I Heart The Mudflats

Germans find a lot of reasons to party, Last night, ambulances drove up and down Frankfurts Club mile Hanauer Landstr. to pick up the victims of this years Tanz in den Mai-Dance into 1st of May. This night resembles those Christian churches you find all over Europe, which were erected on former pagan sacred sites.

When I grew up, everybody in our village spent the afternoon of the 30th of April clearing the yard from anything moveable, because the night to come was the night of practical jokes. In the dark, the male village youth would gather and look for wheelbarrows, carts, or machinery left alone under the open sky.

The next morning, negligent owners would find their possessions high up in a tree, fixed to a lamppost or heaved onto a roof. My parents always where proud of securely stowing away everything. Nobody could get the better of them, nobody.

Till one First of May, when my mother wanted to drive to a “Kaffee und Kuchen” invitation. At three a clock, she went out to get her car she parked on the curb. “Call the police”, she cried when she rushed back in 30 seconds later. “My car is stolen”. My father grabbed the phone. While he dialled, he looked out of the window. His eyes hit a red object sitting on the garage roof: my mother’s tiny Fiat 126.

In my village, this night strictly was “boys only”. Later I learnt that the 30th of April for centuries was the night out for the women. In mediveal belief, at Walpurgisnacht, witches mounted their sweeps and rode to the Brocken, a montain in the Harz, where they were to meet their master, the Devil, to a wild orgiastic dance.

Goethe wrote about this myth in his “Faust”, the most classical of German classics. A he did it in part 2, which nobody ever reads, this Tanz in den Mai was forgotten for two centuries. The feminist movement dug the legend out again, dusted it off, and made the 3oth of April a night out for the girls. This time, strictly no men. In lila dungarees I danced to Patti Smith or listened to Ina Deter wailing: Neue Maenner braucht das Land-what we need are new men.

As the new man still were in the making and the old type of men struck back in the conservative 90ies, the feminist movement lost power. The trade unions tried to pick up the newly neglected date and declared it the opening night of First of May, workers day, a public holiday in Germany. Now I drank beer for a good cause and listened to the Songs of International Solidarity.

As we got globalization and international recession instead, Tanz in den Mai was orphaned again. Today, the Club scene adopts the idea. As I walk through the streets, posters like this announce Tanz in den Mai in many of the many hip clubs in town. I was stempted to try the one shown on the photo. I don´t know the message of DJ Maxi, but at least this club admits people over 30, as the sign Ü30 tells me.

These age-brackets sprang up during the last few years. As nobody wants to get old but gets old anyway, the entertainment industry adapted to unchanged habits. Recently I even spotted a Ü40 sign, for all those who lived through the Ü30 parties of the last decade and still don´t want to give up on partying. I´m one of them, though for a long time I didn´t go dancing because I wasn´t energetic enough any more to go out at 11 0´clock at night, dance till 2 0´clock in the morning, and then go to my office the next day - and even work there.

For people like me, the club owners invented the after-work party: it opens at 5 o´clock in the afternoon, dance starts at 8 o´clock. Thus, I can leave, pleasantly exhausted by hard dancing, at 10 o´clock. Sometimes I even can kiss my son good night. Though I would prefer a Ü40 option here too. Last time I queued to get in the guard told me: “Madam, if you are here to get your son, maybe you would rather call him on his mobile.” But this is another story. @Truegerman

You can read more from Truegerman at Letters From Germany

A guest post from Mudflats Moderator Jamie:

In this day and age, friends are often hard to make, hard to keep. We move around so much, changing careers, changing towns, moving across state or to another continent. We have less and less time, time taken up by the hustle and bustle of daily life, work and family. Friendships are often fleeting, it seems to be so complicated to find the time to meet people, join groups, machete through the jungle of rules and constraints put upon us by an ever-changing society. And then internet happened.

From the beginning, since my husband set us up with e-mail addresses and a google search engine, I have always been somewhat afraid of all the new technology, funny thing coming from a girl whose father helped put men into outer space and eventually onto the moon. But little by little, I grew into bigger shoes, understanding my computer’s potential for opening up new worlds to me, allowing me to learn about the world beyond my doorstep or create my own space or talk and debate with other people outside of my own city. I created my food blog and connected with fellow foodies all over the world, I followed a passionate Presidential election alongside fellow political animals and caring Americans (and fellow citizens of the world), I wended my way over to Facebook, hooking up with old school and youth group friends, friends made through the Flats, through various great food blogs and friends met through friends. And now I have found my place among them.

I think that behind the safety of our computer screen, we open up faster to people met over the waves, we are less afraid to show our true selves without the social functions and free of all societal barriers and rules. We met here on The Mudflats with a common passion and a common cause, trying to work together to jump-start a flagging country and find our true American soul, buried under 8 years of lies and greed, entire communities left out in the cold, our collective back turned against the rest of world.

Mudflats gave us a place to share and express ourselves, debate and disagree or inform and share common ground. Coming here we already started as something of a family, long lost or unknown relatives at some huge family reunion, never having met before yet having a common tie, a bond, a unifying factor. We made friends easily, finding like-minded souls and kindred spirits. Passionate and engaged, we none of us had trouble revealing our true selves or seeing each other as we are. And change did indeed come and here we still are thanks to the tidal wave of hope and excitement that has swept through the Mudflats family. And family we have become, supporting each other, laughing together, creating a network in Cyberspace that overflowed to real life!

