Saturday in Da Burg: Homburg!

Saturday in Da Burg

Haven’t been to Germany?  Having a tough time wondering what it’s like to live here?  I know you’re curious.  You’ve heard rumors from your beastly, so-called friends. The winter weather is awful, right? Germans aren’t friendly.  If it’s not snowing, it’s raining, right? So if you have to live here, what in the world is there to do as you ponder your Saturday?

Oh, nothing really.  Go to a very cool town for the big flea market, or perhaps a wine fest, or a Christmas market, or find a delicious German restaurant with atmosphere to spare.  Of course, you must begin with coffee and a fresh roll at the German bakery that’s down the street.  Imperative and essential for a bright outlook, even if it’s raining, which it was.  No matter. Drizzle fizzle.  Pull up the hood and march on.   We know every bakery clerk and they waved to us and called us by name as we walked through the automatic, sliding glass doors and got hit with a burst of the intoxicating aroma of fresh bread.  We answered them by name and sat down because we’re creatures of habit and the clerks know what we want.  The bakery was warm and comfortable, but after a coffee and roll warm up, we were ready to make the short drive to Homburg.

Amazing how many vendors showed up at the flea market, from Germany and France.  Homburg is a lively town and sports the biggest and best flea market (Floh Markt) in southwest Germany.  Happens the first Saturday of every month, from 0800 to 1600.  Yeah, yeah, subtract 12 hours from the latter.  Get used to it if you take trains in Europe.

But, we weren’t taking a train.  Just driving a couple of towns away and singing in the rain.  Very light drizzle that stopped periodically. Wasn’t that bad.  Vendors know better than weathermen when it’s going to be bad.

Unlike so many flea markets in the U.S., the Homburg flea market is stuffed with antiques and semi-antiques, most of which are at used furniture prices.  Interesting stuff. No dross. Can you bargain?  Foolish man, of course you can.  But, these vendors know the going price of everything and their wares are already cheap.  Check out the photos.  One thing the guys will want to know: Yes there is German World War II paraphernalia, but the crooked cross is always covered up.  It’s the law.  There were no coffee stands and no luscious aromas of grilling meats and sausages Saturday.  The antique vendors know the weather better than the food vendors.

Afterwards, we shopped for flowers and you can see what we got for less than ten bucks.  Brightens up the house, refreshes the spirit and all those other touchy-feely things.  Freshly cut flowers are my fav substitute sunshine, especially in Germany in the wintertime.  We did see the sun once…think it was last week.

Next stop, a wonderfully traditional German beer house and restaurant.  Big steins of beer if you want one, but I opt for a glass of Grauer Burgunder from the Nahe River area.  In Italy it’s called Pinot Grigio and in France Pinot Gris.  English?  Gray Pinot. Light. Dry, Fruity nose.  

But, I ordered a meat plate, a Grill Teller.  What’s with that? White wine with meat? Yes, well two of the meats were pork and turkey.  The Germans eat a lot of turkey, called Puten.  Don't’ eat pork or beef?  No problem in Germany. Don’t drink wine or beer? How ‘bout water or fruit juice?

Germans are known for huge portions and the Grill Teller was no exception.  Should have shared and fought over the scraps.

We lingered over the wine and looked out the window at folks bundled up for the rainy day.  Rain and even snow doesn’t stop these hearty folk.  I’ve seen people in their eighties with their walkers, trudging through six inches of snow.

So, what’s there to do on just another rainy day in Germany?  Gosh, let me think…and while I’m thinking, let’s have another glass of wine.

Homburg: What is it about flea markets?

As soon as my eldest son was housebroken and had small change in his pocket, I took him to garage sales.  His eyes sparkled when he spied old plastic Super Heroes and Pokemon cards.  An early lesson in economics and decision-making.  He wanted everything, but could afford little.  Heartbreaking choices followed, but his heart didn’t break.

He comes by his early passion honestly.   I think it’s in the human genome to shop and bargain.  Name a great flea market of the world and I’ve probably been there.  Souks in Turkey and Morocco.  The happy street markets of Paris.  The famous El Rastro of Madrid.  The almost overpowering expanse of the Metz, France indoor flea market.  They all contain the same elements of hopeful buyers and equally hopeful sellers of random goods.

In southwest Germany, buyers and sellers will find one of the best flea markets around: the Homburg flea market, or as the Germans call it, Flohmarkt.  It’s a wondrous playground for ideas, inspiration, and bargains.

See, that’s a ma-velous thing about flea markets, both the wares and the prices float from day to day, month to month. Trash and treasures intermingle. Hopes and dreams soar.  And if the treasure of your life has just been purchased by someone with a quicker, sharper eye, in Germany you can battle grief with Beer and Wurst, as you stroll to the next array and find something even better.  Keep in mind I’m still talking about a flea markets and not Friday night’s happy hour.

Homburg’s rendition is close to the city government offices, the tall, expansive conglomerate office building Germans call the Rathaus, city hall, with Rat translated as advice. When you think of government offices, you may find you use a different translation.  But having visited several Rathauses here, I’ve found the public servants to be spontaneously polite and almost embarrassingly helpful.  Different culture.  Different expectations.  Lucky Germans.

