Author Archives: lettersfromeurope

Not Germany but Haiti

More ways to help:
For UK readers
For readers from Germany.

They are already in Haiti, which makes them first responders, but unfortunately means that they were in harms way. I´ve been donating to SOS every month and for emergencies for more than 20 years. Give whereever you can. The first link demonstrates very nicely how far our “small” contributions go in Haiti.

SOS started off with one house and a mother to orphans in Austria, organized by a medical student who felt for the many orphans left behind by the devastation of WWII. From this one house and this one family, many houses, whole villages and many ways of bringing smiles back to little childrens faces grew.

Again we are faced by a tragedy. It happened to us in Europe. Let´s not look away when it happens in another part of the world. Every little contribution matters.



PS An afterthought: If you know of any worthwhile agencies feel free to list them in the comments. Thankyou

PPS Another update: In case you have become unsure about who to donate to in Germany, use this list at . This list is being advertised by the German Government. Thankyou and keep giving….


Filed under Germany

Frohe Weihnacht

und ein frohes Neues Jahr!

Enjoy this precious time of year …

Francesca and TrueGerman


Filed under Germany

Woman in a gilded Cage

Now this was an unusual take on the debate of working women. “Stop the government from forcing our women to abandon their children during the first three years of their childhood by making them go back to work.” Huh, are these people in Germany?

In Germany you can receive up to three years financial government support if you decide to stay home with your Baby during its first three years of life. Parents (yes, even the guys) are encouraged to take time out with their kids, if they want to. Your Employer, although not paying you wages during this time, cannot fire you. Your job should be waiting for you when you get back.

On the other hand many families that need to and want to return to work lament the lack of adequate facilities for their youngest and many and expensive solutions are being offered my companies themselves to allow family life and a career to be possible for both men and women. It´s generally accepted that employees, that are well-trained and gifted, should be given many incentives to return and stay with their companies as long as possible.

That is what is happening and then this leaflet? Government forcing women back to work? Maybe I should mention that this leaflet found its way into my mailbox during the current election campaign and is a political flyer distributed by those who should not be named, but must, the NPD. They are what remains of a once massive movement that promised “The Third Reich” and ended in Tears for the whole world.

Oh, them.

And it is interesting that the statement apparently is made by one of their female representatives. (Imagine steam coming out of my ears at this point.)

The fact is that german Government likes the women to stay at home at the hearth and have done many things to ensure that they stay where she could not be a competitor for precious jobs. After WWII she was. Men were being wasted in the war, but the “home front” needed to keep on working, so women had taken  over the jobs that had been dominated by men until then. Ironic that the war did so much for women´s lib. But this had not been the plan and the backlash came during the Fifties for many women and not only the German ones.

My italian grandmother, who had organized food where there was none, in “Rome Open City” and was twenty during the twenties, found herself reprimanded when her knee showed under her dress. It was unsuitable that she should run her own business, as this somehow implied that her husband was not able to provide enough for the family.

The truth of course was a little more complicated. Men, returning from war hardships, needed jobs. So women were told to go home. The fact that they had proven they were not the weaker gender after all, was suddenly irrelevant.

Germany gilded the cage in the course of the years. Elterngeld, Kindergeld – money paid out by the State to Stay-at-home-Mums made it financially viable to live off one income only and have children. That women were giving up careers, higher incomes and in the long run higher pensions was partially compensated with tax exemptions for families and recognition of family time as payment into your pension scheme. All seemed well and dandy.

But the truth is a lot of Women like working, if they can establish their own career. The truth is a lot of Women are better Mums if they can. The truth is Women always have worked and Women deserve to have the choice where they work, at home or outside of the home. Oh yes, I have met  “The Mum” too. Great ladies that educate and nourish their kids, plunge themselves into school commitees and find total fulfillment in making a home. They are happy with their choice. But too often I have met women who were trying to live that ideal and found that it worked for them as little as it does for most men.

They pick at the lock of the gilded cage.

I have met ladies in other countries that reacted enthousiastically to the news of Elterngeld and Kindergeld. WOW, they said. It would be nice to take break, but if they had to choose, they declared they´d rather have the career.

