tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35961270890113589892024-02-19T05:38:31.324+01:00The Opposite of LossUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger25125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3596127089011358989.post-71710668341646376782014-07-07T22:05:00.001+02:002014-07-07T22:25:31.209+02:00The Beauty of Barcelona<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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The reason why I am so spellbond by Barcelona is its magic architecture:<i> Modernisme</i>, the Catalan version of<i> Art Nouveau </i>or <i>Jugendstil </i>is omnipresent. Therefore, don't walk down the steps of the metro, walk down the streets. Look and enjoy the beauty of Barcelona. </div>
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If you don't want to walk alone, if you want to see behind the fin de siècle facades, take Daniel Brühl with you. He's tiny. You can put the actor in your purse and let him talk to you. He speaks German, Spanish and Catalan. And he will tell you about his city, where he was born as the son of a German TV director and his Spanish mother. <i>A day in Barcelona</i>:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLvFL-YfZGxjHCHC-bhifH9NK0JmcUw4UnpQEURMBq60Rk93QzcMYZy9cnRDLjX1Syx-LUltI5UndAnCSqiBlvLV6CapocrAWGBOBTVSsjsT94Z3J130yUITguFyjgAxbhydZPnRNm6os/s1600/daniel+br%25C3%25BChl+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE9JPRzPp5sRiUKXhEqE9FRcduAyru-duTnGFODDwOm7hrhhS733knRNwx4yTE8_sMNPYWBQZd7IGLD_3Ihkxbk65v0ilzueSEWBHwJYpl_p8X5XlLCLqFRUiO0cLWGJuglzpMrWomq7c/s1600/daniel+br%25C3%25BChl.jpg" height="200" width="131" /><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjHsgKzMF5Za5ssKgh2baIPuZKXCWRdmNBCilBeGaUJN9WneCfau-vjxqcy7de1Oh2eTyMHStXb5m5T4a4UAkyaeahiBE1EiN-gchR_CV5iCm2fxearFfovEkMDMUUfjw0cgwikRUabDU/s1600/daniel+br%25C3%25BChl+2.jpg" height="200" width="134" /><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLvFL-YfZGxjHCHC-bhifH9NK0JmcUw4UnpQEURMBq60Rk93QzcMYZy9cnRDLjX1Syx-LUltI5UndAnCSqiBlvLV6CapocrAWGBOBTVSsjsT94Z3J130yUITguFyjgAxbhydZPnRNm6os/s1600/daniel+br%25C3%25BChl+3.jpg" height="200" width="133" /></a></div>
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He takes you to up Tibidabo, a mountain overlooking Barcelona. After you've enjoyed those spectacular views, he takes you down to the city: To the quarters of Sant Gervasi, Montjuïc, Gracìa, Born, El Raval and will show you all his favorite secret spots, (which then, can't be be secret anymore). He will tell you how he found the best peas in town for a delicious paella and what Camp Nou means to him.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">View from Tibidabo</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Can I move in?</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3kH4YQihcqEXa7B_YAkfDL3R5JbgLIR-dbFU9jIsSM7PuRnh8VelLFsXGa33CoAB-QEelIhAYfS-YBCPkI3qAzyC9urqG0J2H65cmniMMi40L6snUEB79dJ95mqCPdVcBDM9KPSjefPI/s1600/DSC04890.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3kH4YQihcqEXa7B_YAkfDL3R5JbgLIR-dbFU9jIsSM7PuRnh8VelLFsXGa33CoAB-QEelIhAYfS-YBCPkI3qAzyC9urqG0J2H65cmniMMi40L6snUEB79dJ95mqCPdVcBDM9KPSjefPI/s1600/DSC04890.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pleeeeeease?</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The ever growing Sagrada Familia</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgETEkyf38oNYInBnBzgDguBM2mLBMWFnTF3ETDjMX7FN1xF-nU8cATHKd0CBmwLM7w1XRpG4i8xPT0pvbvLLvFOMTUYGC51coeiGvTsDV9yAhDMxYlb7dTR_uyqyKrJObpOh8x0g6EDgE/s1600/DSC05048.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgETEkyf38oNYInBnBzgDguBM2mLBMWFnTF3ETDjMX7FN1xF-nU8cATHKd0CBmwLM7w1XRpG4i8xPT0pvbvLLvFOMTUYGC51coeiGvTsDV9yAhDMxYlb7dTR_uyqyKrJObpOh8x0g6EDgE/s1600/DSC05048.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gaudís "La Pedrera"</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcXgMbqIkZn9r08gxm2c4b-h7PszOnf1uRB7Tf3P5nkRg7ZwUjm1leUn5dNDFvwYfY3xnuddVlwRr6AT-11vALB5tbvP-5QDuBdD5p3wpQU0s9HrimCELYgO4FLcxoQnXu1XjzA9IMAvw/s1600/DSC05027.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcXgMbqIkZn9r08gxm2c4b-h7PszOnf1uRB7Tf3P5nkRg7ZwUjm1leUn5dNDFvwYfY3xnuddVlwRr6AT-11vALB5tbvP-5QDuBdD5p3wpQU0s9HrimCELYgO4FLcxoQnXu1XjzA9IMAvw/s1600/DSC05027.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Park Güell</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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Are you ready to get lost in the streets of Barcelona to find your very own favorite spot?</div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3596127089011358989.post-88962895709557332292014-04-02T08:21:00.000+02:002014-04-02T22:16:38.650+02:00Judge a book by its cover<div style="text-align: justify;">
You shouldn't, I know. But how, then, should one decide which book to pick? I don't want Amazon's algorithm to do that job. Books are beautiful, and this is why:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoeX09ZpW4oJhs8JEXHiB1-bMO1-GZi00Ew87IQ1xoIDftdK6q9Rtz4Sc2cnXDmu42nwgMpDiaX5UPH8YbDfq4lVnekfqMp9PUe5Ux79kfVsWyMSvWc3cb5LuniiY_nTRk9Y2hTpNV1A0/s1600/fitzgerald.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoeX09ZpW4oJhs8JEXHiB1-bMO1-GZi00Ew87IQ1xoIDftdK6q9Rtz4Sc2cnXDmu42nwgMpDiaX5UPH8YbDfq4lVnekfqMp9PUe5Ux79kfVsWyMSvWc3cb5LuniiY_nTRk9Y2hTpNV1A0/s1600/fitzgerald.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
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<li>They are <b>decorative</b>: Book covers can be a work of art.
Like the front page of a magazine or a newspaper, the cover of a book
should whet the appetite to read it. When I recently bought the first
book out of a series of of F. Scott Fitzgerald's most notable works
designed by <a href="http://cb-smith.com/" target="_blank">Coralie Bickford-Smith</a>
to mark the 70th anniversary of the author's death, two of my friends
couldn't keep themselves from informing me that this
short story collection can be downloaded for free. Yeah, I know. But I
had to own this one, like I want to own <a href="http://cb-smith.com/#/f-scott-fitzgerald/" target="_blank">the other five</a>. I will put them all in a row on my bookshelf and then I will take a <a href="http://de.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=shelfie"><i>shelfie</i>.</a> Speaking of shelves, can you imagine a home without books? <a href="http://www.bustle.com/articles/17435-13-bookshelves-that-make-us-want-to-drop-everything-and-read-poetry">Those 13 examples</a> make me want to move into a bigger apartment immediately.<br /> </li>
<li>They are <b>personal</b>: If you own a book, it's literally yours. Like footprints in the sand, you leave
your marks in there as well: Dog-eared, Spilled coffee, greasy spots of sunscreen,
maybe even stains of tears... And if you like to highlight serveral sentences, like I do, they also remind you of what used to be important to you while you read that book. Maybe this will have changed when you re-read it, maybe there are some sentences which always hold true for you.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOpDuguGHDUfVzqoXqjfRB9f2R2ZM66dQ-EwBr3FkZSzS2Bq8VBwI50Jjra8EJMke5WE6daOGBBZqWgkU1eDA6bCVrOaQ6Yax_Y8nk9yQN22IjgRHqUQXrTU-CC44jGH2zEbky0fNFITQ/s1600/mark.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOpDuguGHDUfVzqoXqjfRB9f2R2ZM66dQ-EwBr3FkZSzS2Bq8VBwI50Jjra8EJMke5WE6daOGBBZqWgkU1eDA6bCVrOaQ6Yax_Y8nk9yQN22IjgRHqUQXrTU-CC44jGH2zEbky0fNFITQ/s1600/mark.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
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</li>
<li>They are a <b>treasure</b>:
You can download a book and save it to your
kindle. But apart from missing out on the decorative part there is
nothing special about having downloaded a book like thousands of other
people did. Like wine, books get better the older they are, especially
when they are rare - which turns them into real treasures. In addition,
they most often have some personal worth like this collection of
Shakespeare's works I inherited from my Great Grandfather. It is the
first German translation by Schlegel and Tieck who translated
Shakespeare in the spirit of German Romanticism. Those books are dated "1825" and there are probably the most precious pieces of
paper I own.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</li>
<li>They <b>smell</b>: Yes, they smell very good. The older they get, the more they evaporate that scent of: "I have stories to tell".<br /> </li>
<li>They give you a feeling of <b>achievement and</b> <b>progress</b>: I feel lost in a kindle book. Seriously. This tiny number on the bottom of the page which tells me the percentage of how much of the total I've already read actually tells me nothing. Those are just figures. A bookmark shows your where you are, you see how close your are to the end and - if it's a really good book - where to start slowing down in order to be able to enjoy the story for a bit longer.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I love books. But I still own a kindle. Why? Because I also love to be able to carry a tiny library in my purse. And because I like to read big newspapers on the train without bothering the person sitting next to me...<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3596127089011358989.post-18253737710368610972014-02-14T08:47:00.000+01:002014-02-14T08:52:30.585+01:00I pick books instead of flowers<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<i>Roses are red</i></span></div>
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<i><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">violets are blue</span></i></div>
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<i><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">doesn't matter</span></i></div>
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<i><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">I've got book recommendations</span></i></div>
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<i>just
for you</i></div>
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Happy Valentine's Day! What a great opportunity to start another new section of my blog where I want to share what I'm currently reading. Like Kurt Tucholsky's <i>Auf dem Nachttisch,</i> <i>On the Nightstand</i> will be about the books currently waiting beside my bed to be read at night before I fall asleep. Right now this place is occupied by two books which can be linked by their main topic: love. But they are no cheesy Rosamunde Pilcher style romance novels but rather books that look at love from a different angle. Romantic but yet realistic. Heart-warming and heart-breaking at the same time.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBDz51x0jyM2vSWQNkfFMW9Y_Wrx85v1kW27Teso3XwENnt-Wld7eXGzX5wQnB_mYevKUwHXRwZP8TlNLx5VtmdVVoNmsQiiHSu8zYMVwsiSs6inOzwKENprTKq9eSYfT2fwFyGcmx_FM/s1600/index.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBDz51x0jyM2vSWQNkfFMW9Y_Wrx85v1kW27Teso3XwENnt-Wld7eXGzX5wQnB_mYevKUwHXRwZP8TlNLx5VtmdVVoNmsQiiHSu8zYMVwsiSs6inOzwKENprTKq9eSYfT2fwFyGcmx_FM/s1600/index.jpg" /> </a></div>
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F.Scott Fitzgerald is one of my all time favorite American writers. Not only because of <i>The Great Gatsby</i>. I also love his short stories and liked his essay <i>Echoes of the Jazz Age </i>which he published in 1931 when the Jazz Age, the Roaring Twenties, were aleady over. After having read his retrospective of this time, I had always been curious how it was like when he met his wife Zelda, when they travelled Europe, and had the time of their lives. <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Dear-Scott-Dearest-Zelda-Fitzgerald/dp/0747566011/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1392324595&sr=8-1&keywords=Dear+Scott%2C+Dearest+Zelda" target="_blank"><i>Dear Scott, Dearest Zelda</i></a> is a collection of their love letters. They do not only reveal an extraordinary relationship, but have also been a source of their literary works. Especially Scott borrowed many of Zelda's sentences. Like her comment on the birth of their daughter Scottie:</div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"I hope it is beautful and a fool - a beautiful little fool." </blockquote>
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Words he later gave to Daisy Buchanan in<i> The Great Gatsby</i>. But only about 20 percent of the collection cover their happy times together - the bigger part of the book shows a difficult, nonetheless deep love between those two writers whose affection for each other did not stop them from being rivals. Letter by letter the situation worsens: Scott's alcoholism increases and Zelda's mental health deteriorates. Most of the letters are written by Zelda from some sort of mental institution. But however far away they were from each other physically or due to their psychological weaknesses, emotionally they were always close. It is fascinating how tender the tone of their writings were. Up until the end. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQYhDQYIKn2I8WHWha-cYgkOkFImVKtCfEgT_dFWcjyitfekWXsBUPiaZhAsq7TsrYcLcXEo0wLI-aiRuvvo-VjGv4h4J4KrUpXQyIYlVSeFOPRbE7Yzf_r2s0GbU6mqFira9obcdpzls/s1600/omag_200801_eugen.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQYhDQYIKn2I8WHWha-cYgkOkFImVKtCfEgT_dFWcjyitfekWXsBUPiaZhAsq7TsrYcLcXEo0wLI-aiRuvvo-VjGv4h4J4KrUpXQyIYlVSeFOPRbE7Yzf_r2s0GbU6mqFira9obcdpzls/s1600/omag_200801_eugen.jpg" height="320" width="198" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Jeffrey Eugenides is my favorite contemporary American author. After having devoured all his novels - <i>The Virgin Suicides</i>, <i>The Marriage Plot, </i>and <i>Middlesex</i> - I was craving more. This is how I found this book. And although it doesn't contain one single story by the man with the Greek lastname, it is a great book. Why? As the editor, he picked all the short stories which he published under the title <a href="http://www.amazon.com/My-Mistresss-Sparrow-Dead-Hardcover/dp/B003K19KBQ/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1392331924&sr=8-2&keywords=My+Mistress%27s+Sparrow+is+Dead" target="_blank"><i>My Mistress's Sparrow is Dead</i></a>. The Pulitzer Prize winner only wrote the introduction to explain what made him publish such a collection and how it got its name (From a story by the Latin poet Catullus who was the first poet in the ancient world to write about a personal love affair):</div>
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<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"Love stories depend on disappointment, on unequal births and feuding families, on matrimonial boredom and at least one cold heart. Love stories, nearly without exception give love a bad name [...] I offer this book, then, as a cure for lovesickness and antidote to adultery. Read the love stories in the safety of your single bed. Let everybody else suffer." </blockquote>
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<div style="text-align: justify;">
The subtitle reads: "Great Love Stories, from Chekhov to Munro". In addition to "The Lady With the Little Dog" by the Russian which I had only known as a great dramaturge and playwright and "The Bear Came Over the Mountain" by the lady who just won the Nobel Prize in Literature, the collection also contains stories by James Joyce, William Faulkner, Vladimir Nabokov, Robert Musil, Raymond Carver and twenty more.</div>
<br />
The American book review magazine <a href="https://www.kirkusreviews.com/" target="_blank">Kirkus Reviews</a> stated:<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
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"Eugenides offers a perfect Valetine's Day gift for lovers of literary fiction" </div>
</blockquote>
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Let's go to bed - with a book. <br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3596127089011358989.post-73698518242379894832014-01-29T08:53:00.003+01:002014-02-04T00:11:50.127+01:00Vorsicht, heiß und fettig!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;">
