The Fall of the Berlin Wall

Today's 25th anniversary of the fall of the Berlin Wall takes me right back. Here's an excerpt of my upcoming book I once had a Farm in Ireland.

"The political situation in Germany that had influenced our decision to buy an escape place in Ireland had changed. The historical landmark for that was the fall of the Berlin Wall in November 1989.

Ask any American where they were on 9/11, and they will know. For a German, the equivalent date is 11/9, the day the Berlin Wall opened in 1989.

On that historic day, I was away from Germany on a two-week golfing vacation by myself in Tunisia. During the preceding months of world-changing events in Eastern Europe, I had been elsewhere mentally because of the drama going on in my own little world.

Mac fixed a date for our emigration. It was his decision. I only reluctantly supported the idea and still went to therapy to get used to this change in our lifestyle. I needed a break.

Mac and his mother stayed back in Germany to mind our children, then two and five years old, so that I could have a holiday, recharge my batteries and come to terms with our future.

The resort of Port El Kantoui provided enough distraction: sun, beach, food, and golf. In those pre-Internet days, my hotel didn’t have a TV in the room. What I heard on the news in the noisy lounge bar was unfathomable: Hungarian and Czechoslovakian borders had opened to let Eastern Germans leave their country. Calling my husband back in the Fatherland, I found him equally puzzled. We both watched developments anxiously. Our firm belief was that Mrs. Thatcher would rather give up Northern Ireland and let it reunite with Ireland than the Soviets would tolerate this insurrection. They had intervened before in Prague in 1968 and suppressed Hungarian liberation attempts in 1956.

Living in Germany during the armament race and the Cold War in the 1980s had always felt like living on a powder keg. This situation in 1990 had all the hallmarks of escalation. One evening, I was so troubled by the developing news in eastern Europe that I suggested to come home earlier to have the family back together.

“Let’s watch on TV if there are Russian troop movements, you from Tunisia, and we from here,” Mac said. “If the Soviets are sending tanks westward, don’t bother to come back to Germany — then it will be time to reconvene in Ireland. The Americans won’t just stand by and watch. There’ll be war.”

The Second Day of Christmas

 

For some it's not over.
Germany and many other European countries like France, Italy, Hungary, even the UK have a second Day of Christmas, with 'Boxing Day' being the better known name. In Serbia, Sweden, Croatia and Poland they celebrate it as St. Stephen's Day, the day of the first Christian martyr. In Ireland it's pronounced btw St.Stephense's Day). In the Republic of Ireland, the day is one of nine official public holidays. In Irish, it is called Lá Fhéile Stiofán or Lá an Dreoilín — the latter translates literally as another English name used, the Day of the Wren or Wren's Day. When used in this context, "wren" is often pronounced "ran". This name alludes to several legends, including those found in Ireland, linking episodes in the life of Jesus to the wren. Although now mostly a discontinued tradition, in certain parts of Ireland persons carrying either an effigy of a wren or an actual caged wren (live or dead), travel from house to house playing music, singing and dancing. Depending on which region of the country, they are called Wrenboys.

My son was born that day. I spent Christmas in labor and he was born on Christmas Day, if the second. We moved to Ireland when he was still very small. It was impossible to have a birthday party for the little boy. First of all, the Irish have big families and they all had to visit their relatives on that day. Second, Tipperary where we lived had the customary Wren boys doing the rounds on St.Stephene's day. Originally staging a fake wren shooting, tradition has it that a group of boys and young man dressed up and went from farm to farm singing and collecting goodies- sweets or pennies.
I once tried to give my son  summer birthday celebration in lieu of his real birthday he missed out on every year. Unfortunately, that didn't work out better because on 26 June the summer holidays and with it haymaking and other farmer activities where in full swing.
Everybody whose birthday is close to Christmas can sympathize.

Happy 2nd Day of Christmas!