That´s a difficult choice for a woman in Germany, even today. With all these financial incentives to stay at home who wouldn´t. It must be a Rabenmutter, that doesn´t really care about her kids. Why did she have them in the first place?! She should be worried about her bedsheets coming out of wash in the brightest of bright whites rather than establishing a career. Who cares for her personal fulfillment other than that of being a mother! Yikes…

Guilt can be quite unsubtle. It´s purpose less so.

Indeed a lot of women put off having children or decide not to have them, when they want a career. They choose university courses that suit their future family plans and not their personal talents. So much that the lack of women in the engineering and science fields has been noted and of the women that do study in these subjects, the numbers that actually go on to work in these fields is sad. I realized how used to this concept I was, when I was surprised how many young french female engineers I met in an international environment. Why was I surprised they were Engineers?

I come from a family that moved several times and I have three siblings. My mum stayed at home most of the time, but I know she would have liked to work outside of the house more. She had a great time when she did and worked for interesting people. I know she liked that learning never stopped, even though she had to leave school early due to financial considerations. Maybe if we had stayed in London, where all-day schools are in place, she could have returned to work. But we came to Germany and my parents decided we should attend local schools so we could integrate into our environment. But schools run only half-days and hours were and still are irregular and my Mum paid the price of the Stay-at-home Mum, as so many women still do. Unless you are so strapped for cash, that there is no other option than making your kids a Schlüsselkind (child that carried his house keys with him, comes home to empty house and makes his own lunch), mothers opt to be at home whenever their child returns from school.

Would you risk being called a Rabenmutter?



Rabenmutter – Apparently the Raven gets a bad reputation for neglecting its chicks from some bible passages. They are wrong. Ravens do not neglect their chicks.

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German Health Care through my Window

I might have mentioned before that I grew up in Germany.  I live german style.

One way of german life is to always have health insurance. I left my parents insurance when I became a student and immediately signed up to a german “public” insurance. I walked into the nearest office, showed them a passport and my student documentation and walked out signed up to a cheap student rate within an hour. Nobody asked me about any history of illnesses in the family or my own. If I ever wanted to change my insurance now, the fact that I had two caesarians would be irrelevant and my payable rate would be based on my income and not my current health status or age or likelyhood of illnesses as long as I stick with a public option, of which we have several to pick from.

Whenever I go to a doctor I show him my card, they pick up my details from the chip on it and I never see a bill or have to worry about the expense. Small charges on medicines or doctors visits for adults might occur, but we are talking in the range of 10 or 15 Euros.  Something negligible, when compared to paying the full price, yet something the public has accepted only grudgingly and is hoping will not last. This summer the monthly fee for our insurance actually went down, so savings the insurances make are passed on to us.

Over the years the insurances have developed many programs and incentives to improve the health of their insured and reward those clients that go for regular check ups by reducing the fee. Overall being healthier and catching illness early on can bring down the cost for healthcare, benefiting all, because this money can be used for other health issues.

While following the recent health debate in the USA I came across the excitement about end of life discussions. I asked a friend if we had similar provisions and where I could sign up for such a program. It turned out she had done it herself. All it meant is that she talked to her doctor about her own personal choices, put them in writing (a document with helpful questions is available) and left a copy with her doctor and children. She wanted to have control over what happened to her in a moment when she might not be responsive and at the same time be able to spare her loved ones the additional anguish of having to second guess her wishes.

This is, she does have a private insurance and they offer many of the features a public health insurance offers, except that they will charge a little more for pretty much everything more than basic. So if you are not younger than 30, healthy and male, expect to pay more and as you grow older, more and more and more. Surprise! It is private after all and they care more about the money than you. Private Insurances are a thriving business in Germany, because there are so many, many things you need insurance for (your car, your house, your trips, your tendency to break other peoples things – PLENTY – they don´t need health insurance to do well and drive around with fancy cars, which I paid for…. Grunt!).

I was able to take advantage of the social side of the system when I was temporarily unemployed. My insurance offered a reduced rate. This arrangement was  available for a limited amount of time. It ensured though that I was still paying into the system, while staying healthy and once I had a full time job again, my premiums automatically were adjusted to my earnings. They stood by me and I am a faithful client since 30 years.

