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As Benodette says above, Pope Benedict gave an utterly charming talk to the Tittmoningers who presented him with his honorary citizenship. Its a perfect example of what some have called his snowglobe memories of his childhood in Bavaria. Judging by the grammar and sentence structure, I suspect that it was delivered mostly off-the cuff. Ive tried to capture a little of that spontaneity while remaining as literally faithful to the original German as possible. Here is my translation of the Vatican Radio story: The Pope Becomes an Honorary Citizen of Tittmoning.

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Benedict XVI is an honorary citizen of Tittmoning. He received more than 100 fellow citizens from as he puts it his childhood land of dreams. It is the Popes sixth honorary citizenship. Marktl (in 1997 already), Traunstein (2005), Altoetting and Regensburg (both in 2006) paid their courtesy visits to Rome earlier. In addition, the then-Cardinal Ratzinger was made an honorary citizen of Pentling in 1987. The Tittmoningers especially thanked the Pope for his words from heaven in September 2006.

We document here our own transcription of Benedicts address to the Tittmoningers. You can best listen to his personal remembrances of Christmas celebrations in Tittmoning in our audiofile.

Dear Madam Mayor, dear ladies and gentlemen, dear fellow citizens -- I dare say -- I would like to say an entirely affectionate vergelts Gott [God bless you] for the honor you have given me, which is a great joy to me, because as youve said, Tittmoning remains the city of dreams of my youth, to which I return again and again in my thoughts and dreams. When I think about it in this way, I must say: Now, with this [honor], the pearl necklace of the places of my childhood and youth is complete, which goes from Marktl via Tittmoning to Aschau and Traunstein. And I am pleased that now these pearls have once more become my own, that I have once more become one of you.

Unfortunately, according to human foresight, I will not be able to go there in reality and wander through the streets of my childhood and youth, but I am still able to wander through my memories and doing that has now become more vivid, because I am now truly one of you; Tittmoning belongs to me and I am a Tittmoninger. I dont want to describe in detail now on which paths I would wander about there: of course up to Ponlach, and I am pleased that you are restoring the grottoes, down to Salzachauen, in the city, to the churches and so on.

I have thought about how, as it were, I could summarize my picture of Tittmoning. Then, I would say, a musical triad occurred to me. Tittmoning is first of all truly a Bavarian city; the heartiness and liveliness, the merriment of the Bavarian is completely present there. But Tittmoning is not only Bavarian. It lies on the Salzach, it looks over to Salzburg, and thereby was minted by Salzburg and by Italian[influences]. It has at the same time this cheerfulness and breadth of the Salzburger, Italian and Bavarian in it. And finally: it has been coined by Catholicism. Heaven and earth belong to one another, the sensuous joy of what is Catholic, the liveliness, and then at the same time the breadth, which looks beyond borders, that connects cultures and peoples together, that is open to each other, that recognizes itself in them and that connects heaven and earth.

So it is a city in which we have this particularity of Europe: profound roots, which simultaneously spread wide and open up the future. That is my wish on this day, in which I warmly thank you for all the gifts that I have received, that Tittmoning may keep its roots, its breadth, its Catholic breadth, and thereby may also have a great and beautiful future ahead of it.

Today I already told my secretary [female] about the kindergarten, how before Christmas we walked through the hallways and rehearsed to sing. And then to behold in the hall, where the Christmas tree stood, and it remains for me truly a dream, that it reached to the ceiling and on top bent over a little more. And I told her about Nikolaus, who came with gold brocade vestments, and thereby I was completely sure that all the other Nikolauses were fake, but that this was the real one, the only real one. And two sisters held the doors closed, so that the Krampus [boogyman], who raved frightfully outside, would not come in. When the naughty things that we had done were read out loud, they could hardly keep the doors closed. That was much scarier than if he were there, because what you only imagine, what has not yet happened, is much more dangerous than what you can actually see. At the particularly naughty bits the sisters said: now we can still hold the doors shut, but if something worse comes up, we cant do it anymore. That was the strongest motivation to try to do nothing in the next year that would lead to the sisters eventually not being able to hold the doors closed.

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Photo: St. Nicholas Collection St. Nicholas and the Krampus.

