Peggy & Bill visit Germany, Aug 12 -22, 2005

Flying from Dulles to Frankfurt on a Lufthansa jumbo jet over seemed fairly miserable at the time. Compared to my flight home ten days later, it turned out that it wasn’t so bad…. The plane was full of excited young people from a DC area Catholic youth group – we found out later that Pope Benedict XVI was coming home to his native Germany for World Youth Day, to meet with close to a million young people gathered in a field near Cologne – a veritable Woodstock. The Catholic youth weren’t difficult or unpleasant as plane-mates. But, driven by their excitement (and, quite possibly, hormones), they kept jumping around the cabin visiting each other, and that didn’t help the problems of: a) trying to sleep on a plane cramped into a tiny unnatural space and, b) trying to convince one’s body to go to sleep 6 hours earlier than usual (and, I’m a night person).

Arrived in Frankfurt with little to no sleep, encountered various logistical difficulties, (did you know that a guitar will come out on a different baggage belt—the oversized belt in a long-lost section of the baggage claim area?) Interminable wait (in front of the terminal) for car rental shuttle in chilly diesel and tobacco smoke-tinged morning. Later, my first close encounter with German menu under stress of low-blood sugar attack, required great exercise of self-control to keep from being a total crabby witch. But, the car was great, thanks to Bill’s insistence that we would not accept an underpowered automatic transmission Opel, and so instead we got a shiny blue VW Golf that could tear down the autobahn with the rest of them. Sunny, warm, blue sky, verdant fields, and total lack of suburban sprawl and interchange ugliness. In all our driving for 10 days, I saw almost no big signs at interchanges advertising fuel or food. Only 3 or 4 times I saw signs for McDonalds or Burger King (the only American chains that I saw)—their ugly incongruity marring the landscape.

Our original plan had been to purchase Eurailpasses, and sleep on the train. But, the car (booked on Travelocity) was cheaper than two passes, and, with my foot problems (plantar fasciitis, a.k.a. my fascist feet), it made sense to avoid long treks through train stations lugging bags, and save what pain-free steps I had for sightseeing and hiking.

So, we headed east on Autobahn 3, towards Regensburg. Stopped at a little town south east of Frankfurt, Aschaffen. First few places looked quaint and appropriate – but were closed. Found a little inn with a restaurant that welcomed us in. We were the only people there, in a bright and airy dining room which was sort of a glassed-in courtyard, rich with sun and plants. The waiter (the Maitre d’? Part-owner? Owner’s son?) --the waiter was very attentive, spoke English well, and proudly told us all about his town and his culinary training. Food was amazing and delicious, but not classic German at all. We had the special: some kind of cold salmon-aspic; really good, and pretty, too, but odd. Well, the morning seemed odd anyhow, what with the lack of sleep and the lost 6 hours, so the lunch was appropriate. Hit the spot that my low blood sugar had left. Or, maybe it was the beer that so hit the spot. Beer for lunch is a concept that I embraced quickly.

Zooming on down the autobahn through the German countryside, each little town we passed continued to take my breath away with its modest homes, so clean and pretty, well proportioned white houses with red tile roofs & matching red trim, perfectly maintained and alive with neatly tended gardens. It’s neither a storybook picture nor a travel brochure: they really live that way. And, there's no suburban sprawl-- there are towns, and country, and nothing in between.

Arrived at Regensburg unable to make contact with anyone from the Murray State University program, or even to locate the administration building on campus. Did locate campus – a huge, Bauhaus collection of edifaces of jutting concrete slabs and glass walls, way up on the hill above Regensburg. All seemed slightly overgrown and rundown, parts of walkways blocked off for repairs, many concrete planters and courtyards have weeds co-existing with what was once artful planting – and, totally deserted. Giving up on campus for the moment, we found a cheap, euro-modern sort of hotel, the Star, right by the Hauptbahnhof (train station). Until late in the evening, we could hear the ‘bing-bong’ of the warning chimes, followed by the announcements in German, and the trains coming in and going out. Walked across the tracks to a rather mediocre excuse for a beer garden, ordered some bland but acceptable food and drinks. Bill had our first experience with what we later found out was Radler – bike-riders’ beer, a high-proof pilsner beer, mixed with lemon-lime soda (closer to lemonade than Sprite). There’s another version called a Russ, which is a strong wheat beer mixed with lemon-lime soda. We weren’t impressed with either one.