Another very pleasant part are the regular check ups you are expected to make for your children. Until they are teenagers you are encouraged to bring them in at specified intervals to evaluate their development, catch problems early on or simply provide peace of mind. These visits are always voluntary, but many parents subscribe to the idea that better one doctors visit too many than one too few. (See Truegermans blog entry last week –  children are insured for free in the public option)

I know the system is not perfect. My personal grudge is that they are peevish about including homeopathic treatments. But a lobby of patients exists and people are making their opinions and positive experiences known to the insurers, so progress has been made and more will be made, if slowly. We could have single payer, but I´ll take this one in the meantime and enjoy that system when I am in England.

It is believed that a percentage of 0,25 of the population have no insurance due to varying reasons. But “Germany” believes that leaving them to their own devices creates more problems than if solutions were found to integrate this last pocket of insuranceless individuals. Since last year it has become obligatory to be insured and if you should have lost insurance due to extremely hard times the government is forcing insurers to provide affordable rates. Should you be uninsured because you were avoiding to contribute to the pot and expect the rest of us to pick up the tab and pay it from that said pot, well those days are over.

5 Million of the 85% of the population could choose to switch to a private insurance, as they are wealthy enough, to afford paying their own way. But they stay in the public option, although they would be paying cheaper monthly premiums for each individual (No children included. They need their own insurance). Why? Maybe, like me, they were not always that well off and their insurance stood by them. They didn´t forget.

And I have always felt safe. I never wondered if myself or my children should fall sick, if I would be able to afford treatment. I have never had to pay a bill up front, as they go straight to the insurer, saving everybody time and bureaucratic messes, providing myself a lot of peace of mind.

A worry, a big worry less, which is good for my mental health.

For the rest I hope just to keel over on my keyboard one day.


Useful Links:


Etwa 85 Prozent der Bevölkerung in Deutschland sind bei einer der gesetzlichen Krankenkassen versichert.

Versicherte der gesetzlichen Krankenversicherung in Deutschland. Stand 1. Juli 2006  Information in German about public option

For your Info: Once you have chosen a private option it is not so easy to switch back to a public option. A lot of foreigners coming here, thinking they will stay for only one year, decide for the cheaper private option. Ten years later, married and with kids and still in Germany, they wish they had thought long term. Some friends this happened to swear as well that the private insurer never mentioned they could not switch back so easily, au contraire.


NO I am not advertising for these guys, but they were the only ones that have a really good english page on german health insurance (they do have a very good reputation though  – so I feel confident their info will be reliable):

Here´s a story that makes me think our system ain´t half bad:


Filed under Germany

I like to ride my bicycle, I like to ride my bike

Last week was the first time in two months that I met my writing friends. I was pleasantly surprised, as usual, how easy it is to get back into the routine of writing on command, during our freewriting exercise. Afterwards I declared, “You never forget how, just like riding your bicycle.”

Well my Truegerman, before I continue, I have to clear up a leeetle misunderstanding. I wanted to write about health insurances, but as we agreed to do that next week, I stick to writing it next week. That is something I learned in Germany. Stick to it. It´s okay to be rigid. But as you, dear Truegerman, have been hanging around with foreigners (like me) too much, you have become very, very flexible. Well, maybe you already were before, but hanging around with us made you happy to use that skill! So here I am without my healthcare story and just my bike. That´s it.

I remember the first time I had a bike that was all mine. I´m the third of four children and that means hand me downs most of the time. It also meant that when I received something that was brand new, that was very special and nice.

In my case it was a bicycle I desired.

My dream came true in the shape of a speed bike, light blue, with ten gears that were all the rage 25 years ago. I rode that bike as if it was Rolls Royce, a beauty among its kind, sparkling in the sun because I even cleaned it!

I loved riding it everywhere: to school, to my friends houses, all over town. Nothing was too far. I was happy if it took me an hour to get somewhere. I rode it in the pouring rain and had to dry out in class. I felt independent.  It also was the only “sport” that I could take up without working too hard on perfecting it. Just hop on the thing and take off. No special skill required. No years and years of sweat and toil on style and class. You can just do it. Perfect for Ms. Unsporty.

