The English and the Germans

Hello blog fans!  Apologies for the late post but summer (or should that be ‘summer’ – anyone seen the sun lately?) is proving to be a dizzying and rain-splashed whirlwind of visitors, travel and hard work, so I haven’t had an opportunity to tame my creative beast in the past few weeks.  Until I write a REAL blog post, I wanted to share something with you; something to make you smile (maybe), brighten up your day (hopefully), and fundamentally give you a solid dose of ‘Very British Humour’ (which means that the following content is tongue-in-cheek, sarcastic, and meant in jest – but if you’re a regular reader you’re used to this by now, right?)

A lot of you won’t know that as well as writing crushingly witty observations about the world I inhabit, I dabble in poetry.  I was just clearing through some old files and I stumbled across this little rhyme that I wrote some time ago for my German husband.  This blog seemed a good place to share it.  I hope you enjoy!

The English and the Germans
Are quite similar, it transpires:
Both failed quite spectacularly
At maintaining their empires.

The Krauts are quite an odd bunch
With their funny leather shorts
Drinking huge Maßkrugs of beer
And obsessing over sports.

They just love to be so organised
And they possess bucket loads of drive
Not that any of that helped them
Back in 1945….

They gave us Wagner, Bach and Kafka
Who aren’t too bad, I guess
And it does have to be noted
That German Autos are ze best.

And then, we have the English,
With their stiff upper lips
And their tea with milk in china cups
That one must so delicately sip.

For all that Shakespeare forced on us
We have the Pommies here to blame
And how did they let Jeremy Kyle
Reach the dizzy heights of fame?

However, let us not forget
They gave us the Beatles and the ‘Stones
As well as the ingenious idea
Of putting jam and cream on scones.

The English and the Germans
Why has nobody said before?
They make such strange and well-matched friends
Just don’t mention the war!

 

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Beer, Glorious Beer!

If there is one thing the Germans are serious about – aside from Spargelzeit, the manufacturing of good quality cars, and international football – it’s beer.  I don’t know why it’s taken me so long to address this topic in my blog – perhaps I was too busy becoming a beer connoisseur myself to consider writing about it (read: I was probably too drunk to write about it whenever the thought occurred to me.)  But let’s crack open a cold one and consider German beer and its rightful, honoured place in society.

I guess the thing that really underlines how serious a topic this is for the Germans is the fact that they have a law – called the Reinheitsgebot –  around how the stuff is made.  A law on beer production, for Christ’s sake.  Imagine ending up in prison with a load of tattooed convicts and explaining that you’re inside because you brewed beer with some synthetic sweetener added to it.  Compared to a cannibalistic serial killer and a man who’s kept his daughter locked in the basement for twenty years, you’d hardly be classed as hard as nails, would you?  But as I said, this is an extremely serious business.  The original law, passed in 1516, said that beer must be brewed using hops, water and malt and must be ‘top-fermented’, which is – I think –  a fancy way of saying that yeast has to foam on the top during the brewing process.  Challenge accepted, said the Germans, and all the Bavarian monks got to work brewing in the cloisters (after all, there’s only so much praying and singing one can do in a day.)  Adhering to the now-slightly-more-relaxed-but-not-really-Reinheitsgebot remains as important as ever, probably thanks to the general German attitude of following the rules.  And yet the thing that is fascinating is that there is still such a huge variety of beers.  There are white beers and dark beers and unfiltered wheat beers and filtered wheat beers and yeasty wheat beers and pale beers and pilseners and lagers and rye beers and dark lager beers and cellar beers and ‘Zwickels’ and sour white beers and… I’m starting to feel like Bubba from Forrest Gump.  You get my point.  There’s a lot of beer in Germany.  In some parts of the country – and I’m looking at you, hipster trendsetting capital city – there’s even a fashion of adding fruit syrup to beer (sour Berliner Weisse beer, to be exact), creating a weird and frankly rather disgusting cocktail.  And then there’s Bananenweizen – a bizarre concoction of wheat beer and banana juice.  What I’ve always wondered – aside from the obvious question of ‘why?’, is how do you juice a flipping banana in the first place?!

