Taking Back the Mountain

Here is a short video report I put together from the footage I shot climbing the Brocken with Brocken Benno.

Maisingen am Molkenhaus

Near the base of the Brocken--just above Bad Harzburg--is the Moklenhaus. On the fifth of May, the Harzklub of Bad Harzburg hosted the 24th Annual May Sing. It was a German Folks Festival at it's finest. Here is a little video I threw together to give you all an idea of the festivities. Enjoy!

(With Brocken Benno)

Walpurgisnacht

A few days ago, April 30th to be precise, was Walpurgisnacht here in the Harz. This had been one of the most anticipated moments of my project, as it is perhaps one of the biggest festivals the Harz is known for--so much so that Walpurgisnacht is featured in Faust part 1 from Goethe.

To elaborate on the legend of Walpurgisnacht--which has nordic origins--it is the night in which all the witches in the world gather at the Hexentanzplatz (witches dancefloor) in Thale before taking flight at Midnight to the Brocken Mountain. Around the summit of the Brocken, the witches dance for the Devil, who then selects one of the witches to be his Bride for the year.

Before I came to Germany for the first time as an exchange student, Walpurgisnacht was the first thing I read about regarding the Harz region. I looked forward to the festival for the whole year I was here, and then on the day of the festival I found out no one in the family I was living in had any desire to go. I decided to do it alone, but only managed to make it to a couple of smaller celebrations in a few of the less known towns.

This year, I decided to go all out and celebrate the night in Thale at the Hexentanzplatz--the festival of festivals for Walpurgis.

I received the advice from several friends to leave early for Thale, since the Tanzplatz fills up faster than any of the other festival locations (fun fact: George Clooney and crew tried to celebrate the night in Thale, but it was at capacity when they arrived and they had to go elsewhere. They were in disguise, so no one knew, but I can still say I got into a party old George couldn't get into. Source: Halberstadt Volkstimme.)

I took the two o'clock train to Thale, arrived at three, and decided to hike up the to Tanzplatz--about 3 miles. When I got to the festival gates, I learned there was a 20 euro entrance fee. I paid, using most the money I brought figuring there would be an ATM inside. There wasn't. Slightly annoyed, I realized I had to return to the town below to get more cash for the night, and because I was still early I was unable to use any of the shuttles that were meant for the festivities. Back down the mountain, I walked through the old town corner of Thale and explored the Walpurgisnacht market they had going on before returning to festival above.

I will admit, the 20 euro entrance had shocked me, but the prices of refreshments once inside were extremely reasonable. A half liter of beer was 2 euros and a brat was be had for 2.50. The Western Idaho Fair could learn something here.

Aside from a small pair of devil horns, I didn't dress up for the occasion, opting instead to wear layers of warmer clothes incase I ended up having to sit the night at the train station later. But everywhere there were witches and devils merrymaking and posing for photos. There was some great diversity in the witches costumes, from the typical green wicked witch of the west, to the Babba-Yagga peasant woman sort of witch, to the dreadlocked new age Wiccan. I felt like I had gone from Germany to the North End of Boise in 1.2 seconds. (One thing that was not to be seen was the "slutty witch" that would have likely run amuck if this festival were in the US.)

(Go to Germany, meet girls.)

There was a kids corner where the little ones could make their own brooms and have their faces painted. Music played in every corner, and there were plenty of fires burning to keep everyone warm. On the main stage, the regional radio DJ's acted as Emcees for the night, introducing bands and announcing the various dance performances. By 8 pm there were about 20,000 people within the festival. At 9 there was an amazing sunset that highlighted the Brocken in the distance and added to the atmosphere.

I met up with a few folks I had met during my travels here in the Harz. The antique handler out of Ellrich in the South was very excited to see me taking part in the folk festival. I also met up with some folks out of Halberstadt who are working on parts of my film project with me. We all talked, enjoyed the food and beer that was offered, and rated the various witch costumes.

From 11:30 to midnight, there was a spectacular performance of the final scenes of Faust. Lasers, intricate costumes, fire dancing and acrobatics were all part of the performance before ending in a dance party at midnight were several of the now somewhat inebriated witches mounted their brooms and ran around the grounds. The party continued on the Hexentanzplatz until the early hours of the morning, but I left at about 12:30 too meet up with some other friends back down in the village. At 2 am I caught the second to the last train back to Halberstadt.