I felt independent and accomplished when I rode my bike. I didn´t have to wait for the streetcar, ask my Dad to drive me or dish out my few cents on ever more expensive tickets. While riding I loved mulling over my thoughts or just looking around and enjoying what I saw. I liked rides on smooth wood paths, in clean air, with the wind pulling my hair back, giving me a sense of speed. There was no competition, just movement and feeling really alive. I would plan my trips so I could avoid main roads and get to anywhere surrounded by as much green as possible.

While I write this I realize that I still love doing that.

A friend told me she knows how happy it makes me to accompany my son to school on the bike, when she sees me there. I must admit that in those moments  I am usually extra happy because I am not getting stressed sitting in a car, snaking my way to the school in the daily traffic jam and having to figure out how to drop off my sons in relative safety. I feel like quite a bicylce snob and in my head I am writing articles for the schoolpaper about the many advantages of riding bikes in Frankfurt, even in the worst of weathers and imagine sticking signs on my tires that would read “Ride your Bike”  or “It´s just water” as they turn and I coast past the crawling cars. I never do. I keep the snob under lock and key.

And then there was a moment about two years ago. I felt  melancholic and the day was misty and gray. I rode my bike through the park, where the world did not enter with its noise. The weather muffled it. I felt the morning mist on my skin, breathed the cool air and felt that riding through the fog was as if you rode through a cloud. I was alone in the world and all that worried me would have to wait and faded into the accompanying fog. It was okay to feel melancholic, when you felt so alive at the same time.

Most times we ride our bikes to move us from point A to point B. Or we want to exercise and build muscle or be the fastest person on the block. But that day I experienced the soothing and healing power of just having taken a ride for the sake of taking a ride, not trying to get anywhere specific, but arriving at myself.



Filed under Germany

If Castles were made of Sand and my Home is my Castle

Yep, I wish my castle/home were made of sand. Then I wouldn´t have to have nightmares about asbestos, that we found in the floors of our new house and which can only be removed once a “real” expert makes a report. Oh, we did have a so-called expert come in before we bought, but he was a recommendation by the Estate Agent. Did you think you can trust Estate Agents in Germany? At least the big names in the business?  Well I thought I could. This is Germany after all. Rules rule. Well, the first thing the lawyer said to us last Friday, “There is no such thing as a trustworthy Estate Agent.” Spang, bang and another illusion about Germany gone down the drain. The kind I cherished and this is not good.

I don´t intend to rant about this experience and how it is spoiling my adventure into remodelling my dream home (and it will be one day, despite my current heartache. If you want names, so you can avoid the same mistakes, you can send me an e-mail via the comment page.)

The story reminds me of another illusion gone. I grew up in the shadow of a rather famous ruin und zwar im Schatten der Burg Frankenstein.

Oh, yeah!

No monster in sight and it seems Mary Shelley never got near the place, but she picked up the name during her travels in Germany and that is why it was so appropriate when the German-American Club Contact celebrated Halloween there for the first time.

The two towers, a little chapel and the surrounding walls are all that remain of its former glory, but a quick look across the Rhine valley reminds us why these castles were chosen as homes by the knights. Access was difficult, but they had the overview. Anybody crossing their borders was charged a toll and there were quite a few of those borders. Like pearls on a chain the castles line the Bergstraße, looking across the valley towards the Rhine.

The only thing in my early days, that I would have considered scary up there, was the restaurant – a cement monstrosity from the seventies. But then came Contact and they gave horror a good name. They designed their own posters, costumes and show and for a few days in October turned the Frankenstein into the residence of horror thrills.

We heard about it and flocked up the hill walking, by bus or in cars to be scared out of our skins, even if the sun was still high up in the skies. What a bit of paint and some acting can do. Just being touched on the shoulder made us run for cover. Of course there were the more sophisticated acts, such as Dracula who was found residing in a coffin in one of the towers. The entrance was tight and busy and yet we merrily stepped into this dark cave to see Him. The problem was he didn´t keep still. Suddenly he opened his eyes, stepped out of his tilted coffin, slowly, slowly and wandered towards us, with pale skin, slicked back hair and very elegant. He spied a pretty woman and put his arms around her. She was hysterical and wanted to run, but her husband pushed her back into Dracula`s arm and said, “Hold it while I take a picture!” ARGHHHHH…. Dracula never smiled.

