Payment

I do translations now and again.  I'd like to do more - really!  I can do them from anywhere there's a computer.  I have a personal dictionary and and in-house interpreter (dear hubby).  And I always learn something.  For instance, I know more about off-shore wind farm construction and maritime regulations than you might imagine.

Payment is usually the usual - money.   I like money.  But now and again you trade.  That happened recently when a friend asked if I could do a translation for her friend.  Sorta like a second cousin once removed - a friend once removed.  The once-removed friend had won a prize but the description of her work needed translation.  Yes, I can do that.  Or at least I'll try.  And won't that be fun!

After the translation project was finished - more challenging than I had imagined -  the artist herself said Please come and choose a print for payment. What?  I thought this was a gift. I was glad to do it.  But could I reject a gift?  You don't say no when someone wants to give you a gift in return to a gift.  Oh dear, I am getting confused.

But, refusing a gift is not done.  I visited the artist in her studio, had a wonderfully lovely afternoon learning about her work and had a chance to choose my "payment."

Here it is. She called it New York Lines because when she created it, she had a burning desire to visit New York - and still does. I love black and white, and she does too but the galleries don't.  Lucky me!

So now it hangs in our own private gallery and seems very much at home.

Foreign Guests and Old Traditions

Tony and Muriel from England - by way of Mittenwald in very south Germany  - called on Tuesday to ask if they could spend the weekend with us.  OF COURSE!  And really, who would say no?  We were delighted to see them again and such spontaneous visits speak to friendship.

Even more friendship came into play when Klaus and Johanna said, Sure, bring two more guests to the annual Kohl und Pinkel Fahrt.  Very cool.

Friday was rather low key as they arrived in the evening.  Dinner.  Lots of talk.  Off to bed.

Saturday morning we visited the market and found a thing or two we couldn't do without.  Then, it was party time!

It is so predictable, these wonderful traditions. Have coffee. Take a walk. Eat sweets. Drink Schnapps.

 This year we met a bit later in the year than usual and the weather was a bit warmer than usual.  For that, there were no complaints!  I don't mind, really, when I don't have to wear long johns and three pairs of socks to take a walk.  Really. 

The crocuses were in bloom in the meadows.

And political commentary was abloom in the garden of the art center.  We couldn't exactly figure out the message, but clearly the NSA was being criticized.

The meal afterwards was - predictably - DELICIOUS.  Tony and Muriel were suitably impressed with our north German food and drink and Gastfreundlichkeit :  our friendliness to guests.   How do you say that in English.  AH  -- southern hospitality!! 

At the end of the evening, Klaus and Johanna took a turn around the entrance hall to celebrate their anniversary - 47 years that day.  Johanna admitted she was not looking forward to their 50th, three years hence.  Why ever not?  I asked.  AARGH!  Who wants to be that old?? she said.  But we're getting there, all of us, and sooner.

Sunday we got up slowly and late, had a lovely brunch and then set out for the Rhododendron Park.  It's of course too early for most of the blooms, but we found a few.  Better, we found a lot of sunshine and had a lovely time wandering the paths.  Here we are with our coats on our arms!  Hot!

And suddenly, the weekend was gone!  We waved goodbye on Monday morning and promised we'd visit again soon - in Mittenwald, in England or again here in Bremen.

We're such jet-setters!

Another Museum, Approaching Overload

But not really overload.  We've been starving the last some months when it comes to cultural events, so we've been indulging.  As you can see.

This time it was Wolfsburg or The Auto City as they like to be known, since it is the home of Volkswagen.  It might be the youngest city in Germany;  though there's an old castle nearby, the city was founded in 1938 and so there's no "old town" or city center with  Gothic cathedral or medieval city hall.  It's all generic modern. 

But it's successful.  With VW as its centerpiece, it's the per capita richest in Germany.  Lucky them.

And they have a museum, funded by VW folks, of course.  And they have a really neat exhibit at the moment about Textile and Art.   Had to go.

We went with Barbara and Charlie, our Seriously Americanized German friends along with the dirctor of a local museum that showcases how households were run a hundred or so years ago.  The guys visited the VW Museum, and it was fun.

Herbie was there.

And a VW woven from rattan.

That was not unrelated to what we gals went to see - the Textile and Art exhibit at the Kunsthalle.  We walked down Porschestraße - really - to reach the museum.

I was impressed.  They took references from all media - textiles, of course, but painting, installation, sculpture, photography, film, modern, ancient, and everything between.

A 3-D installation called Love Letters - suspended in threads.

A spider (don't forget, she weaves!) of bronze and other metals.

 One of my favorites, from the Museé de Cluny in Paris, a tapestry.

And here, in minature, one meter of silk thread, knotted.  The artist took FOUR YEARS to do this.

Another favorite if mine, William Morris.  He has been on my list for years to needlepoint.  Maybe now I will be inspired to start.  I do tend to finish projects better these days.  Maybe it's because I pick my projects better.

The train took us there and back, of course.  That way we got to chat and snack and doze and read the paper and watch the countryside fly by.

All in all, a successful day.  Yes.

To add to the plus, our football team won which was really good since we're not doing at all well this year.  ONE THOUSAND police kept us safe in Bremen.  They gotta do something about the hooligans.