschweig or: The pleasures of being historically challenged.

Braunschweig, the Lion City, is celebrating the 800th anniversary of the coronation of emperor Otto IV. this year. Otto, the son of Henry the Lion and Mathilda of England,  was crowned on October 4th 1209 and remained the first and only Guelph emporer ever. Even without having a clue what that means, it is quite impressive to walk around the medieval city center with the cathedral, the old town hall, the lion statue and the half timbered houses.

Just look at this cannonball in the cathedral wall. It was fired on August 20th MDCXV! That was almost CVD years ago! Or more than MIIV? XMVI? I guess I have to calculate that again.

Legend has it that Henry's lion scratched the door of the cathedral trying to get to his master who was entombed inside. Braunschweig born Detlef V. shows the spot. No animals were harmed in the making of this picture.

Smile, Mum! Just kidding. This is not one of my pictures. It's from around 1865 and shows the old town's town hall. Things haven't changed much, they just added some color recently, as you can see in the picture below.

This is one of the gargoyles on the roof of the old town's town hall. I understand that it is quite boring to sit on the roof for hundreds of years, especially when it's not even raining, but... please! 

And then, later that evening, when Cinderella opened the freezer door ...

... to get the bottle of vodka out... "See here," said the lady, taking up a dish of peas that was on a shelf, "I will throw this basinful of peas into the ash-heap behind the house, and if you can get every pea picked out of the ashes in an hour's time you can go to the ball with my daughters." Then the lady, followed by Cinderella, carried the peas out and threw them into the ashes. "Here is the basin," said she, handing it to the girl, "and you can go at your task as soon as you choose."

She returned to the house, and Cinderella stood looking at the ash-heap. "I could not find all those peas in a week's time," said she; "I must have help." And she began to call,

"Hither, hither, through the sky,
All you little songsters fly!
One and all, come help me quick,
Make haste, make haste—come pick, pick, pick!"

And guess what - nothing happened. Poor Cinderella had to pick up the frozen peas all by her little self, didn't go to the ball, had a drink anyway, went to bed with her own guy and lived happily ever after.