Ooooo… big day! Up at 7.30 for an early breakfast so we could get down to the dock for our trip around Luzern today. Last night was a bit of a challenge; the hotel advertized that they had sound-proof windows, which seemed odd, until you realize that you’re on a street that NEVER gets not-busy. The highway off ramp comes onto this street about a block and a half from the hotel. It’s fucking loud. I started off with the windows open last night, then closed them after a half hour, then was up twice during the night to open them for some fresh air. Breakfast was a bit of a bust too; most places have it complimentary with the room and that includes meats, cheeses, spreads, and eggs. Here, it was just ‘continental’ – read bread and spreads: all other options extra charge. So, we had a light breakfast.
The one benefit of being on a major street is that there is a bus stop about 6 steps (literally) from our hotel’s front door. Dad had been out exploring last night, so knew which buses to take. We hopped aboard the No. 1 and headed into Luzern to see the lion monument to the Swiss Guard that were killed at the Tulleries (and later by guillotine) during the French Revolution. Nice place (once the tours cleared out) and we got some nice pictures. We were still a bit early for our trip, so we slowly wandered back to the harbour, stopped for pics, and had a couple of drinks at a harbour side café.
Out tour involved a cruise across the Lake of Four Cantons (which Luzern sits on), a cog rail-way ride up to Mount Palatis, then a cable car ride down. We had decided when purchasing our tickets to up-grade to first class. Such a good call. We got to sit on the top level of the boat, while all the school groups (and there were A LOT of kids) had to sit in second class. We got table service for beverages, and some great views, all without shitty students kicking around. There were crying babies, however. Boo.
Anyway, the boat ride was nice – got to work on the tan on my legs to match the burn on my arms. The cog rail-way, well, that was less fun for me (I’ve got a really bad anxiety when it comes to heights). This rail-way is on record for being the steepest in the world – there are parts of the track that have an incline of 49%. Read that again – not 49 degrees, but 49 PER CENT. It feels like you’re going straight up at some points. But there are people that live up close to the top of the mountain (and it took almost 20 minutes to get up there) – we passed to farms complete with cow-bell sporting cows.
Once we got to the top, we were disappointed to see that the hotel up there was closed for renovations. So we were forced to eat at the cafeteria-style bistro up there. And, of course, the prices were extortionary. Dad and I both had a hearty lunch, the started walking along some of the paths. I gave up when the incline got to bad – Berchtesgaden taught me that high-altitudes, in my shape are a bad idea. So dad and I went our separate ways, but I found a level path that went around the upper peak, so walked about half of it. The acoustics were so good, that from the (almost) peak, you could hear the cow bells of the heard of cows about 500 ft below.
Dad and I met back at the visitors’ center, where I had already picked up some souvenirs, and we headed down via cable car. Okay – cable cars are like my Majouba Hill. It takes a lot to get me on one, and even more to prevent a full-out panic attack and today was a close one. There are 3 stages on the cable car ride down – the first is in a large, single car that fits 15-20 people and it’s the steepest decline since it comes right off the mountain face. I stood in the back, staring at the floor the whole way down (about 5 minutes) and tried not to embarrass myself and Dad by crying. The second/third stage is in individual cars that seat 2-4 people. That stage took about 20 minutes too – not quite as high as the first, but a lot of parts that were too high for comfort for me. I sat with my back facing downhill, clutching the seat every time we went over a support tower. Next to the red-light district of Amsterdam, this was the 2nd part of the trip I was dreading, and I’m really glad that’s over with.
When we got back to earth, we were on the outskirts of Luzern, but the tickets we bought for the tour got us on the same bus that stops right in front of our hotel. I went back to the room to relax, while Dad went back into Luzern to see the Transportation Museum (the 3rd thing I was dreading on this trip, so was glad I weaseled out of it). At about 6.30 we headed back to Luzern for dinner at a place Dad saw earlier in the day – we shared, what else, a cheese fondue. Yum. We then headed further down-town to the harbour to get a view of the city, lake and mountains without the haze that sat there this morning. It was a nice little walk. On the way back, we stopped at a bakery where, wanting to feel like Kennedy, I picked up – A BERLINER. Think Boston Cream donut, without chocolate and real pastry cream filling. I now get why JFK wanted to be one.
Well, tomorrow is going to be a big day – we’ll be driving about 8 hours to get through the St. Bernard Pass, then into Lichtenstein for 2 nights. Early to bed, early to rise, that’s our goal!
Monday, June 28, 2010
Sunday, June 27, 2010
Swiss Miss
*Yesterday's post below.*
Left Rothenburg early this morning heading for Switzerland. Not much of a fuss on the drive, but once again, I did most of the driving through construction – it’s really amazing the way the fates are conspiring to stress me out on the roads. Anyway….
We arrived at the edge of the Bodensee/Lake Constance and took the ferry across to Germany – we thought it would be Switzerland, but there is a small out-cropping in the lake that you have to cross first before getting to Switzerland. As we approached the boarder, we were shocked to actually see a boarder-guard out there stopping the occasional car, but mostly waiving people through. We didn’t have to show our pass-ports, but had to ask about the toll high-ways. Switzerland makes you buy a pass to drive on their highways, so we had to pull over at the boarder and purchase one: it was either 40 Swiss Francs, or 40 Euros. All Dad had was Euros, so we got had: the Canadian dollar is trading almost at par with the Swiss Franc. Oh well, pass purchased we can now drive on Austrian high-ways for the rest of the year. Well, at least our rental car can.
Since the ferry crossing was a little choppy, I wasn’t that hungry for lunch and we decided to wait until we got to Zurich to stop. Sunday afternoon in Zurich is a zoo – lots of people out walking, lots of cars, and oodles of tourists. We drove around the old city for a bit looking for a parking spot before finally just heading down to the lake that edges the city. There, we found free parking, and got out and stopped at the first café we found for lunch. Again, since we didn’t have any Francs we got had on the exchange rate a bit – it was an expensive lunch. We then grabbed some photos of the lake that Zurich sits on, but hopped back on the road quickly since Dad wanted to get to Luzern.
We came into the city and headed for the old down town center. After finding a parking spot, we started looking for a tourist information bureau. On the way we found a tour company that does a trip via boat around the lake here in town, then takes you up to Mount Palates, which over-looks Luzern. We also wandered along the covered bridge here in town, with is famous for the early-modern religious paintings that hang from the ceiling. A fire in 1993 destroyed many, but the ones that are still there (and the ones that had been put in storage when the bridge was shortened) and quite well done.
However, by this time it was almost 4. The heat here is really bothering me – it’s almost 30, there are no clouds in the sky, I still have a minor sun-burn and, to be completely honest, I’m not in the best shape. All of this is a recipe for a minor-disaster. At this point in our day I put my foot down and asked to be allowed to go check into the hotel for some R and R. And here’s where the day got interesting.
Earlier on in the car I was looking at our hotel-confirmation email that Dad brought with him. 2 things struck me: 1- it really only looked like there was 1 room booked for us. 2- The start date on the reservation was the 26th. Now, we’ve been travelling for over 2 weeks and I’ve lost track of what day of the week it is, let alone what calendar day. Turns out, our reservations were to start yesterday. After some quick talking on the part of the inn-keeper, he decided to cut us a deal (that means we’re paying the same we would have paid had be been here yesterday and today, not today and tomorrow) and give us 2 rooms for the days we need. Just like in Amsterdam, we’ve ended up in an apartment-like suite, where we have separate rooms, but share a bathroom. We’re wedged between two busy roads, so it’s anyone’s guess how the night’s going to go (especially after it was soooo blissfully quiet at our last hotel).
Early to bed with me tonight so that I can be up early tomorrow for a walk up to the monument for the Swiss Guard (before it gets to hot) then down to the lake for our tour which starts at 9.45.
Left Rothenburg early this morning heading for Switzerland. Not much of a fuss on the drive, but once again, I did most of the driving through construction – it’s really amazing the way the fates are conspiring to stress me out on the roads. Anyway….
We arrived at the edge of the Bodensee/Lake Constance and took the ferry across to Germany – we thought it would be Switzerland, but there is a small out-cropping in the lake that you have to cross first before getting to Switzerland. As we approached the boarder, we were shocked to actually see a boarder-guard out there stopping the occasional car, but mostly waiving people through. We didn’t have to show our pass-ports, but had to ask about the toll high-ways. Switzerland makes you buy a pass to drive on their highways, so we had to pull over at the boarder and purchase one: it was either 40 Swiss Francs, or 40 Euros. All Dad had was Euros, so we got had: the Canadian dollar is trading almost at par with the Swiss Franc. Oh well, pass purchased we can now drive on Austrian high-ways for the rest of the year. Well, at least our rental car can.
Since the ferry crossing was a little choppy, I wasn’t that hungry for lunch and we decided to wait until we got to Zurich to stop. Sunday afternoon in Zurich is a zoo – lots of people out walking, lots of cars, and oodles of tourists. We drove around the old city for a bit looking for a parking spot before finally just heading down to the lake that edges the city. There, we found free parking, and got out and stopped at the first café we found for lunch. Again, since we didn’t have any Francs we got had on the exchange rate a bit – it was an expensive lunch. We then grabbed some photos of the lake that Zurich sits on, but hopped back on the road quickly since Dad wanted to get to Luzern.
We came into the city and headed for the old down town center. After finding a parking spot, we started looking for a tourist information bureau. On the way we found a tour company that does a trip via boat around the lake here in town, then takes you up to Mount Palates, which over-looks Luzern. We also wandered along the covered bridge here in town, with is famous for the early-modern religious paintings that hang from the ceiling. A fire in 1993 destroyed many, but the ones that are still there (and the ones that had been put in storage when the bridge was shortened) and quite well done.
However, by this time it was almost 4. The heat here is really bothering me – it’s almost 30, there are no clouds in the sky, I still have a minor sun-burn and, to be completely honest, I’m not in the best shape. All of this is a recipe for a minor-disaster. At this point in our day I put my foot down and asked to be allowed to go check into the hotel for some R and R. And here’s where the day got interesting.
Earlier on in the car I was looking at our hotel-confirmation email that Dad brought with him. 2 things struck me: 1- it really only looked like there was 1 room booked for us. 2- The start date on the reservation was the 26th. Now, we’ve been travelling for over 2 weeks and I’ve lost track of what day of the week it is, let alone what calendar day. Turns out, our reservations were to start yesterday. After some quick talking on the part of the inn-keeper, he decided to cut us a deal (that means we’re paying the same we would have paid had be been here yesterday and today, not today and tomorrow) and give us 2 rooms for the days we need. Just like in Amsterdam, we’ve ended up in an apartment-like suite, where we have separate rooms, but share a bathroom. We’re wedged between two busy roads, so it’s anyone’s guess how the night’s going to go (especially after it was soooo blissfully quiet at our last hotel).
Early to bed with me tonight so that I can be up early tomorrow for a walk up to the monument for the Swiss Guard (before it gets to hot) then down to the lake for our tour which starts at 9.45.
Nuremburg. Yup, that’s it.
Early start today – around 7.45. We breakfasted quickly and left the hotel before 8.15. I started off the day driving from Rothenburg to Nuremburg. We had some nice country-highway driving, and got into Nuremburg around 10.30ish. I had wanted to go to Nuremburg to view the sights where the Nazi war criminals were trialed. Dad, however, thought I had a whole day planned for our visit. Now, he claims that the told me to do the research on what we would do, but I don’t remember ever hearing that. I’m not saying he’s wrong, I’m saying he might have mentioned it once, 9 months ago, in a list with 18 other things and it just didn’t make my radar. That, or he forgot to tell me, and remembers wanting to so thinks he did. Either way, we found ourselves in Nuremburg, our guide book said that there were guided tours of the old town hall/courthouse in the afternoon on weekends, and we decided to make the best of it.
Nuremburg is a city of churches, as we found out wandering around. We had parked in the valley that the old town sits in and wandered around for a couple of hours, looking a churches, shops, the farmer’s market and other city sites. We stopped once for a drink and as soon as I got a look at myself in a mirror, I decided that it wasn’t a good day for walking. Our bad weather seems to have deserted us (which is good) and has been replaced with hot, sunny weather (not so good). I’d rather have the nice stuff, but find walking for hours on end, general up-hill and on cobble-stones, and in hot weather isn’t a lot of fun. When we stopped for our drink, it was passed 11 and we had gotten to the top of the city-valley, so we walked along the streets at the ridge, then headed down.
The city’s old Rathause is quite a site, with 2 interesting sculptures on it’s façade. It’s across the street from a ‘parish’ church that dwarfs Ottawa’s basilica, and we wandered through the farmer’s market to marvel at the white asparagus (it’s on every menu here since it’s the height of the season) and the concept of selling flowers by the stem instead of in pre-set bouquets. For lunch, we ate in a 14th century building which started off as a hospital and spans the river. We arrived about 5 minutes ahead of 2 or 3 big tour groups, so we got our food quick and hot and were probably the only patrons there not involved with a tour.
After lunch, we picked up the car and drove over to the address the guide book gave us as the site of the court-house. It’s outside the old city in one of the Nuremburg’s old city halls. When we got to the building, it looked locked up tight, there were not a lot of cars in the parking lot, and I started getting a bad feeling. As we were walking along the front of the building a guy was unlocking a security gate and, when asked, said that the building was closed. So, the guide book lied, and I didn’t get to see room 600 – where the high-profile Nazi’s stood trial for war crimes. This was one of the 4 ‘must-dos’ on my Germany list, so it was really disappointing. Oh well, got to leave something for next time (which is becoming a Guest-family motto on this trip).
From there, we headed back to Rothenburg for our 3rd and final night here in the city. I relaxed for a while in my room, then took an hour walk around the city looking in the tourist shops (again) for any souvenirs I might have missed on my first pass. I picked up a couple of things, then headed back to the hotel. Dad and I met in the hall way coming to get each other around 6.15, had drinks on the front patio, dinner in the back patio, and then we both retired early since we’ve got a 7.30 breakfast call tomorrow so we can get on the road for Switzerland.
Nuremburg is a city of churches, as we found out wandering around. We had parked in the valley that the old town sits in and wandered around for a couple of hours, looking a churches, shops, the farmer’s market and other city sites. We stopped once for a drink and as soon as I got a look at myself in a mirror, I decided that it wasn’t a good day for walking. Our bad weather seems to have deserted us (which is good) and has been replaced with hot, sunny weather (not so good). I’d rather have the nice stuff, but find walking for hours on end, general up-hill and on cobble-stones, and in hot weather isn’t a lot of fun. When we stopped for our drink, it was passed 11 and we had gotten to the top of the city-valley, so we walked along the streets at the ridge, then headed down.
The city’s old Rathause is quite a site, with 2 interesting sculptures on it’s façade. It’s across the street from a ‘parish’ church that dwarfs Ottawa’s basilica, and we wandered through the farmer’s market to marvel at the white asparagus (it’s on every menu here since it’s the height of the season) and the concept of selling flowers by the stem instead of in pre-set bouquets. For lunch, we ate in a 14th century building which started off as a hospital and spans the river. We arrived about 5 minutes ahead of 2 or 3 big tour groups, so we got our food quick and hot and were probably the only patrons there not involved with a tour.
After lunch, we picked up the car and drove over to the address the guide book gave us as the site of the court-house. It’s outside the old city in one of the Nuremburg’s old city halls. When we got to the building, it looked locked up tight, there were not a lot of cars in the parking lot, and I started getting a bad feeling. As we were walking along the front of the building a guy was unlocking a security gate and, when asked, said that the building was closed. So, the guide book lied, and I didn’t get to see room 600 – where the high-profile Nazi’s stood trial for war crimes. This was one of the 4 ‘must-dos’ on my Germany list, so it was really disappointing. Oh well, got to leave something for next time (which is becoming a Guest-family motto on this trip).
From there, we headed back to Rothenburg for our 3rd and final night here in the city. I relaxed for a while in my room, then took an hour walk around the city looking in the tourist shops (again) for any souvenirs I might have missed on my first pass. I picked up a couple of things, then headed back to the hotel. Dad and I met in the hall way coming to get each other around 6.15, had drinks on the front patio, dinner in the back patio, and then we both retired early since we’ve got a 7.30 breakfast call tomorrow so we can get on the road for Switzerland.
Saturday, June 26, 2010
Rothenburg. Yup, that’s it.
A bit of a slow day. We spent last night at the gastof I wrote about yesterday, and the breakfast was delicious – lots of local baked goods, some juice that I could drink (read – not orange) and internet connection over tea. Good times. We left here around 9 and wandered into the castle gardens. Rotheburg is built on top of a big hill, so the views from the garden are quite something into the valley. The castle no longer stands, but the old walls that fenced it in do and the city has put in some nice gardens.
From there, we headed over to the Kriminale Prison to be there when it opened at 10. It’s billed as a torture museum, but it’s really a bit of a hodge-podge. The basement has displays dedicated to torture, the ground floor holds weapons, the second floor holds documents pertaining to the development of laws, and the third floor holds more torture/imprisonment tools. Very interesting, but they’ve got fist-class, ancient documents on display behind glass. The historian in me was just praying that it was light filtering glass so they survive another few hundred years.