All in all, it was a very fun night, and I am glad I decided to spend it in Thale. It's amazing to think how popular the several hundred year old festival still is, and I can't help but wonder what it may have looked like back in the day.

Where Are you Going, Where Have you Been?

Over the past couple of years, Hollywood and NBC have offered several variations of the works of the Brothers Grimm, in some cases slightly skewing the reasoning behind their work. Don’t get me wrong, I love that these stories continue to be told; and, as I have stated before, a true story is always open to be reinterpreted and altered. If I were to point fingers at someone for changing the Grimm brothers’ work to appease a contemporary audience I would begin with Disney, but I love those films so I will simply hold back. Rather, it is more the shows that depict the Brothers Grimm as Van Helsing type figures in a fanciful universe that I feel do the most to really tarnish the legacy and work of Wilhem and Jacob, so I think it is important to quickly clarify what it was they were up to when they wrote their books of fairy tales. Some of this may be review for you, but bear with me.

First, the stories written by the Grimm Brothers were not of their own creation, rather they were traditional tales that were fairly well known across Europe and what is now modern day Germany. Second, the initial purpose of collecting these stories was actually a study of linguistics, and a way to document the variance of regional dialect within the German language. By using commonly told tales as a control, the distinctions and differences in how the stories were relayed would hold the answers to their linguistic study. Lastly, and what I find most noteworthy, the tales were published because the Grimm brothers sensed an end to the spoken form of retaining a story, as print media was becoming more and more common. Hence, they used the printed form as a means to ensure the stories would not be lost as traditional storytelling began to fall out.

How does this relate to my study in the Harz? When I first began this project I intended to encounter and record the old stories first hand through a traditional spoken source. This has proven very difficult because, as the Grimm brothers predicted, the Harz inhabitants rely entirely on the written form to hold the old stories. Generally, when I have asked to have a story told—particularly one that relates to a specific town or location—I am referred to a book. When I insist on a spoken example, the tale is generally summarized in a 10-15-sentence form. It is not that these stories are forgotten or unknown, rather the art of storytelling has given way to more contemporary means of transfer. This makes one wonder what really is starting to vanish, the subject or the medium. Clearly the stories are safe, and I can access them at any time from print, but has this means of archiving cost us the spoken form of these stories? Are we too reliant on the security of the solid and tangible medium that we are losing an art form as a result?

I have studied storytelling enough to answer this question with a confident “no,” but the spoken form of stories is like the vinyl record to music—or the 8mm film to the home movie. It exists, but it kept alive by only in a small sect of people. In the 1970’s, we experienced the great storytelling revival in the United States, and today thousands of people practice the art—to the extent that across the nation annual festivals are held, bringing these people together to further practice and share the craft.  

(here is an old news report of mine exploring the storytelling community)

I don’t find this to be as pervasive here in Germany, which is likely why it has been so difficult to find anyone who can truly tell me these old stories in a traditional form. Perhaps Germany and Europe will experience their own storytelling revival. It might only be a matter of time before people with interest in the craft find one another and make it happen. Until then, my study will push more towards documenting the human experience of the people living in this region with such rich folk heritage, and try to find parallels between their lives and the tales that define their homelands.

Tourism plays a large roll here. The more popular stories that relate to heavily visited regions, like The Devil's Wall

the Rosstrappe

or the Brocken.

are stories that are readily recited—though they all seem to follow a similar script when the chronicler seeks too retell what they read or were told, rather than fully engaging in the story. Yes, these stories are much more readily told, but only as a result of the tourism that has made the locations so popular. What about the regions that are not as well visited, or the regions in the west that have developed a different sort of tourism not based in regional traditions? These are the sorts of questions I am working on answering as I continue my work within these communities.

Shifting Gears

February will mark a big transition in the flow of the Harz project. As the month progresses, I will be drawing a close to the first phase of the project, which has been establishing my presence in the region and making the necessary connections within the various towns of interest. Up to this point, the majority of my work has been research and inquiry based--learning what is, in fact, important to the region and relevant to the study.

