Saturday, April 01, 2006
II. Rolling to Rolduc [originally posted 12 April 2000]
I made my first long excursion from Aalborg last weekend, and it was a doozy --thirteen hours by train from Aalborg through Fredericia, Hamburg and Düsseldorf to the little town of Herzogenrath on the Dutch-German border, one stop short of Aachen. The reason for my trip was to attend a weekend retreat of Unitarian-Universalists from all over Europe being held at the Rolduc Conference Center in the Netherlands, a former Augustinian monastery and boarding school now being operated as a Conference Center by the Dutch government. This wasn't a trip I'd planned on making before I got here, but shortly after my arrival I started checking out websites and looking for the names of other Unitarians that I might contact while over here. The President of the Parish Fellowship told me about the retreat, and encouraged me to contact the registrar to see whether there might be room for me to attend: I e-mailed him Thursday morning and then started checking out trains schedules on the web, heard back from him Thursday night at about 6 pm that there was plenty of room, so I went down to the train station at 6 am the following morning, validated my railpass, and was off on a cross-country adventure.
The European train system is everything I had expected and more. The IC from Aalborg to Fredericia (which is also the first leg of the regular service to Copenhagen) is magnificent: fast, efficient, high-tech, very comfortable...only the coffee is 14 kr ($2) for a 6 oz cup, and lacked the punch of the tall, skinny latte I was craving. On the leg to Hamburg I rode in a large, center, 2nd class compartment crowded with maybe a dozen traveling school-aged students (and their two beleaguered teachers), some soldiers, and a large assortment of other interesting characters, including at one point a loud, somewhat older Danish man who rolled his own cigarettes, finished two beers during the half-hour he shared our compartment, was carrying way too much luggage, and then missed his stop and launched into a loud but futile protest with the unsympathetic conductor, while everyone else in the compartment listened in, made knowing eye contact, and tried desperately not to laugh out loud at the poor fellow's plight. It was really quite comic, and I think I would have felt a little more guilty about being so amused if it hadn't been obvious to everyone that he had brought it on himself, as well as equally obvious that he was simply going to have to get out at the next station and retrace his steps I had a reserved seat on the train from Hamburg to Düsseldorf, which I think in retrospect was a waste of time and money; rode in a large, American style coach stuck against the window, so I just read my book (Benjamin Barber's *Jihad vs McWorld*) and tried to enjoy the rapidly-passing German countryside. At one point, my seatmate changed from a 30-something business-type who war reading some sort of mystery thriller written in German but set in New York City to a five or six year old African-European (?) girl in cornrows carrying a Donald Duck backpack, who spoke German in a tiny, little-girl voice that was hard for me to understand, and who seemed a little frustrated that her language skills were better than mine. I think she was as relieved as I was when a seat opened up next to her mother. The last leg to Herzogenrath was a commuter "milk run" filled with folks heading home for the weekend; everyone seemed to know everyone else, and nobody even bothered asking for tickets.
Having successfully managed all of the changes and transfers and connections to that point, I was nearly done in at the Herzogenrath Bahnhof trying to travel the last 2 kilometers to Rolduc. My first thought was simply to take a taxi, but the registrar had given me his cellular number and instructed me to phone from the station, which meant changing money, buying a German phone card, and then trying to figure out the phone system, which I eventually managed to do with the help of a friendly local. Apparently I need to dial the Dutch country code in order to call across the International border, which the registrar had neglected to mention or provide. When I finally got through, he told me that his shuttle driver had just gone down to the refectory to get a bite to eat, and that I should just go ahead and get a cab to the Abbey! Finding a taxi was no problem, and 10 minutes and 10 Deutschmarks later I was standing in front of a magnificent, 12th century (I think) Romanesque Church high on a hill overlooking the Dutch countryside. Found the registrar, got my key, dumped my bag, and headed down to the refectory myself feeling rather famished after my long trip. When I walked through the door, the first people I saw were two friends of mine from University Church in Seattle, Bill and Melinda Mains, who are now members of the Paris Fellowship (where Bill is employed by the US Foreign Service). Talk about small world!