We also walked some blocks towards the old town, not far enough to really experience the Altstadt (Old Town), but far enough to cause significant pain to my feet, which had not recovered from having had no real sleep time the night before. Back at the hotel, Bill got the hotel to rustle up some ice for my feet. Then he downloaded his photos to his computer, and I went completely to sleep. The big mystery is how Bill stayed awake long enough to operate his computer & camera.

Revived, we woke the next morning (early, thanks to the train announcements: loud ‘bing-bong’ followed by unintelligible announcements, trains rolling in and out), ready to take on Regensberg. We started out at the train station, with coffee and sweet rolls and the internet café. Bill immediately started having trouble with his Murray web-mail, I immediately started having trouble with the constant tobacco smoke.

From there we drove down to the Altstadt and parked with no difficulty right along the Donau (Danube). We walked on the stone paved streets, and took photos, poked around here and there, and had lunch what was supposedly Europe’s oldest bratwurst imbiss (inn). It was semi-chilly and rainy, and the waiter at the bratwurst stand refused to come out to the picnic tables, apparently because they were incompletely sheltered by big market umbrellas. We were willing to sit there, and risk the rain – he refused, quite firmly, to serve us there. We ended up going into the restaurant next door, which had closed its kitchens but was happily serving from the bratwurst stand kitchen. The wurst was yummy. The potato soup was good too.

German soups are good. When in doubt, I ordered the soup, and it always turned out well – spargel soup turns out to be asparagus (cream of), yummy, in Zwiesel, but the most amazing one was the creamy Thai curry soup in Garmisch. Perfectly spiced, perfectly creamy.

That first day in Regensburg seemed to blur along, in my still-jetlagged state. I remember visiting the Rathaus (the town hall), and taking photos of the cathedral. Oh, and the Catholic Youth were marching for World Youth day, winding up with a rally in the altstadt plaza with an American rock/pop cover band. When we tried to buy beer under the umbrellas marked Thurm und Taxis (the local beer brand), they weren’t selling beer, only lemonade and water for the Youth. Suddenly, the Catholic youth on the plane coming over made sense.

(Local recent history note: flamboyant local nobility, Gloria von Thurm und Taxis, after her husband died a couple of decades ago, saved the Thurm und Taxis castle but ruined the brewery. Or, so we’re told. The beer was not memorable, but I didn’t think it was that bad.)

Spent night # 2 in the Star hotel. This time, when the ‘bing-bong’ and announcements began early the next morning, it felt like a familiar morning noise, welcoming the new day.

Morning #3, (Monday) had breakfast at the Hauptbahnhof. Made another attempt to visit the shops at the mall – all closed, still. I asked at the souvenir stand – why are the shops closed? The nice older lady understood my question but had to ask her husband for the English word: “Holiday”, he said. “Marie’s tag, Marie’s day”. Ahh, some kind of St. Mary’s day, a religious holiday. Naturally, Germany’s stringent blue laws were extended to Monday because of it. We checked the internet café again (they’re exempt from blue laws because they’re in the train station). It was still unbearably smoky to me. Bill was still cursing his university’s web-mail system. Still no answers on questions of when and where we can get into the apartment that will be provided to Bill. He sends email –hope we can solve this tomorrow, but for today, we’re heading out of town.

We get in the car and drive east, southeast on the autobahn. Weather is still gray, cool, damp. Hit the town of Zwiesel at midday, have lunch at WaldMuseum café (spargel soup), tour the Wald (forest) Museum. See some cool exhibits on trees, with illustrations of how big the old trees used to be. (They used to be huge, but, they are no longer—if there’s virgin timber around, we didn’t see it, and I was looking for references to stands of big trees. In fact, I read that the establishment of the Bayerishe (Bavarian) NationalPark came about in 1970 because they realized they were losing their magnificent forests quickly, even with their centuries-old, traditional protections in place. We couldn’t help ourselves; at some point, we broke into “They took all the trees, put ‘em in the tree museum. And they charged the people five euros just to see ‘em.” Too soon, as we wandered onto higher floors of the museum, the exhibits about the trees gave way to other things – the musical instruments of Bavaria were great, and Bill got very excited at the exhibit of fish varieties to be found there (especially trout), but the glass (the area is famous for it), seemed pretty but mostly uninspiring to me. Unless we can see actual glass-blowing, we don’t need to visit more glass museums, we agree. We drove out of Zwiesel and headed northeast. The road was excellent, winding, picturesque, the forest a stately deep green, the cool mist enhancing the effect, giving the clear impression that the forest rolls on over these mountains, from here to the Czech Republic and beyond (which it does). The Bavarian forest could easily hide some enchantment, left over from long ago.