The second phase, which will begin at the end of the month and run through the end of May, will be the collection of first hand accounts through conducting recorded interviews. After spending the last three months traveling the mountains and interacting with the inhabitants, I have decided to alter the way I had initially intended to perform these interviews. For those of you who have been on board since the start, you may recall the initial plan was to video record all interviews. In this way, the audio portion could be catalogued for the Oral History, and the video would be available for the final film portion of the project. I have since decided to separate the film and written portions of this project. All interviews for the book will be recorded on traditional audio recording equipment, where the interviews for the film will be conducted separately at a different time. This decision was made on two factors: first being that the demographic of my interview subjects is largely elderly folks who are not comfortable with video cameras, and second being that the book and the film now tackle different subjects. The book is an all around examination of folklore, history, and personal experience of Harz residents, where the film takes on a more focused look at the role of Heimat in the Harz.

For a vast portion of the book centered Oral Histories, I have decided to break some of the typical rules of Oral History Methodology. Ideally, the collection of each history consists of three parts. A pre interview, lasting between one and two hours, is conducted in order to help the interviewer prepare for the actual interview. The second part is the actual interview, lasting between 1.5 and 3 hours. The third part is a followup meeting in which the chronicler reads the interview transcript and provides feedback.

Because I now intend on conducting about 30 interviews for the book, this process is overwhelming for an individual to fully carry out. For many of the chroniclers I plan to interview, I have already conducted a pre interview during the first phase of my project. This was done very informally over coffee and cookies, or a beer at the local inn. However, what I have discovered during the last three months is that there are many folks I meet on the road who are fascinated with my project, and through small talk I realize they have something very important to contribute. Unfortunately, the moment slips by when one of us departs the train or has to get back to work. To make use of these interactions, I have decided to implement a Mini-Interview alternative. By keeping a pocket sized recording device and microphone with me, I will--after determining if the chronicler is relevant--ask if they would like to give a quick, topical interview lasting about 15 minutes. The interview can then be conducted on the spot. This is very atypical of Oral History, and goes against much of the methodology that is considered to be "traditional;" however, it will allow me to make the most of each interaction I encounter.

The video interviews will be transcribed and archived as Oral Histories as well, though they will not likely be featured along with the excepts collected for the book. Fewer subjects will be involved in the film, with an anticipated seven currently on the list. The majority of filming will be conducted in the month of May when Spring has sprung in the Harz, and will feature each individual experiencing the Harz in their daily lives. Parallels will be drawn between each individual's sense of Heimat in each region, largely focusing on East-West/Old-Young--themes that seem to dominate every conversation I have had with regards to present day Harz.

Presently I am on my way to Berlin for a week of work covering the Berlinale Film Festival. While I will be focused on that work during the next few days, this will also be a good opportunity to make some connections for when my project is concluded and both the book and film are ready for an audience.

The Mark of the Deutsch Mark

I'm writing this on a train to Berlin. I have an appointment this morning with the lead curator at the DDR (Deutsche Democratik Republik) Museum at 11, so I got an early 6:30 start to ensure punctuality; which--of course--is very important in Germany.

As many of you may know, the original goal of this project in the Harz had to do with examining the impact of the DDR on folk culture of the Harz. Over the past two month, through a great deal of travel and conversing with people of the region, it is appearing that the traditions of the region remained very resilient to the presence of Soviet rule. Surprisingly enough, the eastern half of the Harz appears to have maintained tradition and culture better than that of its western counter part. In the east, while nearly every town is entered via a rundown or deserted train depot, the historic appearance of the the villages remain much more authentic.

When speaking with residents of the Eastern Harz, the response to the westerners is generally uniform: The Wessies see only money. After the war, the Western Harz sought to redevelop and capitalize on a health/wellness aspect of tourism. Health spas and clean air resorts were established in towns like Bad Harzburg and Bad Lauterburg, appealing to crowds of tourists who could afford such luxuries. Within the economic surge in these towns, the most logical thing to do was to continue to grow. Unfortunately, one of the first stages of growth involves replacing the old with something new--in this case, this meant demolishing many of the half timbered structures that once characterized the towns of the Harz. Essentially, the post war tourism economy of the West Harz was entirely based on a luxury resort mentality.