After the Kriminale we started walking around the town again, stopped for a drink, then headed to the Rathause to see the burger museum. Rothenburg has a lovely little story in it’s history that the towns people like to celebrate. Gather ‘round boys and girls and hear a tale of tom-foolery and bad decisions. Rothenburg is a free imperial city (think of the old city-states of ancient Greece – in a time when Germany was a collective of principalities and duchies, Rothenburg was an authority unto itself. During the 30 Years War, the mercenary leader, Count Tilley, rolled into town and demanded that Rothenburg surrender to his forces or face the same fate as the last town that refused (at which 30,000 people were slaughtered by his forces). The mayor wasn’t about to let this happen, so made a deal with Tilley: if the mayor could drink 2 liters of the local wine, Tilley would leave the city un-ravished. Tilley agreed, the drinks were poured, and the mayor set to a chuggin.’ And he finished his drink. All of it. Tilley agreed to leave the town alone, and the mayor went and took a 3-day nap to recover. The glockenspiel in town celebrates this story and so does the Rathause museum.
It’s a small museum, so afterwards, Dad and I went off to find lunch. We found a little gastof that was off the beaten path and I feared stomach bugs until I saw the food – I had a jagersnizle which is like a weiner snitzle that’s smothered in mushroom gravy – it was really good. After that, we went and walked around about 1/3 of the surviving city walls, then to the Imperial City museum, which celebrates the history of Rothenburg. Admission cost Dad and I 5 Euros, but if we wanted to take pictures of the interior, it was an extra 3. We walked through about ¾ of it, then decided we were museumed out. We headed back to the hotel to relax, out for dinner around 6, and an early night tonight since we’ve got a road trip to Nurmburg planned for tomorrow. All in all, a relatively light day, but still a long one!
From there, we headed over to the Kriminale Prison to be there when it opened at 10. It’s billed as a torture museum, but it’s really a bit of a hodge-podge. The basement has displays dedicated to torture, the ground floor holds weapons, the second floor holds documents pertaining to the development of laws, and the third floor holds more torture/imprisonment tools. Very interesting, but they’ve got fist-class, ancient documents on display behind glass. The historian in me was just praying that it was light filtering glass so they survive another few hundred years.
After the Kriminale we started walking around the town again, stopped for a drink, then headed to the Rathause to see the burger museum. Rothenburg has a lovely little story in it’s history that the towns people like to celebrate. Gather ‘round boys and girls and hear a tale of tom-foolery and bad decisions. Rothenburg is a free imperial city (think of the old city-states of ancient Greece – in a time when Germany was a collective of principalities and duchies, Rothenburg was an authority unto itself. During the 30 Years War, the mercenary leader, Count Tilley, rolled into town and demanded that Rothenburg surrender to his forces or face the same fate as the last town that refused (at which 30,000 people were slaughtered by his forces). The mayor wasn’t about to let this happen, so made a deal with Tilley: if the mayor could drink 2 liters of the local wine, Tilley would leave the city un-ravished. Tilley agreed, the drinks were poured, and the mayor set to a chuggin.’ And he finished his drink. All of it. Tilley agreed to leave the town alone, and the mayor went and took a 3-day nap to recover. The glockenspiel in town celebrates this story and so does the Rathause museum.
It’s a small museum, so afterwards, Dad and I went off to find lunch. We found a little gastof that was off the beaten path and I feared stomach bugs until I saw the food – I had a jagersnizle which is like a weiner snitzle that’s smothered in mushroom gravy – it was really good. After that, we went and walked around about 1/3 of the surviving city walls, then to the Imperial City museum, which celebrates the history of Rothenburg. Admission cost Dad and I 5 Euros, but if we wanted to take pictures of the interior, it was an extra 3. We walked through about ¾ of it, then decided we were museumed out. We headed back to the hotel to relax, out for dinner around 6, and an early night tonight since we’ve got a road trip to Nurmburg planned for tomorrow. All in all, a relatively light day, but still a long one!
Friday, June 25, 2010
Socialist ice cubes.
Our day started off with about 3 hours of autobahn driving. Dad started off, getting us out of Bingen, and we switched over just past the Frankfurt airport. Not a word of a lie, less than 10km later, the construction started. And, rather than reduce an autobahn to 1 lane, the standard construction procedure around here is to keep two lanes, but make them only 2m wide. After a couple of hours hunched over the steering wheel, trying not to loose the side mirrors or get crushed by an 18 wheeler, I had enough and Dad and I switched driving again. And, wouldn’t you know it, there was only one more SHORT bit of similar construction. I always seem to do the driving through heavy traffic, commuter traffic, rain, and low gas. It’s AMAZING the way fate will smile on Dad and allow him to miss all the nasty bits of the drive.
Anyway, we got into Rothenburg around 11.30 and parked just outside the old city walls. We wandered into the town and around the marketplatz for a while, then started looking for a hotel. We found something at our second try – it’s a gastof that was probably 3 buildings originally, but is now a maze of corridors. We’re right next to one of the 3 churches in this section of town, only 3 minutes from the marketplatz and 2 second from the bluff that over-looks the valley bellow the city. It was a great find as the rooms are nice and the staff is amazingly accommodating.
After checking in, we went to go get the car and had to drive through the old city. Let me tell you, Rothenburn is PACKED with tourists. It’s considered a fairy-tale style city, so it’s a big stop for a lot of tours. We’ve been pretty lucky so far in terms of not meeting up with a lot of American tourists, but our luck ran out today. The town in packed with them. And they can’t seem to grasp the fact that the roadway are used by cars and aren’t just pedestrian walk ways. So, after mowing down a few of them, we got back to our hotel with the car where the owner/manager let us have her parking space. Such a nice lady.
From there, we headed out to the marketplatz for some lunch, and then decided to go our separate ways for the afternoon. Dad took a walk around the old city walls (which took him about an hour since they started off being so big and are still standing), while I did some shopping. Being such a busy tourist town, the shops really accommodate the spenders and I wandered in and out of shops for the afternoon. I also picked up some delicious balls of deep-fried cookies, which I had originally found in Fussen – there are 6 or 7 bakeries in a two-block radius that specialize in them, so I was really happy to see that my little pleasure was so popular here. On my shopping, I picked up a bag to replace my back-pack, which is now falling apart, some gifts and some postcards. Now that I’ve bought myself a sun hat (and, I can carry off a hat like no body’s business, I found out) I don’t mind the aimless wandering, which is good since we’re here in town tomorrow just to wander around and see some of the museums.
After my shopping, I went back to my rooms to relax for a few hours. Dad and I had planned to meet at 7 for dinner, and when I got downstairs, I found he was sitting out on the street in front of the gastof enjoying a beer (most of these places are also restaurants, and all restaurants here seem to have patio space). He was sitting in front of a table of 6 Americans and, as soon as I sat down, he announced he couldn’t stand listening to them anymore and we’d be going in to eat dinner. When I sat down, one of them (a dentist, I presumed) was explaining the process of a root canal. He was interrupted while the waitress brought out their food, but went right back to the nitty-gritty as soon as she walked away – and this is when my stomach turned and I agreed that we should go in.
All was not lost however, since there is a secondary patio space on the side of the building (right below my building) and we still got to enjoy the nice evening, with the light breeze and no humidity in the shade. Then Dad started filling me in on those obnoxious Americans:
His experience with them started off listening to them trying to interpret the menu and getting everything wrong. They then asked the waitress to explain to them the ‘potato cream soup.’ The waitress, how was very sweet and was running around like the Energizer bunny, was obviously getting fed up with the sillyness of their table and when asked to explain what the potato pancakes in the soup were like and if they were any good, she answered ‘Well, we’ve been eating them for years and they haven’t killed us.’ I think that’s why Dad left her the 5 Euro tip after our meal (prices here include gratuities).
Finally, they settled on food, but still had to order drinks. It was finally decided that they were just going to drink tap water, but only if they could get ice cubes with it. When the drinks came out, the waitress brought a bowl of ice cubes (since it’s not traditional here to serve ice with drinks). One of the older people at the table stated that it was the tradition to not traditional here to drink anything very hot or very cold as it wasn’t good for your health. Wrong, so wrong. Just because something doesn’t come with ice cubes, doesn’t mean all liquids are served tepid. And I don’t think anyone’s thought that extreme temperatures in drinks has been detrimental to health since the 18th century.
But here’s the kicker: when the bowl of ice cubes came out, one of the ladies at the table was heard to observe on their odd size and shape, to which a gentleman at the table commented: ‘Well, electricity is expensive in socialist countries, so they don’t have ice cube makers here. Instead, they only have little tiny ice boxes so they have to make their ice cubes smaller.’ So it turns out the next war American sensibilities will launch is against socialist ice cubes – be warned Germany.
Some people just refuse to experience something new while on vacation, and the number of obnoxious and oblivious American tourists prove that. We’re wandering around Rothernburg tomorrow, so it’ll be a slow start and a casual day. Hopefully the weather will stay nice!
Anyway, we got into Rothenburg around 11.30 and parked just outside the old city walls. We wandered into the town and around the marketplatz for a while, then started looking for a hotel. We found something at our second try – it’s a gastof that was probably 3 buildings originally, but is now a maze of corridors. We’re right next to one of the 3 churches in this section of town, only 3 minutes from the marketplatz and 2 second from the bluff that over-looks the valley bellow the city. It was a great find as the rooms are nice and the staff is amazingly accommodating.
After checking in, we went to go get the car and had to drive through the old city. Let me tell you, Rothenburn is PACKED with tourists. It’s considered a fairy-tale style city, so it’s a big stop for a lot of tours. We’ve been pretty lucky so far in terms of not meeting up with a lot of American tourists, but our luck ran out today. The town in packed with them. And they can’t seem to grasp the fact that the roadway are used by cars and aren’t just pedestrian walk ways. So, after mowing down a few of them, we got back to our hotel with the car where the owner/manager let us have her parking space. Such a nice lady.
From there, we headed out to the marketplatz for some lunch, and then decided to go our separate ways for the afternoon. Dad took a walk around the old city walls (which took him about an hour since they started off being so big and are still standing), while I did some shopping. Being such a busy tourist town, the shops really accommodate the spenders and I wandered in and out of shops for the afternoon. I also picked up some delicious balls of deep-fried cookies, which I had originally found in Fussen – there are 6 or 7 bakeries in a two-block radius that specialize in them, so I was really happy to see that my little pleasure was so popular here. On my shopping, I picked up a bag to replace my back-pack, which is now falling apart, some gifts and some postcards. Now that I’ve bought myself a sun hat (and, I can carry off a hat like no body’s business, I found out) I don’t mind the aimless wandering, which is good since we’re here in town tomorrow just to wander around and see some of the museums.
After my shopping, I went back to my rooms to relax for a few hours. Dad and I had planned to meet at 7 for dinner, and when I got downstairs, I found he was sitting out on the street in front of the gastof enjoying a beer (most of these places are also restaurants, and all restaurants here seem to have patio space). He was sitting in front of a table of 6 Americans and, as soon as I sat down, he announced he couldn’t stand listening to them anymore and we’d be going in to eat dinner. When I sat down, one of them (a dentist, I presumed) was explaining the process of a root canal. He was interrupted while the waitress brought out their food, but went right back to the nitty-gritty as soon as she walked away – and this is when my stomach turned and I agreed that we should go in.
All was not lost however, since there is a secondary patio space on the side of the building (right below my building) and we still got to enjoy the nice evening, with the light breeze and no humidity in the shade. Then Dad started filling me in on those obnoxious Americans:
His experience with them started off listening to them trying to interpret the menu and getting everything wrong. They then asked the waitress to explain to them the ‘potato cream soup.’ The waitress, how was very sweet and was running around like the Energizer bunny, was obviously getting fed up with the sillyness of their table and when asked to explain what the potato pancakes in the soup were like and if they were any good, she answered ‘Well, we’ve been eating them for years and they haven’t killed us.’ I think that’s why Dad left her the 5 Euro tip after our meal (prices here include gratuities).
Finally, they settled on food, but still had to order drinks. It was finally decided that they were just going to drink tap water, but only if they could get ice cubes with it. When the drinks came out, the waitress brought a bowl of ice cubes (since it’s not traditional here to serve ice with drinks). One of the older people at the table stated that it was the tradition to not traditional here to drink anything very hot or very cold as it wasn’t good for your health. Wrong, so wrong. Just because something doesn’t come with ice cubes, doesn’t mean all liquids are served tepid. And I don’t think anyone’s thought that extreme temperatures in drinks has been detrimental to health since the 18th century.
But here’s the kicker: when the bowl of ice cubes came out, one of the ladies at the table was heard to observe on their odd size and shape, to which a gentleman at the table commented: ‘Well, electricity is expensive in socialist countries, so they don’t have ice cube makers here. Instead, they only have little tiny ice boxes so they have to make their ice cubes smaller.’ So it turns out the next war American sensibilities will launch is against socialist ice cubes – be warned Germany.
Some people just refuse to experience something new while on vacation, and the number of obnoxious and oblivious American tourists prove that. We’re wandering around Rothernburg tomorrow, so it’ll be a slow start and a casual day. Hopefully the weather will stay nice!
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
Rollin’ down the river.
Last night we were in Bingen with the express purpose of taking a Rhine River cruise up to St Goar/St Goarhause. And that’s just what we did today. Up at 7.30, breakfasted at 8, out the door and to the docks for 8.45. Before the day even started, I figured it might be a good idea to find a hat of some sort – we’ve finally left the rain behind us and have sun, glorious sun. I strolled through the old town looking for a sun hat, but wasn’t able to find anything, so decided I’d just have to tough it out (what a freakin’ mistake – I maybe should have bought the baseball cap with the playboy bunny on it… never mind, I’d rather be burnt).
Anywho, no getting ahead of myself. Our boat left dock at 9.30 and started downriver along the Rhine. We got to see a bunch of castles that, for the most part, had originally been created for tax and customs purposes on the goods that were transported down river. The water is running pretty high in the Rhine right now (probably due to all that rain we experienced last week) and it’s swamped some of the islands in the River and it’s lapping at some walkways at other points. We saw a picture of an island in a guide book that was completely sunk today – all that was showing was a few bushes that appeared to be coming straight out of the water.
On the recommendation for our hotel owner, we got off the boat at Bacharach to walk around (it’s a hop-on/hop-off kind of cruise). Bacharach is a small town that is still very much like old-style Germany: we were able to walk along the old city walls which have been converted into restaurants, apartments and hotels. We stopped for a snack and coffee, climbed up to some ruins right behind the church, and picked up some post cards. Other than that, there’s not much to do in Bacharach, so we headed back to the River to wait for the next boat, which was scheduled to arrive in 45 minutes. The breeze on the Rhine was gorgeous, and with the sun being so lovely, I decided to rid myself of my fair-blond pastiness and rolled up my sleeves and capris and enjoyed the warmth.
Back on the boat, we made good time getting down the St. Goar and, across the river, St. Goarhause. We decided to get off at St. Goarhause since more people were getting off at St. Goar, but we only had an hour for lunch. Dad and I both ordered a salad, but it took almost 30 minutes to get, so between running to-from the docks, waiting and then scarfing down our lunches, we didn’t get to see any of the town.
Coming back upriver took almost 3 hours, compared to less than an hour going down river – the Rhine is moving really fast these days. Rather than stop and get off at Bingen, we went one (very short stop) further upstream to Rudishime, which is a very tourist friendly town. While on the other side of the River, we’d get an excellent view of a monument way up on a hill over the town, but couldn’t make out what it was. I asked the lady who sold us our cruise tickets this morning what it was and she told me it was Germania (think Britannia, but, obviously, German). Because of my thesis, I wanted to see what Germania looks like, so we took a sky-rail up the hill to get a closer look. After enjoying the view of the valley and the giant bronze broad, Dad and I headed back down the hill to Rudishime for dinner.
By this point, my sun burn (picked up on the cruise boat because I wanted to sit on the sun deck for as long as possible) was really burning, but we couldn’t find a pharmacy open where I could get some after-sun. So, we headed back across the river for the hotel, where I am sitting in the dark, bemoaning my fair skin and curing the sun-god for being so tempting. And early bedtime tonight so we can get an early start on the road to Rothenberg tomorrow.
Anywho, no getting ahead of myself. Our boat left dock at 9.30 and started downriver along the Rhine. We got to see a bunch of castles that, for the most part, had originally been created for tax and customs purposes on the goods that were transported down river. The water is running pretty high in the Rhine right now (probably due to all that rain we experienced last week) and it’s swamped some of the islands in the River and it’s lapping at some walkways at other points. We saw a picture of an island in a guide book that was completely sunk today – all that was showing was a few bushes that appeared to be coming straight out of the water.
On the recommendation for our hotel owner, we got off the boat at Bacharach to walk around (it’s a hop-on/hop-off kind of cruise). Bacharach is a small town that is still very much like old-style Germany: we were able to walk along the old city walls which have been converted into restaurants, apartments and hotels. We stopped for a snack and coffee, climbed up to some ruins right behind the church, and picked up some post cards. Other than that, there’s not much to do in Bacharach, so we headed back to the River to wait for the next boat, which was scheduled to arrive in 45 minutes. The breeze on the Rhine was gorgeous, and with the sun being so lovely, I decided to rid myself of my fair-blond pastiness and rolled up my sleeves and capris and enjoyed the warmth.
Back on the boat, we made good time getting down the St. Goar and, across the river, St. Goarhause. We decided to get off at St. Goarhause since more people were getting off at St. Goar, but we only had an hour for lunch. Dad and I both ordered a salad, but it took almost 30 minutes to get, so between running to-from the docks, waiting and then scarfing down our lunches, we didn’t get to see any of the town.