But it’s not just the recipe of the beer which is important.  The glass that is used for beer consumption is practically a science.  Wheat beer, for instance, must be served in a special glass that has a wider top for extra foam.  The ‘Pilstulpe’ glass, meaning Pilsener Tulip, is a (funnily enough) tulip shaped glass especially for drinking…you guessed it, Pilsener.  A beer stein is a heavy-duty mug, traditionally with a lid, designed to prevent Plague-carrying flies from ruining your day (this is also the one you’re most likely to find in tourist tat shops, complete with goudy ‘I Heart Hamburg’ print).  Meanwhile at Oktoberfest and in most Bavarian beer gardens, you’ll see people drinking out of glasses as big as their heads.  That one is a ‘Krug’ and it holds a litre of the golden stuff, which I’ve discovered is considerably more than what my bladder can hold (side note: one of the first things I learned to say in German was ‘kleine Blase’, meaning small bladder.  It sums me up.)

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Me with a traditional Krug in Bavaria.  Good arm exercise.  Bad bladder exercise.

 

My favourite glass though has to be the Beer Boot (Bierstiefel).  The legend (according to Wikipedia – so definitely credible) goes that a General once told his troops that if they won a battle he’d let them fill his boots with beer and drink it to celebrate the victory.  When they did win, the mixture of beer and cheesy feet was unsurprisingly unappealing, so the General had a boot made out of glass instead. Beer boots were immortalised for the rest of the world in this video, which you should definitely watch if you’re in any doubt about how cool beer boots and Germans are.

Celebrating the national drink is an important aspect of German society.  We’ve all heard of Oktoberfest of course – girls in Dirndls, men in leather shorts, brass bands playing drinking songs, people peeing in the bushes – but what a lot of people don’t realise is that Oktoberfest is just one of many ‘Volksfests’ held throughout Germany.  A combination of beer festival and funfair, it’s the perfect opportunity to get mind-numbingly drunk and then go on the waltzer – a match made in puke-coloured heaven.  The biggest rival to Oktoberfest actually happens concurrently in another southern city.  Stuttgart’s ‘Wasan’ is a more German experience than Oktoberfest, with the same beers and bratwursts but less Geordie stags and hens getting rat-arsed.  What I love most about Volksfest tradition are the quaint drinking songs.  The one you’re guaranteed to hear every ten minutes, especially at Oktoberfest, is the following:

‘Ein Prosit, ein Prosit, der Gemütlichkeit!  Ein Prosit, ein Prosit, der Gemütlichkeit!’

At the end of this, you have to toast everyone and chug down what’s in your Krug.  Sometimes the leader will finish the song with ‘Prost ihr Säcke‘ to which you respond in unison ‘Prost du Sack!‘  This basically translates to ‘cheers you pricks!’ ‘cheers you prick’.  Absolutely charming, isn’t it?

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Stuttgart’s Wasen.  Basically a giant drunken funfair.

If it weren’t already clear how important beer is to German culture, here’s an anecdote for you.  A colleague of mine was visiting last week from Ireland, and she asked us if it’s the ‘beer opener thing’ is typical of Germany.  When I asked what she meant, she told me that not only does her VW Golf have a bottle opener built into the middle console, but in her hotel room in Hamburg there was one attached to the wall.  Next to the toilet.  I don’t feel like I’m qualified to confirm that this is an inherently German thing, but if any nation did have that as a habit, it would be the Germans.  If anyone would like to confirm if it is a normal aspect of your culture to sit on the throne, trousers around your ankles with a cold beer in your hand, please comment below!

I’ve decided I can definitely get behind this beer thing.  If becoming German means that when the sun comes out I have to drink beer in a beer garden, I am on board.  I’m just not sure my bladder can take it.

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Trying my best to become German.