The Reunion with My Bike

What a glorious event, the reunion with my bike! On the evening of January 1, 2014, I returned to Leuven by train from Munich. I arrived in the evening and took the bus to a friend's flat who was out of town for the holidays. The next day, I walked to the place where I had parked and locked my bike 6 1/2 months earlier. Would my trusty steed still be there? Or would there be a gaping hole where someone had broken the lock, picked up my bike and taken her away.

As I crossed the small bridge over a stream, I could see the bike rack had been moved from the covered location to outside the small building. I peeked around the corner and there she was in all her glory. My grey and black bike with bright pink flowered saddle bags. She was a little dirty and of course wet, it is Belgium after all, but she was there and I could tell anxious to be on the road again.

I should stop here and explain how important a bike is to the life of a person in Leuven. Without a bike in Leuven, you are a walker and probably a tourist because everyone has bikes here. It is like being a cowboy without a horse.

The University has 43,000 students and I bet at least 75% of them have bikes and this does not include every person under the age of 18 and adults in the community. We have bike parking for 2,500 bikes at the Leuven train station and I can never find a parking place - that's how many bikes we have here.

And of course, there is the history that I have with my bike. I bought her in late September 2007 when I came to the University. I took the bus to a bike shop 15 minutes outside of town, because it was the only one I knew of at the time and picked up my freedom machine for about 450 dollars. Of course, like many businesses here, he would only take cash. So I had to walk a half a mile to a cash machine that did not work and then find a second to withdraw the money that I needed. But in no time, with a pair of saddle bags, I was on my way and the world around Leuven was mine to discover.

A picture of my bike in front of a holiday high heel (I guess this is art) with St. Pieter's Church in the background.

My first major adventure was when I bought a large wooden horse collar with hand wrought iron hinges at the flea market. This is a horse collar made for a draft horse and was a steal at 30 Euros ($40). It also weighed about 30 lbs. So I balanced the horse collar on the stem and seat of my bike and walked the mile back to my flat. The horse collar was part of my life the 5 years I was in Leuven and it now resides in the basement of a friend's home as I try to figure out how to get it back to the U.S.

My bike carried me through driving rain storms, stayed upright as I skidded on snow covered cobblestones and carried me along the canals and trails around Leuven.The saddle bags carried groceries, wine and picnic items and the various treasures I found at the flea markets.

I wore out the peddles, the kick stand, one pair of saddle bags, two dynamo headlights and two tires. I have added a bike bell and tire reflectors that I salvaged from abandoned bikes. The seat is held together with duct tape but she runs like a dream. And when I get on her during my visits to Leuven, I feel like a 10 year old flying through the streets and alleys of the city.

My first couple of days back, I had to work the moisture out of the seat. I think the bike had been sitting outside for a couple of months based on the water that kept oozing out of the seat as I rode which is why I tried to find covered parking. Though a wet rear end in the shape of a bike saddle is actually a badge of honor in Leuven as it shows that you are not a fair weather rider but will brave all the elements.

So, as I wrap up my time in Leuven, I have been scoping out a safe place to leave my bike. I have found a new covered bike parking location and decided to purchase a second lock to deter any would be thieves. She is not the prettiest girl in the bike rack but is reliable and with so many good memories, I cannot imagine a visit to Leuven without her to share the adventures.

The Heiliger Abend (The Holy Evening)

I am back in Germany for my 12th Christmas and the highlight of the Christmas season here is the Heiliger Abend or Holy Evening. Though the title is a bit of a misnomer as the day, December 24th starts with the local church bell ringing at 6:00 am. I roll over but at 6:15, the bells ring with the urgency of an invasion and I have no choice but to get out of bed. I roll into the church, two blocks from my flat at precisely 6:30 am for Mass. By now the church is packed with probably 250 people and another 25 standing in the back.

