Stormy
weather stalked New York on Sunday 28th October as if to hail the arrival of a
real life Halloween. I’m told that American teenagers delight in smashing
pumpkins at this time of year. In New York this year I'm not sure they had the
chance, as natural forces claimed the land and all of its possessions.
Reservoir View - New York in the Fall
Not
that you would have known this had you been at brunch in New York on Saturday.
Everyone and his mother (as they say here, when they mean ‘the world and his
wife’) was out celebrating the falling leaves and hailing the arrival of hat,
coat and boot season. I would have expected more drama around the weather
predictions than the murmurings of an impending super storm rustling around
brunch tables like scattered dry leaves.
Prosecco-fuelled
and dazed, I realised it was probably time to evacuate if I had any chance of
flying home to England from Detroit the following week. Luckily I made it onto
a Saturday Detroit-bound flight, and found myself in the familiar surroundings
of the Westin Southfield once again. And while there are blips in the service
as with any hotel, the beds and showers really are heavenly and the comfort of
a hotel room that looks (now) like home, is something, even if I wouldn’t
exactly picture it when clicking my ruby slippers together.
My local subway station during the storm. No downtown trains, then.
And
here endeth my personal experience with Frankenstorm…So Sunday in Michigan…what
to do?
75
miles north of Southfield is a small German town, settled originally in 1845,
sometimes known as little Bavaria, but actually called Frankenmuth. No link
this time with Mary Shelley. The city is named “Franken” for Franconia (in
Bavaria) and “Mut” for courage. Like me, the original settlers arrived from New
York – but travelled not by Delta’s *best* fleet but canals and the Great Lakes,
on a mission to preach Lutheran Christianity to the Native American tribes.
The road to Frankenmuth
Although
I visited the city museum (a bargain at $2) it is clear that Frankenmuth has
morphed into another kind of experience – one largely geared towards a
combination of the German and Native American traditions I will summarise as:
cheese, beer, fudge and moccasins.
Haus of Cheese
I
have never seen so many essential major food groups with their own shops –
taffy twirling in the window, fudge fresh onto the marble slap and cheeses of
all kinds (even chocolate cheese!). To stay in Frankenmuth is to play Russian
roulette with the cholesterol gods. And I wouldn’t wager too many would come
out unscathed!
Fudge Kitchen
After
sampling some (alright all) of the above food groups and walking around the
city, I made my way back to the outskirts for the one last stop I knew I really
had to make: Bronner’s Christmas Store – “The largest Christmas store in the
world”. Now this I had to see.
Would this make you feel welcomed at the Bavarian Inn? Hmmm.
And
no, I was not disappointed. The stuff of the Grinch’s nightmares (and probably
of many atheists) Bronner’s is Christmas what Disney World is to saccharin
childhood cartoons: larger than life and frankly terrifying in some cases! I’ve
captured a few choice pictures. I wisely decided not to open my wallet in the
Christmas store, lest $1m later I emerged with a larger than life sized Wise
Man and about 4 baubles costing $30 apiece.
Bronner's. Possibly the most terrifying Christmas store in the world. Ever.
So,
departure from the storm was departure from reality for a while. Frankenstorm -
I'm glad I escaped. Frankenmuth, I hope to see you again.
No comments:
Post a Comment