Discovering Hanover: Café Culture

The German culture embraces sweets in a way that Americans will drool over; cafes and bakeries fill the corners and hot, delicious beverages are served at all hours of the day. 

Wandering through any new city brings new discoveries, and that is exactly what happened in Hanover, Germany today as my Dutch roommate and I explored the city's winding streets by bike. One particular gem revealed itself with its tantalizing cake displays and vibrantly colored window decorations offering happy moments for all. But really, the cafe is called "Glücksmoment," which directly translates as Happy Moment.  I highly recommend you waltz in to find your own such moments with great company--that is if you can find a seat. This not so little cafe is often packed with friends, couples or even families during all opening hours, all of whom seem to be engulfing in decadent treats while smiles spread across their faces. I suppose the name is true!

Four things I love about this place:

1. The customer service is superb. They may be busy but they are the friendliest German staff I've seen in a while.

2. The cakes and drinks are original. They even offer variations with less or more of what makes our hips so luscious, or even free trade labels and creative titles for their specialties.

3. Each place setting and room decor is different and of top quality. Real plates that are hand painted, beautiful decor inspired by fairy tales and toy traditions, and excellent lighting from the large windows and meticulously placed bloom lanterns makes for a bright and imaginative Happy Moment for all.

4. They offer classes! You can sign up to learn the art of cake making and decorating for yourself. Though they probably won't reveal their best kept secrets, you can at least try your hand in the kitchen.

Click here to check their classes, hours, and location.

*this review is my personal experience and recommendation. I did not receive any free cake for these words, though I wouldn't turn it down if it came later on, because it is divine. Check out this place for yourself on your next wander through Lower Saxony...

 

"Thirsty for Lemonade." Somewhere in Baden Württemberg, Germany

It did not work out as I had expected, though I suppose that is no news to those of you who have experienced reality for longer than I have. The city somehow mixed up my paperwork and fell through on some responsibilities, so when I went to pick up my work permit, I discovered that it had not even been started. Following the shock of that little announcement came a swift pause to my position and I was immediately placed on unpaid leave pending my documentation process. After nearly three weeks of being in the Trading department for TUI in an orientation mode, I anxiously awaited an assignment and stalked my colleagues to observe their work in the meantime. Why the three weeks? It seems that Trading didn’t quite have a specific task arranged for my three month placement in their department, but that’s simply part one of the story. Part two? TUI Germany was shaken up on the 1^st of October, the beginning of the new fiscal year, by the announcement of a major corporate restructuring. One of the departments hit the heaviest was that in which I was placed, as the company decided to combine the elements of Product Management and Trading so as to be supervised by one joint manager.

Colleagues from TUI Germany fill the
foyer for the corporate announcement

As my mother and a few mentors of mine have so auspiciously stated during this conundrum, “everything happens for a reason.” I suppose the fact that I haven’t actually been able to work yet helps the fact that I wasn’t allowed to work this whole time, despite the fact that we didn’t know it. I suppose the fact that I am simply an International Management Graduate “trainee” helps the fact that my position is unaffected, despite everything else being affected around me. I suppose the fact that I have money in savings but no vacation time until Christmas was actually not the obstacle that I presumed, since now I have both money and time on my hands.

Keeping positive and making
the best of the situation!

Therefore, I left. No, I didn’t break the temporary government request to remain in the borders of Germany while my paperwork processes, but rather I jumped on one of those fancy speed trains and am wandering into southern Germany. Let’s call this a surprise leave, rather than an unpaid leave. It gives me a chance to regain my motivation and spirit after the three weeks of uncertainty and overwhelming German language immersion. It allows me to view the montage of fall colors as they fly past my train window, to taste the traditions of the south at their annual festivals, and to visit with one of my dearest friends who lives near Stuttgart. I plan on making the most of this situation, of making a whole lot of lemonade out of this pile of lemons that have been tossed my way recently. I hope you’re thirsty, Germany. 

"Here I am. Here we go." September 9th, 2015; Hanover, Germany

Welcome to the town hall,
"Rathaus" that (mostly) survived
the bombing during WWII.

I sit here nestled in my duvets with the pattering rain on my window, a fresh coat of nail polish on my fingers, maps taped to the wall, and a smart casual outfit hung across the door of my new apartment. I’m in Hanover, the time is 9:38 pm; everything is ready. Tomorrow, my career begins. At 7:37 I will rise to shower briefly and meet my Dutch roommate, Valérie, -who is equal parts hilarious and brilliant- for a healthy breakfast and a brisk bike ride to our new corporate headquarters for TUI Germany, the office that handles all tourism and branding operations for the German-speaking source market. After four years of family events and parties with my boyfriend Björn, I have apparently picked up enough German language (with his patient instruction and correction) that my position begins with a 3 month assignment in Hanover.

Following the famous "Red Thread" that
was painted on the ground to showcase the
city's most interesting sights, we stumbled into
this beautiful café street. 

This journey begins promptly at 10 am (not bad for a first day) due to meeting schedules. Needless to say, butterflies have taken up residence in my digestion track over the last few hours. Their origin undoubtedly has something to do with the fact that walking into that building tomorrow will launch the next step in what will hopefully be a prosperous and fulfilling career in international business management. However, I must say that I am not daunted by the challenge. Rather, it invigorates me! Finally all my hard work is paying off. All of those sleepless nights of papers and projects, working two or three jobs to put myself through my undergraduate in the US and finally my graduate program in Europe. All of those applications for scholarships, visas, competitions, references and positions.

