Luck of the Irish

On my father's side of the family, we can trace our Irish roots back several hundred years. Apparently one of my ancestors was knighted. There's even a castle named after us. Fancy smancy right? So, I feel this Irish heritage gives me the right to get stoked about St. Patrick's Day and pinch anyone not wearing green.

This was my first St. Patrick's Day that I could legally drink (considering the legal drinking age in the states is 21 and I'm only 20). Which, I'm not going to lie, got me pretty darn excited. So I made sure that my friends and I had plans to go out and frolic about Karlsruhe (wearing green of course).

As usual, I ended up having to buy something green last minute. I never seem to own anything green even though it's a fabulous color on me. I tend to stick to my neutrals. Point being, I went and bought green jeans. Which I love, and plan to wear quite often. So, see, they weren't just a superfluous St. Patty's purchase. (The fact that I'm trying to justify buying green pants to you shouldn't worry you in the least bit...). And in a very Ashley fashion, the buying of pants late made me late to meeting at Nacha's. When will I ever learn? Queen of procrastination and being unable to be on time ever? Why, yes that's me. (It's so bad that this will probably end up on my gravestone: "Sorry I'm late!").

Nacha, Bernie, Ivanka, and I had a very green themed dinner (see the picture and you know I'm not lying). I had brought along a couple St. Patty's accessories that a friend (thanks Ger!) had sent me from the States. So we decked ourselves out, us girls with green hair extensions, and Bernie wearing a floppy green and white top hat. Then I drew shamrocks on Nacha and Ivanka's faces. And my face as well because both declared my shamrock drawing skills far superior to theirs haha. After our self decorating, we headed out to meet up with friends in front of the Karlsruher Schloss.

Our yummy green dinner!

Nacha, me, and Ivanka with green hair and shamrocks.

We met up with a pretty big group of friends (and friends of friends) near the front of the castle. Our original plan was to meet and then immediately go to one of the Irish pubs in town, but as we should have predicted, they were all jam packed. So we decided to just hang out a bit and try our luck later in the evening. Which turned out to be quite fun. We just stood around talking and drinking beer under the stars. Simple, yet so perfect.

After an hour or two, our group split up to pursue different adventures. The group that I was with (my closer friends), decided to go to Sean O'Casey's Irish Pub. Which is in Marktplatz and only like a five minute walk from the castle. So we gathered our things and set out into the night.

Apparently our waiting didn't help in the slightest. We got to the pub and found it to be full of people packed in like sardines. For a time we loitered out front debating if it was worth it to go in. But several of our bladders made it a necessary thing, so we stirred up our courage and dove into the crowd.

Nacha, Bernie, Gabriel, Ivanka, and I hanging out in front of O'Casey's.

Me, Albert, Maria, and Gabriel wearing green!

Gabriel, Nacha, me, and Albert in front of the pub. See! Here is evidence of my green jeans.

After our bladders were happily relieved, we began to scout for seats. Well, it was more us staring desperately at the full to the brim tables and telepathically willing the people to get up and leave. It seems that our telepathic skills are better than we knew; a whole table stood up and left about twenty minutes into our wait and we all jumped into action and claimed a seat before the other pub goers could.

The rest of our time at O'Casey's was spent drinking ourselves silly and singing along with the live music. We also had a little contest to see who could down their beer the quickest, which I won (of course). But probably the most memorable part of the night was when Ivanka and I bought a rose for Nacha (yes, a guy was randomly selling roses in an Irish pub on St. Patrick's Day). Her reaction was hilarious, I don't think anyone has ever been that excited or grateful for receiving a rose (not even The Bachelor contestants could compete with her enthusiasm).

Maria, me, and Gabriel.

Carmina, me, and Gabriel.

Me showing off my beer and Gabriel being a total goon in the background.

Me, Gabriel, Albert, Bernie, Nacha and Ivanka wearing the hats that the pub gave out to some of the crowd.

Me and Ivanka with Nacha's rose.

Nacha getting emotional over the rose Ivanka and I gave her.