Klausundklausundklaus sind im Haus. Und reißen es gleich wieder ab. Von der Küste sind sie gekommen. Mit einer Reminiszenz an die beiden norddeutschen Schunkelbarden machen sich Fettes Brot mit knallroten Clownsnasen über das Klischee der Spaßkapelle lustig für die sie gehalten werden, gehalten werden wollen.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikfoqxFIWqdq4tSx-XhOrGmEv7hLtTL1tT6prngQTwROmY8bjBOBQnshmfXM-p9JN3Mg5UKUBrMGh3-yN7KKbH5_YdkCKTzCw_yVWvd0NhRfHz7DMW_mXakRiB9CyWaEuoWyisIIQmEoY/s1600/CAM00442.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikfoqxFIWqdq4tSx-XhOrGmEv7hLtTL1tT6prngQTwROmY8bjBOBQnshmfXM-p9JN3Mg5UKUBrMGh3-yN7KKbH5_YdkCKTzCw_yVWvd0NhRfHz7DMW_mXakRiB9CyWaEuoWyisIIQmEoY/s1600/CAM00442.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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Sie bleiben diesem Klischee auch treu und kokettieren gleichzeitig mit Versuchen, dagegen anzukämpfen. <i>Josephine </i> beginnt ganz gedämpft und gediegen: "Ich lege mich jetzt erstmal symbolisch auf den Flügel", kündigt Dr. Renz an. Und plötzlich geht es ab im Diskofarbenneonlicht und aus <i>Josephine</i> wird beinahe <i>Emanuela</i>. Wie Eichhörnchen auf Speed hüpfen die drei über die Bühne. <i>Drei ist 'ne Party</i> heißt das aktuelle Album. Würde reichen. Doch die vor der Bühnen machen mit. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUSLdq3zokD_xB4bqEcvV6qVjrGC20zaZwnuN2juyhOpxIRMJhVbtlnZCWledfZgs-GuRJGaJ0jhFzr1QOR7tsGC5vWkMxcIk6v3YyS8DiEjuWOaFK2KcPykbz2PQ3R5vcM7YBPPYRUzk/s1600/CAM00464.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUSLdq3zokD_xB4bqEcvV6qVjrGC20zaZwnuN2juyhOpxIRMJhVbtlnZCWledfZgs-GuRJGaJ0jhFzr1QOR7tsGC5vWkMxcIk6v3YyS8DiEjuWOaFK2KcPykbz2PQ3R5vcM7YBPPYRUzk/s1600/CAM00464.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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Der Versuch der Contenance: Von den drei spielen zwei vierhändig Keyboard während einer rappt. "Wir werden euch wieder buchen", ist das Fazit nach <i>The Grosser</i>. Und: "Es ist nicht der allerschlechteste Beruf, den wir hier haben", nach dem kritischen <i>Crazy World</i>. </div>
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Dann wird "gedöpt". "Döpdöpdöpdöpdöpdöpdöööö / döpdöpdöpdöpdöpdöpdöööö / Döpdöpdöpdöpdöpdöpdöööö / döpdedöpdedödödödödöööö" (<i>Popcorn</i>), "Döööödöööpdedööööpdee" (<i>Smoke on the Water</i>), "Dedöpdödödödöpdööödööö dededededededede" (<i>Eurovisionshymne</i>) und schließlich der Song aller "Döps": <i>Jein</i>. Bei dem das Publikum zeitweise auch die komplexeren Textpassagen übernimmt und sichtlich irritiert ist, dass in dem "Kommst du mit Schiffmeister, du Kollegenschwein?", jetzt von "Björn Beton" die Rede ist. Lange her. Genauso wie <i>Die Definition von Fett</i>, die sie kurz anspielen, um dann zum ..."Klaus und Klaus" würden wohl "Hitmedley" sagen, überzuleiten und dem deutschen Hip-Hop zu huldigen: <i>Reimemonster</i> (Afrob & ferris MC), <i>Partysafari </i>(Blumentopf), <i>Sie ist weg </i>(Fanta Vier), <i>Weck mich auf</i> (Samy Deluxe) und schließlich auch Cros <i>Easy</i>. Vielleicht spielen die drei Hamburger auch mit <i>Kusskusskuss</i> (Hast du schonma ein' Rapper geküsst?) auf den Hype um den "Panda-Rapper" an. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5uyqJBWuCqo8zYbs92pfLtPPNej563-18ra-tIyRwxIvYDQsv54LZPDgOgDwi8YGVznvVaZkHvMHlcNod8UlrlE-_Etz5lHyckNKZwQC-Ui-exz69MV7_EwexuotSpjTdbA4Y65sWOs0/s1600/CAM00460.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5uyqJBWuCqo8zYbs92pfLtPPNej563-18ra-tIyRwxIvYDQsv54LZPDgOgDwi8YGVznvVaZkHvMHlcNod8UlrlE-_Etz5lHyckNKZwQC-Ui-exz69MV7_EwexuotSpjTdbA4Y65sWOs0/s1600/CAM00460.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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Die Texte des neuen Albums sind gespickt mit Reminiszenzen wie Mettigel mit Zwiebelspalten. </div>
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Wer's beim Titel noch nicht gemerkt hat, der merkt es spätestens beim "Für immer immer? für immer immer?," dass die Brote hier auf Outkasts <i>Ms Jackson</i> (For ever? For ever ever?) anspielen. "Ein drittel Heizöl, zwei drittel Benzin", die Zeile stammt nicht aus Caspers aktuellen Album und dem Song <i>Im Ascheregen</i>,
sondern von der Punkband Slime, sagt <a href="http://www.intro.de/kuenstler/interviews/23073017/plattenhoeren-mit-fettes-brot" target="_blank">König Boris</a>. Mit der Zeile "Ich liebte ein Mädchen in Köln / auf dem Foto in der Küche sieht sie aus wie Katja Ebstein" winken sie verbal ihren Hamburger Rapkollegen Deichkind, von deren <i>Remmidemmi </i>sie die Zeile eins zu eins übernommen haben. An dieser Stelle unterbrechen sie das Reimschema, auf dem das gesamte Lied basiert, und stolpern bewusst. Holprig ist auch so mancher Vorschlag von Fans, die während der Tour täglich eifrig mitreimen, wenn Fettes Brot via Facebook dazu aufrufen, das Lied um eine Zeile für den aktuellen Tourstopp zu erweitern. 353 Fans haben sich für Wiesbaden als MCs versucht und auf die Bühne schaffte es: "Ich liebte ein Mädchen in Wiesbaden / vorne und hinten im Mietwagen."</div>
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Wie es hinter die Bühne schallte, so schallte es wieder hinaus. Nach dem ersten Abschied von der selbigen wurden die Zugabe-Rufe erhört und es erklang (ein) <i>Echo</i>. <i>Schwule Mädchen</i> brachten schließlich den ganzen Schlachthof zum Schwitzen, als <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vKgH7qDkJTk" target="_blank">wolle man das Video nachstellen</a> - mit Fettes Brot durch die Friteuse. <br />
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* Ich habe es übrigens einem Mädchen aus Blankenese (Nein, sie trägt ihre Haare nicht wie Jonathan Meese!) zu verdanken, dass ich dem Konzert trotz ausverkaufter Halle beiwohnen durfte. Danke dafür!</div>
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** Eine Entschudligung für die schlechten Bilder an dieser Stelle... hatte nur das Handy zur Hand...</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3596127089011358989.post-14135870509135703212014-01-21T22:12:00.000+01:002014-01-21T22:28:41.173+01:00Two Big B's<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 93%;">Anna [a fellow blogger, and also</span><span style="font-size: 93%;"><span style="font-size: 93%;"> one of my favorite co-workers</span> and companion when it comes to coffee breaks and the like] of the wonderful travel blog <a href="http://anemina.com/">anemina.com</a> has
passed me a blog baton a couple of days ago. Now that I am back from my skiing trip to Flaine, France, I finally have the time (and feel the travel spirit again!!) to answer the 11 questions she asked. Merci beaucoup, Anna! </span></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: 93%;">1. What does adventure mean to you?</span></b></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 93%;">Snakes and spiders, sleeping in a dangerous environment - all this could mean adventure. But it hasn't to. In a positive sense, adventure means to me to overcome one's inhibitions and inner contraints - and feel pleasure and joy. Like somebody who used to be afraid of flying. Usually those adventures are calculable. There are also adventures which aren't intended. Like when you sleep in a US-motel in the middle of nowhere (many horror movies start like this, don't they?) and your phone rings at 4 am and an upset and almost crying voice asks you: "Did you just call because somebody has been shot in your room?". And your answer is "No" and the voice replies: "But somebody has just been shot in your room!". Then you hang up the phone with utter irritation you see a shadow standing in front of your door through the tiny gap on the bottom. True story. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9SeowjvJxNQtuHhgp7KIDwyPPG4A16JkGDpIHX7wq_X6iuaP3AoBWfzss9xJfGmDdqBXlZ-kCuK3QuFXb6YP8Kl7ufRA150xZ2rRDCfcnMiH9jSmKhWJBLghqPMSJ_gmpU6M2wtS3YAs/s1600/IMG_6804.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9SeowjvJxNQtuHhgp7KIDwyPPG4A16JkGDpIHX7wq_X6iuaP3AoBWfzss9xJfGmDdqBXlZ-kCuK3QuFXb6YP8Kl7ufRA150xZ2rRDCfcnMiH9jSmKhWJBLghqPMSJ_gmpU6M2wtS3YAs/s1600/IMG_6804.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: 93%;"><br />
<b>2. If you could chose any travel companion – who would you chose?</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 93%;">If time travel was possible I would choose Kurt Tucholsky as my travel companion. I would love to walk through the streets of Berlin and Paris in the 1920s with him. Luckily he left many texts about his city strolls so that at least I can follow him in my imagination. However, if Tucholsky wasn't available I would accept Zelda and F. Scott Fitzgerald or Ernest Hemingway as my travel companions (who would have guessed that <i>Midnight in Paris</i> is one of my favorite movies?) </span><br />
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<a href="http://www.artcorner.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/12/midnight-in-paris-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://www.artcorner.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/12/midnight-in-paris-1.jpg" height="182" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: 93%;"></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 93%;"><br />
<b>3. Is there a city or country you would never visit?</b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 93%;">Ha! What a funny transition from the last question: I always said that I would never ever accept a proposal in Paris. Too cheesy, too unimaginative - like you have seen it a thousand times on TV. Nevertheless, for any other occasion I would love to got to Paris. I wouldn't participate in any "dark tourism": Like going to </span>Chernobyl for fun (I just learned that there is also a movie about that theme: <span style="font-size: small;"><i>Chernobyl Diaries</i> which supposedly is the most crappy horror movie I've ever heard of!).</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 93%;"></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 93%;"><br />
<b>4. Which means of transportation do you like most?</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 93%;">Plane. Period. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 93%;"><br />
<b>5. Do you remember your first holiday fling?</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 93%;">Nope, never had one. Just had a Tunesian "suitor" for quite some time, we became pen pals. His name was Mohammed.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 93%;"><b> </b><br />
<b>6. What is the most hideous souvenir you ever bought?</b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 93%;">I seriously can't remember (I'm pretty good a suppressing embarressing stuff).</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 93%;"><br />
<b>7. What is the most beautiful part of your hometown?</b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 93%;">If by "hometown" you mean the place where my family lives:</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEz07VUhXAZ2QEtlHdSemDeEe7-amX6iWPBOHosYZ1qOSsKbG5QewoiupoCNYNSrAIJF_pRUw6aKKVMyTAsDnNCO2CbFTxEYppsnMWTxyTryDONSLNJskxvTPDrF4V4q7WxboTCA3SVHY/s1600/IMG_4245.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEz07VUhXAZ2QEtlHdSemDeEe7-amX6iWPBOHosYZ1qOSsKbG5QewoiupoCNYNSrAIJF_pRUw6aKKVMyTAsDnNCO2CbFTxEYppsnMWTxyTryDONSLNJskxvTPDrF4V4q7WxboTCA3SVHY/s1600/IMG_4245.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicpoMA0MYuU19crfFAsbYnYvE0xvmAkR7OdVw97ngf1iAx2fdb-9SgzeZAyOGuhj6Qb14ivkYzVM2DYCIAdLYkloBWs6cPoJ3GLJF3tdpHx6JcPyw03zIAaHAgBxUYTheLQIdft8QKHrk/s1600/IMG_4257.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicpoMA0MYuU19crfFAsbYnYvE0xvmAkR7OdVw97ngf1iAx2fdb-9SgzeZAyOGuhj6Qb14ivkYzVM2DYCIAdLYkloBWs6cPoJ3GLJF3tdpHx6JcPyw03zIAaHAgBxUYTheLQIdft8QKHrk/s1600/IMG_4257.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: 93%;">If you mean what I call "home" - I would say everything. Just look at this city silhouette:</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLEfhN86IEGuXvmuOKFEgAWsfcFVS5Y7I8eTXOJrCoRrIACx7IIfAAzsxsYiKmYC10Wyz_cKGhMQnZdVEfudtAfx1I_hrQ0IoRFrSyiuOLy8qb-lwTHgbRoLDPBZIUvtUOBgBnD0ZgsZg/s1600/mainz.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLEfhN86IEGuXvmuOKFEgAWsfcFVS5Y7I8eTXOJrCoRrIACx7IIfAAzsxsYiKmYC10Wyz_cKGhMQnZdVEfudtAfx1I_hrQ0IoRFrSyiuOLy8qb-lwTHgbRoLDPBZIUvtUOBgBnD0ZgsZg/s1600/mainz.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: 93%;"><br />
<b>8. Is there anything you would never leave home without?</b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 93%;">They key to my apartment. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 93%;"><b> <br />
9. Who is the addressee of your postcards?</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 93%;">My grandma, my parents, my godmother, my friends.<b> </b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 93%;"><b><br />
10. Beach or hillside?</b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 93%;">Beach!</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 93%;"><b> </b><br />
<b>11. Why did you start blogging?</b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 93%;">Because I needed space for "everything that doesn't fit into the narrowly spaced columns of a newspaper". Tagline stop. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 93%;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 93%;">I'm passing this blog baton on to <a href="http://wolfgang-burkle.webnode.com/" target="_blank">Wolfgang</a>. Those are your questions:</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 93%;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 93%;">1. Would you rather travel in space or time?</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 93%;">2. What was the most suprising thing you learned while travelling?</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 93%;">3. Is there a place you travelled to more than twice?</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 93%;">4. Which place you travelled to would qualify for moving there for good?</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 93%;">5. What food/beverage only tastes good while on vacation? </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 93%;">6. What is the taste of travelling?</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 93%;">7. Do you feel pity for people who aren't interested in travelling?</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 93%;">8. What improvement would you like to invent to make travelling easier?</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 93%;">9. The most beautiful picture you ever shot?</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 93%;">10. The biggest mistake you ever made while travelling?</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 93%;">11. How do you decide where to go next? </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 93%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 93%;"><br /></span></div>
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<br /></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3596127089011358989.post-31694427169571584602014-01-09T08:00:00.000+01:002014-01-09T08:45:10.555+01:00A Cheerful Schizophrenia<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_rQVKeTA7iZaQrsuE6t5M5KSldH4mFU9h_NinITxkeCMkLKVbpgF-CE8iUpCzq8MIKm0Behi21If8G_Ts-Nk6rMG303_nGNaFAH7IdSmjxSW-UjEUdRurJc02pf6dil2ECAUNx7xk1uk/s1600/TucholskyParis1928.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_rQVKeTA7iZaQrsuE6t5M5KSldH4mFU9h_NinITxkeCMkLKVbpgF-CE8iUpCzq8MIKm0Behi21If8G_Ts-Nk6rMG303_nGNaFAH7IdSmjxSW-UjEUdRurJc02pf6dil2ECAUNx7xk1uk/s1600/TucholskyParis1928.jpg" height="400" width="235" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<br />
"He has bridged the ridiculous antithesis between professional and artist, between journalist and poet, and has created in himself this vivid type of author whose definition has to be left to his dearly loved jargon."</blockquote>
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
wrote Friedrich Sieburg in the <i>Frankfurter Zeitung </i>in 1928. He talked about his colleague Kurt Tucholsky who would turn 124 today. He died aged 45. Way too early. But he still had enough time to leave hundreds of texts which elude any clear-cut definition.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Was he a poet? Was he a journalist? Even at his time people tried to force his writing into a corset: "He is a novelist!," they exclaimed when he published his first longer prose work<i> Rheinsberg </i>(1912)<i>.</i> They shouted even louder when <i>Ein Pyrenäenbuch</i> (1927) and <i>Schloß Gripsholm</i> (1931) followed. But Tucholsky just laughed about it. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Most literary scholars still consider Tucholsky to be journalist. Because it's the easiest thing to do. Tucholsky published most of his works in newspapers, so he cannot possibly be a true poet, not even a mere novelist, they say. But his contemporary Emil Ludwig believed "that he is a bigger poet than most of the novelists of his epoch." And his language is in fact literary. But who says that journalism cannot be literary, that literature cannot have journalistic traits? </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