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I am happy that Tittmoning also visibly protects its identity and precisely in this way goes towards the future and builds the future. God bless you for everything, Gods blessing. Greet everyone whom I could not greet personally; greet all of Tittmoning.

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The video clip that Benodette posted shows Pope Benedict talking about his Christmas memories of St. Nicholas and the boogyman. May I note that what impressed him most about the Nikolaus were, ah, the "gold brocade vestments"?

Mag6nideum: I suppose the Boers did not have the nerve to export to South Africa the Dutch tradition of Zwarte Piet -- Black Peter -- who is the companion of Sint Nikolaas in Holland. Zwarte Piet is the one who puts a bundle of sticks (correct term, excuse me, is "faggot") or a lump of coal in your shoe if you had been naughty and, if you happened to be caught while he was around, he'd stuff you into his bag and carry you off to Spain.

Now, going to Spain sounds like a lovely idea to me, especially because St. Nikolaas' feast is on December 5, when the weather in Holland is truly frightful. But, when I was little, Spain to the Dutch was synonymous with the boogyman -- not Generalissimo Franco, though, but the Duke of Alva and the Council of Blood in the 16th century.

I believe that due to political correctness, Zwarte Piet doesn't appear as often as he used to, although the bags of St. Nikolaas pepernoten (ginger snaps) my aunt sends me still have pictures of him. He looks sort of like the crowned Moor in Pope Benedict's coat of arms. Some cultural traditions are hard to eradicate completely, I guess.

Incidentally, you can see some pictures of the Tittmoning gift-giving here. Scroll to page 2.

An appreciation of a visit to the Papal apartments by an art historian, Elizabeth Lev, who is U.S. Ambassador Mary Ann Glendon's daughter:[quote]ROME, MARCH 6, 2008 (Zenit.org).- Art historians secretly dream of going back in time to see artistic masterpieces in their original environment, rather than as museum pieces. In their wildest flights of fancy, they fantasize about being part of that world.

Last Friday, this art historian lived that dream when I accompanied my mother, Mary Ann Glendon, as she presented her credentials to Benedict XVI as U.S. ambassador to the Holy See.

As we donned our black mantillas at the embassy residence, we were already entering into a different criterion of beauty and worth. Covered head to toe in long skirts and jackets, all I saw were the radiantly happy faces of my mother, sisters and daughters.

Draped in black lace, I thought of the tabernacle and the chalice swathed in exquisite cloth to indicate the preciousness of what was concealed from view. Furthermore, the precariously perched veils made one stand taller and conferred a stately dignity to our New England stride.

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The last room was a throne room of sorts, complete with a raised throne in red damask silk. Here Ambassador Glendon left us to enter the Benedict XVI's study alone for a few minutes of private conversation with the Holy Father.

The walls on either side of the throne boasted two life-size paintings of St. Peter and St. Paul. Fra Bartolomeo, a Dominican painter of the High Renaissance, executed the panel of St. Paul, while St. Peter was the work of Raphael.

The two monumental figures, reminded me of where I was and who I was going to see. The weighty form of these saints drove home the fact that almost 2,000 years that have passed since Peter and Paul died, here in this city, becoming the foundation of the church in Rome.

In these masterpieces, Raphael and his collaborator enhanced their symbolic message through color.

Paul's robe glowed a deep red while Peter's shone in brilliant orange, the colors of flame.

Like flint and steel, the two apostles ignited the Christianization of Rome, still burning brightly today. The man we were about to meet was the keeper of that flame.

The door to the Pope's study opened and we entered in single file. I expected to see Benedict XVI on a raised dais in the middle of the room. Wrong. The Holy Father was standing next to the door, looking like a delighted host eager to greet long-awaited guests.

I had read about papal affability in the jocular exchanges between Popes and artists, not to mention the countless stories from the reign of John Paul II, but to see that friendliness in person was still surprising. No distant aura of aloofness, no chilly sanctimoniousness, but a sincere smile and frank interest in each person presented to him.

With our heads in the clouds and broad smiles creasing our faces, we posed for photos and received rosaries and blessings from Benedict VI. I thought the day had hit its zenith, but again, I was wrong.

* * * [/quote]The Vatican Through an Ambassador's Eye