Coming back upriver took almost 3 hours, compared to less than an hour going down river – the Rhine is moving really fast these days. Rather than stop and get off at Bingen, we went one (very short stop) further upstream to Rudishime, which is a very tourist friendly town. While on the other side of the River, we’d get an excellent view of a monument way up on a hill over the town, but couldn’t make out what it was. I asked the lady who sold us our cruise tickets this morning what it was and she told me it was Germania (think Britannia, but, obviously, German). Because of my thesis, I wanted to see what Germania looks like, so we took a sky-rail up the hill to get a closer look. After enjoying the view of the valley and the giant bronze broad, Dad and I headed back down the hill to Rudishime for dinner.
By this point, my sun burn (picked up on the cruise boat because I wanted to sit on the sun deck for as long as possible) was really burning, but we couldn’t find a pharmacy open where I could get some after-sun. So, we headed back across the river for the hotel, where I am sitting in the dark, bemoaning my fair skin and curing the sun-god for being so tempting. And early bedtime tonight so we can get an early start on the road to Rothenberg tomorrow.
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
Escape from Amsterdam.
Okay, so overall, Amsterdam wasn’t that bad. I got a good night’s sleep, breakfast was nice, and we were able to get on the road by 8.30. I even managed to put some of my back-logged post-cards in the mail (and now that I’ve bought stamps, more will go out tomorrow).
So, Dad drove us out of Amsterdam, thank god. The commuter traffic combination of bicycles and cars was a nightmare. After we were out of the city, we changed over driving and I drove from the outskirts of the city to Koln (also knows as Cologne). Between traffic, road work, poorly identified signs to the inner-city, it took us about a half hour and a few trips across the river to find parking near the main church in town.
The church in Koln started off as a pilgrimage church and took a few hundred years to build, and was finally completed in the 1800s, only to have to be re-built after WWII. We wandered around the outside of the Church snapping pictures, then went in, only to realize that there was a service being held, so I didn’t feel right taking pictures or milling around in there. We could have climbed to the top of the bell-tower, but since I don’t do well in tight, narrow, steep spaces, I opted to pass and so did Dad. Instead, we found a brew-house turned restaurant (much like the one in the basement of the Rathaus in Munich) for lunch – I had a ½ roasted chicken that put Swiss Chalet to shame and dad had some liver.
We then headed out of Koln, heading for Bingen where we are for the next two nights to we can take a river cruse up the Rhine. On the way here though, we stopped at a small river-side town for a snack and partook in some spaghetti-ice; you see it everywhere in Germany: it starts with a mound of whipped cream, then vanilla ice cream is extruded though a die to make it look like spaghetti and it goes over the whipped cream, then it’s topped with strawberry sauce and some sort of white candy, so you end up with a bowl of sweet pasta-looking yumminess.
Heading into Bingen we passed a couple of hotels in the small village just outside of town (it’s literally a ten minute walk and involves crossing a bridge over a Rhine tributary) and decided to try getting a place here. We ended up with rooms in a 3 story hotel that’s very quaint and old-fashioned, yet has one of the most stable internet connections of our trip so far. After checking in, we walked into Bingen-proper to look into the cruise for tomorrow, find some stamps and have a drink. We then walked back to the village we’re staying in, found a nice, quiet restaurant for a light dinner, then headed back to the hotel.
Tomorrow should be a relaxing day: we get to be tourists without having to drive, and plan on stopping in a couple of little towns with castles for a few hours for some exploration. I’m pretty beat, so it’s early to bed for me tonight. The only problem is that today is the longest day of the year and, being so far north, it’s still full daylight out, and in yesterday was any judge, the sun won’t be going down for another hour. Oh well, I’m so beat, I could probably sleep through anything tonight!
So, Dad drove us out of Amsterdam, thank god. The commuter traffic combination of bicycles and cars was a nightmare. After we were out of the city, we changed over driving and I drove from the outskirts of the city to Koln (also knows as Cologne). Between traffic, road work, poorly identified signs to the inner-city, it took us about a half hour and a few trips across the river to find parking near the main church in town.
The church in Koln started off as a pilgrimage church and took a few hundred years to build, and was finally completed in the 1800s, only to have to be re-built after WWII. We wandered around the outside of the Church snapping pictures, then went in, only to realize that there was a service being held, so I didn’t feel right taking pictures or milling around in there. We could have climbed to the top of the bell-tower, but since I don’t do well in tight, narrow, steep spaces, I opted to pass and so did Dad. Instead, we found a brew-house turned restaurant (much like the one in the basement of the Rathaus in Munich) for lunch – I had a ½ roasted chicken that put Swiss Chalet to shame and dad had some liver.
We then headed out of Koln, heading for Bingen where we are for the next two nights to we can take a river cruse up the Rhine. On the way here though, we stopped at a small river-side town for a snack and partook in some spaghetti-ice; you see it everywhere in Germany: it starts with a mound of whipped cream, then vanilla ice cream is extruded though a die to make it look like spaghetti and it goes over the whipped cream, then it’s topped with strawberry sauce and some sort of white candy, so you end up with a bowl of sweet pasta-looking yumminess.
Heading into Bingen we passed a couple of hotels in the small village just outside of town (it’s literally a ten minute walk and involves crossing a bridge over a Rhine tributary) and decided to try getting a place here. We ended up with rooms in a 3 story hotel that’s very quaint and old-fashioned, yet has one of the most stable internet connections of our trip so far. After checking in, we walked into Bingen-proper to look into the cruise for tomorrow, find some stamps and have a drink. We then walked back to the village we’re staying in, found a nice, quiet restaurant for a light dinner, then headed back to the hotel.
Tomorrow should be a relaxing day: we get to be tourists without having to drive, and plan on stopping in a couple of little towns with castles for a few hours for some exploration. I’m pretty beat, so it’s early to bed for me tonight. The only problem is that today is the longest day of the year and, being so far north, it’s still full daylight out, and in yesterday was any judge, the sun won’t be going down for another hour. Oh well, I’m so beat, I could probably sleep through anything tonight!
Amster-damn it.
Okay, so Amsterdam has now made my list of cities I’m glad to say I’ve visited, but never really need to go back to (btw, New York is the only other place on that list). Shocking to some, I know, but there you have it.
We left Waterloo this morning at 8am and as soon as we got on the autobahn we hit Monday morning commuter traffic. Getting around Brussels was a bit of a nightmare and the traffic congestion was only made worst by the constant rain. We passed around a few big cities and the rain just kept coming. It doesn’t seem to slow the European drivers down any, but it had me crawling along at a mere 100km/hrs, being passed like I was standing still. By the time we got to the border with the Netherlands, however, the weather had cleared up and was nice and sunny. Because I was a tightly-wound ball of stress by that point, Dad took over driving so got the first taste of Amsterdam surface-street driving, and let’s just I say I don’t envy him the experience.
When we got into town the first thing we wanted to do was go see the building where Anne Frank hid during the Second World War. We weren’t the only ones with that idea and the line up was out the museum and around the block. Since it was about 11.30, we decided to pass momentarily and go back later on in the day with the hopes that the crows would have thinned. (A novel plan for the girl who is usually the first person in line to see important tourist spots.)
Instead, we parked the car and headed into the old(er) part of the city to find a canal cruise company so we could see Amsterdam from the water. It was such a good plan. We got onto this boat, much like the one that goes up and down the canal in Ottawa, and had an hour of sight seeing around the town via the water ways – we even went out into the open harbour.
By then, it was 1ish and I decided it was time for lunch. After stopping at a little café for a quick sandwich and soup, we started walking around the older part of Amsterdam. Which is also the Red Light district. Which isn’t fun when you’re with your dad. This was the part of the trip I was dreading and I think it took Dad about 6 blocks to figure out that a) I wasn’t having fun, b) the old haunts he was looking for weren’t where he remembered them, and c) WE WERE IN THE RED LIGHT DISTRICT AND IT’S CREEPY BEING THERE WITH YOUR DAUGHTER. After passing 2 bordellos (and I know they were bordellos because there were scantily clad Asian ladies standing in the window smiling creepily at us) and almost headed down an even creepier-looking alley, Dad finally realized it was time to go and we headed back to the main square in town.
I was able to pick up some clog-themed souvenirs on our way back to the car, and we also check in on the Anne Frank museum and, while the line was considerably shorter, it was still a trifle long, so we decided to check into our hotel and then go back around 6. We showed up at our hotel (which was actually a bed and breakfast, Dad forgot to mention that to me) to find the front door locked and no one answering the buzzer. A sign on the front door directed us to the hotel 3 doors down if no one answered so we headed there and it, too, was mighty creepy. The guy at reception (which, btw, was in the basement), called the guy who owned the BandB and told us that someone would be right over. When someone did finally show, we found out that they had confused our reservation and had us down for 1 room for 2 nights, rather than 2 rooms for 1 night. The guy at the BandB called his boss, who owns another hotel, and he was able to get us rooms there. What we ended up with is 2 rooms, connected by a hallway with a bathroom off it, and both rooms have sinks and vanities in them. My room has 4 twin beds in it and Dad’s has 3. Since it’s the middle of the week, and judging by the size of our rooms, I’d say they aren’t busy tonight. All in all, things could have gone bad pretty fast, but it all worked out.
After settling in for a while, Dad and I took the tram/street car back into downtown Amsterdam to see Anne Frank’s house. Such a good call. By the time we got there, there was no line up and the crowd was quite sparse, so we got to take our time looking around the place. Going through the museum was harder than going through Dachau. It’s been a while since I’ve read the Diary (and I bought myself a copy at the museum), but I remember enough to still be able to put human beings to the spaces. To make it even harder, they have several taped interviews with people who knew the Franks, and with Otto Frank, about Anne, life in hiding, and what the concentration camps were like. It was really heart-breaking listening to Otto Frank recount his impressions of his daughter from before and after reading her diary – the conclusion he came to was that he never really knew her because the girl from the diary was so different, and so much more complex, than the daughter he lived with. That he never got a change to know the real Anne is an even harder realization to face.
Some of the displays the museum has are really striking. It’s by coincidence, for the most part, that a lot of the documents survive (like post cards the family sent out before going into hiding, or the board game that Peter got as a birthday gift, and Margot’s Latin-by-correspondence lessons) and it’s great, as a historian, to know they’ve been preserved. One of the most poignant displays is the newspaper in which Otto Frank posted a request for information regarding the fate of his daughters – he must know by that point that his wife died since he makes no mention of her – he’s got one inch on a full broad-sheet of so many similar requests. The museum also displays the original diaries and short-stories written by Anne. It’s a great treasure-house for documentation, and it’s great that it’s being preserved. The foundation that is in charge has done a great job with protecting the building – it’s been re-modeled extensively to preserve it – and I’m so glad we went.
After taking a few minutes to recover emotionally from it, Dad and I started headed back to the main square for some dinner. What is one to have in Amsterdam for a true taste of Dutch cuisine? A cone of frites, with mayo, of course. Dad, the man whose car’s center console is a chip wagon condiment warehouse, was bound and determined to get a taste of the Dutch equivalent. We found a little street-front shop that was selling ‘em, got ourselves some paper cones, and found a bench to enjoy them. It was so good – think wide-cut fries, perfectly cooked and seasoned, with a liberal serving of mayo (European ketchup tastes like VH1 oriental sauces to me). After that, we jumped back on the trolley car, came back to our hotel, and are turning in early for a fresh start tomorrow to head back to the Rhine Valley in Germany.
Some observations:
The use of bikes here is astounding! There are more people on bicycles (and scooters) than cars. Everyone and their mother seems to be on bikes and they’re more respectful of sharing the road then we see back home. There are special lanes on the roads and sidewalks just for bikes, so you’ve got to look both ways twice to cross the street to avoid being nailed by either a car or a bike. And they aren’t the mountain/speed bikes we mainly see back home – these have the curved handles so you’re sitting up strait, which must be better for the back. I remember when reading Anne Frank’s diary how she wished to get back outside for a bike ride – at the time I just thought it was the wish of a young person, cooped up in a tight space, but I realized today that bike-riding the central to Amsterdam’s culture, so I now understand that she just wanted to belong to/on the outside again.
Canals: ew. The water is a gross greeny-grey-brown shade and is littered with garbage. When we got on our boat cruise today, Dad had right away grabbed a window seat next to an open window for the breeze. He only had to ask twice if I wanted the window seat before I said yes. Then we were passed by another boat and the wake threw some water up and it came pretty close to hitting me. That’s when Dad giggled a little bit and said something about ‘gottcha.’ Thanks Dad. When I complained that it looked like swamp water, he pointed out that it was worse than swamp water – it was salty swamp water. Ew.
We left Waterloo this morning at 8am and as soon as we got on the autobahn we hit Monday morning commuter traffic. Getting around Brussels was a bit of a nightmare and the traffic congestion was only made worst by the constant rain. We passed around a few big cities and the rain just kept coming. It doesn’t seem to slow the European drivers down any, but it had me crawling along at a mere 100km/hrs, being passed like I was standing still. By the time we got to the border with the Netherlands, however, the weather had cleared up and was nice and sunny. Because I was a tightly-wound ball of stress by that point, Dad took over driving so got the first taste of Amsterdam surface-street driving, and let’s just I say I don’t envy him the experience.
When we got into town the first thing we wanted to do was go see the building where Anne Frank hid during the Second World War. We weren’t the only ones with that idea and the line up was out the museum and around the block. Since it was about 11.30, we decided to pass momentarily and go back later on in the day with the hopes that the crows would have thinned. (A novel plan for the girl who is usually the first person in line to see important tourist spots.)
Instead, we parked the car and headed into the old(er) part of the city to find a canal cruise company so we could see Amsterdam from the water. It was such a good plan. We got onto this boat, much like the one that goes up and down the canal in Ottawa, and had an hour of sight seeing around the town via the water ways – we even went out into the open harbour.
By then, it was 1ish and I decided it was time for lunch. After stopping at a little café for a quick sandwich and soup, we started walking around the older part of Amsterdam. Which is also the Red Light district. Which isn’t fun when you’re with your dad. This was the part of the trip I was dreading and I think it took Dad about 6 blocks to figure out that a) I wasn’t having fun, b) the old haunts he was looking for weren’t where he remembered them, and c) WE WERE IN THE RED LIGHT DISTRICT AND IT’S CREEPY BEING THERE WITH YOUR DAUGHTER. After passing 2 bordellos (and I know they were bordellos because there were scantily clad Asian ladies standing in the window smiling creepily at us) and almost headed down an even creepier-looking alley, Dad finally realized it was time to go and we headed back to the main square in town.
I was able to pick up some clog-themed souvenirs on our way back to the car, and we also check in on the Anne Frank museum and, while the line was considerably shorter, it was still a trifle long, so we decided to check into our hotel and then go back around 6. We showed up at our hotel (which was actually a bed and breakfast, Dad forgot to mention that to me) to find the front door locked and no one answering the buzzer. A sign on the front door directed us to the hotel 3 doors down if no one answered so we headed there and it, too, was mighty creepy. The guy at reception (which, btw, was in the basement), called the guy who owned the BandB and told us that someone would be right over. When someone did finally show, we found out that they had confused our reservation and had us down for 1 room for 2 nights, rather than 2 rooms for 1 night. The guy at the BandB called his boss, who owns another hotel, and he was able to get us rooms there. What we ended up with is 2 rooms, connected by a hallway with a bathroom off it, and both rooms have sinks and vanities in them. My room has 4 twin beds in it and Dad’s has 3. Since it’s the middle of the week, and judging by the size of our rooms, I’d say they aren’t busy tonight. All in all, things could have gone bad pretty fast, but it all worked out.
After settling in for a while, Dad and I took the tram/street car back into downtown Amsterdam to see Anne Frank’s house. Such a good call. By the time we got there, there was no line up and the crowd was quite sparse, so we got to take our time looking around the place. Going through the museum was harder than going through Dachau. It’s been a while since I’ve read the Diary (and I bought myself a copy at the museum), but I remember enough to still be able to put human beings to the spaces. To make it even harder, they have several taped interviews with people who knew the Franks, and with Otto Frank, about Anne, life in hiding, and what the concentration camps were like. It was really heart-breaking listening to Otto Frank recount his impressions of his daughter from before and after reading her diary – the conclusion he came to was that he never really knew her because the girl from the diary was so different, and so much more complex, than the daughter he lived with. That he never got a change to know the real Anne is an even harder realization to face.
Some of the displays the museum has are really striking. It’s by coincidence, for the most part, that a lot of the documents survive (like post cards the family sent out before going into hiding, or the board game that Peter got as a birthday gift, and Margot’s Latin-by-correspondence lessons) and it’s great, as a historian, to know they’ve been preserved. One of the most poignant displays is the newspaper in which Otto Frank posted a request for information regarding the fate of his daughters – he must know by that point that his wife died since he makes no mention of her – he’s got one inch on a full broad-sheet of so many similar requests. The museum also displays the original diaries and short-stories written by Anne. It’s a great treasure-house for documentation, and it’s great that it’s being preserved. The foundation that is in charge has done a great job with protecting the building – it’s been re-modeled extensively to preserve it – and I’m so glad we went.
After taking a few minutes to recover emotionally from it, Dad and I started headed back to the main square for some dinner. What is one to have in Amsterdam for a true taste of Dutch cuisine? A cone of frites, with mayo, of course. Dad, the man whose car’s center console is a chip wagon condiment warehouse, was bound and determined to get a taste of the Dutch equivalent. We found a little street-front shop that was selling ‘em, got ourselves some paper cones, and found a bench to enjoy them. It was so good – think wide-cut fries, perfectly cooked and seasoned, with a liberal serving of mayo (European ketchup tastes like VH1 oriental sauces to me). After that, we jumped back on the trolley car, came back to our hotel, and are turning in early for a fresh start tomorrow to head back to the Rhine Valley in Germany.
