J is for Jahreszeit

I recently praised the beautiful logic of the German language, and today’s word is a prime example: Jahreszeit (season). Pronounced YA-ress-tsight, it literally translates as “time of year” (Jahr = year + Zeit = time).

The seasonal changes are a wonder to behold. Birdsong fills the air, the magnolia trees are flaunting their pastel petals, and daffodils—known in German as Osterglocken, or “Easter bells”—are getting ready to ring in the spring holidays.

In Toronto, early spring always feels like a tease, if not a cruel joke—just as the snowdrops begin to blossom, they get sucker-punched by actual snow. Here in Freiburg, we’ve had our share of moody, drizzly days, but when the sun emerges, it’s glorious.

Rafi informed me that he is a better photographer than I (he’s not wrong), and offered to snap a few pics of the local wildflowers, which I promised I’d share in this post. The kid’s got a good eye!

Spring Flowers by Rafi

And since spring is all about new beginnings, our family has a few little ones to celebrate. First, cautious Rafi has decided to throw caution to the wind—his latest obsession? Launching himself off the three-meter diving board at the local pool.

Three meters!

He also finally wore us down and got permission to bike the 3.5 km to soccer practice. Between the ride there, 75 minutes of intense footy, and the ride home, he was, unsurprisingly, completely knackered.

We reached soccer! Notice the horses?

And then there's Leo’s new set of wheels! Thanks to some generous friends, he now has a two-wheeler at his disposal, and—only three years behind the German schedule—it’s time to ditch the training wheels. 

While Erol was away visiting his parents this weekend, Leo took his maiden voyage without a guiding hand! When Erol returned, he joked that maybe he should leave more often since the kids seem to hit major milestones in his absence. No comment.

Leo's other new beginning is of course his kindergarten. Those of you who've been following this blog religiously (which, honestly, should be all of you!) know that we had to pull the plug on his forest kindergarten. After a grueling six-week “adjustment period” (Eingewöhnungsphase) that felt more like an endurance challenge, we finally accepted the hard truth: we were getting precisely zero childcare out of the deal. Thanks to a combination of luck, compromise, and logistical wizardry, we secured him a spot at a Waldorfkindergarten a couple neighborhoods over. He’s been there for about three weeks, and while drop-off is still sometimes a tearfest, pickup is a different story—he bursts out of the room like a little sunbeam.

Leo on a two-wheeler!

The kids at this kindergarten are remarkably sweet and empathetic—maybe there is some kind of anthroposophic fairy dust in the air? No ego-driven parallel play. These kids actually play together—like, really together. During Leo’s first week, they flocked to him with offers to play, invitations to hold hands, and—most adorably—a boy named Rafi (go figure!) cheerfully announced, “Ich kann auch Englisch [I also know English]. Bye bye, Leo!" Not sure I've fully drunk the Waldorf Kool-Aid (the atmosphere is almost eerily serene), but watching these kids interact does make me wonder if there’s a little magic at work.

Last weekend was pretty action-packed with back-to-back day trips, one by bike and the other by train. Saturday took us on a breezy bike ride to Mundenhof, a huge open-access animal park. It’s not quite a zoo, more of a free-range menagerie with camels, monkeys, goats, and—highlight of the day—adorable baby meerkats.

Sunday’s adventure led us to Basel, Switzerland, just a 40-minute train ride away. As we wandered through the city, we kept stumbling upon marching bands. Turns out, Basel has a street music tradition on the first three Sundays after Fastnacht (Carnival). At one point, we found ourselves caught between two approaching bands—one playing Sweet Caroline, the other the Top Gun theme. I always thought the Swiss were humorless, but their music selections suggest otherwise.

Dancing in the streets of Basel

The real reason for our Basel trip was the Vitra Design Museum. Google Maps told us it was 45 minutes by public transport from downtown Basel, so we hopped in a cab—only to realize it’s actually just over the German border. Nine minutes later, we were back in Germany, where we spent the afternoon at this architectural wonderland.

Trying to blend into the surroundings. Museum by Frank Gehry.

Vitra is more than a museum—it’s a full-on design campus with buildings by Frank Gehry, Herzog & de Meuron, Zaha Hadid, Tadao Ando, and more. Plus, a fabulous sculpture by one of my favorites, Claes Oldenberg, called “Balancing Tools.”

Zaha Hadid's first ever finished building

Six tools in total

How I long to throw a dinner party here!

The kids had a blast testing out all the Eames chairs and other furniture, though I’ll admit they had a collective meltdown when one of the few kid-centered attractions, the giant slide tower, was inexplicably closed. But hey, what’s a family outing without at least one spectacular tantrum, right?

Nothing says luxury like a pink onyx soaker tub!

Grumpy designer vs. demanding customer

All in all, a solid weekend of adventure, milestones, and just enough drama to keep things interesting. Looking forward to taking spring by the horns!