The theme speaker for the retreat was Rebecca Armstrong, a graduate of Meadville/Lombard who is a talented musician and storyteller, as well as a huge Joseph Campbell aficionado. I hadn't really expected that much from the program, so I was pleasantly blown-away by the quality of her presentation: very interactive and surprisingly engaging and insightful. We talked a little afterwards about how difficult it is to present material like hers in a way that is neither too pedantic nor too "New Age" -- she seems to have discovered just the right balance, so that even a curmudgeonly old school Harvard polity-wonk like myself can get off drawing his personal mandala in crayon, or participating in the spontaneous creation of a group liturgical dance reenactment the "myth" of the "Big Bang" creation story. (For you non-UUs I'm sure this all sounds a little bizarre; I guess you kinda had to be there. I suspect the UUs on this list have already been there many times...but trust me, this time was special). For the afternoon session, I took a guided tour of the Church and Abbey led by a man who had been a student at the Boarding School prior to the Second World War. Now in his eighties, he was filled with interesting details about the history of the monastery and the construction of the Church, which is everything one might hope for in an 800 year old house of worship. Huge pipe organ in the back of the sanctuary under the steeple, the mummy of the patron of the abbey encased in metal (complete with his death mask) and "buried" under a grate in the center aisle of the nave, two transept chapels, and an actual crypt (complete with the supposed relics of the founding monk) beneath the chancel. The chancel itself is (of course) divided between a choir and a high altar, and has its own small pipe organ. Naturally, there were frescos everywhere on the walls and ceiling vaults. But the best part is that we had it all to ourselves, and could explore anywhere we liked, including places UUs seldom see, like the inside of the confessionals, where I had to explain to at least one of my co-religionists that it is actually God who forgives the sins of the penitent, and that the priest/confessor only offers a blessing along with the penance. Her response: "Whatever...."
Saturday evening was a home-grown cabaret night down in the basement pub which has been built by the conference center in the old wine cellar of the Abbey. What a great time! -- kind of a Jr High School talent show for (in some cases at least ) VERY talented middle-aged UUs. It started out with an eclectic chamber ensemble that included a french horn, various woodwinds, and a bagpipe (!), then some folk singing, some storytelling (including Melinda's very animated retelling, in Russian, of the story of Goldilocks and the Three Bears, which concluded with a pronouncement by the Papa Bear as Goldilocks fled the scene: "Americanski Tourist!"), solos by the piper and the horn player (who blew us all away by using a coiled up length of garden hose and a funnel as her instrument), all topped off with a pick-up rock & roll band who let anyone who wanted to come up on stage and sing the back-up parts. We sang and danced and drank up our guilder until well after "The Midnight Hour," when I think even the bartenders were sorry to see us go.
I decided to leave the retreat the following morning after breakfast, having neglected to print out an itinerary for my return, and therefore uncertain about my connections back to Aalborg and a little worried about getting stranded overnight in the Hamburg Bahnhof. Turned down a chance to ride into Aachen to see the Tomb of Charlemagne, and then taking the train back through Köln where I might have been able to take a quick peek at the cathedral there; as it turned out, that probably would have been OK, since I ended up with a two-hour wait in Hamburg before I could catch the train back to Denmark. It was nearly midnight when I finally got home to Aalborg. For the trip home I decided to ride in the 1st class compartments, since my railpass allows it and I wanted to see what I'd missed on the way down. What a difference! -- maybe it was just the fact that I was traveling on a Sunday, but in some cases I had an entire car all to myself. Moreover (at least on the Danish IC) in First Class juice and coffee are free. So I guess it's true: Second Class is where the action is, but First Class is great if you just want to kick back and relax, which is exactly how I felt at the end of this long weekend. Of course, the best part of the entire trip is that I was able to meet so many other Unitarians living in Europe, including a young woman who is planning to be married on June 21st (my own wedding anniversary) on the Greek island of Sifnos, and is still looking for someone to perform the ceremony. She has hopes that her minister from the States will be able to make the journey, but if not,l I'm now the "back-up." I also found out about a program administered by my former "Orientation to the Ministry" instructor at HDS which subsidizes travel for UU ministers willing to work with European Fellowships on a temporary, consulting basis, so I'm already starting to daydream about coming back here sooner rather than later. And I own it all to the very unlike-me decision simply to jump on a train at the eleventh hour and entrust myself to the hospitality of others.