Pulling into Bayerisch Eisenstein, just short of the Czech border, we stop at a neat-looking inn and find a lovely room – it even has a kitchen with a little sofa, and a balcony, although it’s too damp and cool to sit outside. After a decent but uninspiring dinner in the restaurant downstairs, we sit on our little sofa, play guitar and sing. Bill brought a couple of beers up from the bar downstairs, and we clink our bottles in toast, blissful at being together in this amazing place. I kept opening the window and soaking in the view, so quiet and still, the cool mist obscuring the hills beyond. In retrospect, looking at the photos, the view wasn’t that special, but, in the totality of it, it felt that special; it felt unearthly, deep, and magical. The woods and hills around us, though not steep, felt old and endless. The buildings were old, too, but all freshly painted, with each window box a more riotous bloom of flowers than the last.

Breakfast was what I later recognized as regular German inn food – a collection of fresh rolls & breads, cured meats of various ham/bologna types, smelly cheeses, marmalade, fruit salad, juice, and soft-boiled eggs. This place also had some pasta-type salads, but they looked too unfamiliar to risk (I always worry about running into the foods that I am sensitive to, such as citrus, melons, or undercooked broccoli, in unexpected places such as pasta salads).

Drove to information spot for Bayerische NationalPark. A very kind lady with decent English gave us enthusiastic ideas about hikes – and found us English folders about them. We ended up deciding to take a hike to a waterfall.

Wonderful hike to waterfall: (insert name of waterfall and/or trail when I find it or remember it). The trails were very clearly marked (in pictograms—no German required) and well graded. The woods went on and on, still clothed in white mists, although there were some natural meadows that smelled like deer to me. We saw almost no one, hiking steeply uphill for about 2 hours until we found the waterfall. We would’ve liked to hike on to where the map indicated there was a hut and a view, but my feet wouldn’t allow it.

Lunch at an inn by the side of the road somewhere in Bavarian Nationalpark: innkeeper may’ve been hard of hearing: that would explain the menu mixup. He was also an amazing woodcarver—the place was bulging with carvings hanging everywhere. There were carvings of all sorts of things, from gnomes and animals to saints and crucifixes. The chandelier, the wall sconces, all bore the mark of the innkeeper’s passion for carvings. Most of his carvings were of forms suggested by the gnarls and knots of the wood. My favorite was the huge face hiding under a bush and a rock in the parking lot (be sure to double click on that one for the full effect).

Stopped at Zwiesel again on way out. Bought bread, chocolate, cheese, beer (4 food groups). Made phone calls at pay phone, found it ridiculously easy to use an ATM to get Euros from my bank account in Virginia (wow, this is an easy way to spend money fast!). Took the short scenic route back down to Deggendorf; a winding road alongside a rushing creek that reminded me of a particular road in the Smokies.

Back in Regensburg in the car, we managed to find the location of address of the MSU contact person, Meg Brown, but not before I got us navigated (in the car) into no-car zone in old Regensburg. Bad moments while we find our way out without encountering any polizei. Phew. Finally, we parked in front of Happy Turk hotel, walked the 6 or 8 blocks (feet hurting) back to Meg’s address (no answer – they must still be out to dinner). Bill called Meg’s handy (cell phone) from the bar downstairs. Finally Bill saw the group of Murray professors (Meg Brown, David Ernest and other Murray professors from the summer exchange program) passing by in the street (alley) Hinter Der Greib. He ran out to catch them, and arrangements were made to meet up in the morning.

Got turned around walking out of the Altstadt, snapped at each other, were mad for a while, found way back to car, forgave ourselves. Stayed that night right there at the Happy Turk Hotel – cheap, clean, and we didn’t have to move the car (and the parking was free).

In the morning, we drove up the hill to the Regensburg University Clinicum and found Meg, Barry, and David waiting for us – Bill was going to be needed at Sparkasse bank. His duties as a professor for the Murray–Regensburg exchange program would turn out to be more extensive than called for in the job description he’d agreed to back in Murray. He would need to disburse the weekly stipend to each kid every Monday morning (everyone saw the wisdom in that – at least, the kids would show up on Monday morning, since there was cash involved). They worked out the banking while I sat waiting in the lobby of med school administration building, all glass and steel, clean, bustling and huge.

