You gotta love this little city, if you’d feel so obliged to call it a city. I guess it is that, but it feels more like a town, maybe even just a big village. And you’d probably never find it, like the little gem it is, unless you happened to stumble upon it like I did.
It’s a little place in Germany called Münster, but they don’t speak much German here, at least not with me anyway. The only time I get to speak German is when I’m doing business. And I don’t mean business business, I mean when I’m on the opposite side of a business transaction, I.E. when I order something at the cafe or with the girl at the checkout stand in the grocery store. And there’s Maja too- we strictly speak only German. But with everyone else, the second I open my mouth to introduce myself (mostly because my accent is so horrible), the conversation switches immediately to English. I don’t blame them, and they’re not in anyway doing this to be rude- that’s just the way things are here.
In my opinion there are four Münsters. But one surpasses the other three with flying colors. And they’re beautiful colors- the colors of summer- blue sunny skies which last long into the night until the burning of the glorious pink and purple set fire over the water of the Ems. The Ems River is the closest you get to the ocean here, and it is more than enough. Actually, it is perfect if you’re in search of a body of water, which everyone is on a hot day. There’s even a beach, so to speak, where instead of sand there’s grass on which you can lay out all day, drink some beers, BBQ, and then go play in the water.
You do have to be careful though for Summer Münster is still Münster and holds true to the saying that somebody special used to say to me: “Es gibt zwei Wetter in Münster- Entwieder es regnet, oder die Glocken spielen. Und wenn es beide gibt, ist es Sontag.” It doesn’t have the same ring to it in English, but what she meant was: “There’s only two kinds of weather in Münster- Either it’s raining, or you can hear the church bells… And if there’s both, then it’s Sunday.” It doesn’t even make much sense when you translate it because of cultural differences so if you were to instead reconstruct it, the basic meaning is- It’s always raining here. Considering such, you would find it funny, like I did yesterday, how swiftly they cower from the water when they see it so often. You would think that it was raining fireballs the way the population clears from the sidewalks and take cover in huddles and bunches under the nearest awning against the building walls. That’s how it seems to me to seem to everyone. Everyone except the girl whom I saw yesterday who seemed to gawk at the downpour as she walked down the empty sidewalk, eating her ice cream.
What makes Münster so unique is that you can be anywhere (anywhere which needs going to anyways) in no more than 15 minutes. And even then you’d be reaching the outer limits. It takes about three songs to get from the StadtWerke to my door, two and a half depending on how fast I’m peddling. It’s not the bike capital of Germany for no reason. And, I think, presumably it has the most bike thefts per capita, so you better lock your bike or my old roommate will be giving it to me for the summer. It also happens to be the skate capital of Germany, however purely in a merit kind of way. There’s about two skate spots and if you’re thinking of getting from A to B, you better have your skate shoes packed away and your walking shoes on because this city is exactly how you would imagine it— cobble stone streets everywhere, which are no doubt impossibly beautiful, but also impossibly horrible to roll through.
And if you are walking, you will sooner or later get to a street that you have to cross, (it could be any street). If there ever was a German no-no (and you can smoke in front of babies here), it is crossing the street on a red. I kid you not, (Picture Harold and Kumar, if you’ve ever seen it), it could be 3 in the morning, without a soul in sight, and you better believe the dude at the corner is not jay-walking. I just don’t get it, nor do a prescribe to it. It’s only a matter of time until one of the cops pulls me over and writes me a ticket. But until then, it is simply hilarious and extremely cute.
Speaking of which, I once met an extremely cute girl at a crosswalk. It was right across from this little place called the Kiosk Ecke. I believe that’s its official name, but the kids are calling it the “Corner” these days. It’s even become a verb- “Las uns cornern.”
Long ago this little bodega was your skater’s hangout, where before, during, and after a sesh they would chill on the corner outside the establishment. Now it is the center of the party scene where the skate culture, that was once shunned, is intermingled with the rest of society who now calls it their own as well. It is the best place to find yourself on the start of a Saturday night, for it’s a diving board for whatever comes next. And what comes next depends completely on what subculture you’re with. I’ve been on and heard from both sides- the skaters and the Himmelkinder. When I’m on my way somewhere, they’ll shake their head in disagreement and say something to the tune of, “Oh There. No we don’t go there.” And honestly I don’t take sides. I’m no local so I don’t know. Being someone who is not engrained into the society here and who is open to everything is a beautiful thing because all is seen through rose-colored glasses that don’t know any better. I’m glad it’s this way. I like a little ignorant taste of everything.