He didn't want to be immortal. Unlike novelists, he did not write for eternity, he wrote for the day. In his "Plea Against Immortality" he stated: "Don't peer into the future, there is nothing waiting for you. There is just one word for you if you are wise enough to voice it: Today."</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Nevertheless, he reached immortality with his texts which he claimed to produce to be thrown away the next day, to wrap fish in the paper they were printed on. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Tucholsky was a traveler, a flaneur, an observer - of details which he used to explain the whole. He took pictures, snap-shots, arranged and re-arranged them to make his point clear. Once he said he was suffering from the <i>Schriftsteller-Krankheit</i>, the novelists' disease: "This obsession which cannot let things go, because you could still say it even better, even clearer, even shorter." </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Sometimes he was bitter, cynical. Satire was his weapon. "What may satire do?," he asked. <a href="http://kurttucholsky.blogspot.de/search?q=satire" target="_blank">"Everything", he answered. </a></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFUkuusqCWEI_jSiLCzJ8mN0EaGvmb2JXUe02Xw4Y5_vhZno8VEUWRDBe6Q8bmMKIrCkudcbtTGUMKL46BmrBHDZYRCnN6fKlwkRUtuJ_R_VFNqG5zbQgcXXXDS1p3ScC10g6pYvVHL5g/s1600/tucholsky.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFUkuusqCWEI_jSiLCzJ8mN0EaGvmb2JXUe02Xw4Y5_vhZno8VEUWRDBe6Q8bmMKIrCkudcbtTGUMKL46BmrBHDZYRCnN6fKlwkRUtuJ_R_VFNqG5zbQgcXXXDS1p3ScC10g6pYvVHL5g/s1600/tucholsky.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
He used multiple pseudonyms to be able to express his views (and also because the little weekly, <i>Die Weltbühne</i>, he worked for "did not want to have four times the same man in one issue"). Ignaz Wrobel, Peter Panter, Kaspar Hauser and Theobald Tiger became his alter ego."It was supposed to be a game, invented to be a game", but "ended in cheerful schizophrenia".</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I am truely happy to share my birthday with this man: </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"A gentleman remembers the birthday of a woman, but forgets about her age." - Kurt Tucholsky</blockquote>
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Thank you, Kurt!</div>
<br />
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------<br />
<a href="http://kurttucholsky.blogspot.de/" target="_blank">English language resource of Tucholsky's texts</a> (By the way, the blogger calls him a "satirist")<br />
<a href="http://www.sudelblog.de/" target="_blank">News and interesting facts about the journalist-novelist-satirist</a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3596127089011358989.post-74671948742913400922013-12-01T21:43:00.000+01:002013-12-02T00:04:58.007+01:00Four Fall Favorites<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1p23VEQLtFm01DyWstN7zwV0EUNVTmkZGvlzJ2QO0DtGq2SqkpA7F4T0seihyExdgWkDdBWniRSbd_R-I4IEK1E0-kVYGYRNJwoZjo600ZKyF6WWRVh1Xz76QCiH_csHwr42e44bFt_s/s1600/kitchen+tool.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1p23VEQLtFm01DyWstN7zwV0EUNVTmkZGvlzJ2QO0DtGq2SqkpA7F4T0seihyExdgWkDdBWniRSbd_R-I4IEK1E0-kVYGYRNJwoZjo600ZKyF6WWRVh1Xz76QCiH_csHwr42e44bFt_s/s1600/kitchen+tool.jpg" height="106" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
Yes, I love alliterations - and delicious food (have I mentioned that before?) which is why this is another post on my favorite recipes. These are the results of some fall weekend cooking.<br />
[for further instructions, just click on the pictures]<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: cyan;">Citrusy Millet Salad </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: cyan;">with Kalamata Olives, Fennel and Hokkaido Pumpkin</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: cyan;"><i><span style="background-color: #f4cccc;">(vegan)</span></i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://writing-tool.blogspot.de/p/citrusy-millet-salad.html" target="_blank"><img alt="citrusy millet salad" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikGFuc4P5M76jTvEZx3G0xa2Sipq5z7jvg5JvANRldDTlBx3nTZnJvpJOjE_pwO5gUYkP5nfTdQkwOI9gZ0Sny7qEXQTBK4hIJGDzxQivxMMSuDJx-0sVPsoYHOgqD0qTNGoYCKX62Ano/s1600/DSC04074.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: cyan;">Pumpkin-Fennel-Quiche </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: cyan;"> with Grapes</span> </div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://writing-tool.blogspot.de/p/pumpkin-fennel-quiche.html" target="_blank"><img alt="pumpkin-fennel-quiche" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie4wkSDO8Q5rMaLUOqdte89bequDX1Kcj_4Wvmq1AQhiO4iMLFZjbTmit1_7qqAiTkKaPzXrZf_JCe3kefa8TMAzQatQL7Med1lr1DjW05xFluD7uVothPEwg7eBSo6AyRRdh3XMlZGkk/s1600/DSC04182.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: cyan;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: cyan;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: cyan;">Potato-sauerkraut-soup</span></div>
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<i><span style="background-color: #f4cccc;">(vegan)</span></i></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://writing-tool.blogspot.de/p/potato-saurkraut-soup.html" target="_blank"><img alt="potato-sauerkraut-soup" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0ipN3L39HW_pgqUvRF-Iwt7eD8d139LQLgChH_NaAHHpet8mx5DDyoJdRtOeBcdc0EI2B42G7xqo6UgILjVDICyv3EGzQxbupGwKppWpJexcG_fagxYzi4u3Tg4U0p2nGfabN7USL-UQ/s1600/DSC04202.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: cyan;">Vegetable Stir-Fry with Buckwheat-sweet potato-noodles Asian Style</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #f4cccc;"><i>(vegan, gluten-free)</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://writing-tool.blogspot.de/p/vegetable-stir-fry.html" target="_blank"><img alt="vegetable stir-fry" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkj4YRIZm8YJgW4N5dZVnwnVkXcVoVOuwtmfgeI9acOLEQ4hJvZUc-Lefqq42orT_zwG5XEVDgLclxTF14P9VFiRfPnPwrxRWasG1BjaqlZFVidZlYa2hSc8-cm6tGe_3e64fDIuB5pKk/s1600/CAM00322.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3596127089011358989.post-40655878120720627632013-11-08T15:55:00.000+01:002013-11-08T18:19:42.816+01:00Imaginations turning into images<div style="text-align: justify;">
I always imagined how it would be to walk down the streets of Vienna.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
As a kid, I almost started to believe that I have been there. It felt like it. I was a gobbler of<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Christine_N%C3%B6stlinger"> Christine Nöstlinger's</a> children's books which are all set in the city at the Danube. </div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi104PgxMNiJ08f_G0F3aQhApKiMKP2q8Io7I4L5l0sxB_INZ2dG6_zguFAJJ2uwo0KngguUT7J7AQIWIKXnkKwd8VW1hfEXC_sonOfZJvkIxy-5tY6PPpAK4oFYmJaF8TfNfRsNyclIxQ/s1600/DSC03939.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi104PgxMNiJ08f_G0F3aQhApKiMKP2q8Io7I4L5l0sxB_INZ2dG6_zguFAJJ2uwo0KngguUT7J7AQIWIKXnkKwd8VW1hfEXC_sonOfZJvkIxy-5tY6PPpAK4oFYmJaF8TfNfRsNyclIxQ/s1600/DSC03939.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
It would take almost twenty more years until I actually strolled down those streets, taking snapshots, imaginations turning into images.</div>
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I always imagined Vienna to be wonderful. Five reasons to prove this assumption:</div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: #ea9999;">1. art nouveau</span></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4iJ5q5qiiYeePIFJyfBkO03o_Qqx-loVhyphenhyphenKU4C28BJimTZTnbCWm06P6ICUK-G6vE9IJrWLWVcoESnhVx5dFhguu2g1VTZYXR_gtjLPEZ9YekF3hlVllBP1gw3TqI8cwo_42SC748LhA/s1600/DSC03903.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4iJ5q5qiiYeePIFJyfBkO03o_Qqx-loVhyphenhyphenKU4C28BJimTZTnbCWm06P6ICUK-G6vE9IJrWLWVcoESnhVx5dFhguu2g1VTZYXR_gtjLPEZ9YekF3hlVllBP1gw3TqI8cwo_42SC748LhA/s1600/DSC03903.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDH3fqFKWWuhp8hB4Af8ZQMdXJ5hzoE9VtMnUxsnWI8If70-yPGsKmaZIJ_zE1OhSUh0Q1eUyqAg0VLqVrRc020rBWDVnuJKeSgoJ4k7Avfb5aoetJ_Zu2KvhyphenhyphenmePUKSgzXY4Abz7BcHM/s1600/DSC03941.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDH3fqFKWWuhp8hB4Af8ZQMdXJ5hzoE9VtMnUxsnWI8If70-yPGsKmaZIJ_zE1OhSUh0Q1eUyqAg0VLqVrRc020rBWDVnuJKeSgoJ4k7Avfb5aoetJ_Zu2KvhyphenhyphenmePUKSgzXY4Abz7BcHM/s1600/DSC03941.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhJ_vDwpiuLFejEEFO8JZGtFFtoDfEsItQtSeorm-mpweoe_YnJSzghyNxK7x9jtSxLtBtMPTBZ0VN_35ktjQFl5zOo38nEQwtAKjjmJWPQ9UyqPRtzh-b08vwx8ndvXWKf4LCYwWa390/s1600/DSC03908.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhJ_vDwpiuLFejEEFO8JZGtFFtoDfEsItQtSeorm-mpweoe_YnJSzghyNxK7x9jtSxLtBtMPTBZ0VN_35ktjQFl5zOo38nEQwtAKjjmJWPQ9UyqPRtzh-b08vwx8ndvXWKf4LCYwWa390/s1600/DSC03908.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
The best way to start your walk through Vienna is to go on a guided tour which brings you to all the beautiful art nouveau architectural highlights. The Secession Building is probably the most famous and most impressive monument of this time. The Secession movement included painters, architects, and sculptors (Malerei - Architektur - Plastik) and their first president was Gustav Klimt. In the basement of this architectural treasure built by Joseph Maria Olbrich (who also designed many houses in my hometown for the Darmstadt Artists' Colony) they keep Klimt's famous <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Beethoven_Frieze" target="_blank">"Beethoven Frieze"</a>.</div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: #ea9999;">2."Die Burg"</span></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeX-UFDs_pzTrVXk_XKJteHxtCcTrxLUkPZKHiEbCt7C-hIOnBn9W0CYzPRYiAiL_7-KHDsZsBLRTaXgQzstEi7urOAgRnpTwjnJh2IIcaDabATBMwGDga6Lv-W7wxuUVdpCRFRtoBS-A/s1600/CAM00201.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeX-UFDs_pzTrVXk_XKJteHxtCcTrxLUkPZKHiEbCt7C-hIOnBn9W0CYzPRYiAiL_7-KHDsZsBLRTaXgQzstEi7urOAgRnpTwjnJh2IIcaDabATBMwGDga6Lv-W7wxuUVdpCRFRtoBS-A/s1600/CAM00201.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Please note the passing tram in the back - as Viennese as possible.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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As a theater-nerd I always dreamt of going to see a play in the Burg Theater. As it is said to be one of the most important German language theaters in the world expectations where high. They were fulfilled. Best theater experience ever. (We went to see "Twelfth Night").</div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: #ea9999;">3. Habsburg Exorbitance</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlXtWRB_J23ZY6M9sF3HDwCqkHD2-OZW4kzWDMBXN52LM9GOcnT45zKHMEul8Z0JaauQbndXEynow30dv4uxgGDgeL7aVvFYRQ-Y02ZDvZ_v8NtOeCDihqz5hxfblplmYc0CB2zFvOV3w/s1600/DSC03998.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlXtWRB_J23ZY6M9sF3HDwCqkHD2-OZW4kzWDMBXN52LM9GOcnT45zKHMEul8Z0JaauQbndXEynow30dv4uxgGDgeL7aVvFYRQ-Y02ZDvZ_v8NtOeCDihqz5hxfblplmYc0CB2zFvOV3w/s1600/DSC03998.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhkPeKfs6YFz0qLDYXjBaEpYFrFTSGVc3q5_HVex0Svi6W7dkCyqgmnhfGzml30WfGT1upQHIVdwRlG9wCo2JLNZgQ1AuXFU5TV3GiLiwj7mvb5jmA8IielMZ6rHQm2X0rIOqSuK7ST1U/s1600/DSC03974.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhkPeKfs6YFz0qLDYXjBaEpYFrFTSGVc3q5_HVex0Svi6W7dkCyqgmnhfGzml30WfGT1upQHIVdwRlG9wCo2JLNZgQ1AuXFU5TV3GiLiwj7mvb5jmA8IielMZ6rHQm2X0rIOqSuK7ST1U/s1600/DSC03974.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie4ciWal5MpAFqzV8xEeiipFaMQGWaMSOLXv5hDSAV5pEP5mYUfIwOC14HeVkbOZKlCYQSK4iZOx-K2gkOn07tPzBGJBex54snYp7Bgplg1JS4ubLGGwbxMLowP0T0itcng5jkc8VSUU0/s1600/DSC04004.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie4ciWal5MpAFqzV8xEeiipFaMQGWaMSOLXv5hDSAV5pEP5mYUfIwOC14HeVkbOZKlCYQSK4iZOx-K2gkOn07tPzBGJBex54snYp7Bgplg1JS4ubLGGwbxMLowP0T0itcng5jkc8VSUU0/s1600/DSC04004.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
There are no words to describe this. Sissi and Franzerl had a nice home. I personally believe that there is no better time to visit Schloss Schönbrunn than in the fall. </div>
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<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: #ea9999;">4. Austrian Deliciousness</span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEVS8boVwTW5_jE2a5y4xno421W-SAez0-ZUOcKesB2T5JGsVh0E9SemllJMd3_qDQ_bhi2sE_2LMCOItKOacJ-F5bdEpaanpBgL0MB7gxGPAG1lNORIn6f30_Zn57-QjNIkHBCSt6Bcg/s1600/DSC04026.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEVS8boVwTW5_jE2a5y4xno421W-SAez0-ZUOcKesB2T5JGsVh0E9SemllJMd3_qDQ_bhi2sE_2LMCOItKOacJ-F5bdEpaanpBgL0MB7gxGPAG1lNORIn6f30_Zn57-QjNIkHBCSt6Bcg/s1600/DSC04026.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is what happens if you let a hungry vegetarian chose from 100000000 options.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<div style="text-align: justify;">
There are many delicious things to taste in Austria. <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mozartkugel" target="_blank">Mozartkugeln,</a> Kaiserschmarrn, Topfenknödel - and a lot of dishes which aren't too tempting for a vegetarian like me (Wiener Schnitzel!). It was coincidence that we found the best vegetarian/vegan restaurant I've ever been to: <a href="http://www.yamm.at/galerie/" target="_blank">Yamm. </a></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
It is a buffet restaurant which had everything I ever wanted to eat ;) It it was delicious. They also had soy<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wiener_Melange" target="_blank"> "Melange"</a>. In Vienna you don't drink coffee you have to chose from a million different options with beautiful names such as Wiener Melage, Einspänner or Kleiner Brauner. Unfortunaltelly,<a href="http://www.palaisevents.at/cafecentral.html" target="_blank"> "Café Central"</a> the coffee house I always dreamt of visiting, was too crowded. </div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: #ea9999;">5. From Above </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: #ea9999;"><br /></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZFfrcHPIBPcRZtqN4e0ZZpwjke5WyFMEUbhxsUNu_amQX54RHuwcYaCAwTMCZ_eLGII9Si0XT0nGBIHBAzNP3CbIu3nmHrYNEPQ9S6qAt3z761RbKp0p90IiZpEqy1HtL_UtxyU7sYNg/s1600/DSC04061.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZFfrcHPIBPcRZtqN4e0ZZpwjke5WyFMEUbhxsUNu_amQX54RHuwcYaCAwTMCZ_eLGII9Si0XT0nGBIHBAzNP3CbIu3nmHrYNEPQ9S6qAt3z761RbKp0p90IiZpEqy1HtL_UtxyU7sYNg/s1600/DSC04061.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
There is no better way to see a city than from above. In Vienna there is a way to do this which is much more fun than climbing the stairs of a church spire or taking an elevator up a large skyscraper: The Prater Turm. It's the world highest flying swing. The seats are lifted 117 meters above the ground. You shouldn't be afraid of heights. I thought I wasn't, but felt kind of dizzy up there. A great experience anyway.</div>
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0Wien, Österreich48.2081743 16.3738189000000647.8696338 15.728371900000059 48.546714800000004 17.019265900000061tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3596127089011358989.post-86854006928724953552013-10-15T08:20:00.000+02:002013-10-15T08:20:53.722+02:00Der Geschmack der Provence<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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„Vous<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"> </b><span class="st">êtes </span>en Provence!“ steht auf dem
blumenverzierten Tablett, sanft singt von irgendwoher die Chanson-Sängerin Zaz „Comme
ci, comme ça“, es duftet nach frischen Macarons, hinter einer Scheibe stapeln sich
Schinken, Salami und allerlei Sorten Käse, in den Regalen warten feine Öle,
Salze und Kräuterkompositionen darauf, verschenkt, verarbeitet und verspeist zu
werden.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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Der Geschmack von Urlaub. Doch
nicht in der Provence, sondern im Schatten des Doms inmitten der Mainzer
Altstadt versorgt Christine<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Pfeffer ihre
Kunden mit allerlei Köstlichkeiten aus Südfrankreich – aber auch mit
Spezialitäten aus der Toskana, Spanien und einigen wenigen regionalen Produkten. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc1NygjRI76x5PdTwknfW6j_lcAENa7lSWnYN96rA5l8_W8RhNvgdlz1uqmemcTPquXhnyRD3n7wYDLkItrdqqDKSlZrzXAGehei4XiBMw4_GcIJXWfZo0wifsDVaxeAnkmTkDM7DuA2U/s1600/DSC02480.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc1NygjRI76x5PdTwknfW6j_lcAENa7lSWnYN96rA5l8_W8RhNvgdlz1uqmemcTPquXhnyRD3n7wYDLkItrdqqDKSlZrzXAGehei4XiBMw4_GcIJXWfZo0wifsDVaxeAnkmTkDM7DuA2U/s1600/DSC02480.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
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Mehr als 600 verschiedene Leckereien
hat sie auf die weißen Regale, die Kühltheken und Körbe verteilt. Die Weite
lilafarbener Lavendelfelder eröffnet sich in Form einer Wandtapete. Wer den
Geschmack des aromatischen Strauchs liebt, für den gibt es beispielsweise eine
Lavendel-Schokolade. Bei den süßen Täfelchen gibt es auch – wie sollte es
anders sein – eine Sorte mit Pfeffer, die natürlich im „Le Poive“ nicht fehlen
darf. Der Name verweist zugleich auf Geschäftsinhaberin Christine Pfeffer und ihr
Angebot: Gepfeffert ist auch so manche Pastavariation oder Wurst, von den
Preisen kann man dies allerdings nicht behaupten. Ab drei Euro<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>gibt es köstliche Kleinigkeiten im Glas: kühne
Marmeladenkompositionen, süßen Senf mit Ingwer und Zitrone, Mandel- oder Pistaziencreme.