Meg & Barry took bus back to the Altstadt to finish packing (they were leaving that day, having been there all summer with the international program). We moved the guitar and stuff crammed in the back seat, and squeezed David in the back. We made a stop at the regular Regensburg campus so that David could show us around. Since we were coming in from a parking garage instead of a his normal bus stop, he wasn’t certain of the way, so we walked down, around, here and there, back up another huge stairway – the campus is quite a maze. Finally found the small office of the Murray program, shared with a Vanderbilt program, and with a table and chairs crammed in for the intensive german classes. After an assessment of the situation there, we drove David down by the Donau and found a place to park. Walked along waterfront, talked with David about the Murray-Regensburg program and about the town. He showed us where the Kepler museum was, but it was closed. He told us about a special beer garden across the river, so we invited him along. After the previous day's misty rain and chill, this turned into a lovely day, cool but some sun/blue sky breaking through, gentle breeze rustling in an end-of-summer feeling. Noon in a mostly empty biergarten, on an island in the Donau, old building painted with pastel hues. Great wurst, great bear, great conversation with David – I’m sure Bill will enjoy working with him this semester.

Parted from David, and wandered around Regensburg more. Poked around in some interesting shops – even found a store selling rocks and crystals by the ancient stone bridge. I looked for a frog-type souvenir in some souvenir places by the Old Stone bridge, but found nothing (my grandson Alex has frog wallpaper and a frog mobile in his nursery). Attempted, also unsuccessfully, to purchase some kind of chocolate cappuccino at the Altus restaurant the visiting professor’s apartment building on Hinter der Grieb (maybe it’s just me that feels a deep spiritual connection between good coffee and good chocolate).

We met up back with David, Meg and Barry, to see the apartments…. Bill’s apartment, aside from being a long walk up 4 flights of stairs, is very pleasant, high-ceilinged and airy. Large open room serves as living room, dining room and bedroom. Furnished in a solid Ikea style, the furniture is unobtrusive, utilitarian--and pleasant. Kitchen, bathroom are relatively spacious, washing machine in bathroom – large hallway adds to feeling of space. Compared to the basement apartment where Bill lived in Murray, this is a palace.

The building itself is very old, a wealthy merchant family’s residence for centuries, oldest parts built circa 1250. The University owns it and keeps the apartments for visiting professors. The bar, restaurant and beer garden below also belong to the University (what a perfect set up!) And, it’s right in the Altstadt with all its charm, but not far from a bus line that runs right up to the campus.

Said goodbye to the Murray crowd, then decided not to leave Regensburg and head for the Alps as we had previously planned -- at 3 pm it seemed too late. We needed sheets and towels for the apartment, however. Went to the Arcady mall, and walked entire mall upstairs and down before (finally) finding Kaufhaus and buying discount towels and sheets. I found the shopping mall to be just as tiring and dismal as it is at home.

Returning to the apartment, Bill would not let me try again to navigate to the closest street that was open to cars to Hinter der Grieb (his memory was strong of the panic of suddenly realizing that he was essentially driving on a sidewalk in the car-free zone.). He insisted instead on humping the luggage himself from 6 blocks away. Those suitcases on wheels we all have now don’t work that well on cobblestone streets.

We settled in at the apartment, listening to sounds from courtyard/beer garden below. It’s a family place, with a steady stream of mothers with babes in strollers in the afternoon, and no late night noise. We ate in the courtyard that night, a fine meal. As the evening progressed, we started hearing loud tango music. When we went in to go upstairs, we saw that a door was opened off the lobby, and two or three couples, dressed formally, were tangoing around a huge room, while another person (an instructor?) operated the stereo producing the music. At this point, nothing surprised me. Tango lessons/dances downstairs from Bill’s apartment? How nice.

In morning, we packed up all of my stuff and a small bag of Bill’s, plus the guitar and hauled it back to the car. Drove south on the autobahn past Munich. Going around it on the highway, we hit a place where the autobahn is not completed and we had to detour through Munich. It was fine—well marked, no difficulty with navigation. (I’m finally getting the hang of the map we bought at the airport, or so I hope.) Near the zoo, Bill suddenly recognizes a semi-tough area from a visit to Munich decades ago. It seems unchanged to him. To me, it looks too clean and prosperous to be a tough district in a big city.

Drove on south to Garmisch-Partenkirchen, so-called twin towns at the foot of the German Alps. Out of the gently rolling plain, suddenly there are big steep mountains. It is visually arresting—the scale seems impossible. Nestled below and between the highest peaks and a smaller mountain to the north are the towns. The two towns have grown together and are almost indistinguishable, separated only by a small rushing river. The 1936 winter Olympics were held here, and Hitler had them become one town for efficiency’s sake. Partenkirchen supposedly resents the fact that everyone calls both towns Garmisch for short.