Over the years, I have learned church etiquette in Germany. Heating is based on the body mass index, the more bodies, the warmer the church. But even a full church does not ensure a truly warm church. Do not stand by an outside wall as in a short period of time, you will feel like you are standing in front of a freezer with the door open. I have felt breezes coming through the church walls. Some years, it is so cold in the church that I can see my breath as I sing and attending midnight mass is more like going to a Green Bay Packer home game. The only item of clothing I was missing that year was my snowmobile suit. So no one takes their coat off and most wear hats and gloves.

The early morning mass is beautiful complete with a choir and organ. I do notice a few of the older women slipping to the back of the church after communion holding their cloth bags - a sure sign that the next stop is the bakery.

I am standing in the back of the church so I am well positioned for the next major event of Christmas Eve - the sprint to the bakery. Purchasing bread daily is an important part of the German diet and bakeries are closed on the 25th and 26th so stockpiling bread is very important.

Mass ends at 7:15 am and I am walking rapidly to Benedict Sikt, the best bakery in Partenkirchen based on the line outside the door on the 24th. I pass Tegelmann's the local grocery store which of course is already open. The bakery is two blocks and I arrive in time to be 4th in line. This is a very important exercise because in no time there will be 10 people in line. Also, I am feeling the pressure because once it is my turn to order, I need to know what I want and to be able to say it precisely in German. The bakery is amazing as there are probably 10 kinds of brochen or rolls and 10 kinds of bread. My order is modest in comparison to others but I still receive the complimentary small loaf of stollen the store gives away on the 24th.

By 7:30, I am on my way to my other food shopping stops like the butcher and the dairy store. The morning shopping is critical as most stores close between noon and 2:00 pm. Many family businesses close the 23rd and don't reopen until the 30th. In Bavaria, Christmas is about the coming of the Christ child and spending time with family and so the shopping exercise is really secondary once the 24th rolls around.

By 2:00 pm, even the cafes are closed and the streets are deserted as everyone heads home to decorate the tree or prepare the evening meal. At this time, I like to visit St. Anton's the Franciscan Church that is a 10 minute walk up the mountain. It is an interesting church because the covered walkway of the Church is filled with hand carved wooden plaques commemorating the fallen of World War II. Many plaques have a small holder where flowers can be placed. This time, I noticed two women decorating plaques with greens and small ornamental balls. I went back to look at one that had been decorated. There was a picture of a couple, she died at the age of 39 in 1945 during the bombing of a German city. He died 6 months later in Russia. I found myself wondering who was the family member that would be decorating this small memorial to a couple that was killed almost 70 years ago. This attention to detail and commemoration of the dead was the perfect lead-in to my next experience.

During morning coffee with my landlady and her husband, she encouraged me to attend a 5:30 pm, Christmas light ceremony at the local Catholic cemetery. So at 5:00 pm, I made my way to the cemetery. I had not been there before and so was trying to follow my map. Suddenly, I was part of a larger crowd, all walking in the same direction. It felt like the wave of people in the States who are going to the 4th of July concert and fireworks. I walked along with the crowd and as we entered the cemetery, people peeled off in different directions to find their respective family grave sites.

I moved toward the large tree in the center of the cemetery decorated with white lights and complete with the local Alpine band playing in traditional dress. The bell of the chapel started ringing at 5:30 pm followed by the band playing Christmas music. Family members would gather in a semi-circle in front of the grave site which was decorated with Christmas greens, a red 8 day vigil light (so-called because it burns for 8 days) and a miniature Christmas tree about 2 ft tall decorated with ribbons or ornamental balls and real candles. A family member would light the candle and then all would stand silently while the music played. This went on for 15 minutes, no one moved or said a word. The last song was Stille Nacht, (Silent Night) and after three verses the music stopped, everyone clapped and then amidst quiet talking, family members left and went home.

A small Christmas tree with lighted candles on a family grave site.

The large Christmas tree in the cemetery.

By 6:00 pm, as I walked down the pedestrian only street of Partenkirchen, the town seemed abandoned as everyone was safely in their homes and continuing their Heiliger Abend celebration. But the evening was not over. At 10:00 pm, the organ concert started in the church followed at 11:00 pm by the Christmas Eve mass filled with incense and the heart tugging singing of Silent Night in a church lit only by candles at the end of the service.