Homburg Rathaus

Ok, so you’ve found the general area.  Noise, people lugging away brass lamps, tables, chairs, and even musical instruments point the way to the treasure trove.  In this case, tents mark the spot. A wide range of tents spread across the land like a Bedouin encampment, lacking only camels, ferocious heat and blowing sand.

 The tents serve an important purpose.  I’ve visited this flea market when a downpour struck like an angry Greek god.  Even with my lighting-like reflexes and a switchblade umbrella, I was soon soaked from the knees down and sloshing about in sloppy shoes.  Not so the vendors.  With the practiced art of a well trained Indianapolis pit crew, the treasures were quickly protected, but still viewable by those buyers whose lives no longer mattered to them without the thrill of the hunt.

How often? My now entranced readers ask.  The first Saturday of every month, but there are exceptions, so be sure to ask around, or confer with Mr. Google, the sage of the age.

Ok, time for some flea market counseling.  You do not truly love the objects you see and desire. (There may be other situations where that advice is valuable.)  These flea market objects are simply metal, wooden, glass, plastic and paper ornaments.  You didn’t know about them until you saw them and may not yet know WTF they are.  You didn’t need them until they popped into your line of view.  You’ve kept other things a secret from your wife/husband/insignificant other and your severe disappointment in losing the object of desire can be a secret, too.  See addend above.

Bad form to shed tears in front of a vendor, who only just now mistook you for someone he wished to speak with, but who now wishes with all his heart to avoid.

When a vendor takes the object of your desire and smashes it against the hood of his car, you know your casual, low-ball bid disturbed him.

But the best advice is to remember, there is always next month, with another first Saturday.  The Beer will be cold and the Wurst hot from the grill.

Note some small red circles on the daggers?  They cover Nazi symbols, which are illegal to show openly.

Music and Flea Market – Another Sunny Day in Homburg

As sunny day and friendly crowds

Trash and treasures!

 I get frustrated when I hear people complain about nothing to do, right here in Germany, in the living, breathing heart of central Europe.  Right.  After you’ve been to all the weinfests, bierfests, historic cities and towns, sampled the huge varieties of foods, including special seasons for strawberries, asparagus, and pumpkins…  Well, I guess there really is nothing to do.  Wait a sec!  I left out flea markets and music festivals that spring up when the weather turns warm.

Homburg, just up A-6 toward Saarbrücken, has both. Every first Saturday, there’s a huge flea market.  It’s located a few blocks from the old market square. All you have to do is ask and people will point you in the right direction.  Vendors from all over Germany and France, as well as locals, bring their trash and treasures and display them in the open air. Very extensive.  It’ll take you over an hour to wind in and out and around the new Rathaus area.  Of course there is wurst and bier, along with crepes, sweet waffles, and soft ice cream.  It’s a bargain hunter’s paradise. Great selection of middle eastern carpets.

Another thing you don’t have to worry about is a shortage of cash.  In Homburg, from April to late October, there are free rock concerts every Friday night at 1900 and jazz concerts every Saturday, from 1100 to 1430.  What kind of rock and what kind of jazz?  Oh, you beggars are soooooo choosy.  Varies.  The bands change every week and in the case of jazz, it goes from modern to Dixieland to traditional big bands.  These are accomplished musicians.  Seldom do you see sheet music or music stands.

These folks change instruments as easily as you and I change hats!

A plethora of styles mix seamlessly.

Nobody can resist a good book.

Karl Marx and Truman Capote dropped by.

Hemingway was asked what he did for inspiration.  He said he went to the Prado and gazed at a few canvases.  You could say the same for music, or dance, pottery, or goldsmithing.  Art has a direct connect to the soul.

Homburg is a magical place on Saturdays!


Music, as with most art, soothes, relaxes, and takes you to a floating island of sentiment, high above your cares.  Think I’m wrong?  Hear a few bars of rock from your high school days and you sing along.  Can’t help it. As you sing, faces and places float past, a panorama of triumphs and failures, loves and loses.  You gain glimmers of acceptance, thin slices of understanding.  In the same way, jazz washes you in moonlight and the scent of roses.

While you’re making that connection, sit back and order a bier, or a wurst, or a full meal (all at normal prices) and enjoy the show.  Don’t feel like eating or drinking?  Enjoy the music for free, in one of the most quaint old market areas around.  The cobble-stoned market square has a beautiful stone fountain, surrounded by buildings that date back to forever, with their gabled and tiled roofs. Bars, restaurants and shops are all around you, as well as vendors selling fresh produce, cheeses, honey, and sausage.  The old Rathaus (city hall) is also on the square, complete with a crest of arms that indicates this city was once a part of Bavaria.

Nothing to do?  Well, go back to your warm milk and cookies and TV reruns.  Meanwhile, for the rest of us, rich man, poor man, or beggar, there’s a rainbow of activities going on in Homburg every weekend.

"Music washes away from the soul the dust of everyday life."
--  Berthold Auerbach (German novelist, 1811-1882)