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Büsum, Not Husum

Not very far from where I make my home in Germany, there is a small town called Büsum. Like Husum, it is on the ocean. Like Husum, it has the small town Northern Germany aesthetic. Unlike Husum, if you take a bus to Büsum you will not end up in Husum.I’ve heard a story about an exchange student’s train breaking down and then subsequently needing a bus. A simple misunderstanding later, they were on the bus to Büsum, not Husum. I can assure you, they got back to Husum eventually, even if it was a few hours later than expected.

I had the pleasure of going to Büsum last week with my host mom and our friend Silas. The subject of our attraction was a supposed “light festival” or “night of lights”. Büsum is about an hour away by car, on the coast of Northwest Germany, where my host mom lived for a time. Upon arrival, we walked through the city center and went straight to the water, which was dark and cold, but pretty with the lighthouse shining on the waves. After killing some time, we went to Büsum’s church for the night of lights service, more of a concert than a religious service. The church, inside and out, was lit up for the event. The outside with bright, color changing lights, and the inside with candles. The stained glass windows seemed to turn into a singular color when the outside lights shined it, turning the entire church blood-red or deep-sea blue. The church itself is very old, evidenced be the painted wooden decorations and statues sitting around the sanctuary. One such decoration depicted Jesus Christ ascending into heaven, with every level of the depiction a different part of the process, leaving the very top painting just his feet. The service itself featured a very talented singer. It was short and beautiful.

After our visit to the church, we went again to the city center to get a closer look at the light display and take some pictures. It wasn’t very big, but it is was pretty anyway, as you can see below.
We went to a restaurant that looked like it blew out of New Jersey and ate pasta washed down with beer (not the driver). We sat at the same table my host mom ate at 15 years ago when it was her favorite restaurant and she saw 2 of the only people she knew from Büsum. Afterwards, we drove home, filled with pasta, beer, lights, and music.

Until the next adventure,



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