Then our group of eight slip once more. Ivanka and I headed to another Irish pub, Scruffy's, that was less than a ten minute walk from Marktplatz. She and I arrived to find that it was so packed inside that people were drinking out front. We stood for a minute, figuring out a plan, when all of the sudden a very large (tall and wide) man in a kilt approached us. He talked to us a bit (figured out we were foreigners immediately), and then randomly he picked up Ivanka and spun her around in a circle. I laughed, but immediately took a step back not wanting to be next. But I was next, even though I tried to reason with the guy. Once he set me down on the ground he said "It's nothing to pick up someone as small and pretty as you." I blushed, thanked him, and then grabbed Ivanka and we headed into the pub. That guy totally made my week.

Scruffy's is smaller than O'Casey's, so we had quite the adventure getting from the front door to the bar. But Ivanka and I prevailed, getting our beers and making a dash (more like a slow crawl) to the front of the pub to drink out front. We ended up chatting it up for over an hour, enjoying ourselves quite thoroughly, before we decided it was time to call it a night.

It was a lovely St. Patrick's Day. I am one lucky girl to have such awesome friends, great experiences, beer, and green pants all in one evening. And I don't even own a four leaf clover.

The Boots

Last night I cleaned my boots and left one by the front door and dutifully went to bed "early" like a good little girl. I am sure you are wondering why I would do this. Isn't it obvious? Sankt Nikolaus was coming, and I had to be prepared!

My very clean boot.

I can bet most of my American readers are very confused as of this moment. As for my German readers, they know exactly what I am talking about (duh). Shall I explain for the clueless out there?

When I think "Sankt Nikolaus" (Saint Nicholas... in English) I come up with two thoughts. One being of a big, jolly man in a red suit who comes and brings me presents on Christmas Eve. The other being the legend surrounding the actual Saint Nicholas, and all his kind deeds hundreds of years ago. But most Americans would only think of the first thought. Because Saint Nicholas and Santa are one in the same for us. But, this is not so in Germany.

Germans give Sankt Nikolaus a whole holiday all to himself. And the Weihnachtsmann (literally translates as "Chrismas man") gets a whole holiday to himself as well. Because they are different people! Nikolaus was an actual man who became a saint in the Catholic Church; while the Weihnachtsmann (Santa Claus) is not a real person, but just an embodiment of the Christmas spirit and a great way to bring joy to little kids, and parents, across the country. So Sankt Nikolaus day is on the 6th of December, and the Weihnachtsmann gets to spread his holiday cheer on 25th of December.

How this holiday works is that on the night of December 5th, you grab your boots and scrub them clean. Then, you put them on your doorstep with some milk and cookies. And if you have been good this year, Sankt Nikolaus will come in the middle of the night and fill your boot with candies and sometimes small presents. Then of course when you wake up in them morning you run to the front door to see what you have received. As you can tell this is a kid centered holiday in many aspects. The fun for the parents comes in another form. Usually if you have a party on or near the 6th of December, Sankt Nikolaus will show up. He will then read off all the naughty things the children in the room have done this year. Then the children are expected to sing a song or recite a poem to curry his favor. If they do well, all is forgiven and they get goodies. If not, Sankt Nikolaus' helper will swat you with a birch stick. Of course, all in good fun. Usually the parents get a good kick out of the kids squirming and trying to deny their bad deeds of the year.

So last night, Martha, Frieda and I cleaned our boots and set them in front of our front doors. We also prepared a plate of cookies and a glass of milk. All in the hopes that we had been good enough little girls this year and cleaned our boots well enough to receive candy. Then we went to bed early like good little girls should. (I must confess I didn't go to bed early. Shame on me...).

Martha and Frieda's boots. Along with the milk and cookies.

This morning I hopped out of bed (an unusual occurrence) and swung open my front door. There stood my boot. Full of chocolate. I was so excited! Before I closed the door, I noted that the girls had already grabbed their own boots. Typical. I hopped back into bed and gleefully dumped out the contents of my boot. All chocolate. Then, like the "grown up" that I am, I had to get ready for German class. I sadly couldn't linger over the awesomeness of the morning.

My boot and my loot.