Of course a lot of Americans came, but the Germans quickly caught on, the show became more elaborate and all week-ends in October were Halloween week-ends. Buses had to ship the Thrill-Hungry up the hill, because the parking near the castle was soon exhausted, and everybody was happy, being silly, having fun and making some money too for the Contact Club, for the Castle and for the Bus Drivers.


Part of the show were tapes with scary noises and of course the crowds of people were not exactly quiet. Apparently the surrounding wild-life was suffering and somebody took it upon themselves to forbid the fun for all. Of course Contact had no intention of harming the wildlife and compromises were offered, but all were refused. No way. The idea died and for a few years there was no Halloween party.


A private and commercial organization took over.

I wonder if the wildlife could tell the difference.



Filed under Germany

Mainz – Minipresse – Small Print?

One proud boy with his Grandpa´s book @Francesca

One proud boy with his Grandpa´s book @Francesca

This week-end the bloggers of this page attended the Mainzer Minipresse as exhibitors. Truegerman hand-made books and I was there to present my father´s first book. It was quite exciting and we met a number of interesting folks, with beautiful work on display. Here are some pictures:

Beautiful Riverside - Minipresse Tents Mainz @Francesca

Beautiful Riverside - Minipresse Tents Mainz @Francesca

Looking towards Mainz Kastell from the Rheingoldhalle @Francesca

Looking towards Mainz Kastell from the Rheingoldhalle @Francesca

My Dad´s book alongside handcrafted books from the Netherlands @Francesca

My Dad´s book alongside handcrafted books from the Netherlands @Francesca

The Vampire Cookbook on the News. Hurrah for Bluestove Editions our Co-Exhibitors @Francesca

The Vampire Cookbook on the News. Hurrah for Bluestove Editions our Co-Exhibitors @Francesca

Some of our favourites : Bluestove Editions – Cookbooks (Webpage will follow shortly), Nizza Verlag  – Books about Food in Frankfurt (, our neighbour from the Netherlands at the Minipresse  – Handmade books, Calendars, with his own compositions and poetry ( and sculptures of books with instruments from Hungary (


Filed under Germany

Father – Daddy – Dad

I met my Dad coming out of a lift. I didn´t give him a chance of nervously pacing around a waiting room, sitting down and jumping up again. I was there when he arrived at the hospital, being carried around on the arm of a nurse.  I don´t remember this momentous meeting, but my father does.

What I remember are the times he took me to the printshops. I felt privileged to sneak a look at the enormous machines, smell the ink and see the huge paper rolls that were used to create the newspaper, which my father worked on. It was also very noisy, but I didn´t mind because that was part of the magic.

My Dad the journalist

I took it for granted that we lived in Europe, my father came from the States and had married an italian lady. Until recently I did not appreciate where he came from. In the course of this year we have spent many hours chatting about his childhood in a cozy midwestern town called Oak Harbor. We talked about the accident, which nearly killed him when he was seven and left him with one eye. We talked about him leaving his town and beginning life on his own at the University of Notre Dame (while still sending home all his wash ) and how he tried to get a foothold as cartoonist and journalist in the States after graduation.

He went to Europe as a tourist and decided to look for a job while there. He got lucky in Rome, where the “Daily American” was being published. A paper where, while it still existed, I also was able to visit the printshop. This is where he met a girl called Maria. He went off to Paris to work for the Herald Tribune, but found that he really missed the lady that became my Mother – Mummy – Mum. She joined him, while mastering climbing mountains of bureaucracy that were not used to dealing with an American and an Italian that wanted to get married in Paris in the year of 1957.

I discovered in our chats that he had saved every letter my mother and he wrote in this time of their long distance courtship. He saved every letter his mother sent him. He saved his lists of wash sent home from University. He saved every cartoon and copies of many of the articles he wrote.  We decided to go through all his material to organize it. For me it was like walking through time, discovering what was on my father´s mind and happening in his life at the time and with him there to explain and elaborate on pictures, drawings, stories and letters it all became real.

