absent, and return

So, I know, it's been a while.  I got sick, last weekend, I guess.  Then I had kind of a lame week.  Too much not-understanding makes for a sad Megan.  I've upped my per-day studying amount, I hope it sinks in quickly.  I want to know what's going on in my classes.

As usual, a lot has happened since I last wrote.  Is this how my life used to be?  I was certainly busy, but maybe I had less to report, since the things I was busy with (like ancient printed books and playing Mahler in cow-towns) were too commonplace to mention.  Anyway, duh, now my life is all *foreign* and weird.  Today, for instance, I traveled to Frauenfeld (have I mentioned Frauenfeld before?  I played some Haydn there not too long ago.  North of Zurich) to go to the Buch- und Handpressen-Messe.  In other words, a hand-printing and artist's book fair.  Wait, that's not so unusual, I've been to these before.  (2 hrs from closing on the last day, everyone's got a glass of red wine...)  OK, I take it back.  Some interesting stuff! 

 

 

 I wanted at least two of these little books.  They were only Fr. 25.- each.  Shoulda.  Next time.

I'm starting to get a handle on how to recognize Swiss typographic design.  Sparseness, using type elements in decorative or artistic ways (for instance squares, circles, curves, etc -- things beyond just the type), using clear and basic colors (black, blue, red).  I had neglected to take out any cash before I went, which was probably a good thing, since I would have spent it.  I didn't buy anything, but I did come home with a few things.  I learned, for instance, about something called Gautschen; once upon a time, you did your apprenticeship with the type shop, and learned how to become a setter, or a caster, or a printer, or whatever.  Then you would get grabbed, at some unknown-to-you place and time, and thrown in a fountain.  Kind of like a fraternity hazing.  Then they'd give you a certificate, and you'd be a Real Printer.  I made the mistake of telling one of my local printer friends that I had never been Gautsched (how'd you like my Engli-fied German?!?) and he warned me there might be a dunking in my future.  I asked him to wait until summer, if he would be so kind.  Near the end I met a British printer who lives near Munich, who had seen my books at the Druckwerk table ("I asked the woman why there were so many books in English and she had no idea") and we had a nice chat, as often happens with native speakers.  After some probing he found out I also play bass, and then he told me I wouldn't be able to do both music and printing, if I wanted to be really good at either, and he said I knew it.  I guess so.  I told him I try not to think about it.  Ahem.


What else?  Well, a couple days ago my friend Maria had to turn pages at a concert at just the same time her mom was arriving at the airport on a plane from Transylvania, so I offered to go pick her up.  We had a jolly time!  She doesn't speak English, but has some German, and so we were able to ask basic questions (How Was Your Flight, When Were You In Basel, etc) until we got back to Maria & Sam's place, and I pulled out some paper and a pen.  Then, hoo boy, we got onto the big topics, primarily Hungarian culture, independence, and the way the war subjugated the culture of Hungary.  Observe this diagram.  1956 is the year of revolution.

You can see how the country, which was formerly quite large, got carved up into smaller sections.  The dot in the middle, which is technically in Romania, is where she lives.  Speaking Hungarian, while being forced to learn Romanian, etc.  Some generations-old angers; this all happened after the first WW.  Then we started talking about just one of the many things she brought as gifts from home: curds.  Or, if you're speaking Hungarian, Topfen.  Does it come from a cow, I asked?  "Kuh?"  She said no.  I didn't know the word for goat, so I "Baaaanh"ed and she said no, "Baaahhh."  Ah, of course, sheep.  So I drew those little pictures to make her laugh.  It was successful.  Then I tried to say that I used to buy curd at my local farmer's market (shout-out to Grand Lake!) and I couldn't get it across in my limited German, so I drew the man with the veggies.  She got it.  Phew.

And we had a little bit of awesome weather.  THANK GOODNESS.  I thought I was going to be slowly dulled by the gray, gray days entering my soul, like a melancholic parade of blah.  There was a rowing race on the Rhein on Saturday, what lucky planners of said race.  People got excited about it.  Yelling from the banks, etc. 

Not everyone was yelling, of course.  I think this girl had just about the right idea.

Last night I had the pleasant experience of falling asleep to the sounds of my radiator percolating away.  Sounded like crickets.  Reminded me of the more rural times in my life.  I slept soundly.