Part 3: Munster
I live in a very modern city, where unfortunately, during a previous 1970s based economic boom, most of Perth’s old, (relative to European colonisation of Australia – 1829 for Perth), buildings were torn down and replaced with modern steel, concrete and glass. Clinical and antiseptic in look, a side effect, was the creation of ‘wind tunnels’ along the streets of one of the world’s windiest cities and an almost complete lack of character. Thankfully the port city of Fremantle (14kms down the Swan River from the Perth CBD), avoided this fate, her old buildings were conserved and face-lifted, the result being that Fremantle (Freo to us locals) has character and ambience, while Perth is clean, modern and yes, very pretty, but lacking in style and character, something is missing.
Of course, what Australia offers, is a land beyond ancient. When one visits Europe, you’re aware of how young the land is, positively immature compared to Australia. Yes, it will be another thousand years before Australians can realistically hope to offer visitors genuine historic buildings, but Europe can never offer the sense of timeless age and Earth-mother knowledge the Great Southern land imparts to perceptive visitors. It’s all about that sense of place and of course, each place is so very different.
Some places, where the people must dwell and live with impossibly harsh winters, build hard, bleak stone-walling buildings, facing aggressively off to the snow and ice. Scotland is a perfect example, with the notable exception of Edinburgh, bleak, grey / black granite buildings, with small windows, (think Aberdeen), offer no hint of vibrant life, only on entry into a building, do they come to life and tell a human tale.
The Germans, on the other hand, have perfected an undoubted art of giving the exteriors of their old (and new buildings) a charm and elegance, using colour and cultural architecture. The streets of Munster are an absolute treasure trove of charming ambience, colour and history. Everywhere you look, there is a photographic opportunity, the human history envelopes you, it’s utterly intoxicating, medieval narrow, cobble stone streets are not replaced with tar and cement, they are repaired, the cars must cope.
Cars? Surprisingly, for a nation that excels in fast, big, luxury cars and offers some of the world’s greatest motorways (superb, fast autobahns), Munster is not a city of cars. Oh yes, they’re around, but it’s the ‘shopping basket’ little car that is king, but God, they’re all dark, grey, silver or black. It’s as if Munster people are emphatically stating, “We are a serious people, we don’t do colour,” yet their buildings say quite the opposite. Oh there are some coloured cars – noisy Mercedes Benz diesel taxis, in the most dreadful, bland, awful, tasteless beige! All very disconcerting for a car lover like me – I wonder what the reaction would be, if I drove my bright yellow, black racing striped Falcon through Munster?
So, no cars as such, what do they use for transport? Trains? as I’ve mentioned before, a fantastic train service. Buses? Yes, plenty of those, travelling impossibly narrow streets, fighting a losing battle with the dominant mode of transport – bicycles! Yep, riding along on my pushbike honey. And make no mistake, there are some honeys riding their bikes along the streets of Munster.
The ladies seem to have perfected the art of combining elegance, fashion and sensuality with riding a pushbike. And safety helmets are not legally demanded. As Perth people know, one of the greatest negatives against pushbike riding, is the legal requirement to wear safety helmets which make everyone look stupid, so many don’t ride, which is a shame. Here, even on the darkest windswept winter’s day, Muster people ride just with earmuffs, or sometimes balaclava type cloth head gear, but most of the time,, the gorgeous ladies just have their hair tied back in a pony tail, it’s all quite delicious.
The downside is that bikes are everywhere, parked everywhere, taking up every free space in laneways, street corners, building sides etc. There are specific bicycle paths and heaven help you if, as a pedestrian, you step into them! Make no mistake, here in Munster the bike is King, Queen and Ruler!
The city topography is almost perfect for bikes, much like Christchurch in New Zealand (known as Bicycle City), it’s basically flat and Munster is also a university city, so it all makes logical and ecological sense. Ann tells me there is a social downside, in that bicycle theft rates are high, so high that Munster registers very high on German crime rate statistics, purely because of the abnormal bicycle ownership and consequent theft.
Munster has another connection with Christchurch – churches and cathedrals, although Munster is traditionally a Roman Catholic stronghold, indeed there is an horrific reminder of monstrous medieval Catholic practices right in the heart of the city. Hans pointed up above the clock on Lamberti Church in the main square, at three large cages suspended on hooks. 500 years ago, would be Protestants were tortured with fire, then left dead, or to die and rot in the cages, as a gentle reminder to the good people of Munster that Catholicism was the natural order of things. I guess in a city this old, there will always be dark passages, speaking of which, yes, the city was heavily bombed during the second world war, as there was a large Luftwaffe base in the town, but they rebuilt the old buildings which is marvellous.