Some observations:
The use of bikes here is astounding! There are more people on bicycles (and scooters) than cars. Everyone and their mother seems to be on bikes and they’re more respectful of sharing the road then we see back home. There are special lanes on the roads and sidewalks just for bikes, so you’ve got to look both ways twice to cross the street to avoid being nailed by either a car or a bike. And they aren’t the mountain/speed bikes we mainly see back home – these have the curved handles so you’re sitting up strait, which must be better for the back. I remember when reading Anne Frank’s diary how she wished to get back outside for a bike ride – at the time I just thought it was the wish of a young person, cooped up in a tight space, but I realized today that bike-riding the central to Amsterdam’s culture, so I now understand that she just wanted to belong to/on the outside again.
Canals: ew. The water is a gross greeny-grey-brown shade and is littered with garbage. When we got on our boat cruise today, Dad had right away grabbed a window seat next to an open window for the breeze. He only had to ask twice if I wanted the window seat before I said yes. Then we were passed by another boat and the wake threw some water up and it came pretty close to hitting me. That’s when Dad giggled a little bit and said something about ‘gottcha.’ Thanks Dad. When I complained that it looked like swamp water, he pointed out that it was worse than swamp water – it was salty swamp water. Ew.
Sunday, June 20, 2010
How does it feel that we’ve won the war? Pretty damn good, obviously.
*Yesterday's post below.*
Today was the holy of holies for me. We got to spend the night in Waterloo, then attend a re-enactment of the battle on the actual field where it was fought. I’m a mega-nerd, I know, but couldn’t care less – it was awesome.
We started the morning at 7.30 looking for a light breakfast (because we weren’t going to pay the 15/30 Euros for the buffet breakfast at the hotel) and found a little bakery in the town of Waterloo where I got some sort of yummy pastry and Dad got some mini-rolls and a croissant. We then started driving out to the battle field, which isn’t too far. What we didn’t count on where the hundreds of other people trying to make the same drive. The local police did a really poor job of organizing the traffic in the town, so by the time we were about 1.5km from the site, we decided to park the car in a back alley and walk the rest of the way in. It was only a 10 minute walk, and lots of other people were doing it, but by the time we got to the battle field, we had passed 2 different farmer’s fields that were roped off for parking, but almost empty since people couldn’t drive into the area. Oh well.
Dad had pre-paid for our tickets, so it just remained to turn in our proof-of-payment for wristbands to get into the band-stands, but by this time it was shortly before 9, the battle was supposed to start for 9.30 and people were in a panicky-rush to get to where they were going. The result? I almost got mowed down by a fat Belgian man. Literally, his gut knocked me slightly off balance – but at least I got to practice swearing in French. From the ticket area, we headed into the bandstand area and grabbed seats at the very back and looking up to the ridge that Wellington held during the battle. We had almost 45 minutes to wait since they were late getting started, but from where we were sitting we got a prime view of the French re-enactors organizing themselves behind our bandstand.
Two big problems with the whole affair: 1- it rained on and off through the entire thing, bad enough to need an umbrella. 2- We were stuck sitting behind people who stood through most of the battle. And that wasn’t a common occurrence – in the entire bandstand they were pretty much the only ones doing it, which meant that we had to stand to. The complete lack of consideration and awareness of surroundings was the main characteristics of these 4 jerks and at several points I tugged on sleeves asking them to step down off their seats so we could see.
After the battle, we left the sight to drive back into Waterloo for lunch. We spent less than an hour in the village, then headed back out to the site since our wrist bands got us into the other attractions there. It was such a good idea that we left, because by the time we had gotten back the crowds had thinned out considerably, but it was still really busy. We wandered up the Waterloo monument for a view of the surrounding fields, through the gift shops, and at a couple of other attractions in the town. As we were heading out, the event staff was breaking down their security barriers which were all covered in signs announcing the re-enactment. We saw one of the staff pitch a sign to guy walking past and I asked if I could have one too, and they were totally cool with that! So, my favorite souvenir of the trip so far is a 1.5m X 0.5m felt sign for the battle of Waterloo re-construction. Such a good find!
Since it was only 3ish, we decided to save ourselves some time tomorrow and drive into Brussels today. Such a good idea. With the late afternoon-Sunday traffic, it was no problem getting in and out of there. Unfortunately, we didn’t find the touristy shops I wanted to find for postcards and stamps, so my Belgium postcards are going to have German post-marks on them. On our way out of town, our GPS sent us through the skeeziest, sketchiest part of town – the kind of places that you couldn’t pay me to get out and walk around in. It was a real contrast from the big-businesses and royal palaces we past on the way in.
Back to the hotel, dinner for 7, and then off to Amsterdam tomorrow!
Today was the holy of holies for me. We got to spend the night in Waterloo, then attend a re-enactment of the battle on the actual field where it was fought. I’m a mega-nerd, I know, but couldn’t care less – it was awesome.
We started the morning at 7.30 looking for a light breakfast (because we weren’t going to pay the 15/30 Euros for the buffet breakfast at the hotel) and found a little bakery in the town of Waterloo where I got some sort of yummy pastry and Dad got some mini-rolls and a croissant. We then started driving out to the battle field, which isn’t too far. What we didn’t count on where the hundreds of other people trying to make the same drive. The local police did a really poor job of organizing the traffic in the town, so by the time we were about 1.5km from the site, we decided to park the car in a back alley and walk the rest of the way in. It was only a 10 minute walk, and lots of other people were doing it, but by the time we got to the battle field, we had passed 2 different farmer’s fields that were roped off for parking, but almost empty since people couldn’t drive into the area. Oh well.
Dad had pre-paid for our tickets, so it just remained to turn in our proof-of-payment for wristbands to get into the band-stands, but by this time it was shortly before 9, the battle was supposed to start for 9.30 and people were in a panicky-rush to get to where they were going. The result? I almost got mowed down by a fat Belgian man. Literally, his gut knocked me slightly off balance – but at least I got to practice swearing in French. From the ticket area, we headed into the bandstand area and grabbed seats at the very back and looking up to the ridge that Wellington held during the battle. We had almost 45 minutes to wait since they were late getting started, but from where we were sitting we got a prime view of the French re-enactors organizing themselves behind our bandstand.
Two big problems with the whole affair: 1- it rained on and off through the entire thing, bad enough to need an umbrella. 2- We were stuck sitting behind people who stood through most of the battle. And that wasn’t a common occurrence – in the entire bandstand they were pretty much the only ones doing it, which meant that we had to stand to. The complete lack of consideration and awareness of surroundings was the main characteristics of these 4 jerks and at several points I tugged on sleeves asking them to step down off their seats so we could see.
After the battle, we left the sight to drive back into Waterloo for lunch. We spent less than an hour in the village, then headed back out to the site since our wrist bands got us into the other attractions there. It was such a good idea that we left, because by the time we had gotten back the crowds had thinned out considerably, but it was still really busy. We wandered up the Waterloo monument for a view of the surrounding fields, through the gift shops, and at a couple of other attractions in the town. As we were heading out, the event staff was breaking down their security barriers which were all covered in signs announcing the re-enactment. We saw one of the staff pitch a sign to guy walking past and I asked if I could have one too, and they were totally cool with that! So, my favorite souvenir of the trip so far is a 1.5m X 0.5m felt sign for the battle of Waterloo re-construction. Such a good find!
Since it was only 3ish, we decided to save ourselves some time tomorrow and drive into Brussels today. Such a good idea. With the late afternoon-Sunday traffic, it was no problem getting in and out of there. Unfortunately, we didn’t find the touristy shops I wanted to find for postcards and stamps, so my Belgium postcards are going to have German post-marks on them. On our way out of town, our GPS sent us through the skeeziest, sketchiest part of town – the kind of places that you couldn’t pay me to get out and walk around in. It was a real contrast from the big-businesses and royal palaces we past on the way in.
Back to the hotel, dinner for 7, and then off to Amsterdam tomorrow!
A very long, but light day.
Not much to report about today. We were ready to leave Munich for 8ish, and would have made that, except we had a bit of a scare – Dad had buried his passport in his luggage, forget where he put it, and was convinced it was lost. We spent about 15 minutes tearing apart the car looking for it before it finally turned up in a little pocket of his lap-top case (along with the parking pass we thought we’d lost in Salzburg and had to pay 15 Euros to replace). Lesson learnt: I think Dad will now staple that passport to his forehead just to be safe.
So, we left Munich around 8.30 and started heading North for Waterloo. It was a really long day of driving, and we didn’t get into town here until about 7pm. The driving was pretty boring, except it seemed like I got to drive through all the rain and to the point where we needed to gas up – it was really whiley of Dad to plan things that way.
Around 1 we had passed Frankfurt and were heading along a smaller high-way looking for a another autobahn when we got caught up in a detour, and that was a good thing! We passed through this little town that we would have skipped over altogether if the highway hadn’t been closed and found a small beirhall that was serving lunch. Dad and I both ordered a small snitzle and it came out covering about half a 14” plate and were both glad we hadn’t ordered the big one!
By 3 were had passed from Germany into Luxemburg. Another detour (this one less convenient) took us into the country side and the wine fields to see rural Luxemburg. Finding the fast highway we headed to the capital city (Luxemburg – original, I know) and got some quick pictures of some fancy looking buildings. What they were, I’m not entirely sure, but given the change, I’d definitely visit again. We then started heading back for the autobahns and drove through suburban Luxemburg. So, in an hour we got to see the agricultural staple, the country side, the capital city and the suburban environs of a country. What did you accomplish today? ;-)
From Luxemburg, it was a quick jaunt into Belgium and onto Waterloo. We got a little lost along the way (and I got to take a tour of both Charleroi airport AND ghetto Belgium trying to get to the city), so I was super glad we had sprung for the GPS system in the car. After booting up Annoying Helga (as we’ve named her) it was simple enough to find our hotel. This weekend is big business for the region, so Dad is expecting to be nickled and dimed everywhere and he’s probably right. Because we got into town so late, it was 8 before we were able to find a place for dinner – and Dad chose Pizza Hut. Service was crap, but I FINALLY got to use my French, so it wasn’t that bad. It was then back to the room for a quick shower, some FIFA (there’s nothing else on and internet connection isn’t free) and then early to bed. Up at 7 tomorrow, out of the hotel by 7.30, and to the battle field by 8.30. Can’t wait!
So, we left Munich around 8.30 and started heading North for Waterloo. It was a really long day of driving, and we didn’t get into town here until about 7pm. The driving was pretty boring, except it seemed like I got to drive through all the rain and to the point where we needed to gas up – it was really whiley of Dad to plan things that way.
Around 1 we had passed Frankfurt and were heading along a smaller high-way looking for a another autobahn when we got caught up in a detour, and that was a good thing! We passed through this little town that we would have skipped over altogether if the highway hadn’t been closed and found a small beirhall that was serving lunch. Dad and I both ordered a small snitzle and it came out covering about half a 14” plate and were both glad we hadn’t ordered the big one!
By 3 were had passed from Germany into Luxemburg. Another detour (this one less convenient) took us into the country side and the wine fields to see rural Luxemburg. Finding the fast highway we headed to the capital city (Luxemburg – original, I know) and got some quick pictures of some fancy looking buildings. What they were, I’m not entirely sure, but given the change, I’d definitely visit again. We then started heading back for the autobahns and drove through suburban Luxemburg. So, in an hour we got to see the agricultural staple, the country side, the capital city and the suburban environs of a country. What did you accomplish today? ;-)
From Luxemburg, it was a quick jaunt into Belgium and onto Waterloo. We got a little lost along the way (and I got to take a tour of both Charleroi airport AND ghetto Belgium trying to get to the city), so I was super glad we had sprung for the GPS system in the car. After booting up Annoying Helga (as we’ve named her) it was simple enough to find our hotel. This weekend is big business for the region, so Dad is expecting to be nickled and dimed everywhere and he’s probably right. Because we got into town so late, it was 8 before we were able to find a place for dinner – and Dad chose Pizza Hut. Service was crap, but I FINALLY got to use my French, so it wasn’t that bad. It was then back to the room for a quick shower, some FIFA (there’s nothing else on and internet connection isn’t free) and then early to bed. Up at 7 tomorrow, out of the hotel by 7.30, and to the battle field by 8.30. Can’t wait!
Friday, June 18, 2010
Munich a go-go.
This morning was supposed to be a slow-start morning. When Dad told me that, I almost clapped my hands with glee and proceeded to take him very seriously. It was 9am and he was knocking on my door asking if I were ready for breakfast – in reality, he woke me up. So, we’re even. Since I was rushed, I didn’t have much of an appetite for breakfast, but that was okay, and I’ll explain why below.
We left the hotel around 10 and started wandering around the old city again. We just aimlessly browsed the side streets, looking at churches, interesting architecture, and big-name American stores housed in really old buildings. Dad wanted to be back in the Marianplaz for 11 to see the glockenspiel at the Rathaus. There is a café on the fifth floor of the building that is right across from the Rathaus that Dad had patronized before, so we arranged to be there shortly before 11. When we rolled in, the place was busy, but we were able to snag a table with a decent view of the glockenspiel. Dad had a coffee and croissant, while I had a tea and an apple strudel with vanilla cream (trés yummy, btw, and totally made up for my lack of breakfast). Unfortunately, no one else seemed that interested in the glockenspiel, so the chiming of the bells that accompanies the life-size dancing figurines was drowned out. (Okay, not familiar with a glockenspiel? Picture a really big coo-coo clock, built into the side of a building.) I got some video on it, but unfortunately, the only sound you get is the busy restaurant. Oh well, we tried. Now we know that the experience might be better from the platz!
After that, we started heading to the English Gardens in Munich. Unfortunately, the weather has been crappy again, and it was drizzling lightly by then. On the way to the gardens, Dad wanted to stop at the Rezidence here in Munich – the former palace of the Bavarian rules. We wandered around the treasury museum (like the one at the Tower of London, but German) and then the actual residence. Very beautiful, but by the end of it, my feet were killing me and my mood was starting to sour. When we were finished, I was all set to get back to the hotel, but Dad insisted I get to see the English Gardens since it was the only concrete thing to do on my Munich list. But now it wasn’t drizzling so much as raining. We got the Gardens, but only walked through a teeny-tiny part of it, so I missed out on the Pagoda and tea-house. But I look at it this way: 1) gotta’ save something for the next trip, and 2) I was in London last year and got to see lots of gardens, pagodas and tea houses.
After this, we started to head back to our hotel, but stopped for lunch at a café on the way back. Little did we know that Germany was playing a world cup game today and, as we walked in, we were greeted by all the wait staff huddled around a TV watching the game. In a really good-naturedly begrudging kind of way we ordered a light lunch, and I stopped in the confectionary for some little cookie sandwiches on the way out. Now it wasn’t so much raining and lightly pouring. We started to head back to the hotel at a fast clip and got in around 4.
Dad and I had arranged to meet for dinner in the lobby at 7, and by that time the rain had stopped, but the wind picked up so it was pretty chilly. We headed back into the old city to find Dad a restaurant that serves chicken (he’s been eating a lot of pork lately, since that seems to be the staple meat in most of Germany), but it was impossible. We ended up eating in the basement/cellar of the Rathaus. We had found a restaurant very much like last night’s Hofbrau restaurant, but this one seemed to be full of locals rather than tourists. After we ate, we started trying to find our way out of the place only to realize that the entire basement of the Rathaus has been converted to various restaurants – we ate in the beer hall, but we also passed a wine-bar, a family restaurant, a pub, and a swanky joint before finally finding a set of stairs out. It’s all the same company that runs these places (I gathered), but they cater to everyone’s needs (including a quick canteen style restaurant on the ground floor that was closed when we went by).
Well, tomorrow is going to be a long day I’m told – we’ve got to make it from Munich to the fields of Waterloo, and that should take about 8 hours. We’re going to be more conscious about sharing the driving tomorrow so neither of us gets tuckered out, but it’s still going to be a long haul.
We left the hotel around 10 and started wandering around the old city again. We just aimlessly browsed the side streets, looking at churches, interesting architecture, and big-name American stores housed in really old buildings. Dad wanted to be back in the Marianplaz for 11 to see the glockenspiel at the Rathaus. There is a café on the fifth floor of the building that is right across from the Rathaus that Dad had patronized before, so we arranged to be there shortly before 11. When we rolled in, the place was busy, but we were able to snag a table with a decent view of the glockenspiel. Dad had a coffee and croissant, while I had a tea and an apple strudel with vanilla cream (trés yummy, btw, and totally made up for my lack of breakfast). Unfortunately, no one else seemed that interested in the glockenspiel, so the chiming of the bells that accompanies the life-size dancing figurines was drowned out. (Okay, not familiar with a glockenspiel? Picture a really big coo-coo clock, built into the side of a building.) I got some video on it, but unfortunately, the only sound you get is the busy restaurant. Oh well, we tried. Now we know that the experience might be better from the platz!
After that, we started heading to the English Gardens in Munich. Unfortunately, the weather has been crappy again, and it was drizzling lightly by then. On the way to the gardens, Dad wanted to stop at the Rezidence here in Munich – the former palace of the Bavarian rules. We wandered around the treasury museum (like the one at the Tower of London, but German) and then the actual residence. Very beautiful, but by the end of it, my feet were killing me and my mood was starting to sour. When we were finished, I was all set to get back to the hotel, but Dad insisted I get to see the English Gardens since it was the only concrete thing to do on my Munich list. But now it wasn’t drizzling so much as raining. We got the Gardens, but only walked through a teeny-tiny part of it, so I missed out on the Pagoda and tea-house. But I look at it this way: 1) gotta’ save something for the next trip, and 2) I was in London last year and got to see lots of gardens, pagodas and tea houses.