In the East, under the communist rule, there was no money to "waste" on such things. Certainly, the idea of "If it ain't broke, don't fix it" applied heavily here. Though I might add, if it was broke if was typically fixed with something ugly and made out of concrete. What was fixed after WWII in the east was not very pretty and took a very long time (the central market place in Halberstadt wasn't even touched until after reunification), but the historic houses--thought they might not have been acknowledged as historically worthwhile at the time--were left alone. Tourism in the area was based more so on sight seeing and inquiry over a resort mentality, keeping places like the Hexentanzplaz, Rosstrappe, and Wernigerode relevant. In this sense, Communism--though inadvertently and mostly through a lack of funds--served to preserve much of this part of the east.

I'm anxious to speak with the folks at the DDR Museum, and see if they have much to add to the roll of reunification on the traditions of the Harz. The project is beginning to shape itself into something a bit different than on the get go, but this is really to be expected and actually preferred. The generation gap in the feelings of Heimat (attachment to ones home town) is a major theme that is taking shape, as well as the demise of the Dorf mentality (small village living). These are topics I will discuss further in my next blog.

South Harz Video Blog

The Original

An event, which has happened twice over the last week, has prompted me to take a moment to write about an issue that often arises in the field of storytelling and oral tradition. I have been keeping very busy, planning out the upcoming ventures into the various regions of the Harz, and this has largely consisted of examining my small collection of books of the Harz Legends, selecting the stories I feel most interesting and relevant to the surrounding area, and dividing the tales into respective regions of study. There are hundreds of tales, and it has been a challenge to force myself to limit the selected legends to about 7 per region--the regions being North Harz, East Harz, South Harz, West Harz, and Upper Harz. In all, I have selected 35 legends that I will focus on. During the project I will remain flexible, in the event that a tale I had neglected proves to be more relevant than one I had included; however, this will make a solid starting point. (I plan to give a video presentation of how this will all line up in the next week.)

While examining my books and pinpointing the locations of where each tale takes place, I realized the primary book I was working off of was insufficient, as it neglects large portions of the Southern and Upper Harz regions. I went in search of more books, also realizing I would need to verify the German titles of each tale so folks would understand which legends I was referring to when it came time to ask the locals.

The first individual I met with was Uli Hecht, a retired German Literature teacher, Rotarian, and lifelong resident of Halberstadt. We met in the small library in his home--a nicely renovated Inn, which had belonged to his family for generations. We spoke for a few hours about my life and his life, as well as about my plans in the Harz. He offered a few books from his collection that I could examine, and noted that for my project to be a success, it would be very important for me to "be sure and use the original versions" of the legends.

A few days later I was in a small used bookstore looking through the shelf containing a few books on Harz Legends. I asked the book handler which books she felt were the better of the bunch. She pulled out two, one with illustrations and one with only text. She claimed the book with pictures was very pretty, but the stories were abridged. The other book, she stated, contained "the original versions."

Like Uli's comment, she may have meant this to say they were complete in comparison to the children's book, but I couldn't help responding by telling her there was no such thing as an "original version." Any version, whether it was written down two hundred years ago, or told at the bar last night is a new version. Some of these stories are several hundred years old, and simply because someone decided to write them down in 1853 does not mean it is the "original version."

My outlook on stories is vastly influenced by my studies at Nevada. Stories will always grow and change because it is in their nature. They do not simply exist for a single moment, and then, unchanging, become cataloged in the human experience. Everyone who tells and retells a story adds or subtracts something of their own from it--whether intentional or not. I would go as far as to say that even the first time a story is ever told, it is not the "original version." Something influenced this tale, and certain elements are bound to have come from somewhere else. Much like music, there is no original Rock and Roll song. Rock came from Blues, and Blues came from a mix of Gospel and Slave Hymns, and each of these genres have an influence of their own. "It's turtles all the way down." Since the first time a cave man grunted the simplest melody, he was influenced by the birds, or the sound of a stream, or even the beat of his own heart; and that was the story of his tune.

I'm not here to track down the original anything. I am not here to find the purest form of any of these stories and capture it between the pages of a book as a sort of trophy for a story-sleuth. I am here, however, to find out what the influences of these stories may have been, and through what contexts were they created. Who told these stories, and why?--and for what reason might they still have a need to be told today? If anything, I will be thrilled if I end up not having to take anything from the books. Ideally, the stories will be told fresh to me, within a whole new context, and this will be the version I choose to document. In the end--when it comes to a story--you can't capture it and you can't restrain it, nor can you accelerate its flight among tongues. All you can do is tell it, and hope that it will one day find the right ears to hear it.

