Windswept, or What is Watt?

May 30, 2010

If you like wearing woolen hats, even at the end of May, then the windswept island of Borkum is just the place to be. This North Sea island – the largest and westernmost of the East Frisian islands - is a favorite vacation spot of my friends the Germans, and I will describe the island in the following, leaving it to you, dear reader, to puzzle out why.

The island is known for its ‘Reizklima,’ defined online as ‘bracing climate.’ Many elderly people with various ailments travel there for the brisk air and alleged health benefits; I can only attest to the fact that upon arrival, I was bone tired and could easily have slept the entire three days of my stay. Sleep is always beneficial to those who are sick and/or tired, but I have to say that I infinitely preferred swinging in the hammock at Toubab Dialaw in Senegal, soaking in the sunshine and drawing in deep lungfuls of tangy salt air. Strangely, the North Sea doesn’t smell properly of sea, and my Portuguese colleague agreed – another deficit, as far as this Coney Island girl was concerned.

On the plus side, the island has picturesque grassy dunes and lovely stretches of sandy beaches leading to the wide open sea, but unless you rent a cabana, you will find that the wind is so relentless that you will be completely covered in gritty sand within about five minutes of spreading your towel. Believe me, because I tried, and I know.

The island is mainly car free – transport by bicycle is the norm, which sounds idyllic. Unfortunately, no matter in which direction you happen to be cycling, you will find that the wind fights against any progress you might ever so weakly be making. There is one town on the island. Most imaginatively, it, too, is called Borkum. There is a boardwalk of sorts, a spa, lots of mother and child wellness clinics, and some truly inviting cafes and gift stores. Without wanting to do the town any injustice, that about sums it up. The best part of downtown was, at least for me, the wind-free and hence extremely cosy Victorian tea shop called Oma’s Borkumer Teestuebchen, where strong black loose leaf East Frisian teas were served in decorative porcelain teapots accompanied by kluntjes, or rock candy, and heavy cream.

The other great attraction of the region – and the one that promoted it to UNESCO world heritage status – is mud. I kid you not. The Wattwanderung, or walk across the mudflats, is offered by all tourist offices on the island. They will rent you galoshes, as the mud can reach up well past your ankles, and at some points you may find yourself struggling to release your leg from the gripping pull of the mud. Then again, there are some who dispense with the galoshes altogether, preferring to feel the squish of mud between their bare toes.

Beneath the surface of the mud you can find algae and plankton, snails, crabs and worms and all sorts of tiny creatures who have heroically adapted to life both underwater and above water, as the water disappears almost completely at low tide, thus allowing you to stroll across. For biologists, such adaptations are no doubt fascinating to study. The sheer number of different species to be found within this ecosystem is mindboggling, plus the area serves as a rest and breeding ground for millions of bird species, but I confess I find it difficult to rise above my own superficiality: when I think island, I tend to daydream of lemons or coconuts and suntan oil and azure waters, decidedly NOT mud and worms.

If you are interested in visiting, it might be wise to go soon, before oil and drilling in nearby areas begin, though there is always the hope that the present heartbreaking environmental catastrophe in the US might persuade the powers that be to choose another course to satisfy man’s lust for energy.

In the meantime, if I should one day decide to give up the schoolteaching gig (perhaps because of the whistling I can still feel in my left ear) I might have a future as a promoter for Borkum tourism. In case you do go, be sure and tell me how you liked it…

About the Author :  Tamara-Diana Braunstein brings us her stories from Senegal every week. She was born in Brooklyn, New York. She is a restless wanderer who earned an MA from the University of Freiburg and has worked in a youth hostel in the French Alps, a law firm in Montreal, the Metropolitan Museum of Art as well as in university press publishing. At the moment her home base is Dortmund, Germany after recently returning from teaching in Dakar, Senegal. You can follow learn more about Tamara’s experiences at her blog

Tamara’s Blog