It’s clearly a tourist town, complete with horse-drawn carriage rides, many upscale stores and many ways to separate the tourist from his euros. There are some spas there, which may account for both the upscale stores and the numbers of signs I saw for massage therapy, homeopathics & other natural healing practitioners. In the old downtown (car-free zone) of Garmisch, there’s even a tattoo parlor, advertising its special tattoo & piercing deals on a bouquet of brightly colored balloons, blowing around in the wind on the sidewalk. I particularly liked the pretty pink one marked "Tattoos", But, touristy or not, it’s still charming and delightful. The weather remained stunning, sunny and golden.

After checking into our gasthof, we went walking around old town of Partenkirchen, enjoying the balmy evening. The elaborately painted buildings seemed to emit a odd self-conscious piety/charm/tourist attraction quality. Still, they’re beautiful, the town is charming, and the people are friendly and cheery.

And, everywhere, peaking around buildings, coming at you unexpectedly, there are views of massive sheets of sheer granite rising from the floor of this pleasant little valley. To the north, the smaller mountains have green all the way up and various antennae and structures visible on top. But, to the south, the Alps shoot up, straight up it seems, so improbably steep and tall. The town is gorgeous, quaint, full of flowers and interesting things to see. We look for but cannot find live music. The local Irish Pub is a bit of a dive, with no sign of a stage or musicians.

We did find a great dinner close to the Irish pub at an Italian/German/English place, with that amazing view of the Alps filling the open windows. We watch a paraglider, and speculate as to his landing place and strategy.

After dinner, back at Zimmer cum Linde, on our own private balcony above the biergarten, we get out the guitar and play and sing. After the second song, we get applause from unseen parties below and requests to keep singing. We drag out our chestnuts—Dylan, the Beatles, Woody Guthrie, in hopes of hitting some things they like or at least have heard. (German radio stations play mostly English/American pop rock. Some of them play classic rock—more than home, it seems.) We sang a few more, got some more applause from a different direction. We quit soon after – didn’t want to overstay our welcome.

In the morning, after the regular inn-breakfast routine, the pleasant lady innkeeper cuts us a great deal on the room. She thanks us for the music. Bill thinks she gave us such a good price because of the music – I think it’s the same deal she would’ve given us anyhow.

The Zugspitze: the Train Peak, a.k.a. the Top of Germany: so bizarre! I had studied the brochure of the different cable car sites: there are 4 or 5, and this was clearly the most spectacular. I probably wouldn’t have done it if I had correctly understood the cost, and the arrangement with the cable car and the cogwheel train. (88 euros for the two of us, about $110). But, it turned out to be worth it, more or less. We swooshed up quickly, guts sinking in cable car. So confusing to get out of the cable car at the top, suddenly on top of a huge mountain, but, in the middle of a large installation. The crazy Germans built a whole huge complex of concrete, class and steel right at the top of the highest mountain in Germany. I felt altitude unease most of the time we were there at the very top. I’m relieved to find that Bill and I are both equally frightened by the cliff edges—we held tightly to each other’s hand and didn’t go too close to the edge. On one terrace, near the cable car exit, a traditional Bavarian oompah band was playing. The band seemed really pretty good. It was impressive that they could perform so well in the chilly morning air at 2964 meters almost 10,000 feet. (I wonder what they get paid to do that – I hope that’s why the cost for the trip was so high.) Clouds swirled around, obscuring most of the views, although we could see partial views here and there (the clouds were only at the top of the alps). The altitude might’ve been even scarier with 360 views… Or, maybe it was more scary that some of the views were just of dropoffs into the tops of clouds. I did use the restroom at the top, possibly the highest place I've flushed a toilet.

Took the other cable car to the glacier, a slightly lower area with a ski area, though no one was skiing this time of year. There was new snow, however. The facility/restaurant building at the glacier area is made of logs, nested into the hillside, below the shoulder of the mountain, though the steel, concrete and class installation at the mountaintop is easily visible, close by but straight up. We both felt considerably more comfortable, now that we weren’t on the very top. We sat in the sun as it grew warmer, ate our bread and apple, and drank a couple of bottled beers. The sun was almost hot, despite the snow and chill of the altitude. There’s a picturesque chapel there, too. Finally, we caught the cog-wheel train down through the tunnel. If you go there don’t bother with the train, just stick to the cable car—the tunnel is an amazing feat of engineering, 100 years old—but boring and slow compared to the cable car. There’s also a tinge of diesel exhaust in the train, which lasted for the whole long slow trip to the bottom.

Drove north out of Garmisch on the so-called Romance Road, through valleys and hills, farms and houses all perfect and old-worldly. At one point, we find ourselves on a high bridge across dramatically deep ravine with river at bottom. What river? We don’t know, but stop and take photos. (Note: I think it was the Lech). On we drove.