However, if there’s one place which I am most happy to end up at the end of the night is a place called the Amp. I don’t know if I would call it your typical bar, for it’s not solely a bar, but it isn’t a club either. All I know is that there is a doorman, tequila, a beautiful patio, and there are two dance floors which give you double the space to make a fool of yourself. But it also makes for double the fun. And if you stay around long enough—that’s when the sun starts to come up, you can finally get a turn on Mario Kart next to the dance floor that plays the hip-hop. And by all means, when they kick you out, you will be forced to make a decision of the two evils- there’s the simple one- head to the Pizza place next to the Corner and stuff your face with fries and mayonnaise, or you can head in the opposite direction of home, further down the street, to this place called the Haverkamp. It stays open until way past the wee hours of the morning, almost until lunch time, by which time you’ve gone too far and you’re probably going to stop and get some fries anyways. Make sure you get them to go though. Nobody at that hour needs to see anyone in that state, drunkingly gobble down that disgusting but oh so delicious meal.
And you better get something to eat on the way home because the grocery stores, as well as pretty much everything else, are closed on Sunday. That’s one of the big differences between here and home. It’s a culture thing, but some things are the same everywhere, like how couples fight. There was this one time last year that I was standing behind this couple who already had all their groceries on the conveyer belt. I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but I could tell they were arguing. First, the dude shot something at his girlfriend. You could tell that he was just waiting for her answer, and I didn’t think it was going to come. Maybe she conceded? I thought. Joke was on me though. In this country, just like it is in ours, nobody wins until it escalates. So she shot back and he wasn’t having it, nor was he having “her” groceries, which beforehand were “their” groceries. Next thing I know, he takes one of those little plastic sticks and separates his things from hers. Lol. Some things, no matter where you are in this world ever change.
Not for from my house is this big church. There’s big churches everywhere here, but if while you’re here, you’re only going to see one, then the Church on the Principal Markt is the one you gotta visit. It is done in the Gothic style and it looks even more goth, because from the bombings and burnings of World War II, it has been stained grey by black smoke. At the very top of the pointy, single spire hang cages from which the Catholics used to punish the Anabaptists by leaving them there to hang until they died in the public eye. It is kinda creepy, as is the street that leads away from there. It is said to be haunted, and that if you look in the window of the second restaurant on the right, you might see the two ghosts that still haunt their Stamplatz, but I don’t know if it’s true because I never look.
I’ve often been asked why Münster? There are a million places in the world to go see. That’s true too. Barcelona, Paris, London, maybe Copenhagen and the list goes on and on. I could go to any of these places, but do you know what these places don’t have? The people. They have always been so good to me. They have taken me in as one of their own and I am forever grateful for that.
The people closest to me are dealt throughout the city like a deck of cards, and in the same way, you need them all to make the set complete. The king and queen of hearts live at the top of the castle on Salz Street. There are two jokers— one of them always has a camera, the other always has a girl, and with both of them you never know what’s going to happen. I love it. I also love when I peak at my hand and I see aces, however, unfortunately this rarely happens because the aces have moved away. I have an apartment here, but home is up the spiral staircase on Wollbecker Street, across from the bakery. There live the three jacks, whom when we are all together make up a full house.
My friend texted me a couple questions the the other day. First he wanted to know, “How’s Germany?” “It’s been good,” I said. “Need to relax though. This last week was a little much.” What should have either of us have expected though? Getting back here again, I felt like a kid in a candy shop. It was 0-100 real quick, hopscotched from A directly to B and hit every letter all the way to Z. That’s the best/worst thing about being here— there is always something to do, which is an awesome problem to have if you’re here for a quick vacation, you don’t have a budget, and you’re able to exhibit some self restraint. I don’t fall into any of these categories so now it is time to pump the breaks and treat this place like home while I’m here.
Then he asked “Where in Germany are you again?” I said, “I’m in this little place called Münster, but they don’t speak much German here…”
