New Year's Eve, 2006
31st December 2006, 22:40
I’ve spent the past four days in an outbuilding of an anarchist commune in the Harz mountains of northern Germany. Which is considerably less remarkable than it sounds: it’s the usual New Year’s retreat of a bunch of German furs who congregate there to eat, sleep, talk and while away a few lazy days. Mostly eat and sleep. The rooms are basic, with creaky wooden floors, wood-fired stoves and single glazing. There are kitchens with cookers that run from gas cylinders on the floor beside them. And, most importantly from my point of view, there is open country nearby with lots of woodlands.
The time indoors was pleasant, in an unremarkable sort of way. The first day I was indisposed-not ill, exactly, but reclusive and depressed as though I had a fever. But after that I walked far afield. One morning there was mist in the woodland valleys, with sunlight slanting through the tree-trunks and long, and the deep bay of a big dog on one of the nearby farms. At night there was dappled moonlight and the faint rumour of faraway machines. Another day there was bright brisk sunlight and rain and wind, a good day for the open tracks through the fields. I found a sign, apparently in the middle of open country with nothing man-made in front of it or behind, saying:
VERBOT MUNITIONSTEILE EXPLOSIVE STOFFE RADIOACTIVE ABFÄLLE ODER SONSTIGE GEFÄRLICHE STOFFE IN DEN ABFALL ZU WERFEN
Don’t throw radioactive waste in the garbage? In the middle of the country? I looked around, mystified, but the tranquil rural landscape offered no clue.
Each night we ate. Macaroni al forno; bami goreng from alex_eagle; Maultasche from nerkitt. Tonight it was akeela‘s and my turn: roast pork, braised red cabbage, pasta and rotmos, an unexpectedly delicious mash of carrot and turnip that I discovered on a mountainside in Lappland. I’ve definitely put on weight.
And shortly we’ll all troop outside with armfuls of fireworks and cheap German champagne and see in the New Year in the traditionally martial manner.
I’ve spent the past four days in an outbuilding of an anarchist commune in the Harz mountains of northern Germany. Which is considerably less remarkable than it sounds: it’s the usual New Year’s retreat of a bunch of German furs who congregate there to eat, sleep, talk and while away a few lazy days. Mostly eat and sleep. The rooms are basic, with creaky wooden floors, wood-fired stoves and single glazing. There are kitchens with cookers that run from gas cylinders on the floor beside them. And, most importantly from my point of view, there is open country nearby with lots of woodlands.
The time indoors was pleasant, in an unremarkable sort of way. The first day I was indisposed-not ill, exactly, but reclusive and depressed as though I had a fever. But after that I walked far afield. One morning there was mist in the woodland valleys, with sunlight slanting through the tree-trunks and long, and the deep bay of a big dog on one of the nearby farms. At night there was dappled moonlight and the faint rumour of faraway machines. Another day there was bright brisk sunlight and rain and wind, a good day for the open tracks through the fields. I found a sign, apparently in the middle of open country with nothing man-made in front of it or behind, saying:
VERBOT MUNITIONSTEILE EXPLOSIVE STOFFE RADIOACTIVE ABFÄLLE ODER SONSTIGE GEFÄRLICHE STOFFE IN DEN ABFALL ZU WERFEN
Don’t throw radioactive waste in the garbage? In the middle of the country? I looked around, mystified, but the tranquil rural landscape offered no clue.
Each night we ate. Macaroni al forno; bami goreng from alex_eagle; Maultasche from nerkitt. Tonight it was akeela‘s and my turn: roast pork, braised red cabbage, pasta and rotmos, an unexpectedly delicious mash of carrot and turnip that I discovered on a mountainside in Lappland. I’ve definitely put on weight.
And shortly we’ll all troop outside with armfuls of fireworks and cheap German champagne and see in the New Year in the traditionally martial manner.