Wilkommen to Stuttgart!

My softball coach from university (Yes, UNI, NOT college. See how I’m adopting the British way there, I’m learning!) called me and asked if I could work a softball clinic with her in Germany for a few days. Jumping at the chance to both travel and get back in touch with the game that was a part of my life for as long as I can remember, I said UH YES, OBVIOUSLY. It was only a quick hour-long flight, and I was there!

We were running the camp on the American army base in Stuttgart, but we might as well have been anywhere in the states in terms of the softball experience. Softball parents were typical softball parents – doting, intense, and overly generous in welcoming in their extended softball family. We taught, we played, we laughed, we learned…and we were sore come day two. Overall the camp was a huge success, we tried to bring as much softball knowledge from the states that we could since we knew how far from the game these girls were. Their love for the game was evident and they were overly grateful to have players and coaches from the states come over to impart their knowledge. 

Look at the form on those 3 coaches!! Well played.

The diamond aside though, let me give you a taste of the real German experience. Here are some highlights from our time away from the field and out in the German countryside.

- Ritter Sport Chocolate.  Along with bread, cheese, and pastries, European chocolate is one of the many things in the category of, once-you-have-it-here-you’ll-never-go-back. The party in your mouth experience just doesn’t translate across the pond. Maybe it’s the water, maybe it’s because they put more time and love into each morsel they produce, or maybe there are just fewer FDA-like rules as to what they put in things over here, filling my taste buds with tiny crack-cocaine one bite at a time. Whatever it is, I am in love. Ending camp a little early day one, we jetted off to make it to the Ritter Sport Chocolate factory in time to watch them put their secret ingredients into the chocolate bars. Much to our chagrin, we got there only to find out that the factory was closed to the public until May – something about traces of the coca plant (yes coca, not cocoa) appearing in the water near the factory, so strange. I kid, I kid, BUT the bright side was that the Ritter Sport store WAS OPEN. We went a little wild in there and came out of the Willy Wonka wonderland a few pounds heavier. Yum. If you’re lucky I might send you a bar.

- The language. For instance, Bodenseewasserwersorgung = “Lake Constance water supply by the side of the road in Stuttgart.” One of the many funny things about the German language, aside from always sounding so very angry, is that it is also extremely lazy. Often times, for convenience sake, Germans will just combine all the words they are trying to say into one. Easy! Hence the German joke for the word for bra = kerstopemfromfloppin. I can get on board with this easy way out mentality, although not sure Robert Frost would agree. 

-Maltauschen, Schnitzel, and Brezels OH MY! In traditional softball fat kid fashion, I can pretty much say I ate my way through Germany. Every time we turned around, the softball parents were offering us a new German treat to try, one parent even made each of us a WHOLE CAKE to take home! Not one to turn a free meal down, I tried it all. Maltauschen, which was some sort of wonton noodle-like thing filled with mystery “meat” was probably the strangest thing I tried. The filling was greenish in color, but they swore it was minced meat, spinach, bread crumbs, onions, and herbs and spices. I was told they are a traditional dish in Swabia, because the meat is concealed under the pasta dough and cannot be seen by God. Therefore they have earned the nickname "Little Cheaters on God."  I’m still not convinced there was any meat in there. But it was still delicious nonetheless and I ate it all (I’m also not one to dishonor my religious beliefs as a proud member of the Clean Plate Club). And what about the schnitzel! Made fresh for you while you waited, you could seriously hear them pounding your pork (mind out of the gutter!) in the kitchen while you enjoyed your German Bier.  Lastly, the brezels. I’ve never been a huge fan of American soft pretzels. Always too dry for my liking. But these! So moist and doughy and perfectly cooked, I couldn’t get enough of them!

- Bier, Bier, Bier! From a German brewery to an Irish pub, I got my fill of Hefeweizens, which brought me back to my days in the German Biergartens of Munich with my study abroad crew. It was just as I remembered. AND just to make us feel a little at home, the live band at the Irish Pub (yes I went to Germany to find an Irish pub) was from New Orleans, so he played all the great American classics we know and love. Side note, not sure he opened his eyes once, so perhaps with our rather loud American voices singing at he top of our lungs maybe we did our part to convince him he was still in the States?! You’re welcome, cover-band-man.

It was with sadness, and tight-fitting jeans, I bade farewell to my softball friends and boarded my plane back to London. Until next time Germany! And by next time, I mean I’m conquering Oktoberfest!

German word of the day (just to mix it up): Kreisverkehn, pronounced something along the lines of “cries-fook-yoon” = roundabout. Thanks to Cailin, I was very familiar with this saying since she told me the story of the time her GPS got stuck on German with the pronunciation of this word in particular that always had her and her family in stitches. Sound it out, you’ll get it.