Meanwhile, back here in the land of the Vikings, I feel like I am finally starting to settle into a routine: I have my apartment, an office, my buspass, keycards and computer password; I've found a bakery and a supermarket and even the local laundromat; I'm starting to get along a little better in the language (at least well enough that I can read the signs and make myself understood -- sorta -- in public, although I'm still a long way away from being able to carry on a sustained conversation), and am generally beginning to get to know my neighbors and my neighborhood. Had a very interesting conversation yesterday afternoon with the Studenterpræst ("campus minister") here, and tonight hope to attend one of the programs he offers of International Students at the Student Union building. I'm also enjoying the academic portion of my exchange: heard a very stimulating paper at yesterday morning's seminar from Adam Muller of the University of Manitoba, and this weekend Adam, Tatiana, and myself have all been invited out to the summer house of the European Cultural Studies Programme Coordinator, who arrange all of our exchanges. Still don't have firm plans for the upcoming Easter recess other than trying to worship Palm Sunday at the Buldolfi Cathedral here in Aalborg, and Easter Sunday at the indigenous Unitarian Church in Copenhagen. Think I may also take a day trip into Copenhagen Monday for the Queen's birthday, which will mean catching another early morning train out of Aalborg and returning home late that same night. I'll try to continue to keep you all posted from time to time of my latest adventures. And thanks to all of you who have written me back; I know I've responded to some of your e-mails, while others of you I've neglected; unfortunately this mail program doesn't tell me automatically which of the messages I've responded to and which I haven't, so I have to go to the "sent mail" file and try to cross-reference from there. So if you haven't heard back from me yet, I apologize...and likewise to those of you whose e-mail I may have inadvertently answered twice. And forgive my spelling -- the resident spell-check program here is all in Danish, and not much help to an American!..............twj
A "Kermit" from Anna Berglind's bakery
I made my first long excursion from Aalborg last weekend, and it was a doozy --thirteen hours by train from Aalborg through Fredericia, Hamburg and Düsseldorf to the little town of Herzogenrath on the Dutch-German border, one stop short of Aachen. The reason for my trip was to attend a weekend retreat of Unitarian-Universalists from all over Europe being held at the Rolduc Conference Center in the Netherlands, a former Augustinian monastery and boarding school now being operated as a Conference Center by the Dutch government. This wasn't a trip I'd planned on making before I got here, but shortly after my arrival I started checking out websites and looking for the names of other Unitarians that I might contact while over here. The President of the Parish Fellowship told me about the retreat, and encouraged me to contact the registrar to see whether there might be room for me to attend: I e-mailed him Thursday morning and then started checking out trains schedules on the web, heard back from him Thursday night at about 6 pm that there was plenty of room, so I went down to the train station at 6 am the following morning, validated my railpass, and was off on a cross-country adventure.
The European train system is everything I had expected and more. The IC from Aalborg to Fredericia (which is also the first leg of the regular service to Copenhagen) is magnificent: fast, efficient, high-tech, very comfortable...only the coffee is 14 kr ($2) for a 6 oz cup, and lacked the punch of the tall, skinny latte I was craving. On the leg to Hamburg I rode in a large, center, 2nd class compartment crowded with maybe a dozen traveling school-aged students (and their two beleaguered teachers), some soldiers, and a large assortment of other interesting characters, including at one point a loud, somewhat older Danish man who rolled his own cigarettes, finished two beers during the half-hour he shared our compartment, was carrying way too much luggage, and then missed his stop and launched into a loud but futile protest with the unsympathetic conductor, while everyone else in the compartment listened in, made knowing eye contact, and tried desperately not to laugh out loud at the poor fellow's plight. It was really quite comic, and I think I would have felt a little more guilty about being so amused if it hadn't been obvious to everyone that he had brought it on himself, as well as equally obvious that he was simply going to have to get out at the next station and retrace his steps I had a reserved seat on the train from Hamburg to Düsseldorf, which I think in retrospect was a waste of time and money; rode in a large, American style coach stuck against the window, so I just read my book (Benjamin Barber's *Jihad vs McWorld*) and tried to enjoy the rapidly-passing German countryside. At one point, my seatmate changed from a 30-something business-type who war reading some sort of mystery thriller written in German but set in New York City to a five or six year old African-European (?) girl in cornrows carrying a Donald Duck backpack, who spoke German in a tiny, little-girl voice that was hard for me to understand, and who seemed a little frustrated that her language skills were better than mine. I think she was as relieved as I was when a seat opened up next to her mother. The last leg to Herzogenrath was a commuter "milk run" filled with folks heading home for the weekend; everyone seemed to know everyone else, and nobody even bothered asking for tickets.
