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Posts Tagged ‘Munich’

Wit soos sneeu

Terwyl ons hier onder die Afrika son uitbraai, en soms natreën, stuur sus Cobie fotos van `n sprokies winterwêreld uit Duitsland. Iets baie vreemd vir ons kinders van Afrika.

Voor die sneeu kom, kom die ryp, maar nie so ieffie-ieffie soos ons dit ken nie. Hulle ryp lyk soos sneeu by ons.

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En toe kom die sneeu. Gewoonlik gebeur die groot sneeu eers in Februarie en Maart, maar so elke 4 jaar kom dit vroeg in Januarie soos hierdie jaar. Sprokiesland.

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Terug in Afrika sak die son oor 2016.

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Somervreugde

Mens wonder nogal hoe word die weer deesdae voorspel. Laasweek was die voorspelling vir ons van Maandag to Woensdag 60% kans op reën, en al wat ons kry is hierdie paar spatsels wolkies.

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En toe kom die reën tog eendag so spoeg-spoeg hier aan. Nie genoeg om damme mee vol te maak nie, maar het jy nou al ooit in jou lewe n kaktus gesien wat so verskriklik bly kan wees oor n paar druppels reën.

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n Glimlag vol goud.

In Pretoria waar Malema en sy trawante volgende week die stad gaan afbreek, staan die Jakarandas pers van somervreugde. Sal hulle die blomme sien? Sal hulle die Jakarandas ruik, die nuwe lewe van die nuwe seisoen voel ontwaak en voort jubel na die winterslaap? Ons het tog veel te leer van die natuur … dankbaarheid en vreugde selfs vir min.

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In Munich, soos in die res van Europa maak die natuur gereed vir sy winterslaap, maar eers verf hy die landskap in die mooiste kleure, n afskeidsgeskenk aan die wat die winter sonder slaap moet aandurf.

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Goeie nag. Slaap rustig.

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Volgende week doen ek hier n kort resensie oor hierdie uitstekende boek van Gerbrand Bakker.

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Seisoene

Maak ons toe `n vinnige draai (en stadige braai) by die Vaaldam. Die dag begin uitstekend met somerson wat windloos op ons neerskyn. Uitstekend vir braai en kuier. Maar dis verder as wat ons gedink het, want die plek is aan die oorkant van die wal op die verste punt van die dam waar daar darem nog water is. Die dam, sê hulle, is nou 29% vol water en dus teoreties baie meer vol vis as voorheen. Maar die mense wat lyne natmaak vang niks. Hulle dink die vis lê en “tan” op die groot nuwe eilande wat te voorskyn gekom het soos die water sak.

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Doer ver weg lê die water onder die helder son. Ons sit onder die afdak en kuier en begin stadig regmaak om te braai.

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En toe kom die wind, so n regte Vrystaatse stofstorm wat selfs die dam benewel.

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Toe pak ons maar op en gaan braai in die huis. Gelukkig is daar n braaiplek wat toegebou is. En toe het mens die keuse om of in die rook gevulde braaiplek met trane in jou oë in die te staan, of om buite in die wind en stof te gaan staan tot jou oë traan.

En intussen, terwyl die wind ons verwaai, word dit herfs in Duitsland.

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Die blare verkleur lieflik terwyl die Begonias nog hulle laaste blomme vertoon voor die sneeu kom.

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Sus Cobie se tuin in Munich. Sy moet die blare hark en optel, maar los dit vir eers omdat dit spatsels kleur so mooi is. En iewers in die bos hou Maria wag. Die Duitsers is lief vir hulle beelde

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Dit sneeu in Munich by sus Cobie en Johan terwyl ons hier in SA uitbraai onder die ongenaakbare son.

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Die blou tuinbankie is nou `n wonderlike wit tuinbankie.

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Maar gelukkig is daar `n plek soos Hofbräuhaus om die koue te besweer.

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Die tafel is gedek, maar die man sien nie kans daarvoor om aan te sit nie.

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Ons van sonnige SA kry swaar in die koue Europa. Tog kry ons ook nie genoeg van die pragtige wit landskap nie.

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Daarom bly ons maar liewer by Hofbräuhaus en hou die lyf warm.

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The Red Cap and the Fairy Castle

In a desperate bid to absorb another miniscule part of European history, we dash excitedly towards one of the most beautiful, albeit unfinished castles of Germany, Schloss Neuswschanstein, the fairy tale construct in the foothills of the magnificent Alps. We are tourists, we must see, we must take pictures. We must, like heroes, partake in the glory and agony of dead people.

We are blessed with another beautiful day filled with vibrant sunshine. The gods have been very generous towards us with exquisite days of sunshine during our little tour of Europe so far. We are humbled for we are unworthy. In the meantime, like mad King Ludwig II who built this place, we keep an eye on the dark clouds gathering on the horizon.

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The country we travel through is heavenly gorgeous, and greener than the greenest envy of the most envious man or woman on earth. You can almost hear the fairies giggle in the tall grass and shrubs along the way.