Vieles davon darf auch probiert werden. </div>
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„Ich wollte schon immer meinen
eigenen Feinkostladen haben“, sagt Christine Pfeffer während sie Nudeln,
Cranberry-Limonade und die Risotto-Mischung in einem Präsentkorb arrangiert. Bei
ihrer Ausbildung zur Hotelfachfrau hat sie auch das Handwerkszeug erlernt, das
sie für die Buchhaltung braucht. Doch am liebsten ist der 27-Jährigen der direkte
Kontakt mit ihren Kunden. Ob sie französische Hochzeitsdragees habe, fragt da
die Dame, die es gerade noch kurz vor Ladenschluss ins „Le Poivre“ geschafft
hat. Selbstverständlich. „Viele Kunden haben in letzter Zeit nach Crème de
Cassis gefragt“, erzählt Christine Pfeffer. So viele, dass sie den
Johannisbeer-Likör nun ins Sortiment aufgenommen hat. </div>
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Alle zwei bis drei Monate reist
Christine Pfeffer zum Einkaufen <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>nach
Frankreich. Die weiß-gerahmten Bilder an der Wand zeigen sie beim Ortstermin:
In einer Käserei und beim Nougatverkosten. „Der Nougat ist das beliebteste
Produkt“, erzählt die Geschäftsinhaberin. Mit einem großen Messer rückt sie dem
Nougatlaib zu Leibe. Besonders begehrt: die Sorte mit Pistazienmark.</div>
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Ihr eigenes Lieblingsprodukt ist
momentan ein anderes: „Daheim benutze ich ganz viel das Fleur de Sel mit
gegrillten Kräutern“, doch ihr Favorit wechsele eigentlich ständig. Kein Wunder
bei der Auswahl. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRpq-LNZWq_JU7vPlCPO3ArvXNoKDAeBljxgpNWCC_umBmLkfmb5xzSuOHqE2Sd_zJ8-lHof1mWhZFCgcVm42uHKjI76xBytjW-DQ-c5dPaKMCd-WvymKfglNlEuz1SVnNnaENRAb05FU/s1600/DSC02469.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRpq-LNZWq_JU7vPlCPO3ArvXNoKDAeBljxgpNWCC_umBmLkfmb5xzSuOHqE2Sd_zJ8-lHof1mWhZFCgcVm42uHKjI76xBytjW-DQ-c5dPaKMCd-WvymKfglNlEuz1SVnNnaENRAb05FU/s1600/DSC02469.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: windowtext; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">„Le
Poivre“<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Feinkost</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: windowtext; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">Johannisstraße
12 </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: windowtext; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">55116
Mainz <br />
</span><a href="http://www.le-poivre-feinkost.de/"><span lang="EN" style="color: windowtext; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN;">www.le-poivre-feinkost.de</span></a></div>
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Die Kurzversion dieses Artikels und weitere Tipps rund ums Studentenleben in Mainz, Wiesbaden, Bingen und Worms gibt es auch in der neuen Campus-Leben-App der Verlagsgruppe Rhein Main bei <a href="https://play.google.com/store/apps/details?id=de.vrm.university">Google Play</a> oder <a href="https://itunes.apple.com/us/app/campus-leben/id665619050?l=de&ls=1&mt=8">Itunes</a> zum Download.</div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0Johannisstraße 12, 55116 Mainz, Deutschland49.99819 8.272699999999986224.4761555 -33.035894000000013 75.5202245 49.581293999999986tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3596127089011358989.post-46896350640732414052013-10-02T20:57:00.001+02:002013-10-02T21:23:42.542+02:00O'macht is!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1p23VEQLtFm01DyWstN7zwV0EUNVTmkZGvlzJ2QO0DtGq2SqkpA7F4T0seihyExdgWkDdBWniRSbd_R-I4IEK1E0-kVYGYRNJwoZjo600ZKyF6WWRVh1Xz76QCiH_csHwr42e44bFt_s/s1600/kitchen+tool.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1p23VEQLtFm01DyWstN7zwV0EUNVTmkZGvlzJ2QO0DtGq2SqkpA7F4T0seihyExdgWkDdBWniRSbd_R-I4IEK1E0-kVYGYRNJwoZjo600ZKyF6WWRVh1Xz76QCiH_csHwr42e44bFt_s/s1600/kitchen+tool.jpg" height="106" width="320" /></a></div>
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I've already admitted that I have never been to the <i><a href="http://writing-tool.blogspot.de/2013/07/rhine-romanticism.html">Oktoberfest</a>.</i></div>
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One of the many reasons for this peculiar fact is that the folk festival which is supposed to be "the world's largest fair" has nothing to offer in terms of culinary temptations to a vegetarian like me.</div>
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However, I stumbled across a recipe with has nothing to do with<i> <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Schweinshaxe">Haxn</a></i> and <i><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hendl">Hendl</a></i> and is nevertheless Oktoberfest-themed. This year's <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wiesn"><i>Wiesn</i> </a>is almost over. So it's high time to share this recipe with you.</div>
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<h2 style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: #ea9999;"><b>Breznsalat</b></span></h2>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV1ENb2VFy0rJC6Lvy8Ui9AZS8uylo12G3nMz6wdkxCncySl44jOWexyLYVUt_iicSHxin3u30oVPZrYX2oAeV4SMQF-MXQR4H8scxJ4Jizrhos6Qt73tlLMjtnTnuiqSryrBWxwTeaRU/s1600/DSC02632.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV1ENb2VFy0rJC6Lvy8Ui9AZS8uylo12G3nMz6wdkxCncySl44jOWexyLYVUt_iicSHxin3u30oVPZrYX2oAeV4SMQF-MXQR4H8scxJ4Jizrhos6Qt73tlLMjtnTnuiqSryrBWxwTeaRU/s1600/DSC02632.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a> </div>
<ul>
<li style="text-align: center;">two soft pretzels (Brezn in Bavarian)</li>
<li style="text-align: center;">100 grams of baby spinach </li>
<li style="text-align: center;">garden radishes </li>
<li style="text-align: center;">cherry tomatoes</li>
<li style="text-align: center;">
one cucumber</li>
<li style="text-align: center;">one yellow bell pepper </li>
<li style="text-align: center;">some butter </li>
<li style="text-align: center;">olive oil</li>
<li style="text-align: center;">white wine vinegar </li>
<li style="text-align: center;">salt & pepper</li>
<li style="text-align: center;"><span rel="v:ingredient"><span class="ingredient">one teaspoon honey</span></span> </li>
<li style="text-align: center;">one tablespoon <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mustard_%28condiment%29#Sweet_mustard_.28Bavaria.29">Bavarian sweet mustard</a></li>
</ul>
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Cut pretzels into thin slices and roast them in melted butter until crunchy. Cut veggies into slices as well, add the baby spinach. Combine oil, vinegar, salt, pepper, mustard and honey for the dressing - pour it over your salad then sprinkle the Brezn-slices over it. <i>O'macht is! </i></div>
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3596127089011358989.post-59468464428301673972013-09-27T23:38:00.001+02:002013-09-28T09:47:24.605+02:00There is no place like Norman's Place<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT9BKuv8Td0jWLu3s67crH_7Nj0o8DAMWVUPEyX3s8SsHADMq8s3f4RR47Y3u0kD03ak0eDHUmzyF3CJiMc0KOky56m72_qlQZdScivY3JWI6bhjud-0whHepgt2-aXSxwwzyBRYMWynA/s1600/serkanorman.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT9BKuv8Td0jWLu3s67crH_7Nj0o8DAMWVUPEyX3s8SsHADMq8s3f4RR47Y3u0kD03ak0eDHUmzyF3CJiMc0KOky56m72_qlQZdScivY3JWI6bhjud-0whHepgt2-aXSxwwzyBRYMWynA/s1600/serkanorman.jpg" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
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His eyes are tied to the piece of paper. He stands as closely to the music stand as possible. His fingertip is running over the lines of words. He quickly gathers the lyrics. His hips are circling, his knees are bending with the beat. While the crowd is sipping Venezuelan Polar beer from the bottle, he looks up from his song book and pretends to know every word by heart. Nobody cares that the performanence has a karaokesque character. </div>
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But the singer is nevertheless a pro: His microphone echoes every word he sings and says. On purpose. His anouncements are full of joy and laughter: "Hahahaha", it blasts, "Are you still enjoying the songs??" He waits for the applause. The reaction is somehow hesistant. But he doesn't give up: "Oh yeah, that's why we're here... we are not here for ourselves", he says winking through his gold-rimmed glasses which have time traveled from the 80s. He has styled his hair in a special way: It looks like a hybrid between an American quiff and an unicorn's horn. He requests requests and people request. "Solo tu, nada más", he is singing and his band is joining in, the beautiful female singer is elegantly moving in her tight denim pants and ther extra-tight strapless top, dancing on her high heels, the keyboarder in the back starts the artificial trumpets to make the song sound as Latin American as possible. He hollers trying to imitare some Mexican cheering sounds. </div>
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There is no sign but everybody knows "Serka Norman". In Papiamentu, the creole language of Curaçao, it means something like "Norman's place". "There is no place like Norman's place", the singer announces over and over again through his echoing microphone closing with his diabolic laughter. The snack bar is situated right next to fishing docks and does not only attract traveling fishermen, but also locals and tourists alike. The bookshelf in the back tells a strange story of everybody who has ever been here and left his or her finished books at Norman's place.</div>
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Tonight is a Friday night. The "EQ Entertainment Band" is playing. "Een beetje verliefd" whispers the beautiful female singer in her microphone and the group of middleaged Dutch guys join in and sing along. Their skin is seriously sunburned, but they don't care. They have their song and a bottle of gin. People start to dance salsa on the street. On another table, an old Curaçaoean guy is eating the delicious krioyo-style food Norman prepares in his tiny kitchen from a plastic box. It seems like he originally ordered it to take away, but then spontaneously decided to stay. Whitney Houston is sitting at the table next to him. It must have taken some time to first straighten and then tease her hair, to pick this long, green dress from her wardrobe, to combine it with the perfectly matching rhinestone earrings and the wedges in the exact same color. </div>
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While chewing their fish bites, rice and beans, they are rocking to and fro to the rhythm. "Hahaha!", the singer is laughing again enjoying himself. But he is grateful and thanks the audience after every song in every language he knows: Papiamentu, Portuguese, Spanish, Dutch, German, English. Then he detects some Italian tourists and starts to chitchat with them in their mother tongue summing up the afore said words with his happy "hahahaha".<br />
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The echoing sound of his microphone really works when he starts to sing another requested song: "Marvin, Marvin, Marvin... he was a friend of mine". Some people start to form a background choir. This time, the singer is staring on his cell phone for the lyrics. He doesn't look up until he has finished the song proudly concluding with a punctuating "hahahaha".</div>
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There is no place like Norman's place.</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1Willemstad, Curaçao12.108129 -68.93020611.983935 -69.0915675 12.232323 -68.7688445tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3596127089011358989.post-91483685351753908912013-09-16T00:35:00.002+02:002013-09-16T15:25:25.582+02:00The Reluctant Breakfaster<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I hate breakfast. It is just not my time of the day. However, I need something in my stomach before I go to work. So, it has to be extremely yummy in order to convince me that it is worth while eating it. Those are my favorite - all vegan - recipes to get me going. [For further instructions, just click on the pictures]</div>
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<b><span style="background-color: #f4cccc;">Oatmeal</span></b></div>
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<a href="http://writing-tool.blogspot.de/p/blog-page_13.html" target="_blank"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUpJvAuVa-zwQtMDxWhXXDIpJF6b6N7gvfUSEoEvEsbH8LxRGeSDAy1itvZBAC9ztB4YOc3gCdOc1JA4RrzbTVLX2LU89uIbsGe5JaCBzcUbEXIQXzDJD-PABHW-YOcdvcx9k4Z_zj2QE/s1600/DSC02900.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<b><span style="background-color: #f4cccc;">Banana Pancakes</span></b></div>
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<span style="background-color: #f4cccc;"><b>Mango-Vanilla-Smoothie</b></span></div>
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3596127089011358989.post-6392576120855430802013-09-05T12:02:00.000+02:002013-09-05T12:08:26.580+02:00Heiß Geliebtes <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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„Eigentlich wollte ich noch zwei, drei Jahre warten“, sagt Dominic Müller und grinst. Doch dann war die Gelegenheit günstig. Nur wenige Schritte vom Markt entfernt – , wo sich Liebhaber von Cappuccino und Co. an Markttagen um den milchkaffeebaunen Oldtimer Citroën-Transporter scharen – hat er sein kleines Geschäft eröffnet. Seit sieben Jahren gehört das Kaffeemobil zum Mainzer Markt. Seit einem Dreivierteljahr gibt es nun auch einen festen Anlaufpunkt der „Moguntia Kaffeerösterei“ in Mainz. Von Montag bis Samstag wird hier Kaffee ausgeschenkt und eingepackt. </div>
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„Viele kommen direkt auf dem Weg zur Arbeit“, erzählt Dominic Müller, der die Türen seines Lädchens in der Fischtorstraße täglich schon um 8 Uhr öffnet. Erst vor anderthalb Jahren hat der gelernte Hotelfachmann die Führung übernommen. Gemeinsam mit seiner Mutter Brigitte Müller-Dildei und acht weiteren Mitarbeitern kümmert er sich ums Geschäft. Geröstet wird im „Hauptquartier“ in Bodenheim. Dort wandern Bohnen aus aller Welt in die Trommel. Galapagos, Hawaii Kona oder Jamaica Blue Mountain – bei „Moguntia“ gibt es auch wahre Raritäten. 30 Sorten insgesamt. Ob in der 250-, 500- oder 1000-Gramm-Packung oder auch als Pads: Für jede Maschine und jeden Geschmack ist etwas dabei. Auf kleinen Kreidetäfelchen an der Wand stehen Preise und Aroma-Attribute – für 2,50 Euro die Tasse können diese auch bei einer Verkostung selbst erschmeckt werden. Ein Tässchen vom „Kaffee des Monats“ kostet 1,80 Euro.</div>
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Unter den mit Bohnen gefüllten Apothekergläsern zum Probieren geht es rund: Dort dreht sich der Frappé in der „Slush Maschine“. Für drei Euro gibt es das Halbgefrorene frischgezapft im Plastikbecher. „Es hat eine Weile gedauert, bis ich die richtige Mischung hatte“, erzählt Müller von seinem neuesten Experiment, das offensichtlich geglückt ist: „Gerade bei den Cappuccino- und Latte Macchiato-Trinkern kommt das super an.“ Für das eisige Getränk verwendet er den gleichen Espresso wie für die heiß geliebten Klassiker: den „Fortissimo“. „Das ist eine typisch italienische Röstung.“ Besonders gut aber laufe momentan der „Belcanto“ – Bio und Fairtrade, das sei den Kunden immer wichtiger: „Und er hat eine tolle schokoladige Note!“</div>
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Es muss nicht teuer sein, guten Kaffee daheim selbst zuzubereiten, findet Müller. „Momentan geht der Trend sowieso wieder weg vom Vollautomaten.“ Eine kleine Herdkanne oder Stempelkanne sei vollkommen ausreichend. Noch schöner als selbst Kaffee zu kochen, ist es Kaffee gekocht zu bekommen. Und das machen Müller und sein Team mit Leidenschaft. An jeweils drei Stehtischen drinnen und draußen können zum Kaffee noch kleine frische Tartes aus der Vitrine verspeist werden. Zum Mitnehmen oder Verschenken gibt es auch Gebäck und Schokolade.</div>
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„Das war einfach eine super Gelegenheit“, sagt Müller, der durch Zufall erfuhr, dass eine Ladenfläche in der Fischtorstraße frei wird. „Ich finde, das ist die ideale Lage, direkt neben dem Fisch Jackob“. Nach der Scholle in der Mittagspause holen sich viele dann den „Nachtisch“ mit Schaumkrone bei ihm. Und das Beste: „Wenn mir im mobilen Markstand die Milch ausgeht, dann kann ich ganz schnell rüberflitzen“, sagt Müller lachend. </div>
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Kaffeeladen der Moguntia Kaffeerösterei</div>
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Fischtorstraße 7</div>
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55116 Mainz </div>
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Öffnungszeiten: </div>
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Di-Fr: 8.00 Uhr-18.00 Uhr</div>
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Sa: 8.00 Uhr-16.00 Uhr</div>
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<a href="http://www.caffee-moguntia.de/">www.caffee-moguntia.de</a></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0Fischtorstraße 7, 55116 Mainz, Deutschland49.99948 8.276569999999992424.477445499999998 -33.032024000000007 75.5215145 49.585163999999992tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3596127089011358989.post-88714418927242890662013-08-26T08:00:00.000+02:002013-08-26T08:33:20.801+02:00Iconic Canvases<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBpAzAvlAwdnl1p_NGG1RvZNTjqZVpMr3CZ79P3vAvblL1bTvsSG0eRpXqTNnhvT6cQBroun_PcdASWVgUD69ZJnOkvvRgFnR-5S2vE62DpcPqbGTyKTnfmK6RJZOSO1GpC5RvQvF0ogk/s1600/DSC00969.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-EAAAdfOZqjc9C6N8nDP0SFDBZL-F4rUORblx7qpRBmyV6Q34_Cmi5YDKRt9SLa-kYI9wEeVuD2rdWlKpXstony_00KQFQ2APn6w1Ch244xIYdyn_wRwsiiilmlYsnAQkjBTT1FvJ7_w/s1600/DSC00971.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a> <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSC0IJ6RdsW5OZsL9wB2z7Mu5Y9hum2o4mASr44D8rBPXRxNCTLBpsZq4cdbQbpQI1RM0kUlfv11P8p6TDYzU27Na_yfTW2uIYhLylv97vdPEJvOnc5D0BSbrYtKZNOWWzfNpx4vuvwoY/s1600/DSC00992.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSC0IJ6RdsW5OZsL9wB2z7Mu5Y9hum2o4mASr44D8rBPXRxNCTLBpsZq4cdbQbpQI1RM0kUlfv11P8p6TDYzU27Na_yfTW2uIYhLylv97vdPEJvOnc5D0BSbrYtKZNOWWzfNpx4vuvwoY/s1600/DSC00992.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></div>