I just got back from class and thoroughly enjoyed a few pieces of my chocolate. I want to make these last me till Christmas (when I will be getting more chocolate), but I doubt that will happen. Chocolate is just too good to resist.

Sankt Martins Tag

I love holidays. If there is a holiday to celebrate, no matter what it is, I am so there! So when I heard that I would be celebrating my first truly German holiday, you can imagine my excitement.

Sankt Martins Tag (or in English... Saint Martin's Day), is a day where little kids make lanterns and then parade around in groups (usually you go in a group from your school or church) singing songs. The parades usually end up at big outdoor bonfires where you have bread and drinks. This day is to remember Sankt Martin, a kind and generous man, who was a Roman solider, monk, and then Bishop (against his wishes). He is best known for the legend that he (while a solider) on a cold Winter's night, cut his cloak in half to give it to a beggar. I never really got how the lantern's became a part of the tradition of the day, but I am sure there is a very good explanation somewhere. You will have to investigate that one on your own folks.

This holiday is celebrated on November 11th. Which is strange to me because all my life I have know that day by a different holiday: Veteran's Day (It was also a cool day because it was 11/11/11, but that's besides the point). So, as weird as it was not celebrating Veteran's Day, I enjoyed a very fun Sankt Martins Tag!

So for Sankt Martins you need one thing: a lantern. I was the one who went out to find pre-made lanterns. Which wasn't a difficult task. I found them at Papier Fischer (the coolest paper store everrr). I stood there a good fifteen minutes debating on colors and sizes of the lanterns. Finally I picked two big ones, one red and the other yellow.

The next day the girls, Christiane, Oma (Christiane's mom), and I sat down at kitchen table to make the lanterns. Even though they are "pre-made" you still have to assemble and decorate them. Martha chose the yellow lantern and got right to work. Frieda on the other hand, wanted nothing to do with lantern making. She was supposed to go to her school's parade that day but ended up not going because she was so upset by the whole thing. So I made the red lantern for her because she could use it in Martha's school's parade the next day.

The next evening we went to Martha's school for the parade. A colorful crowd had assembled in the schoolyard: kids in bright colored jackets running around with beautiful lanterns, while their parents chatted and kept an eye on them. After a quick set of instructions from the principle, everyone started lighting their lanterns and heading out into the twilight.

The parade sets out into the twilight.

The parade in motion.

Oma pushed Frieda in the stroller, who was clingy tightly to her unlit lantern. We didn't light it because we didn't want her burning up the lantern on accident. Christiane and I stayed near the stroller while trying to keep an eye on Martha who had bounded ahead of us to walk with her friends.

I, being a total kid, got to carry a lantern! I was quite pleased. I hadn't wanted to miss out on the fun just because I was a "grown up". The lantern that I used was one that Frieda made in Kindergarten. Which of course she never used since she didn't go to her school's parade. And Frieda was carrying the one that I made her the day before. So it was the extra lantern that became mine.

My lantern.

Our parade route was a walk through the park behind the school. Which was a really pretty walk, especially as the darkness fell all around us. We stopped at certain places to sing songs. My favorite song of the night is called, "Ich geh' mit meiner Laterne." It's has quite the catchy tune. In fact, it was stuck in my head for several days after. Another song that we sang was appropriately called, "Sankt Martin."

"Ich ge' mit meiner Laterne" lyrics and notes.

"Sankt Martin" lyrics and notes.

 So, after a good fifteen minutes we found ourselves at a big bonfire. Everyone circled up around it and began to sing again. This was my favorite part of the whole night. It was utterly dark except the fire; and completely silent except for the voices of children and grown ups alike that pierced the night air. I almost felt like I had taken a step back in time. There was something so primitive, yet so beautiful about the whole scene. I wanted to linger in this moment. I was caught up in it's magic.

The bonfire.

Once the last note was sung, everyone converged on the snack and drink table. Martha grabbed everyone rolls, and we munched on them for a few minutes before deciding to go home.

The whole way home I found myself singing "Ich geh' mit meiner Laterne." I didn't want the night to end. It was too magical. Yet, the night slipped through my fingers and I found myself waking up to just a normal Saturday morning.