Days of Sun and Fog

"Heller wird es schon im Osten

Durch der Sonne kleines Glimmen,

Weit und breit die Bergesgipfel

In dem Nebelmeere Schwimmen"

~ Heinrich Heine, The Harzreise

I find myself taking refuge from the cold and the fog to indulge in a warm cup of coffee and a fresh roll. I am in Quedlinburg, in a bakery, and it is late fall in the Harz. To get the blood once more flowing in my fingers, I decided it was appropriate to write about the happenings of the last few days--as it is also long overdue. Each day has been full, with its own successes and progressions, such that I should have no problem filling the page with news and images.

The weather has been very off and on, but regardless of the amount of sun or the height of the mercury in the thermometer outside my window, the Harz never fails to provide a breathtaking panorama of beauty and wonder. On Tuesday I was picked up by Rike's boyfriend, Christian, and we took off for an afternoon of exploration. Christian grew up in the Harz, and knows the ins and outs of the woodlands in a way that only a lifelong resident can. The clouds broke for us on Tuesday, and the colors of fall burst forth around Langenstein as we exited the blue Volkswagen to tackle a stretch on foot.

I knew Langenstein from my earlier days in the Harz, and had hiked there on occasion from Halberstadt by way of the Spiegelsberg. Then, Langenstein wasn't much more to me than a small stretch of cobblestone road lined with houses, standing between Halberstadt and Blankenburg. The surrounding landscape smelled of farm life, and a walk through the little Dorf can't help but make you think of Bilbo and the Shire. But there was more here than met my eye at the time, and this was made clear to me on that fall morning as Christian and I wandered around the surrounding woods. A monument site of past tragedies, entrances to massive underground bunkers built during the war and used through the DDR days; and on top of a nearby hill, the land spreads out before you, begging to be explored. The Brocken is visible today, as are the towers of the Halberstäter Dom and the Martini Kirche.

We drove on to Thale--Christian's hometown, and site of the Hexentanzplaz, Rosstrappe, and Bodetal. Above the Bode River we lunched and talked about the Harz of past, present, and future. The sun hangs low on these fall days, and at three in the afternoon there is already the promise of a breathtaking sunset.

The following day I ventured alone back into the shallow grounds of the Harz. The sun again shone bright above Blankenburg as I made my way along the road to the Regenstein. The Regenstein is a ruined castle--originally built during the early middle ages--and much of what remains was carved out of the mountain itself. The eeriness of the caverned rooms that remain are both chilling and awesome, permitting the imagination to run wild. A legend of the Regenstein states that a princess was once held captive in the fortress by the Count of the Regenstein. Over the course of a year, she was able to use her diamond ring to carve a hole out of the fortress and escaped. When she returned with her family to seek revenge, the Count had fled. A while later, she noticed a small amount of smoke trickling out of a crack in the mountain. Looking inside, she saw the Count in Purgatory. Taking pity, she threw him her ring so that his soul might be able to escape.

By way of an early train I made my way to Quedlinburg. The sun has since retreated, surrendering to the fog of an approaching winter. I have spent much of the day searching through various used bookstores for literature on the Harz. Much of what I have been able to find is nothing special, but I received a tip about a used bookstore in Goslar where I should be able to find exactly what I am looking for.

Quedlinburg is a UNESCO world heritage site, and not one to be missed. The fachwerk houses are breathtaking, and the old town winds around itself multiple times with surprises around every corner. The fog remains deep, and I have another hour before my train departs for Halberstadt. Goslar awaits in the morning, and I'll take one more cup of coffee for the road.

The Simple Life

Last night I had the chance to meet up with a few old friends in the local student bar. I was very lucky that everything came together as well as it did, because most of my friends have since moved out of Halberstadt to pursue other interests; however, last night many had returned for the weekend and—like me—had decided to visit the old haunts of our youth. I was speaking with one of my friends, who was extremely surprised about my return, and he asked my why, of all places, I wanted to come back to Germany—and especially Halberstadt. I told him that everything moves slower here, which I find ideal. After a few years of working several jobs and navigating my way through college, it was nice to return to a place where people could still step back and enjoy the moment. Not to say, of course, that I was never able to relax at home, but where I only did so when I had complete free time, here there is an actual effort to take time to allow life to catch up.