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Sydney is a vivid city anyway. But when it is winter in Australia and it gets dark early at night, the city takes on a whole new countenance and awakens anew. The iconic architecture is immersed into light - colorful and intense, shifting, changing shapes every second, vibrant, pulsating to the bass of the music which accompanies the visual effects. Telling hidden stories which every viewer decodes in his or her very own way. Sydney's landmarks transform into spectacular canvases. The Opera House, one of the most photographed buildings of the world, turns into a tableau. The famous <i>sails </i>change their appearance every second: I took hundreds of different pictures in only a couple of minutes. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfY6hsHjncP12HJYlbIMZoUtppgVK_HTDyfcAnryELVbQb56s47REUpc4WPvHgN24hd2fvXelKOfr_RfMy1OvPzyn287i8zF3oE9VvO8nCrObRLpOolWAWW1XQ1HzhEHAHXjLoySQvRTo/s1600/DSC00969.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfY6hsHjncP12HJYlbIMZoUtppgVK_HTDyfcAnryELVbQb56s47REUpc4WPvHgN24hd2fvXelKOfr_RfMy1OvPzyn287i8zF3oE9VvO8nCrObRLpOolWAWW1XQ1HzhEHAHXjLoySQvRTo/s1600/DSC00969.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiznOOUiNgKasp7zv0n_Yy2NActGmPHYf__ncBLasHjKPV4EzJWmtEYk2d4cD5hSvSDdz4w5jh2DTqZ88tOTnS7R6tLbUG6QSzFwMoItChIJn4kpgUYmSa3tG9vDyydpZYEuMnscexrnWo/s1600/DSC00971.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiznOOUiNgKasp7zv0n_Yy2NActGmPHYf__ncBLasHjKPV4EzJWmtEYk2d4cD5hSvSDdz4w5jh2DTqZ88tOTnS7R6tLbUG6QSzFwMoItChIJn4kpgUYmSa3tG9vDyydpZYEuMnscexrnWo/s1600/DSC00971.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKIo-Ei72QXbTLbPvWfL-u2Sa9DyT_RXLIowpwMqCSTVnRHg2hlVhsg7Kvo-rszoA2iEqE4HRyjR1zaHxcQzidHEQBK_fZCE6z1TpWWxHzSACZgO9_WpDtpDldhfUePxprbBjpxEmHxbU/s1600/DSC00972.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKIo-Ei72QXbTLbPvWfL-u2Sa9DyT_RXLIowpwMqCSTVnRHg2hlVhsg7Kvo-rszoA2iEqE4HRyjR1zaHxcQzidHEQBK_fZCE6z1TpWWxHzSACZgO9_WpDtpDldhfUePxprbBjpxEmHxbU/s1600/DSC00972.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
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Different artists get the opportunity to virtually paint their very own pictures on this special canvas during the <i>Vivid Sydney Festival. </i>This annual outdoor cultural event features artists from all over the world. Not only the Opera House is used as an artistic playground, amongs the other venues are, for example, the Harbour Bridge and Sydney's Customs House. Light installations, projections and performances are everywhere. For three weeks - between May and June -, the metropolis is tinted in magical colors.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQAP7v2CAORLVDLJHbq12lRZB_u861uYr0q_OdIBgDh6emp1-BdxjvIgNAYxu8IC_eM9Loy6vfBZJBNodRxnc3pE3kcIHNPlUCwo8ih2olDDHR0szxp5zH9-lF0vYMoXfQ5VG1SfP84Bs/s1600/DSC01027.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQAP7v2CAORLVDLJHbq12lRZB_u861uYr0q_OdIBgDh6emp1-BdxjvIgNAYxu8IC_eM9Loy6vfBZJBNodRxnc3pE3kcIHNPlUCwo8ih2olDDHR0szxp5zH9-lF0vYMoXfQ5VG1SfP84Bs/s1600/DSC01027.JPG" height="300" width="400" /> </a></div>
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French artist Danny Rose, created an interative installation called "Move Your Building". The Customs House started to actually dance: People just had to choose a song from a playlist, decide which graphic theme they preferred, and then had to start dancing as wildly and extravagant as possible - the more they moved, the more the building's 3D mapped projections changed rhythmically.</div>
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Last year, when I didn't even know yet that I would get the opportunity to visit Australia so soon, I watched an arts program on TV which included a contribution about some German visual artists who made Sydney Opera House fall into pieces. I was so intrigued by the view of those crumbling <i>sails</i> that <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o5ZvCv7yUKk" target="_blank">I did never forget those pictures</a>. I did my bit that Sydney's Opera House ranks amongs the most photographed buildings in the world, but I am glad that I could get so many different impressions from this famous facade.</div>
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0Sydney NSW, Australien-33.8674869 151.20699020000006-34.711976400000005 149.91609670000005 -33.0229974 152.49788370000007tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3596127089011358989.post-58991110079909036952013-08-19T08:00:00.000+02:002013-08-19T08:19:58.685+02:00Snapshots Creating Flashbacks<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4vXxrxUzAyP6GSZ4jfmxYEWWFrCDgOegM7x1lZQGy1MEE0oERoydTZsI8ciAoV11O1s5BdmXh4KmKzlU84j8cCdztCWjrX_dqshjAMabdbyV7xbkmmw3Tnp91rL5mHzOWnvsri_i7v6o/s1600/DSC02672.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4vXxrxUzAyP6GSZ4jfmxYEWWFrCDgOegM7x1lZQGy1MEE0oERoydTZsI8ciAoV11O1s5BdmXh4KmKzlU84j8cCdztCWjrX_dqshjAMabdbyV7xbkmmw3Tnp91rL5mHzOWnvsri_i7v6o/s1600/DSC02672.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
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It's a triangle: photographer - model - viewer. Jim Rakete wants eye-contact.</div>
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Between 2009 and 2011, Jim Rakete shot portraits for the German Movie Museum (<a href="http://deutsches-filminstitut.de/filmmuseum/ausstellungen/sonderausstellung/jim-rakete-stand-der-dinge/" target="_blank">Deutsches Filmmuseum</a>) in Frankfurt. Legends, talents, and creators of German cinema - and they all have one thing in common: They brought along one prop. An object which possesses a special meaning or which holds a memory for them. Christoph Waltz wore the watch from "<span lang="en-GB">Inglourious Basterds</span>". </div>
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Actor Moritz Bleibtreu is holding the weapon in his hand which used to be his while playing Abdul in "Knocking on Heaven's Door" (1997). He is Abdul. Strong, proud and stupid. The relaxed pose awakens memories and you're in the middle of the movie again.</div>
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Those pictures are intimate. But even though I have only watched a very small part of all those films the portraits are reminiscent of, it is like I am entering a dialog with those people and the artist.</div>
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Jim Rakete is one of Germany's most renowed photographers who started working for newspapers and agencies at age 17 and made a name for himself when he took pictures of Jimi Hendrix, David Bowie and Mick Jagger. In the 80s he worked as a music manager for German bands such as Spliff, Die Ärzte or Nena.</div>
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The original intention for this exhibition was to create a Hall of Fame. Rakete ended up taking 100 portraits. Jürgen Vogel, Nora Tschirner, Caroline Link, Wim Wenders... even though I only met one of those 100 in real life for an interview, they all felt close. Due to the central role of the objects, the props they are holding, Rakete decided - against his habit - to take all pictures in color. Still, there is very little color in the pictures. They are earthy, sometimes graphite colored, however, there is a certain warmth.</div>
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One of my favorites - besides Moritz Bleibtreu and his gun - is Ulrich Turkur with the coat from "John Rabe". He seems to be imperturbable, one with his prop, and doesn't even care that a dog is licking his ear. It is like Rakete has pushed the pause button.</div>
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<var><br /></var><a href="http://www.dict.cc/englisch-deutsch/imperturbable.html"><var></var></a>
<var>Der Stand der Dinge - </var> The State of Play - is the exhibition's title which is now shown in various museums throughout Germany: Snapshots creating flashbacks. <a href="http://www.dict.cc/englisch-deutsch/imperturbable.html"><var></var></a></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0Ulm, Deutschland48.4042981 9.979348999999956548.2355806 9.6566254999999561 48.5730156 10.302072499999957tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3596127089011358989.post-78763292700063439792013-08-05T07:30:00.000+02:002013-08-05T08:40:46.456+02:00A Moss Covered Fairytale<br />
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It is a sleeping beauty. It is, indeed, a fairytale setting. But this moss covered scenery has its own fable to tell:<br />
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Once upon a time there was an adventurous Spaniard who came to Australia to commence a new life. He found this incredible place with this stunning waterfall and decided: "<span class="st">¡</span>Quiero quedarme aquí!"<br />
This was the place to make his dream come true.<br />
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He built a park. And because he was not so much of a humble man, he named it after himself: Paronella Park. José Paronella was a man who thought big. He built a castle for his fiancée Matilda.<br />
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It took him years. Inspired by childhood memories of Catalonian castles, he also included refreshment rooms, a ballroom, a tennis court. José planted more than 7000 trees, he excavated a tunnel through a hill. Upon returning to Spain he had to discover that Matilda had married another man. But he needed a princess to be the king of his castle. So he married Margarita, Martilda's younger sister.<br />
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He walked her through his self-planted Kauri Avenue or sat with her at the riverside watching crocodiles swim by. Or he took her to the top of the 47-step staircase to let her watch down on their kingdom.</div>
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The picnic area would later be opened to the public and soon turn into a popular weekend getaway. People would be entertained by live bands in the ball room while a massive ball of mirrors spun from the ceiling. Those were roaring times Down Under, in a land far, far away.<br />
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Almost one hundred years later: The park is weathered and conserved at the same time, as if the moss layer will protect Josés dream from crumbling. It is weather-beaten: several floods, a cyclone and a fire have severely damaged the buildings. However, it just seems like they are sleeping.<br />
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When night falls, Paronella Park wakes again. Then you hear the leathery sound of the enormous bats* passing through the gloomy sky and in the beam of your flashlight the spiders look even huger and more frightening than in daylight. <br />
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The moss vanishes in the obscurity of the night. Do you hear the piano playing in the ball room, people dancing and laughing?**<br />
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* This magical scenery was also the place where a pack of<a href="http://writing-tool.blogspot.de/2013/07/upside-down-down-under.html" target="_blank"> flying foxes</a> I recently wrote about chose to dwell.<br />
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** Listen to the <a href="http://www.freesound.org/browse/tags/paronella-park/" target="_blank">sounds of Paronella Park </a><br />
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More info about Paronella Park can be found <a href="http://www.paronellapark.com.au/" target="_blank"><u>here</u></a>.<br />
Their night tour is highly recommendable. There is also a camping ground (which is included in the admission fee) where you can stay for the night.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0Paronella Park, 1671 Innisfail Japoon Road, Mena Creek Queensland 4871, Australien-17.652344 145.95630800000004-17.773379 145.79494650000004 -17.531309 146.11766950000003tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3596127089011358989.post-67123908299413952092013-07-28T23:29:00.000+02:002013-08-20T22:34:16.258+02:00The Taste of Summer<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Indroducing this new category, I want to share my favorite vegetarian and vegan summer recipes.<br />
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<u><b>Watermelon Salad with Feta Cheese and Mint</b></u></div>
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Feta cheese and watermelon seem to be an odd combination, but trust the chef: The salty and sweet flavors go very well together. </div>
<ul style="text-align: center;">
<li>cubed seedless watermelon</li>
<li>juice of one lemon</li>
<li>chopped fresh mint leaves </li>
<li>salt and pepper</li>
<li>crumbled Feta cheese </li>
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Combine all ingredients, enjoy. </div>
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<u><b>Spicy Corn-Coconut-Soup with Lime</b></u> (vegan)<u><b><br /></b></u></div>
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<ul style="text-align: center;">
<li>one can of corn (435 grams/ 15 oz)</li>
<li>two scallions</li>
<li>three garlic cloves</li>
<li>some olive oil</li>
<li>crushed red pepper (I always use <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Aleppo_pepper" target="_blank">pul biber</a>)</li>
<li>some salt </li>
<li>550 ml vegetable broth </li>
<li>200 ml coconot cream</li>
<li>one lime</li>
<li>parsley or cilantro (optional) </li>
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Put the thinly sliced scallions and the pressed garlic into a sauce pan with hot olive oil. Add the corn and let it brown a little bit, then season with salt and pul biber. Add the vegertable broth and coconut cream, cook for ten minutes. Purée the soup with an immersion blender. Zest the soup with some lime juice and parsley or cilantro. [This recipe is taken from Tim Mälzer's <a href="http://www.amazon.de/Greenbox-Tim-M%C3%A4lzer/dp/3442392438/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1375037360&sr=8-1&keywords=tim+m%C3%A4lzer+green+box" target="_blank"><i>Greenbox</i></a>]</div>
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<b><u>Zucchini-Spaghetti Carbonara Style</u></b> (vegan)</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwJEvNvdO-S2jH-i_pt6ZvCha0TMK0KTeYKOQN8RW88jad8LOfa-pGcV4zkT1PTgc9JO9DHiEkL8UJjJ3cxESvripkToTGN35fNhrhd0ygDzQNC_eN01oJ_ZBJAWd9fqcHT0-NIkD9FZ0/s1600/DSC02194.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwJEvNvdO-S2jH-i_pt6ZvCha0TMK0KTeYKOQN8RW88jad8LOfa-pGcV4zkT1PTgc9JO9DHiEkL8UJjJ3cxESvripkToTGN35fNhrhd0ygDzQNC_eN01oJ_ZBJAWd9fqcHT0-NIkD9FZ0/s1600/DSC02194.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<li>100 grams (3.5 oz) white almond butter</li>
<li>half a bunch of parsley</li>
<li>160 grams (2.6 oz) of smoked tofu</li>
<li>one onion</li>
<li>one garlic clove</li>
<li>one tablespoon lemon juice</li>
<li>lemon zest</li>
<li>five zucchini</li>
<li>some olive oil</li>
</ul>
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Blend almond butter with 240 ml of water. Chop the parsley and cut the tofu into tiny cubes. Heat the olive oil in a pan, then stir-fry the tofu, minced onions and garlic for a couple of minutes. Add the lemon zest, almond milk, lemon juice an parsley - let the sauce thiken. Prepare the zucchini-spaghetti by using a <a href="http://www.amazon.de/Gefu-13460-GEFU-Spiralschneider-Spirelli/dp/B0026RMEK4/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1375042868&sr=8-1&keywords=spiral+schneider" target="_blank">spiral slicer</a> (my favorite kitchen tool!). Mix them with a hint of oil and and heat them in a pan, then add the sauce. Add salt and pepper to taste. [I slightly changed <a href="http://www.schrotundkorn.de/rezepte/2013r/r0108.php" target="_blank">Attila Hildmann's favorite recipe</a> which has also become one of my favorites]</div>
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<u><b>Veggie-Quinoa-Chickpea-Salad</b></u> (vegan)</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMw9knGllZBL2F3TpPLZCgrt5vzAl83Qjvq5oWqTlBs5WiBophPmLYqbWmekRMHtA46BW2vPqv0NfUcbsM3MGb5S3WKe0vXw1o6jZQCXAQxpjOHHe7PtBFX4BAJxh29ZeprWuXyhJJlZw/s1600/DSC02403.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMw9knGllZBL2F3TpPLZCgrt5vzAl83Qjvq5oWqTlBs5WiBophPmLYqbWmekRMHtA46BW2vPqv0NfUcbsM3MGb5S3WKe0vXw1o6jZQCXAQxpjOHHe7PtBFX4BAJxh29ZeprWuXyhJJlZw/s1600/DSC02403.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
<ul style="text-align: center;">
<li>two zucchini</li>
<li>two bell peppers (whichever color you prefer)</li>
<li>some dried tomatos</li>
<li>mint</li>
<li>60 grams (2.2 oz) quinoa</li>
<li style="text-align: center;">one can of chickpeas</li>
<li style="text-align: center;">dried italian herbs</li>
<li style="text-align: center;">juice of one lemon </li>
<li style="text-align: center;">some olive oil </li>
<li style="text-align: center;">pepper and salt</li>
</ul>
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Roast the veggies in a pan. Cook the quinoa for about ten minutes (use about 2 <span style="font-size: x-small;">1/2</span> times as much water than quinoa), then let it simmer for another five minutes until all water is soaked up. Mix quinoa, vegetables, rinsed chickpeas and dried tomatos. Let it cool down a little bit, then add the lemon juice and some olive oil (optional, the salad might be already oily enogh depending on how much oil you used for roasting them). Season with pepper and salt as well as some dried herbs (<a href="http://www.ingo-holland-shop.de/Gewuerze/Gewuerzmischungen/Toskanisches-Pastagewuerz.html" target="_blank">I love this mixture</a>).</div>
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<b><u>Lentil Bolognese Sauce</u></b> (vegan)</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9sX3YJeddwrGWhFSnlAfVwc1-OHk1eRV0e8DLzcPseE9dKAeGAefmdGqgg5qhd4ble3AO2ozzZcWOPX5XYvs46CR9hU0NZroJycAcEfSVw4tMIjpXzp-7ruwcfaLwuuue3HWP3oZ7Kfk/s1600/DSC02291.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9sX3YJeddwrGWhFSnlAfVwc1-OHk1eRV0e8DLzcPseE9dKAeGAefmdGqgg5qhd4ble3AO2ozzZcWOPX5XYvs46CR9hU0NZroJycAcEfSVw4tMIjpXzp-7ruwcfaLwuuue3HWP3oZ7Kfk/s1600/DSC02291.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<ul>
