On the Alpaca -- Bad Munster, Germany

Always recognize that human individuals are ends and do not use them as means to your ends. 

~Immanuel Kant

 The last few days have been simple, wholesome, fun.
 
They have been mostly wet and fairly cold, but mugs of steaming glühwein in the evening makes me completely forget the clammy, cool hours. My senses are completely occupied by the warmth of the mug between my fingers and the smell of spices wafting up in the steam.

And glühwein makes everything feel like Christmas. Which automatically gives the alcoholic beverage an extra warm, fuzzy quality.

Feeling cold, festive or both? Make your own: GLÜHWEIN

It's the end of my sixth day in Bad Münster and I have to admit that the transition from France to Germany and from couchsurfing to volunteering has been surprisingly easy. I was unremittingly spoiled rotten in France (thanks to the generosity of my host and my friends) and had become very accustomed to the slow, indolent Mediterranean way of life. I remember voicing my concerns to Baris about the adjustments my vagabond mind would have to make when I landed my vagabond feet in Germany.

"I'll be volunteering... in GERMANY. I'm going from couchsurfing in the Mediterranean to volunteering in Germany." 

Which is almost as drastic a change as going from being homeschooled in an extremely conservative religious environment to pursuing a theatre degree in a secular university. My dear friends bought me an intimidatingly thick sex book called "Guide to Getting it On" so that I could understand all the jokes being made at my expense and could acclimate more quickly and with less general humiliation -- but there aren't a lot of resources that deal with German culture shock.

I think I like to believe that things will be harder than they actually are. It makes me feel important. Sometimes I like to think that there are monsters in the closet even when I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that they're only my childhood model horses and that giant paper maché head I made when I was nine (which was actually quite horrific).

Hey. There are no monsters in Germany. German people are understanding and accommodating, German food is delicious and plentiful, and German days are not nearly as perfectly planned as stereotypes have led me to imagine.

There was no adjustment period. There was no cultural "jet lag". I slipped into my placement smoothly, lightly, unobtrusively. I almost didn't notice at all. It helps that my current hosts have years of experience with volunteers and have gone leagues out of their way to ascertain that Joe and I feel at home in their home, but I still feel a bit giddy that this transition was so effortless. Fluid.

I can do this. Movement is natural. Gliding in and out of lives is natural. This is a life I can wear. 

 I make sure to appreciate the sounds of the country. After my month in Nice and five days in Frankfurt, it feels unusually refreshing to awake to the sound of horses whinnying and stomping and alpacas humming and screaming. My nose is red with cold when I wake up and my fingers and toes tingle, but those are my greatest and only complaints. Joe and I have learned how to start the furnace, so as soon as the alpacas are released, the stables are cleaned, and the hay sacks are stuffed, we steal some chocolate and light the fire that warms this 400 year old farmhouse. I'll start checking the fire before bed as well -- perhaps that will keep my nose a neutral color.

I love talking with Joe. He's a young guy from New Hampshire who originally set off to spend two months volunteering in Ireland. He's nearly at his five month mark and isn't anywhere near finished.

It's always inspiring for me to share stories and dreams with other travelers, but I've been particularly inspired by Joe. He just doesn't seem to worry. He flies by the seat of his pants with an ease I can only dream of one day achieving and is so much braver than I am. He hitchhikes, wild camps and sets off for different countries with no set place to stay. I have every month of my life planned until February of 2016 (and a lot of loose plans thereafter) and I am still working up the courage to stand on the side of the road and hold out my thumb.

One day. Not today, but one day.

A few things I'm learning about alpacas:

• An alpaca is a camelid. Other members of the camelid club include dromedaries, bactrian camels, llamas, vicunas, and guanacos. 
• there are two types of alpaca. The Suri alpaca (also known as the "Bob Marley" alpaca) and the Huacaya alpaca (also known as "disappear when it rains" alpaca).
• Alpacas are little. I used to think that they could carry cargo up mountains like llamas, but they're much more fragile than their camelid cousins. Alpacas are bred for fiber and meat, not strength and stamina.
• When you breed an alpaca and a llama, you don't get a llapaca or an alpacama -- you get a huarizo. 
• Alpaca spit tastes nasty because it's not just saliva -- it's stomach acid. Yum. 
• These Dr. Seuss-esque animals cluck, scream, whine, hum and warble. I find all of these sounds hilarious. I'm not sure why.
• Alpacas chew in a figure eight. I find this hilarious. This is why: 

•  Alpacas can be unreasonably cute. I want to plunge my fingers into their coats and hug them, but they're not too fond of being touched. And I don't want stomach acid in my face, so I refrain. But who wouldn't want to cuddle these guys?

• Alpaca fleece is warmer than sheep's wool, isn't nearly as scratchy, and doesn't have any lanolin. Because of it's lack of lanolin, it doesn't repel water -- but it flame resistant. Which is kind of cool. 
• You can pay up to 500,000 dollars for a champion alpaca, although most go for a modest 3,000 - 4,000 an animal. 
• Alpacas are super clean animals. They're not like horses in that they poop anywhere they please, willy-nilly. These South American camelids have designated pooping areas. The whole herd convenes and agrees on the community toilet space -- and everyone seems to honor the agreement.

A few things I"m learning about Germany:

• Federweißer! This is a yeasty wine specific to southwest Germany and is effervescent, cloudy and refreshing. It must be sold as soon as the alcohol content reaches 4%, but allow it to ferment in your fridge for a bit longer and it could increase to 10%. Because Federweißer is carbonated, it cannot be stored in an airtight container (unless you're fond of explosions in your refrigerator) and should be kept in an upright position. As it can't really be transported (it shouldn't be stored for more than a few days) this "feather wine" is the epitome of a local, seasonal food experience. Julia told me that Federweißer is made entirely out of grapes harvested right after the first frost, so the plant's fear of winter makes them extra sweet.

• Zwiebelkuchen! This is a cake made of onions, caraway seeds, bacon and cream. It is eaten with a sparkling glass of federweißer. I couldn't eat the cake, but it looked and smelled delectable.

the perforated lid allows air to escape

federweißer and zwiebelkuchen!

• Spundekas! This is a German cheese dip made from quark, onion, garlic and paprika. It's traditionally consumed with bretzeln and washed down with white wine.

•  Halloween is this month, so I asked my host whether or not Germans celebrated this holiday. I was disappointed to hear that Halloween isn't big in this country. I suppose that this year will see me missing celebrations for fourth of July, Halloween, Thanksgiving and Christmas. Goodness.

And a couple more photos from here and there:

This dog is actually lavished with both love and food. Believe it or not. But this is the expression I get whenever I sit down to eat.

this cat really likes shoulders. Really likes shoulders. And has a habit of leaping up on them unannounced.

Preconceptions: Not all Germans like beer. My host much prefers a particular kind of German dry red wine to German beer.

But they do all appear to live off of bread. Brot. There are 600 main types of brot in Germany and they seem to break it out for every meal.

Challenges: none today