Killing Time in Celle
Sep. 1st, 2019 12:16 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ashetlandpony1 September 1989
I didn't realize it until I turned on the TV in my hotel room that morning, but this day – 1 September 1989 – was the 50th anniversary of the beginning of World War II. Now I sensed the reason the staff here had seemed so subdued when I checked in the night before. Today, they were downright somber. (Germans don't take kindly to being shamed, but this anniversary forced them to recall and confront their nation's collective guilt for the devastation it wrought on Europe two generations past.)
All the TV stations were covering the historic commemoration. Then, during my channel surfing, I came across a black and white signal of distinctly poor quality. It turned out to be East German state television's coverage of the anniversary! Wow. I knew we were close to the border here in Celle, but seeing this broadcast from behind the Iron Curtain really brought the division between East and West home to me.
My accommodations for the colloquium wouldn't be ready until late this afternoon, so I had a lot of time to kill today. After breakfast and writing a letter to my friend, Paul, I went for a stroll around Celle. It was a charming old pastoral town, but curiously, the streets were mostly deserted, probably due at least in part to the solemn remembrance previously noted.
Half-timbered houses in present-day Celle, Germany. Photo by Pschemp at Wikimedia Commons.
As I perambulated, one thing I quickly noticed – and which rather amused me – was how much I physically blended in with the local populace. Everyone had my same fair complexion and hair color. Even men who wore spectacles typically had 'granny glasses' like mine. The townsfolk were very neighborly to me, too, smiling and saying "Guten Morgen," usw. But you should have seen the looks on their faces when the person I'm sure they thought was local replied in German with an American accent! Much amusement followed when I'd tell them I was really a Yank, and say something in American English. Then they were even more welcoming and friendly! Such delightful people. I never forgot that warm feeling I got from almost everyone I met in Lower Saxony. It really felt like home to me... and made me imagine that maybe, just maybe, this area of Germany really was the home of my biological ancestors...
My passport photo from 1989. Bin ich eigentlich ein verirrter Niedersachsener?
Lunch at the hotel was a different experience. At the restaurant's entrance was a tall aquarium containing two or three dozen domesticated individuals of the species Salmo trutta. Having taken a couple of courses in ichthyology at Humboldt State, and personally studying critters who ate a lot of fish, I had a strong academic interest in matters piscatorial, so I took a distinct pleasure at watching the sub-carangiform motions of the silvery-scaled trout as they swam lazily around their glassy enclosure.
After being seated and now fancying fish, I ordered a dish called "Forelle." I confess, that particular word had not yet entered my German vocabulary, otherwise I wouldn't have been so surprised when the waiter brought my plate and upon it found two of the very same trout I had enjoyed watching in their tank only minutes before. Huh. So, these fish had been killed and cooked just for me. I was a little bummed by that thought, despite being a biologist who was intimately familiar with the circle of life. I much preferred seeing them alive than as bony carcasses on my plate, and wished then that I'd ordered something else. (My unwitting victims were tasty, though!)
Finally, after packing, and with nothing else left to do, I sat in the lobby with my luggage, read a few pages of "Ring of Bright Water" that I'd brought along on my trip, and waited for my ride to the colloquium venue. It was at that time that I met another of the attendees who also happened to be staying at the Celler Tor: a colleague by the name of Clarence Wright, who I had heard of but had thus far not had the pleasure of meeting. I knew him to be a good friend and associate of otter expert Joseph A. Davis, Jr., with whom I'd been carrying on a correspondence for going on 10 years. Both Joe and Clarence were curators of mammals at zoos in Chicago: Joe at Brookfield, and Clarence at Lincoln Park.
Anyway, as was typical of people who worked with otters, Clarence was a chipper and friendly fellow, and we hit it off immediately. We would share many good times at the conference, and I remember him with great fondness. Then, around 1500, our ride came, and off we went to Otter Ground-Zero.
I didn't realize it until I turned on the TV in my hotel room that morning, but this day – 1 September 1989 – was the 50th anniversary of the beginning of World War II. Now I sensed the reason the staff here had seemed so subdued when I checked in the night before. Today, they were downright somber. (Germans don't take kindly to being shamed, but this anniversary forced them to recall and confront their nation's collective guilt for the devastation it wrought on Europe two generations past.)
All the TV stations were covering the historic commemoration. Then, during my channel surfing, I came across a black and white signal of distinctly poor quality. It turned out to be East German state television's coverage of the anniversary! Wow. I knew we were close to the border here in Celle, but seeing this broadcast from behind the Iron Curtain really brought the division between East and West home to me.
My accommodations for the colloquium wouldn't be ready until late this afternoon, so I had a lot of time to kill today. After breakfast and writing a letter to my friend, Paul, I went for a stroll around Celle. It was a charming old pastoral town, but curiously, the streets were mostly deserted, probably due at least in part to the solemn remembrance previously noted.
Half-timbered houses in present-day Celle, Germany. Photo by Pschemp at Wikimedia Commons.
As I perambulated, one thing I quickly noticed – and which rather amused me – was how much I physically blended in with the local populace. Everyone had my same fair complexion and hair color. Even men who wore spectacles typically had 'granny glasses' like mine. The townsfolk were very neighborly to me, too, smiling and saying "Guten Morgen," usw. But you should have seen the looks on their faces when the person I'm sure they thought was local replied in German with an American accent! Much amusement followed when I'd tell them I was really a Yank, and say something in American English. Then they were even more welcoming and friendly! Such delightful people. I never forgot that warm feeling I got from almost everyone I met in Lower Saxony. It really felt like home to me... and made me imagine that maybe, just maybe, this area of Germany really was the home of my biological ancestors...
My passport photo from 1989. Bin ich eigentlich ein verirrter Niedersachsener?
Lunch at the hotel was a different experience. At the restaurant's entrance was a tall aquarium containing two or three dozen domesticated individuals of the species Salmo trutta. Having taken a couple of courses in ichthyology at Humboldt State, and personally studying critters who ate a lot of fish, I had a strong academic interest in matters piscatorial, so I took a distinct pleasure at watching the sub-carangiform motions of the silvery-scaled trout as they swam lazily around their glassy enclosure.
After being seated and now fancying fish, I ordered a dish called "Forelle." I confess, that particular word had not yet entered my German vocabulary, otherwise I wouldn't have been so surprised when the waiter brought my plate and upon it found two of the very same trout I had enjoyed watching in their tank only minutes before. Huh. So, these fish had been killed and cooked just for me. I was a little bummed by that thought, despite being a biologist who was intimately familiar with the circle of life. I much preferred seeing them alive than as bony carcasses on my plate, and wished then that I'd ordered something else. (My unwitting victims were tasty, though!)
Finally, after packing, and with nothing else left to do, I sat in the lobby with my luggage, read a few pages of "Ring of Bright Water" that I'd brought along on my trip, and waited for my ride to the colloquium venue. It was at that time that I met another of the attendees who also happened to be staying at the Celler Tor: a colleague by the name of Clarence Wright, who I had heard of but had thus far not had the pleasure of meeting. I knew him to be a good friend and associate of otter expert Joseph A. Davis, Jr., with whom I'd been carrying on a correspondence for going on 10 years. Both Joe and Clarence were curators of mammals at zoos in Chicago: Joe at Brookfield, and Clarence at Lincoln Park.
Anyway, as was typical of people who worked with otters, Clarence was a chipper and friendly fellow, and we hit it off immediately. We would share many good times at the conference, and I remember him with great fondness. Then, around 1500, our ride came, and off we went to Otter Ground-Zero.
