I can remember very little of our few days back in Ameglia before
we set off for Cologne for Christmas other than endless hours in the Internet
Cafe in La Spezia checking trains and flights and a long conversation with Arne
which filled in a lot of contextual detail of life in the boatyard here. At one stage I gave up on cheap flights and
we were about to book train tickets to Cologne, including the overnight sleeper
from Milan for 300 euros each way for two, when bingo, I hit the German Wings
web site. This got us flights from Milan
to Cologne for a ridiculous nineteen euros each way.
Arne looked in on the boat one afternoon clearly wanting to
talk and gave us a much clearer insight into his life and aspirations. Far from being the easy going drifter he at
first appears I think he really wants to settle down with the Mother of his
child, but by his description she is unstable and unwilling to commit to a
family life. Overall, he seems to be a
frustrated man cresting forty and starting to ask uncomfortable questions about
his life and what he has actually achieved.
Giovanna the owner of the marina and his employer is obsessed with money
despite substantial personal wealth and her husband is a womaniser who had
little to do with the business until a separate boatbuilding business of his
own failed. Mustafa lives in one small
room on the top floor of the leaky old building which houses the marina
offices. Arne has tried to encourage him
to move to better accommodation, but Mustafa is motivated by saving money to
send home to Morocco. The blue Mercedes
is Mustafa's, though we have never seen him drive it – it is the status symbol
to demonstrate to his Moroccan family his success in Europe. Much of this has the ring of truth, but
filtered through Arne’s quite jaundiced outlook on the world. Arne also told us his approach to personal
hygiene – “you don’t actually need a shower more than once a month”. This too had the ring of truth judging by the
odour that lingered in our saloon some time after he had departed.
Our trip to Cologne was uneventful, the biggest hitch being
that we misread our local bus timetable, stupidly thinking that buses actually
ran on a Sunday. In the end we got a
taxi the four miles to Sarzana station, which cost slightly more than one of
our air tickets. We stayed overnight in
Milan, which gave us a chance to really appreciate the magnificence of Milan
Central Railway station. It’s a vast
cavern of a place, a temple both to railway technology and Mussolini’s Italy,
complete with overblown references to Imperial Rome and a memorial to the fallen
in Abyssinia. The arches covering the
platforms outdo those at St Pancras and on arrival I felt distinctly
under-dressed. More theatre set than
Railway Station I should liked to have emerged from the platform through a veil
of smoke and steam in a homburg and crisp double-breasted suit with Sue on my
arm in full length furs and high heels, a perspiring porter following behind
with a trolleyfull of monogrammed trunks, suitcases and hatboxes. Well, a chap can dream can’t he?
The flight from Milan was on time and very much like an air
trip costing ten times as much. Frankly
for the price we had paid I had expected wooden seats and hanging straps. I almost felt guilty and on arrival in
Cologne refused the complimentary chocolate biscuit to help preserve German
Wings profit margins. Nicole met us in
central Cologne and drove us to their house in the suburbs. Although we had only spent a couple of weeks
together in August it felt like meeting up with long lost old friends. They are both teachers and have been married
for about three years. Thomas is around
fifty and Nicole around thirty and currently taking a career break to look
after young Joshi, now two years old.
They returned to Cologne from their boat in Barcelona in early December,
partly to enjoy a traditional German Christmas with Joshi and partly I think as
break from life on a small boat with a young child. They live in a large semi-detached house in
an area very like an English city suburb.
Thomas was brought up in the house and took it over when his Mother died
a few years ago. He gave the place a
complete makeover, so now it is very smart, modern and minimal.
We arrived on the 23rd December, the day before
the main festivities in Germany on our Christmas Eve, called in Germany “Helige
Abend” or Holy Evening. I helped Thomas
get in the last stocks of beer while Sue helped Nicole bake biscuits in festive
shapes to hang on the Christmas tree.