A Goose for Christmas

Germans love their goose for Christmas. Traditionally, the first are slaughtered for St. Martin's day, 11 November. In the weeks leading up to Christmas, word spread in the village and at the farmer's market that we had geese for sale − if only four. Though not a traditional Irish Christmas dish, there were more people interested in getting these rare birds than we could provide.

This is what you need if you want to pluck a goose: a goose, buckets of scorching hot but not boiling water to dip the bird in head down, and some stamina, i.e. not too delicate a nose. I had practiced before in Germany on one, but to do four was a challenge. Each takes at least 90 minutes to pluck.

So my trusted housekeeper, Pauline, put the kettle on to bring the water to a high temperature. On our cooker, an AGA, that could take an hour. In the meantime, Mac and I chose and caught the poor first victim straight from the goose hut. When we lifted the roof of the hut carefully, Father Goose became extremely aggressive, hissing and nipping at Mac's hands and jeans-clad legs. Their nips hurt! You have to grab the goose by its neck, which pretty much renders it defenseless. On the yard, near the compost heap on the wall, we had a timber block for splitting wood for kindling. Mac carried the goose over there, speaking in soothing tones to it, holding it with one hand and patting it with his second hand. He then put it on the block. I held its neck and Mac grabbed the axe. I didn't really dare to watch, but necessity made me blink and double check that my arm was outstretched far away enough out of the danger zone. With one swift swing, the goose was in goose heaven. In contrast to chickens, you can't wring their necks. They are too strong. But they don't flutter around headless on the yard either as chickens do.

You have to let the blood drip out completely before you can proceed. Now the plucking can begin. We had an enormous double sink that we had bought from a youth hostel and put a big bucket in both basins. Dip the bird into the hot water and you can pluck away. Pauline and I stood side by side and worked on a goose each while having a good chin wag.

Geese are much harder to pluck than chickens because their feathers are stubborn. Soon the feathers were everywhere! The worst are the pin feathers. And geese do smell. Raised on a diet of pure grass, it's surprising how much their intestines stink. After about an hour the feathers were done, and my hands, legs, and feet had gone cold and numb. At this stage, the city girl in me chickened out. My hypersensitive nose couldn’t take it anymore. I volunteered to put the kettle on for a tea break, Elevenses as they call it in Ireland. Pauline was made of tougher material. She didn't mind to keep going and always looked forward to her hot cuppa. Next she cut up the animals and pulled out the entrails, a messy and malodorous job. Then she washed them many times with cold water and neatly presented them on a plate.

Grateful, I had the tea and refreshments ready. Most times we had to remove little hairs that stubbornly stuck to the skin with tweezers without tearing the skin. Then one year,  Mac had a brilliant idea: you could actually use a little flame torch like restaurants use for making Crème Brulée and just singe off the remaining fine hairs. Again, one had to be careful not to burn or damage the skin.

Our price per animal was about 30 Irish pounds ($50 today), of which I had to pay Pauline 10 for her work. Every year, I toyed with the idea of collecting the eiderdown and big feathers to fill pillow cases. The thought of cleaning these heaps of feathers, however, sounded like too much work to me.  So we never did it. Today I prefer to buy a goose ready for the oven, if I can find them organically grown: plucked and cleaned! Thank goodness, my plucking days are over.

Here’s my favorite recipe handed down from my mother: Stuffed with a mixture of breadcrumbs, apples and onions, the bird requires slow roasting at 180C/375 F under continuous basting with water, its own juices, and occasional turning. 2-3 hours is recommended. Delicious accompaniments are potatoes, red cabbage and apple sauce. Go for a lean bird: geese can be fatty. Ours never were, because they were grass-fed, free-range--the sporty, muscular type.

(Excerpt from my upcoming book I once had Farm in Ireland).