<li style="text-align: center;">60 grams (2.2 oz) of red lentils</li>
<li style="text-align: center;">two cans whole peeled tomatos</li>
<li style="text-align: center;">some vegetable broth </li>
<li style="text-align: center;">three celery stalks </li>
<li style="text-align: center;">three large carrots </li>
<li style="text-align: center;">some tomato paste</li>
<li style="text-align: center;">one onion</li>
<li style="text-align: center;">one garlic clove</li>
<li style="text-align: center;">some olive oil</li>
<li style="text-align: center;">dried italian herbs</li>
<li style="text-align: center;">fresh basil </li>
<li style="text-align: center;">salt and pepper </li>
<li style="text-align: center;">parmesan (if you're not a vegan)</li>
</ul>
First add the minced onion and garlic to the hot oil, add the sliced vegetables, then stir-fry everything with the red lentils for another minute and combine with canned tomatoes, tomato purée and let it cook for about 20 minutes, add vegetable broth when it starts to thiken. Season with salt, pepper and herbs. Tastes best with whole grain pasta. Top with cheese.</div>
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<u><b>Homemade Pomgranate-Lime-Mint-Lemonade</b></u></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_3l2VLlb7saycis_AhoG32dDDM0tX20mMF55VBNwZlkUfsoI2RlztQ8TeBPk8FWnLn2aZmJYLXIsiq4hMBkH9hUPIxZNiYxE-h9eeiPhEjrSCAsg-yMJOjr6XyfQ_CoGP0ieT_mEt1G8/s1600/DSC02397.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_3l2VLlb7saycis_AhoG32dDDM0tX20mMF55VBNwZlkUfsoI2RlztQ8TeBPk8FWnLn2aZmJYLXIsiq4hMBkH9hUPIxZNiYxE-h9eeiPhEjrSCAsg-yMJOjr6XyfQ_CoGP0ieT_mEt1G8/s1600/DSC02397.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
<ul style="text-align: center;">
<li>two limes</li>
<li>juice of one lemon </li>
<li>pomegranate syrup</li>
<li>mint</li>
<li>soda water</li>
<li>ice cubes </li>
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Cut the limes into quarters, put them into a glass und crush them with a spoon or pestle. Add the syrup, lemon juice, mint, ice cubes and water. Cheers!</div>
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Jan Delay ist "pissed". Er sagt es zwar mit dieser typisch hanseatischen Gleichgültigkeit in der Stimme, doch er ist wirklich, wirklich <i>pissed</i>. Das hier sollte richtig "fett" werden: Der Große Auftritt. Der letzte Act auf der großen Bühne sollten sie an diesem Festivaltag auf dem Cannstatter Wasen werden, das große Finale. Doch jetzt sollen sie plötzlich Lückenbüßer sein. Der Wu-Tang Clan steht im Stau - steckengeblieben irgendwo zwischen Biarritz, wo der Klan als Headliner bei einem anderen Festival dabei war, und Stuttgart. "Aber wir haben doch extra die flashigen Lichter mitgebracht", näselt es aus den riesigen Boxen an der Bühne. Und jetzt ist es doch noch hell. Doch die Beginner sind Profis. </div>
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<a href="http://www.lastfm.de/music/Blumentopf/_/Profis" target="_blank">"Profis"</a> sind auch Blumentopf. Seit 1992 machen sie gemeinsam Musik und, dass sie an diesem Tag schon um kurz nach 14 Uhr auf die Bühne sollen, macht ihnen nichts aus. Zumindest erzählen sie das dem Mann von der <a href="http://www.stuttgarter-zeitung.de/inhalt.hiphop-open-in-stuttgart-kurzschluss-im-betriebssystem.a775bd01-d4cd-4d81-9b08-957d367e0619.html" target="_blank">Stuttgarter Zeitung</a>. Kein Platz für Eitelkeiten. Aber auch kein Platz für "flashige Lichter" oder ein Bühnenbild. Die Profis machen das, was sie können: Intelligenten Hip Hop - "Studentenrap" - ein bisschen Freestyle und weg sind sie wieder. Weiter geht's zum nächsten Festival. </div>
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Ihn "Studentenrapper" zu nennen wäre zumindest fachlich falsch, eine Uni hat er nie besucht: "Was macht man ohne Abi? Schauspiel studieren", rappt Materia in "Endboss". Das Publikum rappt jede Zeile mit, auch die folgenden - und nie waren sie passender: "Dreißig Grad, ich kühl mein' Kopf /Am Fensterglas auf dem Zeitlupenknopf/Wir leben immer schneller, feiern zu hart". Doch noch schneller als die lila Wolken steigt plötzlich grüner Rauch auf. Marsimoto kommt: Materias Alter Ego, der Außerirdische mit einer Stimme als hätte er das gesamte Sortiment eines Luftballonverkäufers auf dem Rummelplatz aufgekauft und geatmet. <br />
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Parallel zu dem, was auf den beiden Bühnen geht, messen sich Freestyler in einem kleinen Zelt und bekommen mächtig <i>Respect</i> dafür. Sie sind mit ihren Crews gekommen aus Freiburg, Mainz und anderswo und hören auf wohlklingende Namen wie die "Flowristen". </div>
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Doch so richtig <i>derbe</i> wird es erst mit Ferris MC. Er hat nur die kleine Bühne und 30 Minuten, aber das <i>Reimemonster</i> weckt bei den von der Hitze erschöpften Fans alle Kräfte. Der Boden des Reitstadions wird aufgewirbel. Ferris braucht keinen grünen Rauch. Ferris hat einen Sandsturm in der schwäbischen Hauptstadt ausgelöst. </div>
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Sie alle sind wegen dem hier, was er macht. "Schönen guten Abend meine Damen und Herren </div>
wir machen Rapmusik verdammt wir hören sie auch gern" - das war 1999. Das ist jetzt. Materias Zeitlupenknopf ist vielmehr eine Stopptaste, die sie alle gedrückt halten wollen. Zehn Jahre zurück. Ferris hat nichts Neues im Gepäck. Die Beginner kündigen seit geraumer Zeit ein neues Album an, desses Veröffentlichung immer und immer wieder verschoben wird.<br />
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Als die acht Rapper des Wu-Tang Clans schließlich lustlos auf der Bühne stehen und alle gleichzeitig ins Mikro schreien, hat man urplötzlich das Gefühl, tatsächlich in der Steinzeit des Hip Hop angekommen zu sein, und auch das Video zu <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_detailpage&v=Of-lpfsBR8U" target="_blank">"Gravel Pit" </a>ergibt plötzlich einen Sinn. </div>
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Die Stopptaste steht auf 2003. Damals hatten die Beginner schon "Gustav Gans" ("Wozu der ganze Schwermut?/ Hör' lieber zu / Blick nach vor'n und fühl dich sehr gut!") dem Weck-mich-bitte-auf-aus-diesem-Alptraum von Samy Deluxe entgegengesetzt. Mit knuffigen Tieren im Video und auf der Tour. Die sind auch auf dem Hip Hop Open 2013 der Höhepunkt. Eigentlich doch gar nicht so anders als das "Easy" und "Whatever" vom <i>Pandarapper</i> Cro, den die Kids in ihr Herz geschlossen haben... "Die heutigen Künstler sind verwirrt, kopflos. Hip-Hop ist eine Musikrichtung, die kann nicht altern", sinnierte <i>Rolling Stone</i>-Redakteur Ralf Niemczyk in einem Gespräch mit Stephan Szillus, Chefredakteur der<i> Juice</i>, in der<a href="http://www.augsburger-allgemeine.de/panorama/Kopflos-verwirrt-und-doch-alles-easy-id21862611.html" target="_blank"> Augsburger Allgemeinen</a>, in dem die beiden der Frage nachgingen: "Was kann Hip Hop heute?" <br />
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Kopflos, verwirrt und doch alles easy - weiter lesen auf Augsburger-Allgemeine: http://www.augsburger-allgemeine.de/panorama/Kopflos-verwirrt-und-doch-alles-easy-id21862611.html</div>
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Kopflos, verwirrt und doch alles easy - weiter lesen auf Augsburger-Allgemeine: http://www.augsburger-allgemeine.de/panorama/Kopflos-verwirrt-und-doch-alles-easy-id21862611.html</div>
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Ferris MC wird dieses Jahr 40, auch die Mitglieder von Blumentopf bewegen sich in diesem Alter, und dann kommen die Beginner. Doch auf der Bühne steht die Zeit still. Dieser Beginner-Auftritt ist <i>absolut </i>kein Neubeginn. Der stilisierte Fuchs, das Logo der Band, wacht noch immer über dem allen. Schließlich schleicht an diesem heißen Sommertag die Sonne doch noch in Richtung Horizont, die Wolken werden rosa und die Lichter auf der Bühne leuchten bunt. Jan Delay grinst. Richtig "flashig" die Lichter und die ganzen Leute und so. Als die Sonne untergegangen ist, müssen sie Platz für den Wu-Tang Clan machen. Doch zumindest hier hat Jan Delay das letzte Wort: "Das war fett!" Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0Stuttgart, Deutschland48.7754181 9.181758800000011448.608002600000006 8.859035300000011 48.9428336 9.5044823000000118tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3596127089011358989.post-83869405357529122032013-07-12T01:36:00.001+02:002013-08-06T00:22:39.962+02:00Rhine RomanticismI have never been to the <i>Oktoberfest</i>. And I have no intention whatsoever to go there. Every time I say those two sentences to people from abroad who had just told me that they "Totally want to visit Germany... to go to the Oktoberfest", the reaction is sheer disbelief. And then they go: "So, where else should I go ??" And this is always the moment when I have to think hard and where I realize that I've traveled many beautiful places but that most of them weren't in my home country.<br />
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This last weekend, I made a real excursion which felt all touristy even though the place we went is just a couple of kilometers away from Mainz where I live. And although I've been there before (as a kid) and although I used to work - and will work again soon - in Bingen, which is just on the other side of the Rhine river, it felt all new and exciting. Maybe it was because of the fact that our tour started with the most touristic means of transportation I can think of: An aerial tramway. <br />
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Starting in Rüdesheim, we where floating over a landscape of vineyards up to the top.<br />
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Destination: Niederwalddenkmal. A monument commemorating the end of the Franco-Prussian war.<br />
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On top of the Niederwald Hill it somehow feels like you are thrown back in time - sowhere at the beginning of the 19th century. When poets and thinkers traveled there and got some inspiration for their romantic poetry, their ballads, and gothic tales.<br />
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We drank a glass of wine on the foot of this enormous monument and started our hike to Assmannshausen. </div>
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We came across a hunting lodge and the Zauberhöhle ("magic cave") - including a short walk through a tunnel in complete darkness. People used to have such a stunning view down the Rhine river valley at the end of this tunnel that they actually felt like being enchanted. Today, big trees obstruct the vista. But there are still plenty of picture opportunities along the way, spotting the castles which are seaming the river.</div>
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We had lunch at the riverside. "What goes up must come down"... but also the other way round...which is even more exhausting when it's a hot summer day and you just filled your belly to the top.<br />
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Back in Rüdesheim, walking through the famous Drosselgasse (according to wikipedia, about three million people vistit this small alley every year), I really felt like being on vacation:<br />
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How come that there are such fun getaway opportunities just in front of our doors, but most often we don't cherish the beauty of what is around us? No Australian would take millions of pictures of kangaroos, no one who is living in the Caribbean actually understands how it feels to see pristine beaches for the first time. Do we get blindfolded by our brains which only detect what is new and different as outstanding?<br />
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I'm still convinced that there is no need to visit the <i>Oktoberfest</i>. Convince me of the contrary.<br />
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It looked like many small, black trash bags somebody had hung in the branches.<br />
But they moved. They unfolded. And tiny furry heads popped up - or rather down. It took a moment until we realized that we had just disturbed a pack of flying foxes during their daytime sleep.<br />
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They looked at us with their big black eyes. They started being really noisy as if they were complaining and telling their mates how rude it was of us to just stand there and stare at them. But we stared in awe. </div>
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They were yawning, taking a stretch, opening their wings, closing them again. </div>
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I realized that I might have been preoccupying myself too much with the vampire genre (except those books where the pale and blood-loving fellows turn all glittery in sunlight!) when I caught myself being surprised that they don't turn into dust, although some of them decided to spread their wings in broad daylight and fly away with the eerie sounds of leathery wings hectically moving, their see-through-skin showing every vein and every bone.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2EVCSkKQ21SuTKzQjHdxRVHasTY9oIyoGUTw8QkvbIiREL8TV4cYhK5yMVCmy5aW4cXxm9oH6WXAmqif8EtXhUHRfMK6gqRyIqsUEHqVaaJwvzCoxF6l7eRQY9RMeOGvQmV0Tk8LKUOU/s1600/6.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2EVCSkKQ21SuTKzQjHdxRVHasTY9oIyoGUTw8QkvbIiREL8TV4cYhK5yMVCmy5aW4cXxm9oH6WXAmqif8EtXhUHRfMK6gqRyIqsUEHqVaaJwvzCoxF6l7eRQY9RMeOGvQmV0Tk8LKUOU/s1600/6.JPG" height="300" width="400" /> </a> </div>
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Even though they look like tiny vampires or at least like winged carnivores, like their name flying fox already suggests, they are vegetarians. This is why they are also called "fruit bats"(or "megabat" - which sounds much more intimidating...). They just love fruit, nectar, pollen, blossoms and are essential for the vegetation of the tropics: They pollinate blossoms and tranport seeds. They also do not possess echolocation which helps their smaller relatives, so-called microbats, to locate they prey.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPJU-O51_foXHw9R0tq1FcDFFMyt9udbViwUrAGPHQ7xp2XXjEX4koicvWvriBsOzNa-xFOUbYUBvL-he6fXXdZ-5Bk9VmdQKA6_-wB1GVAz4vi42iTqTqrtPRmO_WCfTpGOAadVmqM9k/s1600/7.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPJU-O51_foXHw9R0tq1FcDFFMyt9udbViwUrAGPHQ7xp2XXjEX4koicvWvriBsOzNa-xFOUbYUBvL-he6fXXdZ-5Bk9VmdQKA6_-wB1GVAz4vi42iTqTqrtPRmO_WCfTpGOAadVmqM9k/s1600/7.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXe0g5UoJKwfRTvUzKnXkQbvHwij851whn4aqK-f_Wg7D3nRSy1vOYpg69LFEJm0GWqyRFOyvag613NDngXjjbm7MJ7KucnvNEkrrEOowC0HTbietGHLMSvVx72Zn5U1bedojexFCiyVI/s1600/7.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div>
And then - like petite vampire capes - after spreading their membrane
skinned "arms" widely, they closed their wings tightly, wrapping
themselves up like Count Dracula would do before disappearing. I even
had the impression that they were cunningly smiling before they
disappeared inside their own bodily shield, inside their very own
sleeping bags. Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0Paronella Park, 1671 Innisfail Japoon Road, Mena Creek Queensland 4871, Australien-17.652344 145.95630800000004-43.1743785 104.64771400000004 7.8696905000000008 -172.735098tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3596127089011358989.post-17396779855633745622013-06-25T11:16:00.000+02:002013-08-06T00:23:46.728+02:00Brisbane Cityscapes<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSqd1v-JNfHSMYpnTA-oN5DcufvIve7-TRdW06zQL2BWlzV55WEIbu6eLEkt9tqHW4CjH9K1kZjMR6Ozn9zsncKUDhWtdbyxqUlDl2e2hxuVfRbmnbIjdqbHeie_-9PqSukTr7VJafMmo/s1600/DSC01301.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSqd1v-JNfHSMYpnTA-oN5DcufvIve7-TRdW06zQL2BWlzV55WEIbu6eLEkt9tqHW4CjH9K1kZjMR6Ozn9zsncKUDhWtdbyxqUlDl2e2hxuVfRbmnbIjdqbHeie_-9PqSukTr7VJafMmo/s1600/DSC01301.JPG" height="300" width="400" /> </a></div>
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It's the contrast that intrigues me. It's an architectural clash. Just a couple of steps away from Brisbane's impressive city hall with its dome-shaped roof, Albert Street Uniting Church seems to crane its neck to reach the sky above with its spire - but in vain. The neighboring buildings are already scraping the sky. The time where churches where the tallest buildings of a town are over: Huge office buildings have outgrown this once so sublime edifice with its red walls and shiningly white peak. Like landscapes, cityscapes are constantly changing. There are ongoing tectonic processes. In a city like Brisbane which is a mere 200 years old and where wars hadn't destroyed the town's face you don't have to dig deep. All architectural layers are next to each other. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDYbm5Tb3NzUvZQs6Rm61-0VTjesAI_5BGTs_w_F02GNv4az5mspbbohx6KXQp2LEYT2eK8rQd3KczGS0Da67nBEZsa6cvESyaKcCv9nXYn2a38Rn9u_C9Y3S7BW0JyPdDIO6p3JupscY/s1600/DSC01311.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDYbm5Tb3NzUvZQs6Rm61-0VTjesAI_5BGTs_w_F02GNv4az5mspbbohx6KXQp2LEYT2eK8rQd3KczGS0Da67nBEZsa6cvESyaKcCv9nXYn2a38Rn9u_C9Y3S7BW0JyPdDIO6p3JupscY/s1600/DSC01311.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
Remembrance and future are standing side by side. Like this WW II memorial on Anzac Square next to a tourist accommodation.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmKc_OqqiNPGhcCOkzenU4qyzx6sGH8Lh-Uqxv1Cja64gluOICe3mwkjSColeJDTM2YsX_EItJ1Cs8cgv6nkA8AGrQYf8ji_bwwDNmtbD3xRMf_BIE1n_D_clZJ5yk_18xPpSlI4QiNts/s1600/DSC01317.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmKc_OqqiNPGhcCOkzenU4qyzx6sGH8Lh-Uqxv1Cja64gluOICe3mwkjSColeJDTM2YsX_EItJ1Cs8cgv6nkA8AGrQYf8ji_bwwDNmtbD3xRMf_BIE1n_D_clZJ5yk_18xPpSlI4QiNts/s1600/DSC01317.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