Later we all went off to a nearby high street to buy the last few bits
and pieces for the festival, including some tiny red apples also for dressing
the Christmas tree. While we were out
Thomas and Nicole took us to a traditional Cologne pub “the Golden Cabbage”
where we drank “Kolsch” the local Cologne beer served in test tube like 0.2
litre beakers. This system works
remarkably well, given enough waiters, as the beer simply issues from the bar
in an unending stream of small beakers and the beer stays fresh. I suspect many Germans don’t really consider
beer as an alcoholic drink and I’m sure it’s possible with this system to get
completely pissed whilst having no idea of exactly how much one has drunk. However, thanks I suspect to the German
Purity Laws which prohibit beer from having any additives or preservatives I
don’t recall getting a hangover during our five days in Cologne.
On the 24th Nicole’s parents (Joshi’s “Oma” and
“Opa”) arrived in the morning bringing with them theChristmas goose which had
been slaughtered a few days before.
Joshi was then put to bed for his usual lunchtime nap and so the
Christmas preparations could begin in earnest.
While he slept the tree was put up in the living room, dressed with
candles, apples, chocolates and biscuits and an improvised star made by me from
some cardboard and silver foil. Then the
presents were assembled under the tree.
After Joshi’s nap we all walked to the nearby Lutheran church for the
Children’s Service. The Church was a
severe modern building and the young female pastor conducted a very open
service for the children, who were allowed to play in the aisles and take part
in a nativity play. Many of the children
were too young to have a clear idea of what was going on, but one young lad of
about ten with Downes Syndrome thoroughly enjoyed his role as a Shepherd.
By the time the service was over it was getting dark and we
walked back to the house in the gathering twilight. When we arrived Joshi was kept occupied while
the Christmas Tree candles were lit, then the living room doors were flung open
and we all sang Christmas songs as Joshi, his eyes wide with amazement, took in
the magic of the scene. Joshi was then
given his presents to open, including a little table and chairs from Mum and
Dad and a tricycle from Oma and Opa. Oma
and Opa, also a teacher, the head of a school, are besotted with little Joshi
and perhaps most touching was Opa’s personal present to Joshi. At the end of the second world war when times
were hard and things were in short supply Opa’s own father had made him a horse
and cart and a stable. Finding the old
gift in the loft Opa decided to renovate the toy and give it to Joshi. Joshi seemed to sense the importance to Opa
of this symbolic act of handing on the past and crouched patiently with Opa as
he carefully demonstrated the toy.
Afterwards the adults swapped presents and we settled down to the
Christmas goose, cooked to perfection by Thomas, accompanied by red cabbage and
kneudel a kind of savoury steamed pudding and some excellent wines.
The 25th was more like our Boxing Day, a time for
chilling out in armchairs and helping Joshi to play with his new toys,
punctuated with a stroll to help Joshi try out his new tricycle, which has a
very useful long steering handle at the back, which a responsible adult can use
as a manual over-ride when Joshi gets tired and starts going round in
circles. Oma and Opa left to go skiing
that afternoon and on the evening of the 26th Thomas and Nicole held
a dinner party for us and several other friends. Thomas and Nicole’s cooking was excellent, as
ever, but the high spot of the meal was a box of cakes made by Christophe, a
French pastry chef and the partner of Berndt, one of Thomas’ oldest
friends. The box and lid were made of
peanut brittle and inside were layers of little cakes in the shapes of animals,
the first being a layer of tiny swans.
On the 27th we left for Milan where we stayed for
a couple of nights before heading off to Ameglia. Thomas and Nicole and Joshi especially, gave
us one of the most magical Christmases I can remember and it was a privilege to
share it with them. Joshi is a very
special little boy, a smile is never far from his face and he is quick to
forget his hurts. He has enormous
natural charm and is rapidly developing the wit to use it. He is very lucky to be having so much
attention at his age from both his parents during their trip to Barcelona and
to have so many caring adults around him.
But then those around him are very lucky to have Joshi too. Never having been to Germany before it was
great too to learn a little more about German society and Thomas and Nicole and
their friends. I am sure we shall meet
again. One of the great lessons for me
of our trip so far has been not how different the cultures of the major Western
European countries are, but how similar.
From my conversations with Thomas and Nicole and their friends I might
add that the post-war generations of Europe actually have more in common with
each other than with the generations of their own nationalities that have gone
before.
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