I was rather shy and extremely self-conscious growing up, never really feeling as if I had anything in common with those around me, always searching for something bigger. I had a hard time fitting in, dressing the part, going along with the crowd. I buried myself in books and bided my time until I could escape. Yet everywhere I traveled I still felt as if I hadn’t quite yet found my place in this world, a place alongside fellow idealists, people willing to shake things up a bit and change the status quo, a place where people were less interested in what job you had or what school you went to or how you dressed or how many cars you owned, but rather interested in what made you tick, what you believe in.

This I finally found here at Mudflats. The folks who gathered around AK Muckraker and her golden pen had no pretensions, didn’t judge, listened carefully, shared openly and laughed together, cried together, and worked together. This is what real friends do. And I had finally come home. Isn’t it an amazing thing, internet? For those of you who follow my blog, you know that I love to cook. Cooking and baking are my pleasure, they are both soothing and invigorating at once, my way of offering a bit of myself to all who sit at my table, my way to say everything from “have a great day” to “thank you” to “I love you”.

So to show my love of Mudflats and everything it has brought to my life, the friendships I have forged, the people that I have come to love and consider family, I have created a special treat, a treat I would love to share here in my virtual kitchen. This is my own version of the mud pie which I have dubbed Mudflats Pies in honor of my first internet friends found here on Mudflats : a deep dark chocolate base like the mud deposits on the bottom of the coastal wetlands and mudflats found both in Alaska and outside of Nantes, a creamy layer of coffee ice cream, representing both the murky waters of Alaskan politics and all the coffee drunk by nameless bloggers and forum members over at the ‘Flats, and topped off by barely sweetened whipped cream, a fluffy layer like newly fallen snow through which tiptoes chocolate moose and other political animals. For the recipe, follow me over to my blog Life’s a Feast.

Today we have a guest post from mudpuppy Palingates - Enjoy!

Before we moved to France we stayed on a boat on the Thames for a while. We bought the boat as an alternative form of accommodation for our son, who has since gone to live in Australia and is quite happy in Melbourne.

The idea behind buying the boat was very attractive: we were leaving a 21 year old alone in London to fend for himself, even though his older brother lived nearby with his girlfriend. The last thing the older brother wanted was his baby brother tagging along when he had just moved in with the girlfriend… A boat comes with a friendly community as part of the deal and we felt he would be safe there. A small community, 42 boats in all, was ideal.

So the three of us moved into this tiny boat for six weeks while we finalized our move to France. It was lovely! We quickly made friends with the other boat dwellers. The boat is moored at a small island on one of the loveliest stretches of the Thames, with fantastic wildlife all around! People were warm and welcoming, the island very peaceful.

The moment we crossed the little bridge and went down the pontoon leading to our houseboat, the noisy world stayed outside, together with any worries. If we had known about this haven in the middle of the bustling city at such a reasonable price, we would have made the move years before.

Blip The Swan & Wife

After our son moved to Oz, we spent nearly six months on the island and got to know the locals quite well. We miss Blip, the swan, and his wife, who would come for a snack every morning. We miss Bill and Ted, a couple of ducks who were getting so bold they would walk into the kichen looking for tidbits. We even miss the coots, dubbed the “mafia” of the river. They would aggressively steal the bread from the swans and the ducks and not eat any of it!

Bill & Ted

We miss the herons and their fishing skills… But most of all, we miss our neighbours. There were all sorts of people on the island: computer experts, artists, teachers, boatbuilders, musicians, our charming resident drunk scotsman and three people with multiple sclerosis. We all looked out for each other, ready to lend a hand.

We miss going to laundry room, where we put our old books and DVDs to be recycled. Sometimes we would come across an old piece of furniture or old clothes. Microwave ovens, old stereos, all kinds of things were left there for someone else. The donors and the recipients remained forever anonymous.

The organic bakery based on the island would leave crates of yummy bread and croissants outside the laundry room for the islanders to share. Of course, in such a close community, there was a bit of gossip, but it was never malicious, just good fun between people who cared for each other.

Every year there’s something called the draw-off. The river is “drained” for bridge maintenance and a general clean-up. They drain it by doing something with the sluice gates, I’m not sure about the technical side of the operation.

Anyway, the draw-off lasts for a month and boats have to be moved to avoid damage. The number of people walking around looking for their boats made for really funny entertainment! When the month is up, there are still some people looking for their boats for a few weeks, having got used to the new location. Another interesting thing about the draw-off is the number of cell phones and keys found on the river bed. There are dozens of them every year. Our son lost at least three cell phones and I don’t know how many keys! In the end he stopped trying to lock the door.

The boat has been rented for a year and our tenant will move into a larger boat on the island next month. We’ll either sell the boat or rent it again. It gives us pleasure to introduce new people into that small but perfectly formed community. No matter what we do, every person and every creature on the island will be in our hearts forever.

I suppose the point of this guest post is to look at communities: islanders, mudpuppies, bloggers. It’s lovely to belong.

Mudflats Moderator IrishGirl sent us this I Heart The Mudflats image -

Like so many other people, I found The Mudflats just after Sarah Palin was nominated by John McCain. AKM’s writing and the witty and informative comments of fellow mudpuppies kept me sane and laughing through those scary months.

Now I feel privileged to be a part of this….I have made so many friends around the world. I have had coffee with Irish and American mudpups here in Dublin, chatted on the phone to Jamie in France, sent magnets to Alaska, Virginia and Conneticut, and stayed up waaay too late at night talking to the moderators. I hearts The Mudflats!!

You can submit your own I Heart The Mudflats image by clicking here.