Sometimes things happen for a reason. I had just finished compiling an anthology for an adult learning course. It was a lot of work and of course I was doing it for free (which is something I cannot really afford, but who can nowadays). While we sorted through my Dad´s work I came upon familiar drawings of a pirate. He was called Captain Bucky and the drawings showed him golfing or skiing, things we normally don´t associate with pirates. But to my great surprise there were a lot more drawings of Bucky, which I had never seen and a story my father had written about the pirate. That´s when the pieces of the puzzle fell in place.

I had drawings. I had a story. I had an author and I had just learned how to create books. The idea was born and my father liked it. What a way to celebrate being over 80.


Pirate Bucky know what to do with Cannon Balls @John C. Krueger

Pirate Bucky knows what to do with Cannon Balls @John C. Krueger









Soon the first print of “The Jolly Roger Twins – Pirates who fly Kites” will be produced. Little did I know there was a lot more learning to do, but throughout it all my Dad and I had a wonderful time creating his first book. And being 80 and suffering from makular degeneration, doesn´t stop him from making plans for the next one.

It will be called Roma Oma and Europa Opa.


Here is a sample of my Dad´s professional writing from the sixties:


Filed under World

Typical German Breakfast

I wish I had more time.


That is a must be. You know those lovely, fluffy, just right crunchy crust bread rolls that you used to be able to find everywhere; freshly baked by a Baker that got up at four in the morning to make sure that Germany had fresh bread when it was time to wake up? Unfortunately this might be six in the morning  during the week for most. So handymen insist on a second breakfast time around ten, when they can seriously indulge in the art of breakfast. During the week-end and thanks to late sleep-ins, having breakfast in bed, or with the whole family around the table, letting it last for an hour or even going to a café, which offers abundant breakfast, is a luxury treat which everybody can afford.

The problem is that the Brötchen usually is not so fresh anymore, because factories replace the Bakeries one by one. It is hard to find people who are willing to face the hours of this trade and when they do, they find themselves overwhelmed by the competition from the factories.

Despite these changes, you still acquire your bread in a Bakery. The choice is great and it used to be that anybody that knew the names of the Brötchen (signs are a later development) or bread they wished to buy, and did not have to point at it instead (like me) was treated with a lot of respect by salesperson and fellow-buyers alike. Know your bread.

You also will always find the non-queue at the Bakery. As soon as more than three people are waiting to buy, you can feel the tension growing. Who came after you, who was immediately before you? Will somebody, usually the frail elderly looking person, suddenly display signs of unexpected vigor and push you aside and ignore your disgusted looks as she buys her bread ahead of you and possibly some little kid that the salesperson cannot see behind the high counter? Why don´t they form a line, so it will be evident? Maybe it is part of some secret initiation to being German? I haven´t seen it on the questionnaire for new Germans yet, but I will suggest something.

Once you have found one of the rare remaining real bakeries or an acceptable replacement nothing should come between you and your german breakfast. It is not hot except for the tea, coffee or boiled egg. You get Wurst and Cheese and Marmalade. If you are at one of the many student cafés that offer breakfast until two o ´clock in the afternoon, they will add joghurts, muesli and fruit to the choice. I can see many a student living off breakfast alone.

Nowadays I have very little time for week-day breakfast and the kids get tired of anything “new” within two days, so it is back to cornflakes and toast. As a child I remember the breakfast on holidays. We would stop off in Austria, on a little farm, and there were the delicious Brötchen, with butter that was served in little curls, a glass of orange juice, home-made jams, meats and cheese and eggs fresh from the hens: It was a great way to start a holiday and a day.

Later I would indulge in the german style breakfast at my boyfriends house. When we split I lost 4 kg without trying.

I could go on and on about the breakfast I remember. When I am on holiday nowadays, one of my special treats is to try the local breakfast. In Italy that is not a lot of fun for me, because it is coffee and a croissant and you stand at a bar. No, I am more into the british, irish or german way. In Scotland this includes haddock, in britain hot tomatoes and in Germany the Brötchen and last but not least taking it easy.

I like that.



Filed under Germany

Tanz in den Mai

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Filed under Germany, typical german