I saw the castle symbol on the map, but was unprepared for the vision that awaited us when we turned a bend. The castle Harburg loomed enormous above us, suddenly, straight ahead as the road dove into a tunnel that went beneath it. Harburg Schloss, next left, said the sign in the tunnel– yeah, let’s take it. We park, start to walk up, and see a sign that it has an inn… we could just stay here, or at least eat here. Yeah, let’s do it. The place is beautiful, wonderful, very old, and pretty much deserted at that hour on a Friday night. This castle is no 19^th century King Ludwig set-designed kind of castle. This is a real, ancient castle, clearly built in many stages, with an inner wall surrounding a grassy courtyard, and an outer wall enclosing gardens and outbuildings, below. Although it’s too late for tours, and seems quiet and serene as we walk up the entrance road, the courtyard is partly inhabited by a wedding party of about 25 or 30. The adults are all eating when we arrive, but some of the kids are done and wandering about playing various castle-related games. A girl of about 9 or 10 in a pretty blue flower girl dress has a plastic horse that she is pretending to water in the fountain on the café terrace. A much younger boy has a wooden sword, which he wants to wave about and thrust and parry (wouldn’t you?). A parent is trying to keep control of him and the sword, mostly failing. There are other people dressed casually, clearly also not members the wedding party, so we know it’s okay to stay. The birds and crickets make a racket. The wedding party’s laughter floats and fades across the courtyard in the breeze. The bride, wearing a smashing bright green flowered sundress with an elegant shawl, disappears upstairs briefly, and re-emerges with a jean jacket pulled over her dress and shawl for warmth. Her mother makes a face – I’m fairly certain that she’s entreating the bride to at least take off the jacket for the toast.

We have a great meal, and ask the waitress about a room. She’ll have to check – they’re mostly booked, what with the wedding and all. But, it turns out they have a room (their last room), and it’s not too expensive – we’ll take it.

Here’s what the guidebooks say about Harburg: Harburg Castle is one of the oldest and largest castle complexes in Southern Germany. Situated along the Romantic Road it formed a very important military stronghold already during the reign of the Staufer-Kings (1079-1272). Since 1731 Harburg Castle is in the possession of the Oettingen-Wallerstein family. (Ah, that explains that the local brew is titled Wallerstein.)

After unpacking, we head out for some further exploration. It started to rain lightly. We followed the lower gardens. Found a small open door to a little walled off magic garden with riotous flowers and a big dollhouse in it – no sign, no explanation: just there, through a tiny door overgrown with ivy. Followed the path onwards, towards the town, through a little door in a lower wall, to find ourselves on the top of a steep hill with steep steps down and a great view of the town of Harburg and its river. We sit under the overhang of the wall and doorway, and speculate on the town, spread like toy buildings across both sides of the river. There’s a big island where the river Wornitz makes a sharp turn and splits and it looks like a gasthaus and some old houses there, with an arched bridge providing access.

Bill befriends a cat – one of several we meet there, all wearing collars, some with bells. These aren’t feral cats: someone clearly takes care of them. Remember when there was no such thing as an 'inside cat'? Guess it was a safer world then.

The rain stops and we decide to walk on a bit. Instead of going down the steep steps, we go along the wall and around. The castle wall looms up high and impenetrable behind us, the hillside is tangled in vegetation, mysterious in the evening shadows. There’s a pretty hidden spot with a bench with a view of the town – would’ve been a good place to sit and kiss, except for the wetness of the recent rain. We flush some quail in a thicket. Finally, we come out by the car, and walk on around. We’re tired, and head back up to our room, feeling exuberant. There’s magic here.

In the morning, we share the breakfast area with the bridal party. The happy couple is wearing matching t-shirts with German words that I don’t recognize, but they clearly say ‘bride’ and ‘groom’. Everyone is happy and getting along with their extended family (including the American in-law, the young man in black with longish dark hair that I was thought looked so European the night before), and their enjoyment is contagious.