Food and wine? My word, in abundance and cheap! Eating and drinking in Munster really brings into perspective the atrociously high prices we pay in Perth and you can buy very pleasant South Australian ‘quaffing wine’ for $2.50AUS! Munster people are shocked when Ann and I tell them what dining out costs in Perth. Then there are house prices and rents, far, far below Perth prices. I am confronted with the fact that no matter what that uninformed, vapid New South Wales Premier may think. Perth is a very, very expensive city to live in, compared to much of Europe, all a bit of a shock to a complacent Aussie.
Eating is very much a cultural exchange experience – it’s not done to feed the body, rather feed the soul, the main meal may well be at 2.30pm, after a breakfast at 9.00am of bread, cheeses and coffee, all very civilised. The only real surprise is the obvious lack of interest in wine, it’s there, everybody likes a glass, but the drink is beer. I’m finding that my hosts make special allowances for me (as a non- beer drinker) and ensure there is wine at the table for me.
The language barrier (mine, not the people I’m mixing with – they all speak English in various degrees of proficiency), is proving to be a non-event and, as I’ve discovered previously, I am very comfortable with German people, I like them and really feel at home with them – although socially, my complete lack of interest in soccer might test some!
Yesterday (Saturday), it was bleak, cold and wet, I wondered about going outside. The previous day, Ann and I had stayed the night at her apartment in Munster, venturing out in the morning to visit the Picasso Museum – I digress, there was an exhibition of the artist Paul Klee on, but it was mostly pen and ink. I like his colour work, but came away from this exhibition slightly bored and disinterested, thinking he needed to get a life. Serious Klee scholars would no doubt find the exhibition wonderful.
Anyhow, back to the story. After we came out of the exhibition, we went to the chain café Nord See, a great example of how cheap good, pleasant food is in Germany – fresh, fresh battered fish, beautiful salads, two side bowls of different dressing, a desert, plus a glass of wine - less the $10.00AUS. Sure, it wasn’t the Ritz and the décor was screamed IKEA, but value for money and fresh food, you bloody beauty!
But, as we came out onto the street, the cold winter finally got to me and I asked Ann of we could just go back to her place and rest. Hibernation was beginning to strike me as a great concept – wake me when spring is here. It was quite a mental effort to get going again later that afternoon to catch the train back to her dad’s place in Warendorf (about 25kms away).
Back to yesterday morning, Hans rang Ann and suggested I might like to see what he was working at and would be round to pick me up within about 20 minutes. Sure enough, there he was 20 minutes later, waiting for me … with a rifle! “Shit!,” I thought, “The bastard’s going to shoot me!” But no, although he is a hunter, he also understands the value of conservation and is running a private conservation programme for a multi-millionaire landowner friend of his, with about 150hectares of farmland and forest, just out of Warendorf.
It was fascinating, although bloody cold on the John Deere and the buildings! Look at the photos, fantasyland, like something out of Hansel and Gretel, with a touch of Salvador Dali. I’ve gotta meet this bloke and will, at Hans’ 70th birthday next Saturday. He runs Highland cattle as well, indeed the ‘boys’ seemed to recognise me, but then I love working with cattle.
Last night was very special, Hans and Brigitte threw a Welcome Party for me, with Ann inviting close friends to come and meet the lunatic Australian bloke she’d got mixed up with. I wondered whether anyone would turn up – back home in Perth, we’d NEVER come out in weather like that, but these tough bloody Germans! In they rolled with presents of wine, Brigitte and cooked a sensational chillie curry, with accompanying salads and garlic bread. Yep, everyone drank beer, except yours truly. I had met three of the girls the other night, but not their partners and other ladies. It was almost 2.00am before we staggered into bed, after Holger had told me where the castles were – I WANT TO SEE CASTLES!! – and I had introduced them all to Malt whiskey. Most agreed that their liking for decent malts was probably still some years away (what were they inferring??), all agreed the Glen Morangie was special and a couple – Holger especially, were very taken with the Laphroig.
And now it’s midday Sunday, shortly I’ll take a wander around the narrow lanes of Warendorf, shoot a few photos, then this evening, we’re off to the country, for a night or two at Brigitte’s country home. I couldn’t live here, the winter is just too much for me, but I could sure as hell spend several months here each year, it feels very comfortable and welcoming.