After this, we started to head back to our hotel, but stopped for lunch at a café on the way back. Little did we know that Germany was playing a world cup game today and, as we walked in, we were greeted by all the wait staff huddled around a TV watching the game. In a really good-naturedly begrudging kind of way we ordered a light lunch, and I stopped in the confectionary for some little cookie sandwiches on the way out. Now it wasn’t so much raining and lightly pouring. We started to head back to the hotel at a fast clip and got in around 4.
Dad and I had arranged to meet for dinner in the lobby at 7, and by that time the rain had stopped, but the wind picked up so it was pretty chilly. We headed back into the old city to find Dad a restaurant that serves chicken (he’s been eating a lot of pork lately, since that seems to be the staple meat in most of Germany), but it was impossible. We ended up eating in the basement/cellar of the Rathaus. We had found a restaurant very much like last night’s Hofbrau restaurant, but this one seemed to be full of locals rather than tourists. After we ate, we started trying to find our way out of the place only to realize that the entire basement of the Rathaus has been converted to various restaurants – we ate in the beer hall, but we also passed a wine-bar, a family restaurant, a pub, and a swanky joint before finally finding a set of stairs out. It’s all the same company that runs these places (I gathered), but they cater to everyone’s needs (including a quick canteen style restaurant on the ground floor that was closed when we went by).
Well, tomorrow is going to be a long day I’m told – we’ve got to make it from Munich to the fields of Waterloo, and that should take about 8 hours. We’re going to be more conscious about sharing the driving tomorrow so neither of us gets tuckered out, but it’s still going to be a long haul.
Thursday, June 17, 2010
An addendum…
We just got back from supper and what an experience. Dad wanted to go to the Hofbrauhaus – an establishment that has been part of Munich since 1589. We walked through the old city (with the occasional raindrops) to the joint. We walked in and I wasn’t sure I would make it – the place was HUGE and LOUD and full of oompa music and drunk football fans (the menu says the restaurant will fit 3,500 at one time). But I’m kind of glad we stayed.
The place is an old fashioned beer hall – there are long tables and you grab whatever free space you can find. We ended up sitting at a table with three older guys, one of them was a serious regular. How do I know this? He had his own stein. Apparently, the regulars (and I mean the honest-to-god-come-so-often-it’s-more-like-home-than-home kind of regulars) have a place to lock up their own beer mugs which the wait-staff with fetch and fill with Hof Brau (the in-house brew) upon request.
Dad had only wanted a light supper, but I think he got caught up in the atmosphere of the joint. He ordered a large beer (roughly a half-liter) and a slice of roast pork with potato dumplings that could have served as my lunch and supper. I, on the other hand, finally ordered a mix cola – half coke, half lemonade – a bowl of homemade, cream of veggie soup and the bread basket, which came with a role, some brown bread and a couple of pretzels. I even asked for some mustered on the side – now, I’m not a mustard and pretzel kinda’ gal, but it’s Baveria and I just rolled with it. Besides, not ordering a beer was bad enough, I didn’t want them tossing me out over not liking pretzels with mustard.
After dinner, Dad struck up a conversation with the guys sitting at our table and we had a nice chat with one of the guys. He was telling us about his travels in Canada (he only knows of Ottawa because it’s close to Montreal) and about good places to go in Germany/Austria. By the time my sensor-overload had reached the max, we waived down the very hassled waitress for our bill. This was the point where I unabashedly stole a menu. What was I supposed to do?! It has the history of the place on the back, and it was too cool to pass up! Besides, the regular with his own stein saw me do it and nodded that it was okay – that’s as close to officialdom as it gets, as far as I’m concerned.
Would I do it again? Probably not on a FIFA night, after 8 when it’s packed. But I’m glad I went and got to experience an old-school beer hall!
The most depressing day. Ever.
Well, last night was probably the best rest I’ve gotten so far. Our hotel rooms looked over a street that boasted 3 different bars, but the combination of lack of sleep from the night before and the gravol to sooth the still queasy stomach helped put me out and keep me out for about 10 hours (the only interruption was the charley horse around 3.30, but even then, I fell back asleep right away). After a nice simple breakfast of rolls and spreads (and some broo-ha-ha about a lost parking card), Dad and I got on the road for Munich (or Munchen as the Germans call it) around 9 and got to the outskirts of the city around 11.30.
Rather that head straight into town, we went out to Dachau first. I knew it would be hard, but it hit both Dad and I, and I don’t think we said more than a dozen things to each other over the almost 3 hours we were there. Admission and parking are free, and the purpose of the camp is to encourage people to never forget the depths that humans can sink to to destroy each other. We walked though the prison block, but only made it about a quarter of the way through it before we both decided we’d seen enough. (This is where criminals and ‘special prisoners’ – ie – those deserving better treatment than the common prisoners – were held.) We then started walking down the main camp road, along the foundations of the 34 barracks, to the end of the camp and then into the crematorium area. We then wandered back to the camp’s old administration area to see a documentary about the history of all concentration camps, and in particular Dachau.
Dachau had originally been designed to quarter only a few thousand people (and at those numbers, it was meant to be uncomfortable), but by the end of the war, 30,0000 people were housed there. Never a full-blown extermination camp, Dachau was a work camp that did have the ability to use a gas chamber (only 1) and operate 4-6 ovens at a time. By all accounts (and historians don’t know why), Dachau never became a full-on extermination camp – rather, those slatted to die were generally sent to other camps. The main exception to this rule appears to be Soviet POWs, as they were general executed on site then the bodies were cremated. (Historians have been unable to determine just how many Soviets were killed at the camp.) There is some evidence that Dachau was used for experimenting with execution methods, which might explain why there was only one (reasonably small) gas chamber. Dachau was the first of the concentration camps and set the tone for those that followed. The purpose was the work its inmates to death, either in the agricultural fields or the armament factories. The rations were purposely designed to starve inmates to death.
I couple things stood out that are worth sharing. First, the camp feels tiny, even with all the barracks pulled down. I can’t begin to imagine how 30 thousand people lived in such a small space. Two of the barracks have been reconstructed, including the bunks, sinks and toilets that were used. As the camp became increasingly crowded, they went from housing 50+ people in a room (and figure 4 rooms to a barrack) to over a thousand (and, in some cases, where certain races were housed together, it was almost closer to 2,000). Bunks ceased to be divided into individual sections, and rather you’d get long tri-level bunks without any dividers that spanned the length of the room. There were only 8-10 toilets per barracks, and only 2 large, round sinks. The re-built barrack shows you room-by-room what living conditions were like in various years and the last room literally took my breath away.
The other think that struck me was the ground itself. The paths are covered in pebbles, rather than paving. I wore flats today and at one point, thought how uncomfortable walking around the camp on that terrain was. Then I told myself to shut the fuck up. I’m not sure if that was the original condition of the grounds, but either way, a couple of hours walking around, a little uncomfortable, is NOTHING compared to what had been endured at that site and I need to remember that.
Finally, there were lots of school group there; some of the kids looked upset, some weren’t paying enough due respect, but they were all over the age of needing to be asses when they were with their friends, so it wasn’t so bad having them milling about. The site museum is not recommended for anyone under the age of 12. The exhibits aren’t that bad – they show the progression of the Nazi party and the building of the camp, and some of the conditions. But the documentary film we saw definitely wasn’t appropriate for younger ages. It appears to have been made in the 50s/60s, and shows a lot of old photos and film reels of the camp while it was in operation. It’s really shocking to the senses to see emaciated and/or dead bodies being carted about like trash – it’s not something that’s easily forgotten.
What one takes away from the camp is a reminder of just how low humans can sink. The purpose of keeping the camp open and free to visitors is to remind them of the situation so that something like that never happens again. And yet, it’s still happening, just in different ways in different continents. Remember that as bad as the Jews had it in Nazi Germany, the women of the Sudan and Rwanda are being treated just as horribly. Bosnians, not too long ago, were still killing neighbors over religion. And prisoners at Guantanamo Bay are being held in conditions that, maybe not surpass, but certainly remind one of the torture that went on in the camps. It’s noble to want to remember the Holocaust, but more people should be forced to learn and experience it first hand, so that the message the survivors demand we learn is spread far and wide: Never Again.
Needless to say, it was a really depressing afternoon. When we left the village of Dachau, we headed into Munich to check into our hotel. Because we were at the camp at such an odd time, it was almost 4 before we had a chance to have some lunch. Dad and I both had a light snack and plan on going out tonight for a late dinner. As I sit here, there is thunder and lightening outside, but hopefully it’ll let up when we’re ready to go out. We’ll be in Munich for the next two nights.
Rather that head straight into town, we went out to Dachau first. I knew it would be hard, but it hit both Dad and I, and I don’t think we said more than a dozen things to each other over the almost 3 hours we were there. Admission and parking are free, and the purpose of the camp is to encourage people to never forget the depths that humans can sink to to destroy each other. We walked though the prison block, but only made it about a quarter of the way through it before we both decided we’d seen enough. (This is where criminals and ‘special prisoners’ – ie – those deserving better treatment than the common prisoners – were held.) We then started walking down the main camp road, along the foundations of the 34 barracks, to the end of the camp and then into the crematorium area. We then wandered back to the camp’s old administration area to see a documentary about the history of all concentration camps, and in particular Dachau.
Dachau had originally been designed to quarter only a few thousand people (and at those numbers, it was meant to be uncomfortable), but by the end of the war, 30,0000 people were housed there. Never a full-blown extermination camp, Dachau was a work camp that did have the ability to use a gas chamber (only 1) and operate 4-6 ovens at a time. By all accounts (and historians don’t know why), Dachau never became a full-on extermination camp – rather, those slatted to die were generally sent to other camps. The main exception to this rule appears to be Soviet POWs, as they were general executed on site then the bodies were cremated. (Historians have been unable to determine just how many Soviets were killed at the camp.) There is some evidence that Dachau was used for experimenting with execution methods, which might explain why there was only one (reasonably small) gas chamber. Dachau was the first of the concentration camps and set the tone for those that followed. The purpose was the work its inmates to death, either in the agricultural fields or the armament factories. The rations were purposely designed to starve inmates to death.
I couple things stood out that are worth sharing. First, the camp feels tiny, even with all the barracks pulled down. I can’t begin to imagine how 30 thousand people lived in such a small space. Two of the barracks have been reconstructed, including the bunks, sinks and toilets that were used. As the camp became increasingly crowded, they went from housing 50+ people in a room (and figure 4 rooms to a barrack) to over a thousand (and, in some cases, where certain races were housed together, it was almost closer to 2,000). Bunks ceased to be divided into individual sections, and rather you’d get long tri-level bunks without any dividers that spanned the length of the room. There were only 8-10 toilets per barracks, and only 2 large, round sinks. The re-built barrack shows you room-by-room what living conditions were like in various years and the last room literally took my breath away.
The other think that struck me was the ground itself. The paths are covered in pebbles, rather than paving. I wore flats today and at one point, thought how uncomfortable walking around the camp on that terrain was. Then I told myself to shut the fuck up. I’m not sure if that was the original condition of the grounds, but either way, a couple of hours walking around, a little uncomfortable, is NOTHING compared to what had been endured at that site and I need to remember that.
Finally, there were lots of school group there; some of the kids looked upset, some weren’t paying enough due respect, but they were all over the age of needing to be asses when they were with their friends, so it wasn’t so bad having them milling about. The site museum is not recommended for anyone under the age of 12. The exhibits aren’t that bad – they show the progression of the Nazi party and the building of the camp, and some of the conditions. But the documentary film we saw definitely wasn’t appropriate for younger ages. It appears to have been made in the 50s/60s, and shows a lot of old photos and film reels of the camp while it was in operation. It’s really shocking to the senses to see emaciated and/or dead bodies being carted about like trash – it’s not something that’s easily forgotten.
What one takes away from the camp is a reminder of just how low humans can sink. The purpose of keeping the camp open and free to visitors is to remind them of the situation so that something like that never happens again. And yet, it’s still happening, just in different ways in different continents. Remember that as bad as the Jews had it in Nazi Germany, the women of the Sudan and Rwanda are being treated just as horribly. Bosnians, not too long ago, were still killing neighbors over religion. And prisoners at Guantanamo Bay are being held in conditions that, maybe not surpass, but certainly remind one of the torture that went on in the camps. It’s noble to want to remember the Holocaust, but more people should be forced to learn and experience it first hand, so that the message the survivors demand we learn is spread far and wide: Never Again.
Needless to say, it was a really depressing afternoon. When we left the village of Dachau, we headed into Munich to check into our hotel. Because we were at the camp at such an odd time, it was almost 4 before we had a chance to have some lunch. Dad and I both had a light snack and plan on going out tonight for a late dinner. As I sit here, there is thunder and lightening outside, but hopefully it’ll let up when we’re ready to go out. We’ll be in Munich for the next two nights.
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
Cursed by a delicate constitution…
*Last 4 days worth of posts can be found below. We've been staying in some pretty old fashion gastofs and internet connection is hit and miss.*
Well, last night was unfortunate. We stayed at our gastof for dinner and it was a huge mistake – craving some protein, I ordered a sirloin filet. When I dug into it, I was unable to decide if it had been boiled then thrown on a flat-top, or just deep fried. It had been tenderized to the point of beating, so it definitely wasn’t a sirloin. The consequence? I was up most of the night with extreme nausea. So, little sleep and a queasy stomach were the start to my day, neither of which are ever promising. (Dad must have a lead lined stomach – as far as I was concerned, his dinner was worse than mine: a pork cutlet topped with pineapple, honey dew melon, plantains and merichino cherries, smothered in a creamy curry sauce. It makes me ralph a little bit just thinking of it.)
So, a long night and an early start. I skipped breakfast, but dad and I headed over to the salt mines in Berchtesgaden shortly after 9. The saltworks have been in constant work since the 16th century. After donning a jump suit (no, there are no pictures of me in it), we got on this little train that headed into the mountain. Along for the ride was a German school group (PS. No matter what Dad sais, German kids are douchier than Canadian ones – I got jostled 3 times by 3 different kids trying to get to the front of whatever imaginary line they though was there. Ass holes. I’ll admit, I might not have been in the best of mind sets this morning either.) We got to slide down wooden slides, cross a lake (that’s how they mine the salt in the stone – flood a pocket and drain the water every 2 years, then refine the saline solution), and walk through some mine shafts. I now know all I’ll ever need (or want) to know about salt.
From Berchtesgaden, we headed for the Austrian border and Salzburg. We found a classy little hotel only seconds from the main Motzart-Plaz and checked in. Dad then took pity on me and let me relax a little bit while he went out for a late lunch. Around 3 we headed into the old city for some pictures. We wandered through the cathedral here in town, saw the Neptune fountain, picked up some knick knacks, saw Motzart’s birthplace and wandered the shopping district. There were lots of people out and about until 5pm – then it seemed like all the tours pulled out of town.
I think I’ll let Dad do his own thing for dinner tonight and stay in to nurse this stomach ache. I think the whole ‘go-go-go’ atmosphere of the trip so far has run me down, so I’ll relax tonight and hope for a fresh start in the morning. We’ve booked a hotel for the next two nights in Munich, and we’ll be headed out there early in the morning.
Well, last night was unfortunate. We stayed at our gastof for dinner and it was a huge mistake – craving some protein, I ordered a sirloin filet. When I dug into it, I was unable to decide if it had been boiled then thrown on a flat-top, or just deep fried. It had been tenderized to the point of beating, so it definitely wasn’t a sirloin. The consequence? I was up most of the night with extreme nausea. So, little sleep and a queasy stomach were the start to my day, neither of which are ever promising. (Dad must have a lead lined stomach – as far as I was concerned, his dinner was worse than mine: a pork cutlet topped with pineapple, honey dew melon, plantains and merichino cherries, smothered in a creamy curry sauce. It makes me ralph a little bit just thinking of it.)
So, a long night and an early start. I skipped breakfast, but dad and I headed over to the salt mines in Berchtesgaden shortly after 9. The saltworks have been in constant work since the 16th century. After donning a jump suit (no, there are no pictures of me in it), we got on this little train that headed into the mountain. Along for the ride was a German school group (PS. No matter what Dad sais, German kids are douchier than Canadian ones – I got jostled 3 times by 3 different kids trying to get to the front of whatever imaginary line they though was there. Ass holes. I’ll admit, I might not have been in the best of mind sets this morning either.) We got to slide down wooden slides, cross a lake (that’s how they mine the salt in the stone – flood a pocket and drain the water every 2 years, then refine the saline solution), and walk through some mine shafts. I now know all I’ll ever need (or want) to know about salt.
From Berchtesgaden, we headed for the Austrian border and Salzburg. We found a classy little hotel only seconds from the main Motzart-Plaz and checked in. Dad then took pity on me and let me relax a little bit while he went out for a late lunch. Around 3 we headed into the old city for some pictures. We wandered through the cathedral here in town, saw the Neptune fountain, picked up some knick knacks, saw Motzart’s birthplace and wandered the shopping district. There were lots of people out and about until 5pm – then it seemed like all the tours pulled out of town.
I think I’ll let Dad do his own thing for dinner tonight and stay in to nurse this stomach ache. I think the whole ‘go-go-go’ atmosphere of the trip so far has run me down, so I’ll relax tonight and hope for a fresh start in the morning. We’ve booked a hotel for the next two nights in Munich, and we’ll be headed out there early in the morning.
A day of extremes.