We travel through the sleepy town of Hohenschwangau, consisting mainly of upper class guesthouses, rundown pubs and posh restaurants. A quiet heaven for weary tourists and popular hunting grounds for bloodthirsty preachers and witch hunters of years gone by, all of them, thank God, eventually hunted down themselves by the relentless hunter in black with the unwavering scythe. Were they glorified on arrival up there, or were they mortified like they should have been the bastards, one wonders.

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At the foot of the Alpine foothills we stop to admire the Romanesque Schloss Neuschwanstein high up in the Alpine mountains (or then Alpine foothills, if you like). And it is here that I, the world renowned Red Cap come to my glorious right with an admiring crowd of photographers going on their knees around me to immortalise me against the backdrop of the preposterous dream that King Ludwig II of Bavaria dared to dream. I just loved it and revelled in the attention showered onto me. I felt like a king.

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Then it was all excitement as we move on to buy tickets for a tour of the castle while a light drizzle of rain started coming down to try, without success, to dampen our high spirits a bit, but then our spirits were really dampen when no tickets were available for any immediate tour. After much deliberation it was decided that, due to time constraints and concerns that my moronic old man with his bad leg, bad heart (and if you ask me, his serious lack of precocity) would not be able to climb the couple of hundred meters uphill to the castle, the project be abandoned and to return to München.

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What a waste. I so wanted to visit that way-out mad castle, built by that mad King. People regarded by the high and mighty as mad (especially mad kings), are my favourite historical figures. Kings, by definition, are a mad lot and this King Ludwig sounds to me like the most sane king in the history of Bavaria. Thus, to my mind, to be regarded as mad by people even madder than himself, he must have been an exceptionally, insanely sane man. He loved art, he loved peasants, and most of all he loved Wagner. Think Tannhäuser, think glorious Lohengrin, think Tristan and Isolde. How mad must you be not to love this music!

But of course he was a fool, an incurable optimistic one. He did not want to make war, he hated it, and when he did succumb to pressure, he lost the war and virtually his kingship. The next time he did, he won the war but finally lost his kingdom and his sanity. Serves him right the retard, believing like a fool in the goodness of all people, and trusting politicians to be honourable servants of the King, the Country and the people. He lost everything, even his optimism and started to concentrate on the building of his exorbitantly lavish castles, his dream world where all was good and noble and beautiful. Of course he was mad. In a world filled with brutal men who loved bloody wars and plundering, Ludwig II’s world was a vulgar intrusion.

So we went home and drank some wine, and pondered the madness of the word, and drank some more wine to be able to sleep through the darkness of being. Tomorrow will be our last day in Munich. We will be going home late in the afternoon, back to an equally dark future in our beloved, blood drenched Africa.

Me, I am sitting pretty on a badly balding head, looking, listening, judging. I exist on this planet to teach wrong-headed optimists the error of their obtuse convictions.

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The old man, my moron, is fading. Traveling all over Europe at a hectic pace is taking its toll on his old bones. So much to see, so much to do and so little staying power. Pathetic. We set off early in the morning again, this time into the heart of Munich for an exquisite cultural experience. We are going to visit some very old masters living in the Alte Pinakhotek. This is really up my street, something my artistic soul can appreciate. This will, as it were, put the cap on our little tour of this part of Europe. We meander, we gape, we drool, we admire, but we do not touch, though the urge to do so is sometimes overwhelming. Duitsland 2014

Me and David next to a great piece of art by the great old man Rembrandt van Rijn

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Resting in front of these eternal works of art by van Dijk, (I think) halfway through the museum. It is indeed overwhelming. So many works of art to see, so little capacity to store for later retrieval and rumination, but an experience not to be missed by any one with but a pinch of feeling in his soul for the finer things in life.

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Elsewhere my moron wrote extensively on our visit to Alte Pinakhotek. He even made a slide show of the event. I hate to admit, but his story and show was not to bad. You can go and look for it here on this site if you really have nothing better to do.

Duitsland 2014Just look at this one. No not the damn tits, look at the man on the extreme right. The man with the red cap. Doesn’t it just give him that distinguished look! Must be an ancestor of mine adorning the head of a philosopher.

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Outside the museum we say our farewells to the masters of art. We will probably never see them again. We are extremely thankful for the opportunity awarded us to enjoy this memorable experience. We will go to our graves remembering this … unless Altzheimer’s gets to us to claim our memories, before the man with the scythe turns up to claim our souls.

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Sneeu in Munich

Sus Cobie laat weet dat dit bitter koud is daar in die land van die Germane. Hulle kry hierdie jaar meer sneeu as verlede jaar, maar natuurlik nie so baie soos wat hulle elke Winter in China beleef het nie.

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Selfs die temperature in Duitsland is `n matige -7 grade C teenoor China waar dit soms tot -27 gedaal het.

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In hulle klein tuintjie waar die eekhoringkies in die somer speel, staan die beelde so half verdrietig in die sneeu.

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Ons sonlanders kan maar nie die versoeking weerstaan om in die sneeu te loop speel nie, al wil die vingers af val van die koue. Hier het sy die koue trotseer om vir ons `n foto van haar sneeuman te stuur.

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Intussen, terug in sonnige SA:

Vroeg oggend op pad braai die son die sweet uit jou uit.

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Laatmiddag en donderwolke bring `n effense lafenis as die son begin sak.

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