Rush Hour

Just stumbled across this post card while tidying space for our upcoming home swaps.
We lived on a small road in a boreen like this. Country lanes such as this get really hectic twice a day:when milking time approaches in the morning and in the evening, but also when herds have to be moved. And sheep are not the easiest to steer. We had a really good sheep dog which was a a master at rounding up cattle and sheep most of the time. Except when they had to be moved across our little river.Then it was next to impossible until one sheep took the courage- then all the others followed ...proverbially, even without being led to the slaughterhouse. On one occasion they even left their lambs behind and we had to carry the lambs over.
Now imagine yourself facing this herd coming towards your car. There is no way to go but wait until they file or flow around your vehicle. If there is a tractor involved, it requires more patience yet.
But you get used to these things, living there. It's only the tourists who panic when they have to drive their cars so close into hedges that their cars get scratched.

IE 101: Irish- English for Beginners

As a native German speaker I’m somewhat foolish to write in English. I studied at a German university where BBC English or British Standard English was taught. After that, I spent almost 20 years in Ireland where my accent stuck out like a sore thumb but where I acquired some its lingo. To complicate matters further, I now live in the US. Just having installed a new PC, I was confronted with the question which nuance of the English to make my default language: BE /AE/ AusE/ Polynesian Island E…. (British English, American English, Australian ...)No IE (Irish English), however! I’m also using Dragon Naturally Speaking –a dictation software- and that poor program is utterly confused by my brogue.

Since I write about my previous life in Ireland, I naturally use an Irish English vocabulary – not Irish-Irish (Gaelic), mind you. Two editors of my books and also fellow writers in a creative writing class advised me to drop those Irish expressions that they didn’t understand: Snogging? A tenner? A piggery?

Who do you write for? Who is your audience? My aim is to tell stories in an Irish landscape and if that includes a modicum of Irish vernacular, doesn’t that paint a more colorful and believable picture?

When my American husband and I first met we had a lot of fun over some differences in both versions of the language. I adopted the words “cart, gas, trash can, realtor” instead of “trolley, petrol, wheelie bin and estate agent.” He learned that I wanted to be picked up when I asked him to collect me at 8 p.m. He will call me when I ask to ring me or give me a bell. He understands that I’m not nibbling at his iPad when I take a tablet.

Now to some Irishisms…

“A cuppa” (a cup of tea) is welcome not only for “elevenses” (second breakfast or coffee break mid-morning) and” a pint of the brown stuff” anytime, really if you like Guinness. “Punters” beware ─ too much of it or you get "plastered" or "langers"! Because of Ireland’s cold and damp climate, you will need a "brollie" and a "wooly jumper", maybe even "wellies" if you work on a farm as I did “myself”. We grew "courgettes" on the farm and raised "bonhams" (piglets); briars abounded in the hedgerows. Most Irish farms have "cocks", nothing indecent but a rooster and also "bullocks". Not to be confused with "bollocks": a swear word that is acceptable in polite society, well almost. Expect some "bollocking, slagging , and having to take the mickey", as the Irish sense of humor is different. (Wikipedia or Urbandictionary will enlighten you if I’ve just lost you). Replacing the vowel “u” with an “e” makes a ubiquitous swear word passable, or simply say “effing” or “frigging.”

“Gurriers” and “knackers” I have to explain in my upcoming book: “I once had a Farm in Ireland.” I don’t want to leave my readers too much in the dark; I need to clarify the meaning of an “AGA” and a “JCB”, too.

Spelling differences are easy: tyre, grey, or jewellery─ the spell checker will pick that up if set to AE as default.

In case you travel to Ireland you should know that the Dail is the parliament, a garda is a policeman, and that the Irish say slánte! when toasting - be that with “poteen” (some moonshine booze) or any other drink.

So now for you! Are you with me now? There you have it in a nutshell! Before you get too bored and are “away with the fairies”, let me leave it at this and say slán! Good-bye!

Please like my new FB site: https://www.facebook.com/IOnceHadAFarmInIreland?sk=messages_inbox&action=read&tid=id.148084505352872. Thanks!