Well, the day was a bit of an odd duck, if you ask me. We started out with breakfast in Fussen where our gastof is apparently used to house students during the week so they can go to school in town. German schools must start pretty early, because I head the kids leaving their rooms around 7 and they were apparently heading out by 7:30 when Dad put his stuff in the car. By the time I got to breakfast shortly before 8, the buffet had been pretty clearly picked over, and there wasn’t a whole lot left. I had a roll with a soft boiled egg and some herb creamed cheese and then we headed out.
The weather here has been pretty crappy the last few days. When we got into Lahr it was sunny and muggy and uncomfortable. Yesterday, for our tour of the royal castles, it was over-cast and we got some light drizzle around noon, but that was all. Today, the fog and clouds just wouldn’t lift and it rained quite a bit. We did have a few exceptions when we got out of the car, so we were pretty lucky with that.
Our first stop this morning was at the town of Weis, on the Romantistrass to see the pilgrimage church in town. I use the term ‘town’ loosely – it was made up of about 6 buildings (other than the church), a couple of herds of cows, and three stalls selling touristy knick-knacks. When we got there, we were the only ones really there and as we were walking out of the church a tour bus was unloading, so we lucked out with timing. Of course, always looking to make a quick buck, the local authorities (church?) was charging for parking – Dad paid two Euros (that’s all he had on him) which bought us almost two hours of parking. As we were leaving, Dad did his Christian duty of charity and gave our extra hour and a half to some people who were about to pay. Dad assures me it was less about being a Christian, and more about hating to pay for parking.
From Weis, we headed on to Oberammergau. Oberammergau is very famous for one thing – Passion Plays. Every 10 years, the city puts on a festival with the Passion Play being the centre of the festivities. I had wanted to go because I was thinking it would be a traditional Play, you know, with the guilds putting on a scene each and the apprentices getting drunk to celebrate. No so much – Oberammergau is now a tourist mecca for Brits and Americans. Dad and I stopped in town just to pick up some postcards and souvenirs, but on our way out, we caught a glimpse of the permanent theater where the Plays are staged – it is quite large, and really state of the art. We didn’t stay overnight for a performance since both Dad and I know how it ends, and it lasts 5 hours. No, thanks.
From Oberammergau we headed towards and autobahn, and this time, I really opened her up – got the ol’ VW up above 150 and could have gone higher, but had to exit. Driving an autobahn is quite an experience – not only are you watching the road ahead of you, but you have to watch the road behind you for quite a ways as well. The Germans come whipping down those highways so fast, that if you’re not watching your rear-view as much as the road in front of you, you can make the locals really frustrated and agro. The other problem with the autobahn is the on-ramps – they’re virtually non-existent. You’ve got to be ready and able to go from a complete stop at the end of the ‘on-ramp’ to at least 90 in only a few seconds to avoid becoming a bug on someone’s windshield. After you’re on the road, you’d better only use the left lane for passing – the locals have no problem getting right on your tail when you’re in their way. And signal lights? Forget them – they’re apparently considered a waste of time. All told, a lot of fun to drive on them, but only if you’re a very conscientious driver. (I think I freaked out Dad since he wasn’t saying very much, but I was comfortable doing the driving and fit right in with the Germans.)
Off the autobahn we were heading through the country side on a fast-ish highway to get to the next autobahn when we passed a Commonwealth war cemetery. After a u-turn, we stopped for a few minutes to have a look around. I signed the guestbook while Dad looked through the directory – we found 3 Guests buried there, all from British regiments. Dad figures there was a POW camp or hospital near by since a lot of the graves we saw there from late in 1944. I’m not a WWII historian, but the whole situation really hit me hard. I was having a hard time not bursting into tears walking through the rows of graves. I don’t know how people manage the Battlefields Tours – I would be a blubbering wreck the entire time. It’s starting to make me wonder how I’ll react at Dachau…
After we left the cemetery, we got onto another autobahn, only to get off shortly and head back into the country side. We stopped in a little town (seemingly in BFN, but Dad mentioned it was closer to Austria then that) for lunch. We pulled into a gastof and I was surprised to see how big and swanky the place was. It’s comforting to know that if we have to stay in the country side that was can find classy accommodations like that one. After lunch (Dad had some sort of pork stew and I had a ratatouille) we headed of to Berchtesgaden. We got in around 2, and started looking for a hotel. We found on that had pretty small rooms, and is within 3 blocks of 3 churches (to go by the bells that ring on the hour), but we’re only here for one night, so it will do.
After checking in, we headed up to Kehlsteinhaus – or the Eagle’s Nest – more commonly known as Hitler’s Teahouse. It’s a small building, built at the very top of a peak in the mountains that was a gift to Hitler by the Nazi party for his 50th birthday. It was used as a diplomatic retreat and was never permanently lived in. When we got into Berchtesgaden the weather was committed to rain, and that hadn’t let up by the time we got to the base of the Kehlsteinhaus. At the base, you have to buy bus tickets to get up to the top – which starts to make sense when you realize that the roads are incredibly steep and only wide enough for one vehicle at a time (the organization that is running it even runs the buses up in convoys to avoid having them meet anywhere on the road). When we got to the top, we realized that we were above the fog line, but still below the cloud line. As we walked from one end of the ridge to the other that Kehlsteinhaus is on, we would sometimes loose sight of either side as the clouds/fogs obscured our view. We were able to see some of the surrounding mountains, as well as some of the high planes that surround the peak. We were constantly drizzled on, but when we went down the 124 meters to the front entrance of the retreat, the drizzle was full out rain.
Back in Berchtesgaden, we headed for our hotel and will eat here in the gastof, since both Dad and I are pretty wiped.
The weather here has been pretty crappy the last few days. When we got into Lahr it was sunny and muggy and uncomfortable. Yesterday, for our tour of the royal castles, it was over-cast and we got some light drizzle around noon, but that was all. Today, the fog and clouds just wouldn’t lift and it rained quite a bit. We did have a few exceptions when we got out of the car, so we were pretty lucky with that.
Our first stop this morning was at the town of Weis, on the Romantistrass to see the pilgrimage church in town. I use the term ‘town’ loosely – it was made up of about 6 buildings (other than the church), a couple of herds of cows, and three stalls selling touristy knick-knacks. When we got there, we were the only ones really there and as we were walking out of the church a tour bus was unloading, so we lucked out with timing. Of course, always looking to make a quick buck, the local authorities (church?) was charging for parking – Dad paid two Euros (that’s all he had on him) which bought us almost two hours of parking. As we were leaving, Dad did his Christian duty of charity and gave our extra hour and a half to some people who were about to pay. Dad assures me it was less about being a Christian, and more about hating to pay for parking.
From Weis, we headed on to Oberammergau. Oberammergau is very famous for one thing – Passion Plays. Every 10 years, the city puts on a festival with the Passion Play being the centre of the festivities. I had wanted to go because I was thinking it would be a traditional Play, you know, with the guilds putting on a scene each and the apprentices getting drunk to celebrate. No so much – Oberammergau is now a tourist mecca for Brits and Americans. Dad and I stopped in town just to pick up some postcards and souvenirs, but on our way out, we caught a glimpse of the permanent theater where the Plays are staged – it is quite large, and really state of the art. We didn’t stay overnight for a performance since both Dad and I know how it ends, and it lasts 5 hours. No, thanks.
From Oberammergau we headed towards and autobahn, and this time, I really opened her up – got the ol’ VW up above 150 and could have gone higher, but had to exit. Driving an autobahn is quite an experience – not only are you watching the road ahead of you, but you have to watch the road behind you for quite a ways as well. The Germans come whipping down those highways so fast, that if you’re not watching your rear-view as much as the road in front of you, you can make the locals really frustrated and agro. The other problem with the autobahn is the on-ramps – they’re virtually non-existent. You’ve got to be ready and able to go from a complete stop at the end of the ‘on-ramp’ to at least 90 in only a few seconds to avoid becoming a bug on someone’s windshield. After you’re on the road, you’d better only use the left lane for passing – the locals have no problem getting right on your tail when you’re in their way. And signal lights? Forget them – they’re apparently considered a waste of time. All told, a lot of fun to drive on them, but only if you’re a very conscientious driver. (I think I freaked out Dad since he wasn’t saying very much, but I was comfortable doing the driving and fit right in with the Germans.)
Off the autobahn we were heading through the country side on a fast-ish highway to get to the next autobahn when we passed a Commonwealth war cemetery. After a u-turn, we stopped for a few minutes to have a look around. I signed the guestbook while Dad looked through the directory – we found 3 Guests buried there, all from British regiments. Dad figures there was a POW camp or hospital near by since a lot of the graves we saw there from late in 1944. I’m not a WWII historian, but the whole situation really hit me hard. I was having a hard time not bursting into tears walking through the rows of graves. I don’t know how people manage the Battlefields Tours – I would be a blubbering wreck the entire time. It’s starting to make me wonder how I’ll react at Dachau…
After we left the cemetery, we got onto another autobahn, only to get off shortly and head back into the country side. We stopped in a little town (seemingly in BFN, but Dad mentioned it was closer to Austria then that) for lunch. We pulled into a gastof and I was surprised to see how big and swanky the place was. It’s comforting to know that if we have to stay in the country side that was can find classy accommodations like that one. After lunch (Dad had some sort of pork stew and I had a ratatouille) we headed of to Berchtesgaden. We got in around 2, and started looking for a hotel. We found on that had pretty small rooms, and is within 3 blocks of 3 churches (to go by the bells that ring on the hour), but we’re only here for one night, so it will do.
After checking in, we headed up to Kehlsteinhaus – or the Eagle’s Nest – more commonly known as Hitler’s Teahouse. It’s a small building, built at the very top of a peak in the mountains that was a gift to Hitler by the Nazi party for his 50th birthday. It was used as a diplomatic retreat and was never permanently lived in. When we got into Berchtesgaden the weather was committed to rain, and that hadn’t let up by the time we got to the base of the Kehlsteinhaus. At the base, you have to buy bus tickets to get up to the top – which starts to make sense when you realize that the roads are incredibly steep and only wide enough for one vehicle at a time (the organization that is running it even runs the buses up in convoys to avoid having them meet anywhere on the road). When we got to the top, we realized that we were above the fog line, but still below the cloud line. As we walked from one end of the ridge to the other that Kehlsteinhaus is on, we would sometimes loose sight of either side as the clouds/fogs obscured our view. We were able to see some of the surrounding mountains, as well as some of the high planes that surround the peak. We were constantly drizzled on, but when we went down the 124 meters to the front entrance of the retreat, the drizzle was full out rain.
Back in Berchtesgaden, we headed for our hotel and will eat here in the gastof, since both Dad and I are pretty wiped.
A Lud-icris day…
So, we spend our second night in Fussen last night so that we could head out to the Konigssehlossers (royal castles) today. There are two just outside the town of Fussen, the Schloss Hohenschwangau and the Schloss Newschwanstein. Both of which were residences of Ludwig II – the Newchwanstein was the fairy tale castle that ol’ Luddy commissioned as inspired by the operas of Wagner. But, I’m getting ahead of myself…
We got up and had breakfast here at the gastof this morning for 8am – it was pretty standard fare; cold cuts, cheeses, fresh rolls, spreads, and hard-boiled eggs. It was delicious, but I can see this getting old fast since there’s not a lot of variety in the German continental breakfast. A little before 9 we wandered into the Marketplaz here in Fussen to wait for the tourist info centre to open, then grabbed some info/maps on the town and headed out to the castles. We got to the small town at the foot of the hills which they are built on just before 9.30 at the place was already looking pretty busy. The only way you can visit either castle is via guided tour since they are still privately owned by the Duke of Bavaria. We got our tickets to see both castles, then hoofed it up to the Hohenschwangau.
The Hohenschwangau was the summer residence of the royal family of Bavaria since it was re-built after Napoleon destroyed it in the early 19th century. It took some walking (and more switch backs!) to get up there, but the view was worth it. On one side you got the flat farm valleys of the surrounding towns and on the other there are two lakes and the small town that relies on the tourist trade for survival. We wandered around the Hohenschwangau’s gardens waiting for our tour to start, then got to see the rooms of the king and queen. It’s a pretty small palace, but it was never used for formal receptions, but rater was used as a retreat palace.
From the Hohenschwangau, we headed into the town for a quick lunch. Dad wasn’t all to keen on trying the red deer goulash, so we settled for the restaurant of one of the hotels where he had moo-cow goulash and I had a spinach strudel. After our quick bite, we found the horse carriages that take people up to the Neuschwastein for 6 Euros a piece up, but 3 Euros down. We were in the front of the carriage, so I got to see just how hard a job the horses had it carting people up that hill repeatedly. And let’s not get confused – it was a hard f-ing trail to blaze. You’re more than welcome to walk up, and a lot of people do, but it was a very steep and hard road to take. So, though I felt bad, I’m glad it was the horses hoofing it and not me. (To be fair, we did walk down, and my calves are still jelly-like!)
From where the horses dropped us off, it was still a 10-15 minute walk up to Neuschwastein. We arrived a little early and got some pictures while milling around the court yard. But this time (almost 1) it was crawling with tourists all over the place. Our tour group was made up predominately by an English coach-tour full of really old people. To make matters worse, the tour starts on the second floor of the Neuschwastein, which is 68 spiral-stair case steps above the court yard (and yes, I counted) and the tour is spread out over 3 floors, so there was another 90 steps. It took a long time to get everyone in place because the median age of the group was around 60. Dad took that tour years ago, and he remembers it being quite rushed. Well, it still is. Apparently, Dad always recommends you wear your running shoes for the Neuschwastein tour. There were several rooms where we hadn’t even left before the next group was coming in behind us. Needless to say, there was a lot of noise and a lot of invasion of my personal bubble and I don’t do well with either. I wasn’t really digging the tour, so I jetted shortly after it ended.
The castle itself is unfinished – Ludwig died before it was completed. In actuality, only the second and half of the third floor is finished, and Ludwig inhabited it for 6 months before he died. After that, it was only a livable castle for another year and a half. The décor was inspired by Richard Wagner’s operas and the general motif is the 11/12th centuries gothic-style. All very ornate and over the top. On the way down from the theater (situated on the third floor under slopped roofs for the sake of acoustics) I counted 203 steps – and we exited via the servant’s entrance.
After we left, Dad decided he was going to take the trail that goes around the back of the Neuschwastein to the bridge the over looks it and the gorge for some pictures. I was so tired and stressed out by that point that I took a pass and instead perused the tourist stalls that lined the walk-up to the castle, picked up some post cards and a giant pretzel, then headed to the restaurant/inn at the place where the horses let us off to wait of Dad.
From there, we headed down the hill (on foot!) for the village to return to Fussen. We browsed through the tourist shops, but then headed for the car. When we got back to town it was only 3 so we wanted to see some of Fussen’s attractions as well. Unfortunately, I was really tired, and the main historical building (the fortress) is closed on Mondays, so we cut our losses and headed back to the Gastof. We chilled for a couple of hours, then headed back to the marketplaz for some dinner.
Tomorrow we head out for… a town that’s name I can’t pronounce yet, so I’d better get some rest!
We got up and had breakfast here at the gastof this morning for 8am – it was pretty standard fare; cold cuts, cheeses, fresh rolls, spreads, and hard-boiled eggs. It was delicious, but I can see this getting old fast since there’s not a lot of variety in the German continental breakfast. A little before 9 we wandered into the Marketplaz here in Fussen to wait for the tourist info centre to open, then grabbed some info/maps on the town and headed out to the castles. We got to the small town at the foot of the hills which they are built on just before 9.30 at the place was already looking pretty busy. The only way you can visit either castle is via guided tour since they are still privately owned by the Duke of Bavaria. We got our tickets to see both castles, then hoofed it up to the Hohenschwangau.
The Hohenschwangau was the summer residence of the royal family of Bavaria since it was re-built after Napoleon destroyed it in the early 19th century. It took some walking (and more switch backs!) to get up there, but the view was worth it. On one side you got the flat farm valleys of the surrounding towns and on the other there are two lakes and the small town that relies on the tourist trade for survival. We wandered around the Hohenschwangau’s gardens waiting for our tour to start, then got to see the rooms of the king and queen. It’s a pretty small palace, but it was never used for formal receptions, but rater was used as a retreat palace.
From the Hohenschwangau, we headed into the town for a quick lunch. Dad wasn’t all to keen on trying the red deer goulash, so we settled for the restaurant of one of the hotels where he had moo-cow goulash and I had a spinach strudel. After our quick bite, we found the horse carriages that take people up to the Neuschwastein for 6 Euros a piece up, but 3 Euros down. We were in the front of the carriage, so I got to see just how hard a job the horses had it carting people up that hill repeatedly. And let’s not get confused – it was a hard f-ing trail to blaze. You’re more than welcome to walk up, and a lot of people do, but it was a very steep and hard road to take. So, though I felt bad, I’m glad it was the horses hoofing it and not me. (To be fair, we did walk down, and my calves are still jelly-like!)
From where the horses dropped us off, it was still a 10-15 minute walk up to Neuschwastein. We arrived a little early and got some pictures while milling around the court yard. But this time (almost 1) it was crawling with tourists all over the place. Our tour group was made up predominately by an English coach-tour full of really old people. To make matters worse, the tour starts on the second floor of the Neuschwastein, which is 68 spiral-stair case steps above the court yard (and yes, I counted) and the tour is spread out over 3 floors, so there was another 90 steps. It took a long time to get everyone in place because the median age of the group was around 60. Dad took that tour years ago, and he remembers it being quite rushed. Well, it still is. Apparently, Dad always recommends you wear your running shoes for the Neuschwastein tour. There were several rooms where we hadn’t even left before the next group was coming in behind us. Needless to say, there was a lot of noise and a lot of invasion of my personal bubble and I don’t do well with either. I wasn’t really digging the tour, so I jetted shortly after it ended.