This morning was exactly such a time, when the boyfriend of my host sister, Rike—who is presently studying medicine in Lithuania—stopped by for brunch. Granted, our brunch did not begin until noon, but it was simply a morning (afternoon) dedicated to enjoying our present company. We had prepared a delicious spread of cold cuts, coffee, various cheeses and breads, cakes, and even a little bit of champagne; and for the next four and a half hours we sat and told stories, completed crossword puzzles, looked at photo books, and made plans for future engagements. Through our conversation I shared my projected plans of my project, and Christian—Rike’s boyfriend, who comes from Thale in the Harz—suggested a few places we might go hiking together next week. He also mentioned a few books he owns, which discuss the Harz Legends, that he would be willing to lend me.

Needless to say, it was a very enjoyable afternoon, and such an event that is likely to occur often here at my home in Halberstadt. When I spoke of a slower life, this is precisely what I meant, and it reminds me of a simpler time when we were not so distracted with pressing issues and could breath and understand our surroundings. Such a setting is prime for storytelling, and such a setting is where I believe I will learn the most about the Legends of the Harz.

Halberstadt

On Wednesday the 7^th, at 6:00 PM, I arrived in Halberstadt. I will say little about the trip itself, other than: 1) I managed to avoid jet lag by sleeping the entire duration of the flight across the Atlantic, 2) Lufthansa brings back the magic of flying that has long been lost by many US airlines, 3) Deutshce Bahn no longer maintains its reputation for timeliness, resulting in several missed connections and lengthening my trip from Frankfurt to Halberstadt by over four hours.

But now we have Halberstadt—the town where I first became familiar with German culture. I moved here in the late summer of 2005 when I was a part of the Rotary Youth Exchange program, and have since considered it a Heimatsort. Little has changed over the past six years since I left, and that should not surprise me as much as it does, considering the city is over 1200 years old. Needless to say, I did notice a Subway has since opened, and the old train station was finally refurbished.

Halberstadt was severely damaged during WWII, a fact about which the inhabitants of Halberstadt remain bitter. The town was bombed in late April of 1945, a point when the Germans claim it was clear the war was lost, and such a strike was pointless. Fortunately, many of the more historic buildings--such as St. Stephens’s Cathedral--have survived, and remain steadfast landmarks in the region.

Because of the heavy bombing, the post-war Soviet influence in Halberstadt is incredibly clear, as East German blockhouses fill the gaps between the remaining half-timbered houses that survived. The recently constructed New Rathaus, or town hall, is breathtaking. Having been constructed after unification, it was designed to mimic the architecture of its pre-war predecessor. Many of the original stone pieces make up the outside wall, and the original statue of Roland once again stands guard at the door. The New Rathaus is an icon of post-unified Halberstadt, as the Soviets would have never wasted the time or money to reconstruct the building to match the original design.

My attention turns now to the tasks at hand, and the first challenge is to secure my visa. For the time being, I hold a 3 month tourist visa, which I hope to replace with a 12 month freelance worker visa. I will likely take on a minor position as an assistant English teacher at the local community college. This will require a minimal amount of time spent at the college, while still allowing me to conduct my study and maintain my visa. From here, it is mainly a matter of paperwork.

This coming Monday I will be making my formal introduction to the local Rotary club. This is the same club that hosted me six years ago, and they are reportedly anxious to hear what I have been up to since I left. I have also volunteered to work with the exchange students presently here, and on the first night of the local Christmas market we will be selling mulled wine to raise money for Rotary’s efforts against Polio. I'm hoping work with the students throughout my time here as a way to give back to the club that gave me so much.

In a couple of hours I'm heading off to the train station to ride over to Wernigerode, a beautiful little town nestled in the base of the Harz. The bookstore in the old town portion of Wernigerode is owned and operated by one of my prospective chroniclers, Rainer Schulze--whose family has lived in Wernigerode since the 30 years war. Rainer Schulze is also a Rotarian, and I'm very hopeful that he will have a great deal to offer my study.

It’s 48 degrees and cloudy. A couple of raindrops have marked my window, and I should probably leave for the station before the sky opens much further. 

Tschüß!