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

 

Not so Goodies in our Food

In Europe, scientists found out in the 70s that food additives, artificial colorings in particular, are detrimental to children's development. This plus other additional goodies that turn up in our food scared us: pesticides, herbicides, antibiotics, growth promoters; and then there are the preservatives. It also made us think and come to the conclusion that we wanted to produce our own food  and not digest industrial foods anymore that can make you sick.

The soil was polluted, lakes and rivers were, air pollution grew and lead to the big phenomenon of "trees dying" due to acid rain. How could anything healthy grow out of this. Discovering that all these "goodies" were enhancing or rather compromising our food--our stomachs turned and made us think. We decided to grow our own and become self-sufficient. First in the constraints of our house in the the city; well, rather the house of my mother-in-law. After a while, however, she didn't like her shrubs to be replaced any more with strawberries and Brussels sprouts. She wanted her evergreen ground cover back. We had too find our own place; a cottage in the country. A few years later, even that wasn't far away enough to get away from pollution: Chernobyl happened. Taking all of this into account, we opted for a healthier life-style and chose to go to Ireland to make this dream come true.

Now, in Europe and Germany in particular with its stringent environmental laws, food additives have either been  banned or have to be declared on the individual product. "To regulate these additives, and inform consumers, each additive is assigned a unique number, termed as "E numbers", which is used in Europe for all approved additives. Within the EU E numbers are all prefixed by E ". See the full list of what is regulated as a food additive.

In the US, the FDA claims that food dyes are safe, but the experience of some parents and the results of some studies tell a different story. A 2006 study published in the Toxicological Sciences journal showed that exposure to certain dyes during the first few years of life could cause behavioral and developmental disorders in children.

Other countries have already banned or require warning labels for artificially dyed foods. For example, Kellogg’s cereal bars are made using Red 40, Yellow 6 and Blue 1 in the United States, but contain no artificial dyes in the UK. Instead, the same bars are produced there using beetroot, paprika and annatto extract to provide color.

"The problem was first identified in the 1970s. Europe controls and even bans them in foods. The FDA is finally getting around to wondering if they're might be a problem." ADHD comes to mind.

http://www.therealfoodchannel.com/page/20470.html  3min 35 if you want to take the time.

Thanks to Brasscheck that provides invaluable info on many topics.

Have my green cap on again.

Since I'm about to finish my book on my Irish adventure, I'm wearing my Ex Farmer'sWife's hat more often again as you may have notice. I need a cover artist and some rally cute drawing because the pictures I had in my coffee table version of my book"I once had farm in Ireland" don't translate well into a paperback.
It's been too long and this blog was on the back burner for some time while I've been busy promoting my novel Next time lucky. This will be remedied now and I will give an advance notice soon when it's coming out.

Also appreciate your recommendations on different publishers like Lightning Source of Iunivers. Anybody used them and has some experience to share? I will create  a FB page for the Ex Farmer's Wife.
In the meantime let me recommend my latest find, anew pp that makes life easier for every blogger and more interesting for your readers.It's called glossy, put together in minutes and here's my link to give you an idea how it looks:
http://www.glos.si/siggys-omnibus . I had set up something similar over the few months to give an overview of my various websites. Took e forever. Admittedly, it looks better in y views, but glossy is a quick news round up of all your social networking activities. You tell me. More soon
The Ex Farmer's wife

Tomato Ketchup:US and German home-made

What a Ketchup Bottle Tells Us About Life in the U.S.

I've been working on sharpening my observation skills. Today, I took notice of a bottle of ketchup on the table in a restaurant. I was at first attracted to the words, “Plant bottle, 30% made from plastics, 100% recyclable bottle. I had no idea that ketchup had gone green.

The next part that caught my attention was a small square of an abstract drawing. “Ketchup Lovers, Unite! Scan this code or text FRIEND to 5700.” Wow! Marketing is going in some very strange directions these days. Should I care how many people love ketchup? Why? And why would I want them to know that I love ketchup?” 