The castle itself is unfinished – Ludwig died before it was completed. In actuality, only the second and half of the third floor is finished, and Ludwig inhabited it for 6 months before he died. After that, it was only a livable castle for another year and a half. The décor was inspired by Richard Wagner’s operas and the general motif is the 11/12th centuries gothic-style. All very ornate and over the top. On the way down from the theater (situated on the third floor under slopped roofs for the sake of acoustics) I counted 203 steps – and we exited via the servant’s entrance.
After we left, Dad decided he was going to take the trail that goes around the back of the Neuschwastein to the bridge the over looks it and the gorge for some pictures. I was so tired and stressed out by that point that I took a pass and instead perused the tourist stalls that lined the walk-up to the castle, picked up some post cards and a giant pretzel, then headed to the restaurant/inn at the place where the horses let us off to wait of Dad.
From there, we headed down the hill (on foot!) for the village to return to Fussen. We browsed through the tourist shops, but then headed for the car. When we got back to town it was only 3 so we wanted to see some of Fussen’s attractions as well. Unfortunately, I was really tired, and the main historical building (the fortress) is closed on Mondays, so we cut our losses and headed back to the Gastof. We chilled for a couple of hours, then headed back to the marketplaz for some dinner.
Tomorrow we head out for… a town that’s name I can’t pronounce yet, so I’d better get some rest!
Well, we tried (as a refrain for the day).
Lots doing today! We left Freiburg early this morning after stopping at the German equivalent of a Timmy’s for breakfast. I had a pretzel with creamed cheese (the concept of a bagel appears lost on the German people) and an apple juice (which was fizzy – they’ll fiz up anything here). It was a nice way to start the day. We also started the day by celebrating Father’s Day! Since the guy’s brought me to Germany, it’s not like I could ignore it – I got him Shit my Dad Said because it reminds me so much of him.
As we left Frieburg, we headed into the hills for a scenic drive; it was kind of a bust. There was clouds, fog, and a light rain all morning. We headed up what is called a road, since it appears in my dad’s atlas, but to be frank, it was a single-car width cow-lane that happened to be paved. Between the fog, the sharp switch backs, the rain, and the crazy-assed locals who were driving to/from wherever and using that road, it was kind of stressful. The route was poorly marked, so Dad had to get out a couple of times to check road-signs (I was driving – that’s why I didn’t get out). To sum of the adventure, I had to ask Dad once “Which creepy-assed road to you want me to take? The one into the creepy-assed and dark forest, or the one into the creepy-assed blind turn and decent?” It all worked out in the end, and we started back up hill to what was supposed to be a scenic view point. It was scenic in so far as we were above the fog cover, but not the clouds. Either way, it was a nice drive and we got some nice pictures of a couple of different views.
Dad had some more scenic routs planned, but it became pretty obvious that it was going to be a bust, so we cut our losses and headed for the autobahn. For those of you who play poker, haven’t you always wanted to play in a no-limits, big stakes game? That’s what driving an autobahn is for me – there are no speed limits between towns and you’re free to go as fast as your little heart desires. We’ve got us a VW Golf for this trip and while it’s great on all the little winding roads, it’s not all that great for high-speeds in a hurry. Needless to say, I got to go 130km/h for quite a while, but I was driving in the slow lane and being passed like I was standing still by the domestic drivers. (I observed to Dad that we should have done this trip when I was younger and stupider and I would have been right along side the locals making like I was Mario Andreti.) Maybe in a few days when I’m feeling up to it, I’ll really open her up and let loose on the autobahn. (On that note, they seem pretty serious about limiting speeds in the small towns along the smaller roads – which makes sense – and how did we find that out? As I was leaving one of these towns – doing almost 70 in a posted 50 zone – I got distracted by a bright flash of light from what was most assuredly a photo speed-trap. So, not only have we racked up a parking ticket already, but now we’ll probably have a speeding ticket to add to the list of experiences.)
Anyway…. We switched over on the driving not long after getting on the Autobahn after stopping for a quick snack. The autobahn road-side service stations are amazing. They are clean and have the classiest cafeteria/restaurants imaginable. And how do they manage this? By ‘suggesting’ donations to use the washrooms. I wasn’t stopped, but I use the ladies twice without paying, and felt like a thief steeling into the night afterwards. Oh well. Along the autobahn we went until a detour forced us off of it onto a smaller highway that circled around Lake Bodensee (also known as Lake Constance). We stopped at a beautiful church along the way which looked out over some grape fields down to the water, which was full of sail boats, with Switzerland on the other side. We didn’t go into the church since it was Sunday around noon and the service was just letting out. It was still a nice little stop to have made.
From there, we drove onto Lindau. The old part of the city sits on a little island, so we crossed the bridge and found a place to park and take some pictures, then moved on and parked to wander into the old town. The original purpose to Lindau was to act as a customs stop between Austria/Switzerland and Germany. Because of this, the harbour has a large lighthouse and a giant stone lion that faces out into the lake and at those other two countries. After a wander around we started looking for a place to have lunch. We passed by a few joints then settled on one that was on the main street of the town – what a good call! We were halfway through our lunch when I picked up a marching beat – it turns out that the surrounding towns were putting on a parade of marching bands. We got to sit in the second floor of the restaurant, eat our lunches, and watch about a dozen marching bands (dressed in traditional Bavarian garb) go marching by. It was a real case of being in the right place at the right time!
From Lindau we headed on towards Fussen where we were spending the next two nights. Dad had planned to take the Deutch Alpenstrass, a scenic road-way that gets some views of the Alps, but because of the weather, it was a pretty big bust. By the time we came down from the hills the rain was really getting heavy. We drove straight into Fussen to look for a hotel. We tried a couple of places that were either full or too expensive, before finding the Brauereigasthof on a little side street, just outside the old city centre. There is a restaurant downstairs, and the hotel’s reception also serves as the bar, but the rooms are quite large (though the bathrooms are tiney-tiny) and the food in the restaurant was really good. We had a nice supper and I’ve turned in early since tomorrow is going to be another big day – we’re heading out to see some of the royal castles (even if the weather is utter crap like today).
An observation:
The German people LOVE walking and bike riding. On the little hills that I get nervous about driving up and down because of the 12% gradient (or worse) we see men (and some women) kitted out like Lance Armstrong heading both up and down, seemingly in the middle of nowhere. Even in the pouring rain they’re out there. It’s the same with the walkers – it was raining really bad for a while, be we were still seeing people out walking along foot-paths or their cars parked at the entrance to nature preserves. We even saw two guys swimming in one of the larger lakes we passed by (and it was only about 15 degrees at the time). Everywhere we’ve gone, we’ve seen random bus stops for some form of public transit that seems designed to not only take people from village to village, but also to take people out into the middle of nowhere so they can make a day of walking home. We figured after a few big meals (Dad’s with beer) that this is how the Germans have figured out how to enjoy the culinary expertise.
As we left Frieburg, we headed into the hills for a scenic drive; it was kind of a bust. There was clouds, fog, and a light rain all morning. We headed up what is called a road, since it appears in my dad’s atlas, but to be frank, it was a single-car width cow-lane that happened to be paved. Between the fog, the sharp switch backs, the rain, and the crazy-assed locals who were driving to/from wherever and using that road, it was kind of stressful. The route was poorly marked, so Dad had to get out a couple of times to check road-signs (I was driving – that’s why I didn’t get out). To sum of the adventure, I had to ask Dad once “Which creepy-assed road to you want me to take? The one into the creepy-assed and dark forest, or the one into the creepy-assed blind turn and decent?” It all worked out in the end, and we started back up hill to what was supposed to be a scenic view point. It was scenic in so far as we were above the fog cover, but not the clouds. Either way, it was a nice drive and we got some nice pictures of a couple of different views.
Dad had some more scenic routs planned, but it became pretty obvious that it was going to be a bust, so we cut our losses and headed for the autobahn. For those of you who play poker, haven’t you always wanted to play in a no-limits, big stakes game? That’s what driving an autobahn is for me – there are no speed limits between towns and you’re free to go as fast as your little heart desires. We’ve got us a VW Golf for this trip and while it’s great on all the little winding roads, it’s not all that great for high-speeds in a hurry. Needless to say, I got to go 130km/h for quite a while, but I was driving in the slow lane and being passed like I was standing still by the domestic drivers. (I observed to Dad that we should have done this trip when I was younger and stupider and I would have been right along side the locals making like I was Mario Andreti.) Maybe in a few days when I’m feeling up to it, I’ll really open her up and let loose on the autobahn. (On that note, they seem pretty serious about limiting speeds in the small towns along the smaller roads – which makes sense – and how did we find that out? As I was leaving one of these towns – doing almost 70 in a posted 50 zone – I got distracted by a bright flash of light from what was most assuredly a photo speed-trap. So, not only have we racked up a parking ticket already, but now we’ll probably have a speeding ticket to add to the list of experiences.)
Anyway…. We switched over on the driving not long after getting on the Autobahn after stopping for a quick snack. The autobahn road-side service stations are amazing. They are clean and have the classiest cafeteria/restaurants imaginable. And how do they manage this? By ‘suggesting’ donations to use the washrooms. I wasn’t stopped, but I use the ladies twice without paying, and felt like a thief steeling into the night afterwards. Oh well. Along the autobahn we went until a detour forced us off of it onto a smaller highway that circled around Lake Bodensee (also known as Lake Constance). We stopped at a beautiful church along the way which looked out over some grape fields down to the water, which was full of sail boats, with Switzerland on the other side. We didn’t go into the church since it was Sunday around noon and the service was just letting out. It was still a nice little stop to have made.
From there, we drove onto Lindau. The old part of the city sits on a little island, so we crossed the bridge and found a place to park and take some pictures, then moved on and parked to wander into the old town. The original purpose to Lindau was to act as a customs stop between Austria/Switzerland and Germany. Because of this, the harbour has a large lighthouse and a giant stone lion that faces out into the lake and at those other two countries. After a wander around we started looking for a place to have lunch. We passed by a few joints then settled on one that was on the main street of the town – what a good call! We were halfway through our lunch when I picked up a marching beat – it turns out that the surrounding towns were putting on a parade of marching bands. We got to sit in the second floor of the restaurant, eat our lunches, and watch about a dozen marching bands (dressed in traditional Bavarian garb) go marching by. It was a real case of being in the right place at the right time!
From Lindau we headed on towards Fussen where we were spending the next two nights. Dad had planned to take the Deutch Alpenstrass, a scenic road-way that gets some views of the Alps, but because of the weather, it was a pretty big bust. By the time we came down from the hills the rain was really getting heavy. We drove straight into Fussen to look for a hotel. We tried a couple of places that were either full or too expensive, before finding the Brauereigasthof on a little side street, just outside the old city centre. There is a restaurant downstairs, and the hotel’s reception also serves as the bar, but the rooms are quite large (though the bathrooms are tiney-tiny) and the food in the restaurant was really good. We had a nice supper and I’ve turned in early since tomorrow is going to be another big day – we’re heading out to see some of the royal castles (even if the weather is utter crap like today).
An observation:
The German people LOVE walking and bike riding. On the little hills that I get nervous about driving up and down because of the 12% gradient (or worse) we see men (and some women) kitted out like Lance Armstrong heading both up and down, seemingly in the middle of nowhere. Even in the pouring rain they’re out there. It’s the same with the walkers – it was raining really bad for a while, be we were still seeing people out walking along foot-paths or their cars parked at the entrance to nature preserves. We even saw two guys swimming in one of the larger lakes we passed by (and it was only about 15 degrees at the time). Everywhere we’ve gone, we’ve seen random bus stops for some form of public transit that seems designed to not only take people from village to village, but also to take people out into the middle of nowhere so they can make a day of walking home. We figured after a few big meals (Dad’s with beer) that this is how the Germans have figured out how to enjoy the culinary expertise.
Saturday, June 12, 2010
Switch back after switch back after switch back after switch back after… well, you get the point.
Wooooo, what a long day. We’ve been doing stuff for two days now, and already the vacation as a “This is Tuesday, so this must be Belgium” feel to it. The morning started off weird – I was up at quarter to six, and dad and I had planed to meet for breakfast in the hotel restaurant for 7.30. I rolled down to the restaurant around 7.15 and was surprised that he wasn’t already there. I waited for 45 minutes, but by 7.45 I was trying to figure out how to get the body home (fyi, I don’t think dad’s slept past 7am since he was my age). At 8, I finally had enough of waiting so went to knock on his door. It took 3 tries to wake him up. Turns out, he was woken up in the middle of the night and couldn’t get back to sleep. When he finally did, it was so early in the am, that he slept right though. I’m never going to let him live this down. Sgt Guest’s o’dark-thirty start time went out the window because he slept in….
Anyway, when we finally got on the road (see what I did there? Yeah, he’s going to be hearing about this for a while) we headed out of Lahr for a drive through the very southern tip of the black forest. Around 11 we stopped at Freudenstadt for a coffee and a snack and a walk around the marketplaz. We found some nice durndles and leiderhossen in some shops, but didn’t stop to try them on. Oh well. Most of the day was spent driving through the little hills between villages. We drove about 200km, but it took us most of 8 hours. It’s the kind of driving conditions where you can’t shift above second gear going up a hill, and you stay in second coming down because of the speed. The way the massive ‘hills’ around here are managed is via switch back; you are basically driving a zig-zag up the hill and it’s very often quite steep.
In the valleys we would drive through small towns that had one of three industries: 1- logging (because duh, it’s the black forest), 2- water bottling (lots of little springs), or 3- health spas/hospitals. We got stuck behind a double-trailer from a water bottling factory going up some switch backs and it was nerve racking watching this massive 18 wheeler almost jackknife multiple times. To make matters worse on these roads, people are permitted to pass, so you’re often wondering as you going around blind corners if you’re going to meet anyone head on, if the road it wide enough for both cars, or if the person behind you if going to try to pass and cause an accident. What’s more, there are rarely guard rails on the sides of these switch backs, so you’re always very conscious of just how far a drop it is to the valley floor. (But, Dad is always reminding me that we’re more than likely to hit a bunch of trees to stop the fall. Thanks Dad.) The driving is never boring, so the signs that indicate roads are going to narrow are more of a joke than helpful (I mean, come on, some roads are barely wide enough for one car, let alone two).
Our second stop of the day was at Triberg to see the highest waterfall in Germany. It’s an extremely well maintained tourist site that starts mid-way up the valley wall and has lots of paths leading up along side the falls. These paths are laid out, of course, in switch backs. It never ends here. Dad and I made it up to the last viewing bridge across the falls, then opted to NOT continue walking to the top of the hill (since it was still quite a ways up). Walking down was almost as hard as going up – my legs still feel a bit like jelly and I fear a charlyhorse tonight.
Leaving Triberg we started heading to Freiburg. We detoured a bit to see both the witches valley (Hexeloch Mill) – it was a really charming place, but the roads were ridiculously small. The mill at the bottom of the valley is now a restaurant, but the local legend is that the area was a haven for witches and this is supported by the fact that the snow supposedly lasts longer there than in the other parts of the area. Our second stop was to see a statue of a stag, placed on an outcropping of rocks along the highway. It’s supposed to commemorate a local legend that tells of a great hunter’s chase of a stag through the surrounding valleys only to loose out on the kill when the stag jumped across the valley to get away. If you ask me, it sounds like the hunter was either at a gastoff and needed an excuse for why he didn’t bring home dinner, or he just lost the trail but wouldn’t admit it. Either way, a nice story and a nice detour.
From there, we headed back towards Freiburg. I was shocked (shocked, I say) to see that PricewaterhouseCoopers has a massive bank of offices in town, right next to the train station. I was so surprised and busy staring at the building that I missed the fact that my light turned green. Getting over my surprise, Dad and I parked at the train station/concert hall and started walking through the old town looking for a hotel. Dad was looking for the Hotel Victoria, the place he used to stay when he came here for some hell-raising. He apparently skipped out on a bill here once, but came back the next weekend to pay it. It’s safe to say that it’s a lot classier of a joint now – it’s a 4 star Best Western and I love it here. Air conditioned rooms, blow driers in the bathrooms, shower stalls of a decent size and right across the street from a lovely park and close to the Marketplaz. We’ll only be there tonight, but it’s nice to have a bit of luxury.
Well, it’s been a long day, and tomorrow is going to be an early start, so I’ll sign off!
Anyway, when we finally got on the road (see what I did there? Yeah, he’s going to be hearing about this for a while) we headed out of Lahr for a drive through the very southern tip of the black forest. Around 11 we stopped at Freudenstadt for a coffee and a snack and a walk around the marketplaz. We found some nice durndles and leiderhossen in some shops, but didn’t stop to try them on. Oh well. Most of the day was spent driving through the little hills between villages. We drove about 200km, but it took us most of 8 hours. It’s the kind of driving conditions where you can’t shift above second gear going up a hill, and you stay in second coming down because of the speed. The way the massive ‘hills’ around here are managed is via switch back; you are basically driving a zig-zag up the hill and it’s very often quite steep.
