Zimmerleute

About a month ago, on my way to German class, I saw two young men waiting at a stop light. I took a good look at them, not to see whether they were attractive (though that's something I would usually do), but because they were dressed strangely. They wore black bell bottom pants, black vests and jackets and top hats, and they each held a few small cloth bags and a walking stick. These were not confused hippies on their way to a formal dinner. They were Zimmerleute.

Zimmerleute are journeymen craftsmen. They are carpenters, masons, plumbers, or tile makers, and they are really on a journey, following a tradition established by medieval guilds. They go on a working pilgrimage for three years and one day, leaving with exactly 5 euros in their pockets and plans to travel around, doing small jobs in exchange for lodging, food and a little spending money. Zimmerleute must be younger than 30, single, childless, and have no criminal record. They cannot go within 60km of their hometowns, cannot have a vehicle, and using public transit is frowned upon.  They have only what they can carry and depend on strangers for assistance - no cell phones, no laptops, no GPS. Their costume is not only traditional, but has a purpose: it makes them easy to recognize and they command more respect than your average hitchhiker.  The Zimmerleute must return home with only 5 euros in their pockets, having learned from their experiences and ready to become master craftsmen.

There are not a lot of Zimmerleute around; most apprentices decide not to take the three year journey. The only reason I suspected I had seen some is that our friends Kaska and Thorsten picked up a pair of Zimmerleute at a gas station just after Christmas. The bell-bottomed guys were headed to Hannover, and were happy to squeeze in among the luggage and Christmas gifts in the back seat. One was nearly finished with his journey, which had brought him all over Europe and a few places in Africa. After a a quick conversation, they promptly fell asleep for the rest of the ride.

It seems funny that in a place where strangers generally don't talk to each other, Zimmerleute would be so dependent on the generosity of those they meet. Germans do, however, have a respect for their history and tradition, and seem to like these guys. Apparently it's still possible to travel around with no money and find somewhere to wash your underwear or check your email once in a while.

So what were these two doing in central Hannover, looking a little out of place next to the scuba dive shop and the lighting store? I didn't have time to ask, and since I was on my bike I could not offer to take them anywhere. Maybe they found a hippie to let them sleep over in exchange for some plumbing work and fashion advice.