Which I don't, because the next thing I read were the ingredients. Although written in the same small letters as the other ingredients, my eyes picked out two -- High Fructose Corn Syrup and Corn Syrup (why would ketchup need both, or either?), which my health guru, Dr. Andrew Weil, has been telling me for years NOT to eat for health's sake. I switched long ago to tomato paste when I want a ketchupy taste.

In smaller print at the bottom of the bottle were the words, “from Heinz Seeds.” I hadn't realized that there is such a thing as specific Heinz Seeds. That made me realize how little I know about seeds that our foods are grown from. Guess some company “owns” everything when you look into it.

Lastly, I looked at the bottle itself and realized it was upside down. The lid was on the bottom! No more hitting the bottom of a glass bottle and having it splash all over the plate. How long has ketchup been upside down? Why did it take the company so many years to “improve” how ketchup plopped on a plate?

Hmm!  Instead of a message in a bottle, I found messages on the bottle.

Suellen Zima, a contributor to www.writersgettogether.blogspot.com from the start. 

And now to our home-made version of tomato ketchup.

I made ketchup for a few years out of our own organically grown tomatoes. It does need  some kind of sugar if you want your hopeful off spring even to taste it, never mind like it. I made it without peeling the tomatoes first which resulted in strings of peels in the sauce and bottle. With a disgust in their little faces that I had never seen before they pushed it way. (Only surpassed by the occasional maggot/bug on organic cauliflower on their plates!)

We always had 36 tomatoes plants in our greenhouse which gives a mighty good crop. Normally I would freeze them for later use like many a vegetable. Especially useful for spaghetti sauces. When we emigrated to Ireland, however, we couldn't take the content of our freezers with us. What do you do with dozens of frozen bags of tomatoes? Instead of letting them spoil, I cooked ketchup and bottled it, careful to leave 1/2 inch of olive oil on top in order to preserve it properly. I had over 20 bottles. They made the big move safely--only to be snarled at by the kids.I loved it in spite of seeds and peels and all! Less sweet! Bon appetit!

Regarding the Heinz seeds that's news to me too. Unless you find organic seeds somewhere, Monsanto has a firm monopoly on seeds worldwide squeezing every other producer to the wall and going GM on it. GM is another topic. I wrote about it here and in Germnay/Europe. If you're interested go into archives here and search for GM.

The Second Day of Christmas

For some it's not over.
Germany and many other European countries like France, Italy, Hungary, even the UK have a second Day of Christmas, with 'Boxing Day' being the better known name. In Serbia, Sweden, Croatia and Poland they celebrate it as St. Stephen's Day, the day of the first Christian martyr. In Ireland it's pronounced btw St.Stephense's Day). In the Republic of Ireland, the day is one of nine official public holidays. In Irish, it is called Lá Fhéile Stiofán or Lá an Dreoilín — the latter translates literally as another English name used, the Day of the Wren or Wren's Day. When used in this context, "wren" is often pronounced "ran". This name alludes to several legends, including those found in Ireland, linking episodes in the life of Jesus to the wren. Although now mostly a discontinued tradition, in certain parts of Ireland persons carrying either an effigy of a wren or an actual caged wren (live or dead), travel from house to house playing music, singing and dancing. Depending on which region of the country, they are called Wrenboys.

My son was born that day. I spent Christmas in labor and he was born on Christmas Day, if the second. We moved to Ireland when he was still very small. It was impossible to have a birthday party for the little boy. First of all, the Irish have big families and they all had to visit their relatives on that day. Second, Tipperary where we lived had the customary Wren boys doing the rounds on St.Stephene's day. Originally staging a fake wren shooting, tradition has it that a group of boys and young man dressed up and went from farm to farm singing and collecting goodies- sweets or pennies.
I once tried to give my son  summer birthday celebration in lieu of his real birthday he missed out on every year. Unfortunately, that didn't work out better because on 26 June the summer holidays and with it haymaking and other farmer activities where in full swing.
Everybody whose birthday is close to Christmas can sympathize.

Happy 2nd Day of Christmas!