Grüsse aus Hannover

We're doing a much better job of practicing our German now.

We arrived in Hannover yesterday evening after a long day of slow hitchhiking ("trampen" or "per Anhalter"). It was difficult to leave Düsseldorf because while we stood in a high-traffic area, there wasn't much room for anyone to pull over. There was, however, a light, and finally after two hours waiting as we walked forward to see if there was a better spot to stand, Brendan held out our sign and a man at the red light said he was headed our way. Brendan sat up front and held a conversation in German with him, and about 30 minutes later he dropped us off at a Tankstelle (gas station).

At the Tankstelle we again waited a nice long while before walking around to see if there was a better place for us to stand. We discovered we were on the side where people could come and park and rest, but that there was a whole other gas pump on the other side and we'd probably been missing many potential rides.

We moved over to this other side and held up our sign that said "Hanover" (there was only room for one N) on one line, and "A-1/2 Ost" on the other. In this new spot we were in sight of several trucks parked nearby, and one truck driver came over to talk to us. Brendan talked to him and I understood little of what they said, but Brendan told me afterward that the truck driver said he would be there for the weekend.

We kept sticking our thumbs out and holding up our sign at cars passing by, and then another truck driver came over and talked with Brendan. A little later the first truck driver came back and had another conversation with Brendan. Maybe you can tell by now that the German is coming back more slowly for me. Brendan told me that the two truck drivers were offering to take us to the next gas station, which was a busier one, but each of them could only take one of us. They said they only had one extra seat each, but they were going to the same place and one would follow the other on the road. Brendan and I discussed in English whether we should take them up on this offer, and we decided we would.

We were nervous about this because neither one of us is carrying a cell phone, so if somehow we got quite separated, we would be in a fix. We both had a good impression of the truck drivers, though, and decided we would trust them. If we did get separated, we would find internet as soon as possible and email one another.

Off we went in our separate rides. This was an excellent chance for me to practice German because my driver did not speak any English, and I didn't have Brendan to carry the conversation for me. I wrote down the license plate number of the truck Brendan was in, just in case for some reason I needed it. Brendan told me later he kept checking the rearview mirror to make sure the truck I was in was still visible. We had our guard up, and I think that's okay, but it is also important to trust people. Our instincts proved correct that these guys were honest and safe, and about 15 minutes or so later they dropped us off at a much busier gas station.

Within ten minutes or so we had a ride, finally, all the way to Hannover. A man and woman around our age were headed to Berlin and would take the A-2, which also passes by Hannover. They very kindly took us all the way into town, to the Hauptbahnhof (main train station). From there we were able to find our way to our host by foot, and here we are.

Last night after we arrived we were introduced to an old German tradition where a craftsperson (in this case a carpenter), after completing an apprenticeship, may embark on a three-year-long journey. During this time they are not allowed to return to their home area, nor can they carry a phone, though they can call home. They must travel by hitchhiking and seek jobs where they go. First, though, there is a grand party to send them off, and we got to attend such a party last night, for a friend of our host.

At the party, there is an auction for all the items the carpenter will need on his journey, and friends and family bid for them. Afterwards, the money and the items are given to him. One of the items auctioned off is an earring, and another is a nail. After the auction, the nail is used to pierce the carpenter's ear, and the earring is placed in the hole. This was somewhat unsettling to watch, especially since it took awhile for them to get the earring into the hole and there was blood running down his ear. It's kind of hard to see, but in this picture the nail is already through the ear. The wood stick is his walking stick.

We had a great time getting to know the friends of our host, whose name is Sebastian, and drinking beer and eating yummy food. In between this party and returning to this party, we attended the birthday party of a Couchsurfing friend of Sebastian's. This whole night, we were riding borrowed bikes and feeling like real Europeans as we rode around.

I must end now as it's bedtime, but soon we'll post more pictures from New York, plus pictures from Düsseldorf and Hannover.

New Year's Eve in New Orleans

Last night Brendan observed that we were witnessing an interesting juxtaposition of a bonfire representing lawlessness and freedom burning in a very contained setting, controlled by the fire department, with police fences all around it to keep the crowds at a safe distance. The Christmas tree bonfire on New Year’s Eve in New Orleans is a more than 40 year tradition, though no one knows for sure when it began. This was the first year the juxtaposition of permission and wildness occurred to this degree. It was in the news recently because the police were going to cancel it because they felt it had become too dangerous, instead a compromise was reached and the police and fire departments were put in charge of it. You can read an article about that here.

Leading up to New Year’s Eve, I’d been reading through the New Orleans’ couchsurfing community posts to see what people were going to be doing. Everyone who is a couchsurfer living in New Orlenas said out-of-towners and New Orleanians alike must come to the Christmas tree bonfire. It is what all the natives do and is therefore an authentic New Orleans experience.

So we did not miss it. We--and this is Brendan, me, Wes (Brendan’s dad) and Peg (Brendan’s mom)--stopped for dessert and wine at The Olde College Inn first, then went to the bonfire around 11pm and found a primo parking spot. Our first 20 minutes there were spent in the line for the porta-potties, and then we got as close as we could to the bonfire pyre, which was not yet burning.

Some minor rule-breaking going on.

We randomly happened to choose a spot right next to a couchsurfer we met last month at a potluck, and he introduced us to another couchsurfer standing there and then we stood around taking pictures and enjoying being a part of a many yeared tradition, surrounded by people chanting “Last year was better! Last year was better!” (party poopers) on one side of us, and a man trying to get people to jump the barricades on the other. That man was later arrested when he did just so.

This woman, who also hopped into the forbidden zone, did not get caught.

A streaker woman did get caught, unfortunately. She had nearly made it back over the fence to the safety of the crowds. The fire began shortly before midnight, to everyone’s thrill. It was started by firefighters using flares. It got quite big at points, and we were close enough to feel its heat.

There was such an energy in this crowd. I guess it’s the first time I’ve been amongst a large crowd on a New Year’s Eve. And this particular crowd felt very disctinct from crowds I’ve been in on other holidays. They had fought for this tradition to continue and had won. It was quite different from years past, from what I read, but people were having fun anyway. There was still a rebellious undertone to it, even though few people were actually breaking the rules. The crowd almost seemed proud of those that did get arrested for breaking the rules. Well, except for the girlfriend of the guy that jumped the fence near us. She was very upsetly pushing her way through the crowd to follow him and stepped on Peg’s foot in the process.


The couchsurfer we met shared champagne with us and we counted down the end of 2008 with an exultatory group of New Orleanians and visitors working in strange yet concilatory cooperation with police and firefighters. Brendan and I welcomed the new year with a kiss amidst a cheering crowd.