In the valleys we would drive through small towns that had one of three industries: 1- logging (because duh, it’s the black forest), 2- water bottling (lots of little springs), or 3- health spas/hospitals. We got stuck behind a double-trailer from a water bottling factory going up some switch backs and it was nerve racking watching this massive 18 wheeler almost jackknife multiple times. To make matters worse on these roads, people are permitted to pass, so you’re often wondering as you going around blind corners if you’re going to meet anyone head on, if the road it wide enough for both cars, or if the person behind you if going to try to pass and cause an accident. What’s more, there are rarely guard rails on the sides of these switch backs, so you’re always very conscious of just how far a drop it is to the valley floor. (But, Dad is always reminding me that we’re more than likely to hit a bunch of trees to stop the fall. Thanks Dad.) The driving is never boring, so the signs that indicate roads are going to narrow are more of a joke than helpful (I mean, come on, some roads are barely wide enough for one car, let alone two).
Our second stop of the day was at Triberg to see the highest waterfall in Germany. It’s an extremely well maintained tourist site that starts mid-way up the valley wall and has lots of paths leading up along side the falls. These paths are laid out, of course, in switch backs. It never ends here. Dad and I made it up to the last viewing bridge across the falls, then opted to NOT continue walking to the top of the hill (since it was still quite a ways up). Walking down was almost as hard as going up – my legs still feel a bit like jelly and I fear a charlyhorse tonight.
Leaving Triberg we started heading to Freiburg. We detoured a bit to see both the witches valley (Hexeloch Mill) – it was a really charming place, but the roads were ridiculously small. The mill at the bottom of the valley is now a restaurant, but the local legend is that the area was a haven for witches and this is supported by the fact that the snow supposedly lasts longer there than in the other parts of the area. Our second stop was to see a statue of a stag, placed on an outcropping of rocks along the highway. It’s supposed to commemorate a local legend that tells of a great hunter’s chase of a stag through the surrounding valleys only to loose out on the kill when the stag jumped across the valley to get away. If you ask me, it sounds like the hunter was either at a gastoff and needed an excuse for why he didn’t bring home dinner, or he just lost the trail but wouldn’t admit it. Either way, a nice story and a nice detour.
From there, we headed back towards Freiburg. I was shocked (shocked, I say) to see that PricewaterhouseCoopers has a massive bank of offices in town, right next to the train station. I was so surprised and busy staring at the building that I missed the fact that my light turned green. Getting over my surprise, Dad and I parked at the train station/concert hall and started walking through the old town looking for a hotel. Dad was looking for the Hotel Victoria, the place he used to stay when he came here for some hell-raising. He apparently skipped out on a bill here once, but came back the next weekend to pay it. It’s safe to say that it’s a lot classier of a joint now – it’s a 4 star Best Western and I love it here. Air conditioned rooms, blow driers in the bathrooms, shower stalls of a decent size and right across the street from a lovely park and close to the Marketplaz. We’ll only be there tonight, but it’s nice to have a bit of luxury.
Well, it’s been a long day, and tomorrow is going to be an early start, so I’ll sign off!
Friday, June 11, 2010
(A lot of) Long and Winding Roads
Feeling much better today! Went to bed last night around 10:30 (no clock in the room, so had to guess off my watch which is tiny and dark-faced). I got caught up watching the finale of Germany’s Next Top Model, hosted by Heidi Klum, LIVE from a stadium the size of Madison Square Garden – I was amazed at the public participation/interested in a TV show that, in the States/Canada, is barely seen/spoken about (but I love ANTM, don’t get me wrong). I didn’t watch it through to the end – I decided that, since I had no clue who the models were, nor do I speak German, it was probably a better idea to get some sleep.
Woke up today around 7:30, then had a light breakfast in the hotel’s dining room. It was either a prochuto and cheese and role or granola and yogurt kind of breakfast. I had yogurt since my stomach is still adjusting to the long flight and being back on normal person time. Around 8:30 Dad and I headed out in the Golf for a drive around the small town that surround Lahr. We switched over driving at the first small town we came to and I was really glad to find out that driving stick is like driving a bike – I picked back up on it right away and didn’t stall out, not once! We drove through a bunch of the little villages in the valley that Lahr sits in, and even took a gravel road that went along one of the Rhine tributaries and then a dyke. The water was quite high and moving really quick and that can probably be attributed to the massive thunderstorms that rolled through the valley here last night.
Around 11 we pulled into Gengenback, a touristy-town in the hills around here. We got out and walked a bit and that’s when I realized that I was going to have to make sure I wasn’t sitting so cramped when driving – the VW Golf is a little car and my right knee was all cramped from having to be close enough to hit the clutch. It might be a long vacation! Either way, Gengenback was a nice little stop. We popped into a coffee shop for a mid-morning snack. When Dad asked the waitress what kind of pastries she had, we were told to follow her and she took us next-door into the bakery where we picked out what we wanted. Dad had a struddle and I had a millefeuille. Trés yummy.
We wandered around the town, picked up some postcards, then headed back to the car. Only to realize we should have paid to park where we had. Thinking it would be pricey to have illegally parked in such a tourist district, I was shocked to see it was only 5 Euros. Since I’ve paid more than $300 on one ticket once, I’m gonna say 5 Euros isn’t the end of the world. From Gengenback we headed out to the hills to drive around some more – the roads are so narrow at some points that you wonder how 2 cars are supposed to pass at the same time. Coupled with the winding nature, going up one side of a hill/mountain in a zig-zag, you become even more confused as to why anyone would allow passing on those roads, but they do – most of them have broken dividing lines. Creepy.
Our last big stop of the day was at Hohengeroldseck – a castle that sits at the very top of one of the highest hills around that was built by the local noble to control trade/travel in the region. We were able to drive most of the way up (on a tiny little road that definitely fit only one car at a time) but had to walk up to the very top. Very steep – very long – very worth it. Once we got to the top, we realized that we were the only ones there; there wasn’t even a tourism official/caretaker on the site. This worked to our advantage, since I was able to drop my purse on some benches and not have to schlep it through the castle. We were able to climb up to the very top (which was 4 stories) and get some amazing views of the hills and valleys around us. Considering the original building started up there in the 1200s, it’s pretty amazing that it’s still standing. But, I will admit, I wasn’t getting all that close to the guard rails that had been put up in the 60’s since they don’t have centuries of guaranteed stability behind them like the rest of the building did.
Coming down from the castle and walking around the outer bailey area, there was finally another soul to be see – just one other dude had wandered into the precincts. We were leaving at that point, so started the steep walk back down to where we had parked the car. After we reached the valley floor we headed across the street to the longest running gastoff (restaurant/inn/home buildings that are everywhere here) for lunch. The menu made mention of something being operational on that site since 799, and I take it they’ve been serving food and drink ever since. I finally had some of my appetite back, so ordered a chopped salad which was delicious (it came with a vinaigrette-based potato salad and a marinated carrot salad) while Dad had some long hot-dog looking things and a beer.
It having been a very long day, we headed back to the Lahr so I could change (because of the clouds I started the day in jeans, but was regretting that by the time we left Hehengeroldseck). We were going to stop at the Statpark here in Lahr, but since it was so hot, I vetoed paying the 2 Euro a piece entry fee. We headed back to the hotel so I could change, them back out to the hills for a bit more driving. We didn’t last to long at that – Dad wanted a chance to relax so we came back to he hotel before dinner and I decided to update the ol’ blog and upload some pictures. Unfortunately, the wireless internet in the hotel here is really slow, so I'll have to upload those photos later! Man, I was born for a digital age - I've got almost 300 to put up!
We'll leave Lahr tomorrow for.... okay, I'll admit it, I don't know. Dad's got this whole vacation planned out, but I'm not up to speed on everything we're doing. More tomorrow though!
Woke up today around 7:30, then had a light breakfast in the hotel’s dining room. It was either a prochuto and cheese and role or granola and yogurt kind of breakfast. I had yogurt since my stomach is still adjusting to the long flight and being back on normal person time. Around 8:30 Dad and I headed out in the Golf for a drive around the small town that surround Lahr. We switched over driving at the first small town we came to and I was really glad to find out that driving stick is like driving a bike – I picked back up on it right away and didn’t stall out, not once! We drove through a bunch of the little villages in the valley that Lahr sits in, and even took a gravel road that went along one of the Rhine tributaries and then a dyke. The water was quite high and moving really quick and that can probably be attributed to the massive thunderstorms that rolled through the valley here last night.
Around 11 we pulled into Gengenback, a touristy-town in the hills around here. We got out and walked a bit and that’s when I realized that I was going to have to make sure I wasn’t sitting so cramped when driving – the VW Golf is a little car and my right knee was all cramped from having to be close enough to hit the clutch. It might be a long vacation! Either way, Gengenback was a nice little stop. We popped into a coffee shop for a mid-morning snack. When Dad asked the waitress what kind of pastries she had, we were told to follow her and she took us next-door into the bakery where we picked out what we wanted. Dad had a struddle and I had a millefeuille. Trés yummy.
We wandered around the town, picked up some postcards, then headed back to the car. Only to realize we should have paid to park where we had. Thinking it would be pricey to have illegally parked in such a tourist district, I was shocked to see it was only 5 Euros. Since I’ve paid more than $300 on one ticket once, I’m gonna say 5 Euros isn’t the end of the world. From Gengenback we headed out to the hills to drive around some more – the roads are so narrow at some points that you wonder how 2 cars are supposed to pass at the same time. Coupled with the winding nature, going up one side of a hill/mountain in a zig-zag, you become even more confused as to why anyone would allow passing on those roads, but they do – most of them have broken dividing lines. Creepy.
Our last big stop of the day was at Hohengeroldseck – a castle that sits at the very top of one of the highest hills around that was built by the local noble to control trade/travel in the region. We were able to drive most of the way up (on a tiny little road that definitely fit only one car at a time) but had to walk up to the very top. Very steep – very long – very worth it. Once we got to the top, we realized that we were the only ones there; there wasn’t even a tourism official/caretaker on the site. This worked to our advantage, since I was able to drop my purse on some benches and not have to schlep it through the castle. We were able to climb up to the very top (which was 4 stories) and get some amazing views of the hills and valleys around us. Considering the original building started up there in the 1200s, it’s pretty amazing that it’s still standing. But, I will admit, I wasn’t getting all that close to the guard rails that had been put up in the 60’s since they don’t have centuries of guaranteed stability behind them like the rest of the building did.
Coming down from the castle and walking around the outer bailey area, there was finally another soul to be see – just one other dude had wandered into the precincts. We were leaving at that point, so started the steep walk back down to where we had parked the car. After we reached the valley floor we headed across the street to the longest running gastoff (restaurant/inn/home buildings that are everywhere here) for lunch. The menu made mention of something being operational on that site since 799, and I take it they’ve been serving food and drink ever since. I finally had some of my appetite back, so ordered a chopped salad which was delicious (it came with a vinaigrette-based potato salad and a marinated carrot salad) while Dad had some long hot-dog looking things and a beer.
It having been a very long day, we headed back to the Lahr so I could change (because of the clouds I started the day in jeans, but was regretting that by the time we left Hehengeroldseck). We were going to stop at the Statpark here in Lahr, but since it was so hot, I vetoed paying the 2 Euro a piece entry fee. We headed back to the hotel so I could change, them back out to the hills for a bit more driving. We didn’t last to long at that – Dad wanted a chance to relax so we came back to he hotel before dinner and I decided to update the ol’ blog and upload some pictures. Unfortunately, the wireless internet in the hotel here is really slow, so I'll have to upload those photos later! Man, I was born for a digital age - I've got almost 300 to put up!
We'll leave Lahr tomorrow for.... okay, I'll admit it, I don't know. Dad's got this whole vacation planned out, but I'm not up to speed on everything we're doing. More tomorrow though!
Thursday, June 10, 2010
Planes, trains, buses, taxies and automobiles.
So, it has been an incredibly loooong day (and it's only 2pm!). Things started off promising and, well, then fate intervened. But let me paint you a picture.
I arrived at the Ottawa airport yesterday at 3ish and was able to clear check-in and security in 10 minutes. Record time and an awesome way to start the trip – I wasn’t even charged for excessive baggage this time!
The plane wasn’t full, so there were a few empty seats around us, but nothing we could take advantage of. Ironically, I had the same seat on this trip as I had going to London and, unless things change, I’ll have the same seat going home. In front of us sat a couple of old bitties to chatted a fair bit and reclined their chairs all the way first thing, and behind us was a pair I affectionately (ok, not so much) referred to as Augustus and Mrs. Gloop – the kid was a douche, making all kinds of noise all night long and both of them not seeming to be able to grasp the concept that touching the seat in front of them in anyway was going to be felt by dad and I. Dad at one point asked the mother to have the son stop kicking his chair and was told (in pretty good English) “I don’t speak English.” The both calmed down the douchiness though, so we had that going for us. All told, I got less than an hours sleep on the plane – not a good stepping stone for the rest of the day.
We landed in Frankfurt around 6:10 and rather than pull up to a terminal, had to unload on the tarmac then get on buses to be taken to the terminal, about 5 minutes away. Picture the 95, but with more luggage and more jerks. This woman, who’s kid cried for the last 45 minutes (NON STOP) of the flight was the last to get off the plane, took her sweet time getting the kid in the stroller, then mosied on up to our bus and we had to cram in to make room for her, her stroller and a rolling carry on. Some people….
From the bus we cleared passport control with no problems – the guy didn’t even look to check I was in the broad in the picture and didn’t ask me any questions about what we were doing here. We collected our luggage and headed to the train station across the street from the airport. At this point, the exhaustion was starting to catch up with me and making me nauseous. We sat down to wait the hour and bit for our train which we caught with no problems. The first train ride (that’s right, the FIRST) was about 30 minutes and I dozed. The second train ride (that’s right, the SECOND) was about an hour and I managed to get some sleep – we were in a Harry Potter style compartment so it was a bit cozier. The third train ride (that’s right, the THRID) was about 15 minutes and we pulled into Lahr shortly before 11.
After getting a taxi ride to the rental car place, we found out that they had no cars on hand, so the girl behind the desk drove us to our hotel. I took a 2 hour nap and was woken by reception letting us know that someone was here to take us back to the car rental place. We just got back from picking up a Volkswagon Golf and are now chilling for a couple of hours.
All in all, I like the travelling, but HATE the getting here. Next time I travel with dad, he sure as shit better listen to what I’m physically able to deal with following an over-night cross Atlantic!
Some observations:
- Euro-trash! I was on European soil for less than 15 minutes before I saw me some prime examples. One dude was in a linen suit, with a linen aqua shirt (open to mid-chest), carrying a LV murse and wearing really douch-y shoes. I had to keep from laughing.
- Music: such an odd combo. The taxi driver was listening to a Spice Girls remix and most of the radio station I’ve heard are all playing techno-ish music. There also seems to be a lot of music about traveling: imagine a Phil Collins/Abba hybrid about Brussles. It’s odd.
I arrived at the Ottawa airport yesterday at 3ish and was able to clear check-in and security in 10 minutes. Record time and an awesome way to start the trip – I wasn’t even charged for excessive baggage this time!
The plane wasn’t full, so there were a few empty seats around us, but nothing we could take advantage of. Ironically, I had the same seat on this trip as I had going to London and, unless things change, I’ll have the same seat going home. In front of us sat a couple of old bitties to chatted a fair bit and reclined their chairs all the way first thing, and behind us was a pair I affectionately (ok, not so much) referred to as Augustus and Mrs. Gloop – the kid was a douche, making all kinds of noise all night long and both of them not seeming to be able to grasp the concept that touching the seat in front of them in anyway was going to be felt by dad and I. Dad at one point asked the mother to have the son stop kicking his chair and was told (in pretty good English) “I don’t speak English.” The both calmed down the douchiness though, so we had that going for us. All told, I got less than an hours sleep on the plane – not a good stepping stone for the rest of the day.
We landed in Frankfurt around 6:10 and rather than pull up to a terminal, had to unload on the tarmac then get on buses to be taken to the terminal, about 5 minutes away. Picture the 95, but with more luggage and more jerks. This woman, who’s kid cried for the last 45 minutes (NON STOP) of the flight was the last to get off the plane, took her sweet time getting the kid in the stroller, then mosied on up to our bus and we had to cram in to make room for her, her stroller and a rolling carry on. Some people….
From the bus we cleared passport control with no problems – the guy didn’t even look to check I was in the broad in the picture and didn’t ask me any questions about what we were doing here. We collected our luggage and headed to the train station across the street from the airport. At this point, the exhaustion was starting to catch up with me and making me nauseous. We sat down to wait the hour and bit for our train which we caught with no problems. The first train ride (that’s right, the FIRST) was about 30 minutes and I dozed. The second train ride (that’s right, the SECOND) was about an hour and I managed to get some sleep – we were in a Harry Potter style compartment so it was a bit cozier. The third train ride (that’s right, the THRID) was about 15 minutes and we pulled into Lahr shortly before 11.
After getting a taxi ride to the rental car place, we found out that they had no cars on hand, so the girl behind the desk drove us to our hotel. I took a 2 hour nap and was woken by reception letting us know that someone was here to take us back to the car rental place. We just got back from picking up a Volkswagon Golf and are now chilling for a couple of hours.
All in all, I like the travelling, but HATE the getting here. Next time I travel with dad, he sure as shit better listen to what I’m physically able to deal with following an over-night cross Atlantic!
Some observations:
- Euro-trash! I was on European soil for less than 15 minutes before I saw me some prime examples. One dude was in a linen suit, with a linen aqua shirt (open to mid-chest), carrying a LV murse and wearing really douch-y shoes. I had to keep from laughing.
- Music: such an odd combo. The taxi driver was listening to a Spice Girls remix and most of the radio station I’ve heard are all playing techno-ish music. There also seems to be a lot of music about traveling: imagine a Phil Collins/Abba hybrid about Brussles. It’s odd.
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