Before leaving Virginia, we had booked a room in a hotel close to the Frankfurt airport for my last night in Germany, since my flight was so early on the 22nd. We realize in the morning at Harburg that we don’t have the name of the hotel nor the confirmation number for that room. Bill had accidentally left that stuff, along with the directions to find the Thrifty car rental place to drop off the rental car, in an envelope in his apartment in Regensburg, along with his return ticket (which he won’t need until November). The nice man who runs the castle inn in the mornings lets Bill use his dial-up internet, but Bill can’t get the Murray page to even load on dial-up. We’re told that Donauworth, a few miles to the east, has an internet café. In Donauworth, we wind up at a bar where we can use internet for free if we drink, so we buy a beer and a sparkling water, and try to get Bill’s email to load. The Murray web people must be doing maintenance now (the wee hours of the morning in Murray Kentucky) —we can see the email, but not open it. The bar is unbearably smoky for me. I am particularly horrified to see a young family, the dad drinking, smoking and playing darts at 10 a.m. on a Saturday morning, while the mom deals with a baby and a toddler (all being exposed to the smoke and unhealthy environment of the bar/game-room). Take those kids and run, I thought to the mother, but she didn’t seem to hear my psychic message. After I bolt outside to catch some fresh air, my brain clears and I figure out a way to get the name of the hotel and the confirmation number from Travelocity. Hooray, we don’t have to backtrack to Regensburg.

Drove the smaller roads to Gelnhausen (mostly fast 2 lane highways with interchanges, but not autobahns). Stopped at town called Lohr au Main for lunch. Yet another incredibly quaint old town with sidewalk cafes, cobble streets, and cute little shops, closed to through traffic. During lunch, the church bells start ringing, and they ring for 15 minutes. It’s loud, but wonderful. Leaving Lohr, we take a splendid road up through gentle mountains. Bill calls it ‘poor man’s Bavaria’.

Finally, we approach Gelnhausen (less than an hour’s drive northeast of Frankfurt). The autobahn has been built through here since Bill was last here, and the approach to the town is confusing and disappointing to him. It looks so different from when he was stationed here, 30 years ago.

Once closer to the old town of Gelnhausen, we parked and began walking.

We walked up to a portion of the town’s medieval wall and climbed a huge old stone tower known as the witch’s tower (supposedly haunted). Up on top, the view spreads out before us, the town in the foreground, the whole valley in the broader panorama.. We take photos of the cathedral from above, and sit on wide wall in the sun. Later, back in the main plaza, we sat in a sidewalk café, drank beers and did some people watching. The gentlemen nursing a beverage across the way re-appeared later in our evening. (see photo).

Long, slow dinner on the sidewalk in front of the ancient cheap hotel where we took a room. Gliders (aircraft without engines) slip and soar silently overhead. Family at next table has adorable little girl, spoiled rotten and tired, but still cheerful and flirtatious. The kitchen has been slammed when all the tables filled at once, and in the long wait everyone becomes friendly. We eat too much, and set off walking.

At the Cathedral, something is going on. We study the sign to decipher the German. It is an organ concert, with a master organist, and it is described as a light and sound show. So, we sneak quietly in the back of the church, and, whoa, that organ sound hits us and starts our very bones to vibtrating. At the front of the church is a big screen, with a closed-circuit projection of the organist. So, instead of the organist being hidden in the organ loft, we can watch him do what he’s doing (and, wow, he’s got a lot to do to make that instrument do what it does!). Bill nudges me and whispers, “Do you recognize him?” What?, I think. I’m trying to remember if I know of a single organ master, and drawing a blank. Bill says, “From the plaza, today – he was drinking a beer.” Ah, yes, how cool!.

Between pieces (which the master has clearly chosen to showcase all the different things that this organ can do), he stops and talks to the camera. I can’t catch a word of his German – but, still, stare transfixed. He seems somehow to be conveying the power of what he does, of all the little parts that create this huge sound, even though I can’t understand a word he’s saying. Unmistakably, this is a man with a passion for his job.

At one point he invites people to take communion (even I recognize that word), and people go up behind the altar and return with candles. The master explains more, and then embarks on another piece, with many very different effects. Watching him on the screen, I realize how athletic & fit he must be – he’s constantly moving, adjusting these switches and changing those stops. Some changes he makes cause HUGE changes in the sound, and some seem to make no change. We’re fascinated.

Eventually, though, I see Bill start to nod off, and we sneak out the back, quietly again, and walk back to our hotel.

In the morning, we took a walk in the woods above the city. We’re looking for an exercise trail, with a zip line to play on, and a gasthaus at the top. But, we must’ve missed the turn. We’d walked too far for my sore feet, and it started to rain, so we headed back down.

Back in Gelnhausen, we checked out both protestant Cathedral & Catholic church (a more sedate Romanesque building – apparently, at some point, after the 30 years war or some such, the Catholics and Protestants exchanged churches. In the Catholic church, Bill lights a candle and kneels, I know he is saying a prayer for his dad (William Schell, Sr. died Aug. 5, 2005). Col. Schell had returned to the Catholic faith of his youth after Bill’s mother died.