Having successfully managed all of the changes and transfers and connections to that point, I was nearly done in at the Herzogenrath Bahnhof trying to travel the last 2 kilometers to Rolduc. My first thought was simply to take a taxi, but the registrar had given me his cellular number and instructed me to phone from the station, which meant changing money, buying a German phone card, and then trying to figure out the phone system, which I eventually managed to do with the help of a friendly local. Apparently I need to dial the Dutch country code in order to call across the International border, which the registrar had neglected to mention or provide. When I finally got through, he told me that his shuttle driver had just gone down to the refectory to get a bite to eat, and that I should just go ahead and get a cab to the Abbey! Finding a taxi was no problem, and 10 minutes and 10 Deutschmarks later I was standing in front of a magnificent, 12th century (I think) Romanesque Church high on a hill overlooking the Dutch countryside. Found the registrar, got my key, dumped my bag, and headed down to the refectory myself feeling rather famished after my long trip. When I walked through the door, the first people I saw were two friends of mine from University Church in Seattle, Bill and Melinda Mains, who are now members of the Paris Fellowship (where Bill is employed by the US Foreign Service). Talk about small world!
The theme speaker for the retreat was Rebecca Armstrong, a graduate of Meadville/Lombard who is a talented musician and storyteller, as well as a huge Joseph Campbell aficionado. I hadn't really expected that much from the program, so I was pleasantly blown-away by the quality of her presentation: very interactive and surprisingly engaging and insightful. We talked a little afterwards about how difficult it is to present material like hers in a way that is neither too pedantic nor too "New Age" -- she seems to have discovered just the right balance, so that even a curmudgeonly old school Harvard polity-wonk like myself can get off drawing his personal mandala in crayon, or participating in the spontaneous creation of a group liturgical dance reenactment the "myth" of the "Big Bang" creation story. (For you non-UUs I'm sure this all sounds a little bizarre; I guess you kinda had to be there. I suspect the UUs on this list have already been there many times...but trust me, this time was special). For the afternoon session, I took a guided tour of the Church and Abbey led by a man who had been a student at the Boarding School prior to the Second World War. Now in his eighties, he was filled with interesting details about the history of the monastery and the construction of the Church, which is everything one might hope for in an 800 year old house of worship. Huge pipe organ in the back of the sanctuary under the steeple, the mummy of the patron of the abbey encased in metal (complete with his death mask) and "buried" under a grate in the center aisle of the nave, two transept chapels, and an actual crypt (complete with the supposed relics of the founding monk) beneath the chancel. The chancel itself is (of course) divided between a choir and a high altar, and has its own small pipe organ. Naturally, there were frescos everywhere on the walls and ceiling vaults. But the best part is that we had it all to ourselves, and could explore anywhere we liked, including places UUs seldom see, like the inside of the confessionals, where I had to explain to at least one of my co-religionists that it is actually God who forgives the sins of the penitent, and that the priest/confessor only offers a blessing along with the penance. Her response: "Whatever...."
