Monday, April 13, 2009

Animation

Animation used to have a much different meaning for me. Cartoons are what I always thought of. Since Turkey, though, animation has come to mean “Kindergruppe”.

In Turkey, there were people in our hotel who entertained both kids and adults. The kids had a play room where one person was on duty. The adults had people getting them to play darts and bachi ball on the beach. At night, the animation crew would lead adults in karoeke and dancing. Because it was off season, there were only ever a couple of other kids around so there wasn’t much appeal for Nikolas to hang out in the play room.

Here at Familhotel Sonnwies, it’s a very different story. First of all, it’s a family hotel. Second, it’s Easter vacation so kids are off from school. There isn’t a room in the hotel occupied by people without kids, so there are playmates of all sizes here.

The animation crew is made up of four young woman, all from South Tyrol although one seems to be primarily Italian-speaking.They’re all very nice and they play well with children. They publish the list of things to do each day so that you can read at breakfast what the crew has in store for the kids. This allows parents to talk up the activities to get them excited about leaving their parents for hours at a time and playing with people they’ve only just met.

Nikolas has had some reservations from time to time. The first and only cry came the second evening. It was the weekend so the only activities were playing in the late afternoon, eating dinner together, then playing afterward. We took Nikolas down to the enormous play area after dinner, knowing that he wouldn’t want to leave us for the meal. We signed the paperwork with contact and room numbers and I watched Nikolas out of the corner of my eye pacing around in circles. I said, “How you doing?” Instantly, his face crumpled up with sadness and he bawled and bawled. Poor guy! After some discussion, he agreed that he could play with all the fun stuff (building blocks, riding tractors, slide, games) if Papa sat out on the terrace (right outside the big window to the play room) and Mommy sat in the entrance room where kids took off their shoes.

By the next day, though, he’d gotten used to the idea. With visits to the animals in the morning, a pony ride, animal feeding, and a parachute game in the afternoon (with intermittent visits to Mommy and Papa to get some extra love), he was convinced that Kindergruppe wasn’t a bad thing at all! Since then, there have been some times when he wasn’t too sure if he wanted to go along with the kids, but he wasn’t alone. Everyday, we saw parents and their young kids dealing with some separation anxiety.

By the end of the week, he’d put together quite an impressive list of activities: feeding cows, pigs, and rabbits, sweeping the stall several times, riding ponies on three separate days, playing with homemade play-dough, brushing the horses, playing two types of lawn games, Easter activities (nest building, egg coloring, bread baking), playing in a big sandbox, jumping on trampolines, and eating several meals with other kids. I’d say he had quite a vacation. That’s not even mentioning swimming with us every morning and going into Brixen and Bolzano on day trips.

What it’s meant for us is that we’ve had some time to do our own things, some of which we’d almost forgotten we like to do such as read a paper! But we’re also not alone in this regard. A German mother of three young kids told me that she’s read three books this week, a feat she hasn’t been able to accomplish over the course of a year!

Sunday, April 12, 2009

Jauche-Mobile

One day when it was obvious to Frau Ballwein, our farmer landlady, that we three Americans didn’t know a lot about farming, she shook her head and said, “I’ve always said kids from the city should all spend a summer on a farm so that they can learn the birds and the bees!” This to me, someone who grew up in a town of about 500 people!

One thing I didn’t understand was liquid manure. Why would farmers in our area subject us to that horrible smell? They ride around in their fields spraying it into the wind, and that’s supposed to help the crops grow? Like Frau Ballwein said, I needed some educating.

Jauche as it’s called in German is where it’s at. If a farmer has cows and pigs, you better believe they are putting those animals’ manure to good use. They shovel it up, throw it into a big vat, and let it collect with rain water. What they have is free fertilizer.

I call the tractor and tank the Jauche-Mobile (like the Batmobile). Nikolas prefers calling it the Poop-Mobile.

Believe it or not, whenever I smell it now, it reminds me of home. I don’t think it’s gross any more. Frau Ballwein would be proud.

Saturday, April 11, 2009

Südtirol/Alto Adige

Things you don’t learn in high school…at least I didn’t: the northern part of Italy not only belonged to Austria until 1918, but it has remained German-speaking 90 years later.

Italians call the northern part of their country Alto Adige (The High Adige River) but the German-speaking inhabitants, whose parents, grandparents and great-grandparents were Austrian, call it Südtirol, or South Tyrol.

The Austrian state of Tyrol (capital: Innsbruck) is one of Austria’s nine states. It makes sense that the state under it would be called South Something (South Dakota, South Carolina). But usually that South Something still belongs to the same country. Not any more.

Austria, which is the size of Maine, used to be HUGE. In fact, it was called Austria-Hungary and it encompassed what is today the Czech Republic, Slovakia, bits of Poland, Hungary (of course), bits of Rumania, Slovenia, and much of Croatia and Bosnia. You can find old maps on the Internet that have the German place names for cities that today are really only known by their “new” name (Bratislava was Pressburg, Belgrade was Weissenburg, Ljubljana was Laibach).

However, in Südtirol, German place names are still very much alive. In fact, the Italian names are shunned by the German speakers and only reluctantly included on traffic signs. Whereas Slovakian is the language of Bratislava, Serbo-Croatian the language of Belgrade, and Slovenian the language of Ljubljana, German is still the language of the entire northern region of Italy. For this reason, they know their cities and towns as Brixen, Bozen, Sterzing, and Lüsen and NOT Bressanone, Bolzano, Vipetino, and Luson.

People from South Tyrol still have to learn Italian, if only to do well in school, although many schools in South Tyrol are primarily German. To hold any government job, people have to pass a civil service exam that is written in Italian. One man told me that they have the right to demand that the police speak to them in German if they ever get stopped. However, if you make pretend that you don’t understand anything they’re saying in Italian, you’re only asking for trouble!

Taking land away from countries as a punishment is something you don’t see any more. It’s actually kind of sadistic really. Why did people living in South Tyrol deserve being forced to change their nationality. It’s different than in WWII when much of what today is Poland was taken away from Germany. German-speakers from that region were all put on trains and transported to what we know today as Germany. Imagine you’re living in Maine and we go to war with Canada. We lose and as a result, Maine is ceded to Canada. Bordering Quebec, Maine now must become French-speaking? It wouldn’t happen.

In fact, there have existed since 1918 movements to make South Tyrol part of Austria again. In more recent times, though, because of the passage of time, separatists think less of becoming part of Austria and more about just being separate, similar to what exists in Quebec.

Random thought 1: like Austria, Südtirol has their own dialects. But interestingly enough, people here are more willing (and able?) than their Austrian counterparts to speak standard German to tourists.


Random thought 2: the fact that street and traffic signs, shop windows, posters, grocery flyers, government documents, etc. have to be presented in both German and Italian boggles my mind. There are other countries that have to do this, too, like Switzerland and Belgium. The cost must be enormous—I’m sure someone has calculated this. Maybe something for another blog.