The Heiliger Abend in Germany is much more than an evening, it is a community celebration that permeates every aspect of the life of the community and I look forward to participating every year.

Of feasts and celebrations

In Northern Europe there are many feasts and celebrations, kind of like our federal holidays except more opportunities for a day off, a parade or a special kind of food. In the U.S. most federal holidays are an opportunity to buy sheets or mattresses on sale, in Belgium they eat, drink and have parades.
 
Since moving to Europe four and a half years ago, I have learned more about Catholic saints than I ever did in my Catholic catechism classes in the U.S.. Not that people here are particularly religious or attend church services, but saint feast days give them an opportunity to eat, drink and go to parades.
 
I will give you a few of my favorite feast days in November.

All Saints (Nov 1) and all Souls (Nov 2) Days were the first two holidays I encountered when I moved to Belgium. Of course I knew these holy days from my Catholic upbringing but here All Saints Day is a national holiday with all businesses closed. It is comparable to our Memorial Day without the white sales and shopping. Every grave is beautifully decorated with real flowers, as it seems that fake flowers are not socially acceptable.

My other memory of All Saints Day was when I was in Croatia about 10 years ago. We were driving down the road one night in a rural area and when we passed by a small cemetery it appeared that every grave was illuminated by red votive candles. It was a beautiful scene and a touching tribute to the family members buried there. Earlier that same day, I saw an older woman riding her bike to the cemetery and the front basket was overflowing with flowers that she would use to decorate the graves.

In Belgium, many families and church members spend the day visiting the cemeteries. I noticed that outside the cemeteries vendors even sell fresh flowers for people who could not get to the store before the holiday.

The next saint that I came across was St. Hubert, the patron saint of Belgium and hunters. His feast day is November 3 and on that particular day I was exploring Ghent and wandered into a Catholic church. I walked forward to examine the altar and I thought I saw a rack with dead pheasants. Hmmm, dead pheasants instead of votive candles? That’s a new one. I walked closer and sure enough 28 dead pheasants were tied to a rack about 6 ft high to the right of the altar. But even more impressive was the dead boar laying in front of the altar. I included the picture of the pheasants since I am sure you thought I exaggerated!

It was a Saturday and there was a man arranging various items and dead animals around the altar so I asked about the unusual decorations. Well, that night, there was a mass celebrating the feast of St. Hubert with all the local hunting clubs. He invited me to attend the mass and join them for a drink afterwards. I examined the banners located in the front of the church for the various hunting clubs and noticed that one dated back to 1725. I declined the invitation to return but I think of this feast day every November 3rd.
 
Traditionally, St. Hubert’s feast day is the start of stag hunting season. The other irony is that he was a wealthy nobleman who loved to hunt, got religion, stopped hunting and became a bishop. I know, I know, and he is the patron saint of hunters because....let’s just say that life here is full of contradictions.

Continuing with the theme of November saints, November 11 is the feast of St. Martin of Tours who was a Roman soldier who cut his cloak in half to share with a beggar during a snowstorm. It turns out the beggar was Christ and the Roman soldier later converted to Christianity and became a monk.

But the fun part of the feast day is the night before. In Northern Europe, particularly Germany, the tradition is that children make lanterns and go door-to-door singing songs and receiving sweets in return. I live in basically a small walled city about 6 blocks by 4 blocks and we celebrate St. Martin’s Eve by processing through the Begijnhof (which is what this area is called). We gather at the church and the University Carillon Master starts to play as adults and children walk through the streets for about 45 minutes. The Germans in the group know the songs and the children sing right along. The adults shuffle behind the children looking forward to the glühwein at the end but, of course, the children are given hot chocolate! Apparently in Germany, the procession is led by a man dressed as a Roman solder on a white horse, which is really dramatic.

The only holiday missing in Belgium in November is Thanksgiving. Though most people in Belgium know of our American Thanksgiving and wish that they had a similar day.

Next, December traditions...