Glass facades are mirroring the past. Statues seem like shadows. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKGgjW0CD6vXHaImKhlmtsMpchZH_HfVr2yKBQZuhPOWC4HXo4-xJaqJ_gxhQPytEBX-JgUcBrNG7wmPt5nNi1T5EQNceFbD9pWfkQ_StuxS6h6MYDHaSQQjCvJNv9WGxtKKybLfMvU8U/s1600/DSC01321.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKGgjW0CD6vXHaImKhlmtsMpchZH_HfVr2yKBQZuhPOWC4HXo4-xJaqJ_gxhQPytEBX-JgUcBrNG7wmPt5nNi1T5EQNceFbD9pWfkQ_StuxS6h6MYDHaSQQjCvJNv9WGxtKKybLfMvU8U/s1600/DSC01321.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiOTSJzG9Dpbmqpc2McV9XYJwiiFrr5yZjGRNxsm5WPW8R4eGFcs7mELbtruabw69RsXVcblkASrJbcB6GK0u2PVzFmQizBVZLmaoglcjd-Bg1Mu8cQvuuPTF_son-VfQ5Omx8dGxj5b0/s1600/DSC01322.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiOTSJzG9Dpbmqpc2McV9XYJwiiFrr5yZjGRNxsm5WPW8R4eGFcs7mELbtruabw69RsXVcblkASrJbcB6GK0u2PVzFmQizBVZLmaoglcjd-Bg1Mu8cQvuuPTF_son-VfQ5Omx8dGxj5b0/s1600/DSC01322.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3X8yISAApFmPSdEptJdX_C_QvAKwAKUSmkMeJytaQ5qH8jNdLsXjOE1DQItRypqHTtpwdSql9bAtyyIKLnJBvAvr3Gw_EhvCCti2-VEUU_bcsb1QhpBastqXNlHK6JGvkK9Db0pdHspY/s1600/DSC01331.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3X8yISAApFmPSdEptJdX_C_QvAKwAKUSmkMeJytaQ5qH8jNdLsXjOE1DQItRypqHTtpwdSql9bAtyyIKLnJBvAvr3Gw_EhvCCti2-VEUU_bcsb1QhpBastqXNlHK6JGvkK9Db0pdHspY/s1600/DSC01331.JPG" height="300" width="400" /> </a></div>
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While the sun is silently setting, the colors of the sky let the buildings bath in pink light.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZKaXcvnwBRfK7neTOw2vOO8BKnYxUb7lMyVoZwtyi2zaPNCF71YcT_Q5uUjM94jooJvaeh5BR9Ucf3AZ1gYYUYFElZrmzNs5WLTOObyL2unghTI7OkqsTv4vv9PbA07XqQVMrZmlxX4U/s1600/DSC01347.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZKaXcvnwBRfK7neTOw2vOO8BKnYxUb7lMyVoZwtyi2zaPNCF71YcT_Q5uUjM94jooJvaeh5BR9Ucf3AZ1gYYUYFElZrmzNs5WLTOObyL2unghTI7OkqsTv4vv9PbA07XqQVMrZmlxX4U/s1600/DSC01347.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
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When the sun is almost gone, before it is completely swallowed by the
night, "Brissie" starts to look futuristic and romantic at the same
time. It definitely is a city of contrasts. </div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0Brisbane Queensland, Australien-27.4709331 153.02350239999998-27.4991096 152.98316189999997 -27.4427566 153.0638429tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3596127089011358989.post-76163361764921417452013-05-15T09:17:00.003+02:002013-08-06T00:24:06.871+02:0021.0975 kilometers<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">It all
started on my birthday. I was just working on an article about New Year’s
resolutions when I got an email from my co-worker-friend Olaf. Subject: “Are
you up for a half-marathon?” </span></div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">“Happy
Birthday again! There are still free spots in our team!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What are you saying??? Quick!!!”</span> </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">My
immediate response: “Nope. I’m way too unfit. Never ran more than 12
kilometers.”</span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">“Oh man.
Just try it!!!”</span></div>
</blockquote>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDLQ23d_hw7OJPtzM0sUR50vfM5QLIa65NcKa66Xh7-w8UKk6CqJ_GGjLVHSJGqbi0pNdMIQWgxqm_5tA1hwg6O3eUU9O3uY6BurtzEkJG1hb-SfYvEC-93ccvBeaAW0tV-E1sg2X09UA/s1600/DSC00830.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDLQ23d_hw7OJPtzM0sUR50vfM5QLIa65NcKa66Xh7-w8UKk6CqJ_GGjLVHSJGqbi0pNdMIQWgxqm_5tA1hwg6O3eUU9O3uY6BurtzEkJG1hb-SfYvEC-93ccvBeaAW0tV-E1sg2X09UA/s1600/DSC00830.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<div class="" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Olaf aka "waving guy", next to him Carina, the only one in our group who did the whole marathon in an amazing time! (3:40:00!!)</span></span></div>
<br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">It followed
a very persuasive phone call which included key words like “fun”, “team
spirit”, “good for you” etc. and the promise that he will cook a delicious
birthday meal for me including many, many carbs which will make me run and run
and run…</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">So I said
yes and regretted my decision in the exact same second. </span>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">This
changed as soon as training began in February. Exactly twelve weeks before the
Gutenberg Marathon, our company team met for the very first time at the sports
field after work. We already had a kick-off-event a couple of days before where
our personal trainer <a href="http://www.karstenjoppich.de/" target="_blank">Karsten</a> and his team gave us some basic information
about what they planned to do with us those upcoming weeks. We had already
learned that the Jack Daniel’s training program had nothing to do with
consuming alcoholic beverages (boo!), but that it was rather a system of finding
our ideal pace by determining our <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>so-called
“VDOT values” – it still surprises me how accurate this technique actually is.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">This was
serious. Our running group <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>- which
consisted of readers of our paper who won their spots as well as co-workers on
all levels - <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>met once a week for two
hours. The other three to four training sessions per week we had to do on our own. And
this winter was cold and it was long. Very long. There was a lot of snow. But we
did it.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">The big day
came closer and closer. Just two weeks before the race I felt pain in my
hip and couldn’t walk properly anymore. Our trainer suspected that my sacroiliac
joint was blocked. He promised that he will do everything he can so that
everybody will be able to participate and – of course – to reach his or her best
results possible. So he sent me to a physical therapist and showed me some workout
routines to lessen the pain.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">The big day
came. When I opened the blinds Sunday morning, I felt
like crying: It wasn’t raining, it was pouring – and it was cold. All Saturday
I was excited and nervous. Afraid of the masses of people (about 9,500,
although only a bit more than 7,000 actually participated because of the
weather), and anxious that the pain would return.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">When I
heard the starter’s gun I stopped thinking, I just ran – continuously and
steadily. The rain had stopped. And I actually started to enjoy it right away: The
cheering people, the brass and drum groups playing at the side of the road. When
the route got less exciting I just concentrated on the music from my headphones
and looked forward to the voice feedback of “runtastic”. I got and got more and more
relaxed when the artificial female voice told me my pace at every kilometer
mark.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">I passed the
Mainzer Dom, our big cathedral, ran through the narrow streets of old town. When I passed the “magic mark” with the
intimidating number “18” I took a deep breath: During training this was the
farthest I had run. The woman in my ear said something like “one hour, 40
minutes” and I knew that I can do it. I kept running. When I saw the finishing
arch appear at the horizon I started smiling. “This air bubble right here, it’s
gonna make me fly” said Macklemore’s younger self in my ear and although I did
not even wear shoes with a swoosh on it, it almost felt like it. At kilometer
17 Papa Roach shouted at me and Brandon Flowers kept telling me: “Run baby,
run, run”. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maybe it was the music, maybe
it was the beetroot juice or how serious I took the “carboloading” part…First of all it was the professional training and the team spirit which let me
finish my first half-marathon. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">I always hated competitions. But this time I challenged myself. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt8iKgmX94mdxZsVThldF582fFz3DGMlcL1JUxJfhZRcvBVQBD_P5yw5Sz2dbS_MM-l39XpV5pIxawBgznNNryc2lJNac-YtZROUZYUnhrdO1JOo_JWT2QiJJblbjDfS5wKaA8hNqCUvI/s1600/970014_10152839524125374_1806763567_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt8iKgmX94mdxZsVThldF582fFz3DGMlcL1JUxJfhZRcvBVQBD_P5yw5Sz2dbS_MM-l39XpV5pIxawBgznNNryc2lJNac-YtZROUZYUnhrdO1JOo_JWT2QiJJblbjDfS5wKaA8hNqCUvI/s1600/970014_10152839524125374_1806763567_n.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">The medal
which they hung around my neck behind the finish line is in fact the first one
I ever got. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Is it still the adrenaline that I do not
feel very sore? Maybe it’s just the beetroot juice… Not so delicious - oh, by the way: Olaf hasn't delivered on his promise yet!</span><br />
<br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"Why are facts so hard to fit into a lyric sentence?" – Wayne Koestenbaum</blockquote>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-font-family: Dotum;">Speaking of oppositions…
these two men could not be more apart when it comes to defining the boundaries
of “literary nonfiction” and the concept of essay writing: John D’Agata and Jim
Fingal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>An essayist and teacher of
creative writing at the University of Iowa versus a professional fact checker. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-font-family: Dotum;">However, a seven-year
dispute between the two of them actually led to a collaboration: <u>The
Lifespan of a Fact. </u>In the blub the book is called an “eye-opening
meditation on the relationship between ‘truth’ and ‘accuracy’”. But it is more
of a full-blown discussion: An outspoken one, in which D’Agata and Fingal
quickly turn into adversaries, pleading for their cause. D’Agata wants to tell
a story, his story – and Fingal wants him to tell it right, because it is a
story which actually happened in real life. It is the story of Levi Presley.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.amazon.de/The-Lifespan-Fact-John-DAgata/dp/0393340732/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1367189511&sr=8-1&keywords=the+lifespan+of+a+fact" target="_blank"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkra-OKTdgUEeH43pLMhPTpSnp89BN8YN2HNdrlqD8WQOZGOUmZc4F7R_6dZ5456AVa1I9t7JfOn4YhVYIKkP3BHJf8sIlT31AZSWDHsVvIBIFZe9w9nOLW73cg26bjUTAoYAKQzr-RYI/s1600/lifespan+of+a+fact.jpg" height="320" width="237" /></a></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-font-family: Dotum;">It is the story of a
sixteen-year-old boy who jumped off the observation deck of the 1,149-foot high
tower of Stratosphere Hotel in Las Vegas. The language D’Agata uses to tell his
readers about this suicide is a very lyrical one: allusions, rhythm, metaphors –
all this is very important to him whose essay therefore quickly develops a
certain tone. But Fingal’s job is to check if those beautiful words are also
true. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<u><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-font-family: Dotum;">The Lifespan of a
Fact</span></u><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-font-family: Dotum;"> started in 2003 when
Harper’s Magazine which first commissioned the essay rejected it
because of </span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">“factual inaccuracies”. In 2005, a</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-font-family: Dotum;"> magazine called <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Believer </i>decided to publish the article after having it fact-checked
by Jim Fingal. The book which is based on the emails exchanged between author
and fact checker was not published earlier than in 2012. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-font-family: Dotum;">The book's layout reveals
how animated this discussion via email must have been: In the middle of every page,
there is the “core”, the discussion’s basis, snippets from the essay – and all around it there are
Fingal’s comments: Printed in alarming scarlet letters when D’Agata has
again “violated the rules of journalistic integrity”. Example?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-font-family: Dotum;">“We therefore know that
when Levi Presley jumped from the tower of the Stratosphere Hotel at 6:01:43
p.m. – eventually hitting the ground at 6:01:52 p.m. – there were over a
hundred tourists in five dozen cars that were honking […]”</span></div>
</blockquote>
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-font-family: Dotum;">Fingal: “Factual
Dispute: […] According to the Coroner’s Report, Levi Presley’s fall supposedly
only took eight seconds”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-font-family: Dotum;">D’Agata: “I needed him
fall for nine seconds rather than eight in order to make some later themes in
the essay work […] I began thinking about ways that the number nine could play
a thematic role in the essay”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-font-family: Dotum;">Fingal: “It would ‘ruin’
it to make it more accurate?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-font-family: Dotum;">D’Agata: “Yup.”</span></div>
</blockquote>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2URWishmtN140xX-xAXu-Vv7uKohqJ2l2-logXkJuiQWwNjTF6wnrtJzkprE5FBtO6zW32579N4YHhXEvI6zVXmkSmeaMpmk7qas9RYk8QS6wtQo6p_PiqtkTBV_dhl011z63gUFu-RQ/s1600/DSC00526.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2URWishmtN140xX-xAXu-Vv7uKohqJ2l2-logXkJuiQWwNjTF6wnrtJzkprE5FBtO6zW32579N4YHhXEvI6zVXmkSmeaMpmk7qas9RYk8QS6wtQo6p_PiqtkTBV_dhl011z63gUFu-RQ/s1600/DSC00526.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-font-family: Dotum;">In their conversation, D’Agata
states very clearly right from the beginning that “I have no interest in
pretending to be a reporter or in producing journalism”. However, Fingal’s job
is to check how accurate his descriptions really are.</span></div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-font-family: Dotum;">D’Agata: “This is an
essay, so journalistic rules don’t belong here.”</span></div>
</blockquote>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<blockquote>
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-font-family: Dotum;">Fingal: “I’m not sure if
it’s going to be quite that easy.”</span></blockquote>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-font-family: Dotum;">It is not. It takes 123
pages for them to discuss the matter, Fingal finding “Factual Disputes” and D’Agata
justifying them. Fingal wants D’Agata to prove simply everything he writes
which can be very annoying. <u>The Lifespan of a Fact </u>really makes you think – and it ceases with
a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">very</i> surprising end. </span><br />
<br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-font-family: Dotum;">So we learn that essayism is not journalism. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That nonfiction can be also a work of art. But
what about reportage? Is it allowed to write, for example, that somebody smiled
while saying something, although the writer cannot prove this as a fact or
cannot even really remember, although it would make the story much more vivid,
enjoyable, touching? What do we really know and what is it that we assume while
telling a story? </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-font-family: Dotum;">The idea of a binary
opposition of journalism and literature has been fascinating me for quite a
while now. I dug deep into this subject when I worked on my master’s thesis in
German Studies where I went back in time and worked with texts of so-called “poet-journalists”
at the beginning of the 20<sup>th</sup> century – a time where this clear-cut
distinction between literature and journalism did not exist yet.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-font-family: Dotum;">I have to admit that I
had no idea that the occupation of a full-time fact checker exists in Germany
as well.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was even more surprised when
I learned that a</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">ccording to the<a href="http://www.cjr.org/behind_the_news/inside_the_worlds_largest_fact.php?page=all" target="_blank"><span style="background-color: #d5a6bd;"></span></a><span style="background-color: #d5a6bd;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" target="_blank"> </a></span></span><a href="http://www.cjr.org/behind_the_news/inside_the_worlds_largest_fact.php?page=all" target="_blank"><span style="background-color: #d5a6bd;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"></span></span></a><span style="background-color: #d5a6bd;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><a href="http://www.cjr.org/behind_the_news/inside_the_worlds_largest_fact.php?page=all" target="_blank" title="Columbia Journalism Review"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: windowtext; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Columbia Journalism Review</span></a></span></span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">, <u>Der
Spiegel </u>“is home to what is most likely the world’s largest fact checking
operation employing the equivalent of eighty full-time fact checkers as of
2010.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Isn’t it even more surprising considering that in
2010, R</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-font-family: Dotum;">ené Pfister’s “Am Stellpult”,
an article about Bavaria’s governor Horst Seehofer, was published in this exact
same magazine? Pfister had been awarded one of the most renowned
journalistic distinctions in Germany, the <span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">Egon-Erwin-Kisch-Preis, for this story. But the jury withdrew the prize after Pfister was
asked if he had really been to Seehofer’s house and seen his model railroad with
his own eyes. He had to deny, he just told the story how he thought <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">it could have been.</i> <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">(</span>Btw: The prize for the best reportage is named
after the infamous “Rasende Reporter”, the roving reporter, Egon Erwin Kisch, a
man who also took some liberties with “truth” from time to time…)</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-font-family: Dotum;">I want to close with John
D’Agata’s definition of “essay”: “Even etymologically ‘essay’ means ‘an attempt.’
