As we welcome autumn - the rain is constantly pattering on Felix's roof, whether in the evening, at night, early in the morning or during the day - we reminisce about the summer, which was barely two or three weeks ago.
We spend almost two weeks in and around Brandenburg an der Havel. This time we don't feel like standing free, arguing with neighbours or having bad internet in the heath. Instead, we set up in a marina. Marinas are our secret favourites as an alternative to campsites. They offer good to very good infrastructure, quiet nights, are - of course - always close to the water, usually only have a few spaces for campers and so far only friendly boat owners and fellow campers.
I try to get Gerd interested in Fontane's "Herr Ribbeck auf Ribbeck im Havelland", but unfortunately I'm only moderately successful - actually not at all. Is it because of my husband's obsession with literature or my less talented presentation style?
The sun beats down relentlessly on our Felix, so we retreat to shady harbour pavilions to work, read and chat. We skip cooking, because with 35 degrees outside and even higher temperatures inside, we don't feel like firing up the cooker.
But it's only a 10 to 15 minute walk (phew, even that's warm!) to Brandenburg's city centre. Here we stroll through the alleyways, admire churches and the cathedral, old town halls and ask ourselves why strange pugs are decorating the town, shall we say, everywhere. Until we find out that Brandenburg an der Havel is actually Loriot's home town, or at least the town where he was born. "Life without a pug is possible, but pointless."
We meet up with travelling friends, spend a few wonderful days in a forest near the Havel, have a great time together and attend two concerts together. I'd actually like to say that the time we spent together and the concerts were the highlight. They were, we didn't want to compare them. But the taxi journey together the night after the Queen concert was memorable: first we waited for almost an hour to get one of the much sought-after taxis. We learnt that only a fraction of the required taxis were still in service. Hardly anyone wants to do the job.
But then we have to pay an entertainment surcharge: We witness the "Can you pick me up?" calls. They grumble back and forth in the broadest Berlin snark. We laugh. Unfortunately a little too loudly. "It's not funny, is it!" they rumble back. We are quiet, our driver saves this and many other situations. After just under 20 minutes, we have unfortunately, unfortunately arrived. We could have listened for hours to what taxi drivers on the outskirts of Berlin get to hear at night and skilfully counter. No comparison to a comedy show, no comparison!
Oh, the Havel: Hm, it's not really our thing. The water is green-greenish and, unfortunately, musty. A shower is a must after a swim. Nothing compared to clear mountain lakes or the Turkish, Persian or Greek coast. So I paddle around a bit on our SUP during the lunch break or in the evening, accompanied by the hope that I won't fall off. Only the small joy of an East German rejoices in my heart: there is still a lot of naturist bathing here, dress, shorts, briefs off, into the water. So the others bathe in the broth, it's nothing to me.
With new inspiration, lots of dreams for a winter in the sun and new knitting skills, we first say goodbye to our friends and then, days later, to Brandenburg. A really beautiful region, completely unknown to both of us. But with great potential to return.
Herr von Ribbeck auf Ribbeck im Havelland,
There was a pear tree in his garden,
And then came the golden autumn season
And the bulbs lit up far and wide,
When noon sounded from the tower,
Von Ribbeck fills both his pockets,
And then a boy came along in his trousers,
So he called out: "Boy, want a beer?"
And when a girl arrived, he called out: "Lütt Dirn,
Come on over, I've got a pear."And so it went on for many years until lobesam
Who came to die from Ribbeck auf Ribbeck.
He felt his end. It was autumn time,
Again, the pears laughed far and wide;
Then von Ribbeck said: "I'm leaving now.
Put a pear in my grave."
And three days later, from the double-roofed house,
von Ribbeck carried them out,
All farmers and Büdner with a celebratory face
Sang "Jesus my confidence",
And the children lamented, their hearts heavy:
"He's gone now. Who's going to give us a beer?"So the children complained. That wasn't right -
Oh, they didn't know old Ribbeck very well;
The new one, of course, scrimps and saves,
Keeps park and pear tree strictly guarded.
But the old, foreboding
And full of mistrust against his own son,
He knew exactly what he was doing back then,
When he asked for a pear in the grave,
And in the third year from the silent house
A pear tree sprout sprouts out.And the years must have gone up and down,
A pear tree has long arched over the grave,
And in the golden autumn season
Lights up again far and wide.
And a boy comes across the churchyard,
So it whispers in the tree: "Wiste 'ne Beer?"
And when a girl comes, she whispers: "Lütt Dirn,
Come back, I'll give you a pear."So the hand still gives blessing
Des von Ribbeck auf Ribbeck in Havelland.Theodor Fontane
Merci for "travelling with us
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Date: 25 & 26 October 2024
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