Saturday evening was a home-grown cabaret night down in the basement pub which has been built by the conference center in the old wine cellar of the Abbey. What a great time! -- kind of a Jr High School talent show for (in some cases at least ) VERY talented middle-aged UUs. It started out with an eclectic chamber ensemble that included a french horn, various woodwinds, and a bagpipe (!), then some folk singing, some storytelling (including Melinda's very animated retelling, in Russian, of the story of Goldilocks and the Three Bears, which concluded with a pronouncement by the Papa Bear as Goldilocks fled the scene: "Americanski Tourist!"), solos by the piper and the horn player (who blew us all away by using a coiled up length of garden hose and a funnel as her instrument), all topped off with a pick-up rock & roll band who let anyone who wanted to come up on stage and sing the back-up parts. We sang and danced and drank up our guilder until well after "The Midnight Hour," when I think even the bartenders were sorry to see us go.
I decided to leave the retreat the following morning after breakfast, having neglected to print out an itinerary for my return, and therefore uncertain about my connections back to Aalborg and a little worried about getting stranded overnight in the Hamburg Bahnhof. Turned down a chance to ride into Aachen to see the Tomb of Charlemagne, and then taking the train back through Köln where I might have been able to take a quick peek at the cathedral there; as it turned out, that probably would have been OK, since I ended up with a two-hour wait in Hamburg before I could catch the train back to Denmark. It was nearly midnight when I finally got home to Aalborg. For the trip home I decided to ride in the 1st class compartments, since my railpass allows it and I wanted to see what I'd missed on the way down. What a difference! -- maybe it was just the fact that I was traveling on a Sunday, but in some cases I had an entire car all to myself. Moreover (at least on the Danish IC) in First Class juice and coffee are free. So I guess it's true: Second Class is where the action is, but First Class is great if you just want to kick back and relax, which is exactly how I felt at the end of this long weekend. Of course, the best part of the entire trip is that I was able to meet so many other Unitarians living in Europe, including a young woman who is planning to be married on June 21st (my own wedding anniversary) on the Greek island of Sifnos, and is still looking for someone to perform the ceremony. She has hopes that her minister from the States will be able to make the journey, but if not,l I'm now the "back-up." I also found out about a program administered by my former "Orientation to the Ministry" instructor at HDS which subsidizes travel for UU ministers willing to work with European Fellowships on a temporary, consulting basis, so I'm already starting to daydream about coming back here sooner rather than later. And I own it all to the very unlike-me decision simply to jump on a train at the eleventh hour and entrust myself to the hospitality of others.
Meanwhile, back here in the land of the Vikings, I feel like I am finally starting to settle into a routine: I have my apartment, an office, my buspass, keycards and computer password; I've found a bakery and a supermarket and even the local laundromat; I'm starting to get along a little better in the language (at least well enough that I can read the signs and make myself understood -- sorta -- in public, although I'm still a long way away from being able to carry on a sustained conversation), and am generally beginning to get to know my neighbors and my neighborhood. Had a very interesting conversation yesterday afternoon with the Studenterpræst ("campus minister") here, and tonight hope to attend one of the programs he offers of International Students at the Student Union building. I'm also enjoying the academic portion of my exchange: heard a very stimulating paper at yesterday morning's seminar from Adam Muller of the University of Manitoba, and this weekend Adam, Tatiana, and myself have all been invited out to the summer house of the European Cultural Studies Programme Coordinator, who arrange all of our exchanges. Still don't have firm plans for the upcoming Easter recess other than trying to worship Palm Sunday at the Buldolfi Cathedral here in Aalborg, and Easter Sunday at the indigenous Unitarian Church in Copenhagen. Think I may also take a day trip into Copenhagen Monday for the Queen's birthday, which will mean catching another early morning train out of Aalborg and returning home late that same night. I'll try to continue to keep you all posted from time to time of my latest adventures. And thanks to all of you who have written me back; I know I've responded to some of your e-mails, while others of you I've neglected; unfortunately this mail program doesn't tell me automatically which of the messages I've responded to and which I haven't, so I have to go to the "sent mail" file and try to cross-reference from there. So if you haven't heard back from me yet, I apologize...and likewise to those of you whose e-mail I may have inadvertently answered twice. And forgive my spelling -- the resident spell-check program here is all in Danish, and not much help to an American!..............twj
A "Kermit" from Anna Berglind's bakery
# posted by The Eclectic Cleric @ 10:43 PM 