And so, as a writer of essays, my interpretation if that charge is that I try –
that I <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">try</i> – to take control of
something before it is lost entirely to chaos.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-font-family: Dotum;">It is the opposite of loss … again. </span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3596127089011358989.post-81121155016622729242013-04-24T23:53:00.000+02:002013-08-06T00:24:31.394+02:00Polaroidalbum<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"Der erste Kuss war Erdbeerbowle und Spucke,<br />
wie ein Polaroid im Regen: leicht verschwommen" - Bosse (Schönste Zeit)</blockquote>
Bosse hören - das ist wie im Fotoalbum blättern. Mittlerweile ist das Album ziemlich dick. <br />
Und dann kramt man es nach langer Zeit wieder raus und beim Anblick der Bilder werden Erinnerungen wach. Erinnerungen, die man zwar eigentlich immer bei sich trägt, die aber dennoch immer mehr verschwimmen: Wie Polaroids im Regen.<br />
<br />
Bosse gestern in der Batschkapp, das war ein bisschen wie Polaroids "entwickeln": Die ersten Töne, der Auslöser. Und mit der Melodie erscheint dann langsam, ganz langsam, das Bild. Erst schemenhaft, dann noch etwas fahl und schließlich ist es da: das Bild und auch die Erinnerung. <br />
<br />
<i>Sommer lang</i>. Es ist Februar. Die Sonne scheint mir beim Joggen heiß auf die Schultern, der rote Boden von Arizona umhüllt meine Schuhe wie frisch vom Tennisplatz. Ich bin froh, genau jetzt genau hier zu sein: "Der Sommer ist noch lang [...] Und every day's like a new beginning."<br />
<br />
<i>Roboterbeine.</i> Magisterarbeit, Bewerbungen schreiben. Zukunftsangst. Ungewissheit: "Und ich laufe so/ Gegen mein Gefühl/ Und ich laufe so/Wie auf Roboterbeinen".<br />
<br />
<i>Tanz mit mir. </i>Southside Festival 2007<i>. </i>Wir stehen mittags im Nieselregen vor der Bühne, die Füße fest im Schlamm, die Gummistiefel jucken. Und Bosse steht da auf der Bühne und singt: "Komm schon und tanz mit mir/ lass doch den Trübsinn hinter dir/ Die Band zieht sich aus für dich/ und du bewegst dich nicht [...] Zieh deine Regenjacke aus/ zieh bitte diese Regenjacke aus."<br />
<br />
Es ist 2013 und ich stehe wieder vor einer Bühne. Und es wird getanzt. Mit dem Publikum, mit dem "alten Affen Angst". Fröhlich ungelenk zu Bossa Nova, zu Salsa. Und all die verschwommenen Polaroids in meinem Kopf werden plötzlich wieder scharf.<br />
<br />
Für das <a href="http://www.allgemeine-zeitung.de/region/kultur/musik/12901038.htm" target="_blank">Interview</a>, das ich im Februar geführt habe, habe ich all die Lieder, die fünf Alben noch einmal gehört. Keines so intensiv wie <a href="http://www.allgemeine-zeitung.de/region/kultur/musik/12963169.htm" target="_blank">"Schönste Zeit".</a> Doch live strahlen die Farben der musikalischen Polaroids viel heller.<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI5m-3NvwFdwouT9Pfx6YOuyYrGcKT6OkFQ3cR_jHWZQlROEhdtI8mH0fbwMnmhe9SNdf7rV6cVeOwttHp4bvYTZgi3wWxDyQ22X4jNJ79IbzhRjHNdBGIDJIsMNJBStnYu0vJ3ohA4LA/s1600/DSC00539-pola01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI5m-3NvwFdwouT9Pfx6YOuyYrGcKT6OkFQ3cR_jHWZQlROEhdtI8mH0fbwMnmhe9SNdf7rV6cVeOwttHp4bvYTZgi3wWxDyQ22X4jNJ79IbzhRjHNdBGIDJIsMNJBStnYu0vJ3ohA4LA/s1600/DSC00539-pola01.jpg" height="320" width="263" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvm6Q-jjWq_7sMTXjzBCErB1Sn1n6EfwiaK7Yp9kXryPkElIK-6tP6LRwZiIXrZ-Hz8yvV-HiL1oy3c_EBoEwJb-a8EgQYUwdWpFlxNWVTQa5EX87_pd1SUviunGaXC16g32kkSb90DyM/s1600/DSC00560-pola02.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvm6Q-jjWq_7sMTXjzBCErB1Sn1n6EfwiaK7Yp9kXryPkElIK-6tP6LRwZiIXrZ-Hz8yvV-HiL1oy3c_EBoEwJb-a8EgQYUwdWpFlxNWVTQa5EX87_pd1SUviunGaXC16g32kkSb90DyM/s1600/DSC00560-pola02.jpg" height="320" width="263" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5iZdhyEzB9aLOs2TMIMgjvhUOeW7aJ8hvZ2uE8TCtvOmtEnjB3HYYMref6iADwIkCYBl7O43-heJjcOTfPcQknOqj91o0XDjyUe_pmFMQQKzBNUzBKsLNxfRI3OtbLgbBIytZuHW0-9k/s1600/DSC00576-pola.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5iZdhyEzB9aLOs2TMIMgjvhUOeW7aJ8hvZ2uE8TCtvOmtEnjB3HYYMref6iADwIkCYBl7O43-heJjcOTfPcQknOqj91o0XDjyUe_pmFMQQKzBNUzBKsLNxfRI3OtbLgbBIytZuHW0-9k/s1600/DSC00576-pola.jpg" height="320" width="263" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiROOXSNMLqG-3WvAvWzSQLRPhcGNsvujHHcUN2Qypx5JV_oztyrhvw8NgfyXV6LqiDr2ZASTxo0E0gdk_tDgfDBipeooWjKUpRbjOqN-yohw6Q0PWjKLqUJLJA1VuHiXC_xhcrpgZcEaA/s1600/DSC00591-pola.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiROOXSNMLqG-3WvAvWzSQLRPhcGNsvujHHcUN2Qypx5JV_oztyrhvw8NgfyXV6LqiDr2ZASTxo0E0gdk_tDgfDBipeooWjKUpRbjOqN-yohw6Q0PWjKLqUJLJA1VuHiXC_xhcrpgZcEaA/s1600/DSC00591-pola.jpg" height="320" width="263" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Nur "Kraft" hat gefehlt. "Dort, wo alles begann" - 2005 mein persönliches Abi-Erinnerungslied. Durchgemachte "Redaktionsnächte" für die Abi-Zeitung und dazu diese Hymne: "Ich strecke meine Kraft entgegen / Stillstand ist Vergangenheit/ Wir haben nur ein Leben / In Zukunft wird es bunter sein".<br />
<br />
Das erste Bosse-Konzert in der Krone in Darmstadt. Verschimmelte Wände und vielleicht 40 Menschen im Publikum. Schlossgrabenfest, Nachtleben, Centralstation, das Publikum wurde nur langsam größer. Und jetzt eine ausverkaufte Tour.<br />
<br />
Die schönste Erinnerung aber, teile ich mit nur sehr wenigen (meinen allerliebsten) Menschen:<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPJ4VoYm6nRx8-IdLx2tpGe9twNTRfQiFm2RqMSJ8brzBbETFRmZsECmwda_pTV5G3te0m6ewKBmiGJLCLclAQ-Pi-txUm0y8F3Ztp0KaZ5zuo1zp7EzeYZxlGn_Xq_CbMd1Oa6UgGYBU/s1600/131+bosse+169-pola.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPJ4VoYm6nRx8-IdLx2tpGe9twNTRfQiFm2RqMSJ8brzBbETFRmZsECmwda_pTV5G3te0m6ewKBmiGJLCLclAQ-Pi-txUm0y8F3Ztp0KaZ5zuo1zp7EzeYZxlGn_Xq_CbMd1Oa6UgGYBU/s1600/131+bosse+169-pola.jpg" height="320" width="263" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr2ycrvbY4vXn9CwvX4CdF4X6dBX8YC7d8DJ-CmDohH2XlPxBlkkQBKcdeY4awEqFIZG5R9tD3TvQ2qERjtjJhOYO9FqRgKtVZw-pVgzwZJmBo_S_3e90m_MuJzYcd0tv3ZXRA05Cn1JI/s1600/137+bosse+178-pola.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr2ycrvbY4vXn9CwvX4CdF4X6dBX8YC7d8DJ-CmDohH2XlPxBlkkQBKcdeY4awEqFIZG5R9tD3TvQ2qERjtjJhOYO9FqRgKtVZw-pVgzwZJmBo_S_3e90m_MuJzYcd0tv3ZXRA05Cn1JI/s1600/137+bosse+178-pola.jpg" height="320" width="263" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTdoiJBou7azJlAgbz5ygi_uCHaDftKgQnDrIlhkNWknWI1CRdFnGYGbfjhfKB53A92UoUz9daarm208kcWZFvt36P5ncXheH-6oMF7sWwDijF7nlgbaMFNVEsYTh8nIr1PcjVRHxOmOo/s1600/110+bosse+132-pola.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTdoiJBou7azJlAgbz5ygi_uCHaDftKgQnDrIlhkNWknWI1CRdFnGYGbfjhfKB53A92UoUz9daarm208kcWZFvt36P5ncXheH-6oMF7sWwDijF7nlgbaMFNVEsYTh8nIr1PcjVRHxOmOo/s1600/110+bosse+132-pola.jpg" height="320" width="263" /></a></div>
<br />
"Guten Tag, Bosse mein Name", tönt es durch die Sprechanlage. Kurz darauf steht er, Aki Bosse, bepackt mit Gitarrenkoffer, noch etwas verpennt bei mir auf der Fußmatte. Frühmorgens aus Hamburg angereist - gerade rechtzeitig zum Brunch -, um unsere noch ganz frische WG einzuweihen. Tennisbesockt sitzt er auf unserem IKEA-Klappstuhl und spielt ein Privatkonzert. Es war ein guter Start in Mainz. Lang ist's her. Doch die Polaroids in meinem Kopf die bleiben. Auch das ist "the opposite of loss."<br />
<br />
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------<br />
<br />
Allen, die Polaroids genauso mögen, wie ich - und zwar nicht nur die metaphorischen - sei das <a href="http://www.poladroid.net/" target="_blank">Poladroid Project</a> empfohlen. Runterladen, installieren, virtuelle Polaroid-Kamera starten und dann kann es auch schon losgehen: Einfach das gewünschte Foto auf die Kamera auf dem Desktop ziehen und.... klick! Polaroid geschossen. Jetzt darf man das kleine Bildchen noch ein bisschen mit dem Mauszeiger schütteln und langsam erscheint Motiv - ganz so wie früher eben :)Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0Frankfurt, Deutschland50.1109221 8.682126700000026249.7851336 8.0366797000000254 50.436710600000005 9.3275737000000269tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3596127089011358989.post-34986060892874638312013-04-10T00:48:00.000+02:002013-04-24T00:49:20.820+02:00My Writing Tool<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>"The monosyllable of the clock is loss, loss, loss, unless you devote your heart to its opposition"</i> - Tennessee Williams</blockquote>
<br />
I believe that this quote from my favorite American playwright is very inspiring.<br />
It also inspired me to write this blog. It's a blog against loss. To capture moments and to keep them safe. Against oblivion. It is a blog dedicated to "The Opposite of Loss." It came in very handy that the title's acronym is TOOL. Which is also a perfect word to describe this place. It's a tool to express everything that does not fit into the narrowly spaced columns of a newspaper - If I am too wordy (which I tend to be almost all the time), or if the topic I want to write about is too personal for a broader audience.<br />
<br />
I started this blog in English, because I thought it would be much easier to explain its title this way (also because I know that there are people out there who might be interested in what I write about who are not fluent in German). Still, there will be posts I will and I have to write in German. Either because I'm too lazy to use another part of my brain, or - which is more likely - I believe that I need to use my mother tongue to be able to fully express my opinion. This is also what makes this blog different from most newspaper articles: It is about opinions.<br />
<br />
So what do you think? What is the opposite of loss? Is it gain? I do hope that not only I, myself, will gain something from writing this blog (amusement, insights, ...), but also that my readers will experience a "surplus."<br />
<br />
I promise that I will devote my heart to it.<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0