We also drive around the area west of town where the US Army base was. Bill’s amazed at the changes, but it looks to me like the town has done a decent job of attracting shops and businesses to the complex of huge administrative-type buildings. Bill finds the place where his basement office was—there’s now a hair salon there. The really cheap housing even farther out of town, where he found his first off-base apartment in what later turned out to be a loosely organized brothel, has not changed much. Still a little seedy and crowded, some places look pretty dumpy, but, even there, window boxes and flowers are everywhere.

For lunch, Bill tries to take me to a gasthaus across the river that the American soldiers called the schnitzel factory. It was a great place for the Americans to bring their families as a treat: good food, family place, welcoming to the Americans, not too expensive. Alas, everything across the valley has changed, and the schnitzel factory is no more (Now there's a Burger King). We wind up back at the altstadt plaza, having lunch next door to the hotel where we stayed the previous night. Bill got into a conversation with the owner of the place, and they reminisced about how the economy was great when the American military was there. The man told Bill that the current economy is very bad. Many, many people are unemployed, he said sadly, shaking his head.

From Gelnhausen, the drive to Frankfurt is quick. Much longer is time to navigate the same autobahn interchange where autobahn 3 and 5 intersect, with the airport right there in the southwest quadrant, with some confusing local roads thrown into the mix, several times over, different way each time, trying to find hotel and thrifty car rental return. Took several tries, but we finally got it. We congratulate ourselves on not getting upset or snippy with each other about missing turns and being unable to get to where we wanted to go and besides, we really learned our way around by the end of it.

We checked in at an uninspiring but clean and efficient Holiday Inn Express (we’d gotten a great deal on Travelocity before we left home—the only night we’d planned in advance before leaving. We rested a bit, and then drove to Frankfurt: heading for the old town area of Sachsenhausen on the near side of the Main River. Found it easily, parked, and walked a half a block to find a beer fest of some kind going on in a park area. The entertainment was a cover band ( a middle aged man and woman with guitars, and a drum machine, doing classic pop/folk songs in English). We drank a couple beers and sang along (we knew all the songs), but we found the drum machine-automaton pace of the music to be uninspiring. We walked back to the street where the car was, and found a great internet access business, where the young man seated us at an English terminal, with an English-style keyboard (the y is where I think it should be, not swapped with the z like the German keyboard/kezboard). It cost us very little, too—and, no one was smoking there, probably because they didn’t serve food or drink.

After checking and sending emails, we left and wandered around more, looking for a place to eat. On the streets, there were plenty of disaffected young people with sullen attitudes, peculiarly dyed hair and piercings in abundance. (ah, just like home). Also, drunks and druggies. The city is slightly dirty, more like a normal city, (unlike all the other towns we’ve visited in Germany). Then we found the oldest area of Sachsenhausen, lined with restaurants, bars, and very few patrons, on a Sunday night —back to the clean, quaint look we’re used to by now—flower boxes everywhere. No cars allowed on cobble streets, but the polizei cruise up and down repeatedly in their station wagon, both wearing bulletproof vests. This is definitely not a small town. Many of the places seem to be owned by Latinos. We wound up at an interesting place named Claudia’s, convinced by the menu board out front and the friendly waiter. We ordered appetizers and salads – it was delicious. Friendly waiter wanted us to see and admire the interior of his place, even though we sat outside—he had amazing stone friezes (that looked South American to me) and an elaborate wood-carved ceiling. We made admiring noises, as appropriate. Back at our table on the sidewalk, we took our turn and convinced an uncertain American family who were studying the menu that they should eat there, too.

Back at the hotel, we turned in early, and tossed and turned in anticipation of that 4:45 a.m. wake up call.

Bill dropped me at the Frankfurt airport at 6:05 a.m. Coincidentally, I stepped out of Dulles Airport at 6:05 p.m. – with the 6 hour time change, exactly 18 hours later. Yeesh.

I could go on and complain at great length about the hour and a half wait just to check in at Frankfurt (the Catholic youth were ALL leaving Germany at the same time I was), the intense security at Manchester where I had a layover (although, only in the US do they make everyone remove their shoes) , and the extra long flight to Dulles after having to land unexpectedly to refuel in Bangor Maine), but, that’s quite enough complaining. The trip was worth it. I just wish I could afford to go back while Bill is still there.

Thank you, Germany, for your welcoming ways, your mandatory recycling, your lack of sprawl, your great soups, your flowerboxes everywhere, and your quaint and orderly beauty. In the words of the Governator, I’ll be back!