Here I am. Here we go. I am absolutely prepared and yet have no idea what tomorrow will look like. Therefore, I am simply reminding myself that I have always given my best and my hardest, that there is a company who went through the ringer with costs and effort to bring me here as the only American ever hired for the International Graduate Leadership Program here with TUI Group, and that I can do this!

For the last year, I have repeated this mantra to myself based on Sophia Amoruso’s famous quote; tonight is no different:

“If I believe what I am doing will have positive results, it will - even if it’s not immediately obvious.” 

My first training will take place at
TUI Germany's headquarters in Hanover

Unterwegs. Journey home. July 25th, 2013

Flying back to the US; feels so surreal

As I watch the tiny icon of an airplane inch its way west across the virtual Atlantic on the screen in front of me, I can feel each inch as it tugs me farther away from the German borders to which I have become so accustomed. Each time the friendly, multilingual staff drops by my row, the words that slip off my tongue have defaulted to Germanic tendencies despite the Anglican fluency of all those around me. Preferential, you might say. Flight after flight, checkpoint by checkpoint, I cross the point of no return, or do I? My heart is unable to adjust in such tumultuous situations as it is beckoned in many tongues from many lands; how can it find method of settling if I have no solid plan, no final destination as of yet? Denver. That's where I'll start. Then what? I have two final semesters of my double bachelor's degree at the University of Northern Colorado that will be complemented by workshops, conferences, visits to my family, rebuilding my harp callouses and desperately seeking both franco and germanophones to keep the polyglot, that is multilingual, version of myself adrift.

Managing to take root on rock
(Mallorca, July, 2013)

A word of my own language struck me today as I mindlessly glanced at the episode of the Big Bang Theory playing on the airline's entertainment program: Roots. I picture a tree, a flower, a tracing of origin to that which fed and built you. Trees grow, harbor life, shelter life, give life, but they do not move except when adjusting to wind patterns and changing climate. Flowers can be moved, picked, transplanted just as a tree. Traditional doctrine teaches us that roots are the beginning, the foundation, the lifeline, the nourishment. Can we ever change our roots? Can we take them with us or will we always leave some piece of us, some straggler of a memory or life behind in the ground from whence we came? Pardon the extended metaphor, but I feel completely uprooted and am also contemplating the notion of searching for a new garden.

Borrowing windows

If you have never lost yourself in staring through a train window in the countryside of Europe, you are surely missing out on a beautiful part of life. The more train windows I lose myself in, the more of myself I actually find. The Regional Trains of your university's state in Germany are included in your semester transportation ticket so I highly recommend jumping on one every few weeks to watch the countryside pass by; this is a spectacular time to process your time abroad, recall fond memories, and lay out the goals of your next months or years as a cultural explorer.

Gena and I at the Regiobahn (Regional Train)
(Bietigheim Bissingen, Germany)

There is by no means a limit to the things that can be accomplished on a train. I carry my computer, books, homework and even sometimes my art supplies so that I can fully benefit from the people and landscape surrounding me. Just a few moments ago, a dog wandered over to me and woke me up with a gentle poke with his nose; I had no idea that there was a dog on board, but he took it upon himself to curl up at my feet and beg for cuddles. The owner, just a seat away, apologized in German and attempted to reclaim her pooch, but he had other ideas. It was only after several moments of petting and cooing that I realized this sweet, gentle dog was maimed and only had one eye remaining. I then thought, how many people refuse him love just as we tend to shy away from those in the same conditions in the streets who approach us for help? This thought then caused me to turn my eyes to the window, my own desk of self-discovery, in order to roll the idea through my figurative fingers. How easily we ignore those in need who are just in front of us! How quickly we judge those who may not be as blessed or tended to as we are! This word, ignore, generally holds a negative connotation.

I often describe the German people as having their own path of concern and they will warm up to you if your path happens to cross theirs, but they rarely stray or break from this patten (as Germans tend to be fairly patterned people). In describing it this way, the negativity seems to break away. However, as I look around the seats surrounding me, I see 10 young people my age or younger, each and every one attached to some sort of electronic device and no socialization is taking place. Granted, it's midday on a Saturday and perhaps Friday took its festive toll on the naïve souls of the young, but I would expect more joy among such blessed adolescents! We have privileges coming out of our ears in Germany; the country, government and citizens have provided for every possible need imaginable except Ranch dressing, yet the people wander with somber or expressionless faces.

Flowering train tracks in the spring
(Hannover, Germany)

Someone on a local bus through the Czech Republic in summer 2011 pointed out to me that “the war wasn't that long ago for some people. If you had a look on your face, a smile, people thought you knew something. You could be put on a 'list' with your family and associates. Hide your thoughts and expressions; it's for safety!” Perhaps this is a similar sentiment for citizens of Germany? Perhaps I'm just accustomed to the sometimes shallow mask of customer service and friendliness that Americans wear (the “Hi! How are you?” without further inquiry)? Perhaps there is a cultural gap in addition to the history of Europe that drives this mystery deeper , but I sure feel like the most expressive person around here. I suppose, though, that I am starting to fit in and learn the values of contemplative silence as I borrow a window wherever I go.