Neu-schwan-stein: more than just a “New Swan Stone”

The much-anticipated tour to the famous Disneyland castle, Neuschwanstein, was finally upon us. Jason and I rose early and shuffled off to McDonalds for breakfast. (Jason had previously quieted my caloric fears, reminding me we would be walking off our breakfast over the course of the day). After a way-too-good sausage and egg Mcmuffin, we made our way to the train station to meet with New Munich Tours and our interesting guide Claire who would be energetically (and slightly eccentrically) detail the history of King Ludwig II and the building of his castle in the late 19th century. This young king who was declared insane and unfit to rule by his psychologist, who was obsessed with Wagner and his operas (and dedicated his castle to him), who was most likely homosexual, who talked to imaginary guests and invited his horse to dinner, and who—at a young age—was mysteriously found dead in a lake (with this psychologist)—the cause of death still unknown, was the subject of conversation for the next ten hours. His intriguing life and history provided our journey’s entertainment, although my grande Starbucks, the jostling couple hours on the train, and my desperate need to go to the bathroom, also filtrated my mind between the 19th century Bavarian history lesson.
We were in the foothills of the Bavarian Alps soon enough—surrounded by green pastures, red-roofed farming villages, and autumn-hit trees. After a quick lunch in the town of Schwangau (the economical Jason and I enjoyed our pre-packed peanut butter and jelly), we collectively walked to the trailhead to begin our upward climb to Neuschwanstein. Nestled among the trees and on a foundation of solid rock, the pristinely white castle juts out of the ground, and there truly is something magical about it. Inspired by medieval castles, Ludwig, whose grandiose architectural projects became an outlet for his royal problems, built Neuschwanstein in 186 , and only resided in it 114 days before the Bavarian government brought him back to Munich on the grounds of insanity.
The walk was breath-taking (in both the figural and literal sense; the sun danced through the golden trees and a cool breeze stirred the fallen leaves. Unfortunately that was not the only movement on our walk; a steady stream of sweat made its way down my back, reminding me that for the first time since arriving in Germany, I had on too many layers). When we reached the top, we had an incredible view of the surrounding countryside, a crystal clear lake, little villages, and the Alps behind. I think the thought “I can’t believe I am here right now” crossed my mind more this afternoon than on any previous part of the trip. After multiple dream-like photographs, we entered the castle for our tour. The whole interior is dedicated to Wagnerian operas as every room is decorated thematically to describe a different opera. The paintings and intricate woodwork on all of the walls are brilliant. A common image throughout the castle is the swan—the symbol of the Bavarian government. Although the castle itself is quite large, only 1/3 of the rooms were completed before King Ludwig died, so the tour—although great—was quite short.
After the tour, Jason and I walked to Marienbrücke—a narrow suspension bridge 190 meters high connecting two mountain ledges—which offered an incredible view of the castle in its entirety. The planks creaked beneath us as the fifty or so tourists were jammed together in midair, and I thought about how mom would not have enjoyed this part of the journey ;). The sun was getting lower in the sky, and it was time to head back.
The return ride back to Munich was uneventful besides changing trains three times—all which were slightly crowded. We arrived back in Munich late in the evening, and enjoyed yet another peanut butter and jelly—Hey, the tour was quite pricey, we have to save money somewhere, right? ☺

The town of “Little Monks” or München:

Jason and I found a great tour company here in Munich called Munich Walk Tours. Every day for the past fours days we have adventured on some unique tour—all which have captured the essence and history of Munich and Bavaria. After checking into our hostel, which is closely situated to the Haupbahnhof and also quite near the center of town, Marienplatz, the Frauenkirche, and Munich’s famous Rathaus and its Glockenspiel (where at 11am, noon, and 5pm, wooden dancers at the top of the clock tower spin around and chime music—quite the entertainment for the first time visitor ☺), we headed toward the meeting place of our Munich Walking Tour (all in English). (Whew, that was a very long sentence). Our tour guide Ralph was great. He is German, learned his English in Australia (excellent accent), and took us all to the main sights of downtown Munich-- from the historical Residenz (which housed the Wittelbach dynasty) to the fashionable Maximilianstrasse (a German ‘Champ Elysees’ equivalent). After our tour, Jason and I (or more so Jason) finally indulged in some ethnic Bavarian cuisine at Weisses Brauhaus. Jason’s five-sausage pile surrounded by potatoes and sauerkraut was anything but stomach settling. (Although he loved every last grease-processed bite.) After dinner, we headed down the street to the infamous Hofbräuhaus—the most famous beer hall in Munich, maybe even Germany for that matter. While the one liter glass mug of their house beer and leiderhosen-wearing band singing traditional Bavarian music are enough reasons for the typical tourist to venture here, Jason and I came for the history. (I promise! Ok ok, their beer is part of their history, right?) It was in this place where Hitler stood before two thousand people in 1920 and introduced his theories of a united and expanded Germany, of Jews being at fault for German war failure, and of anti-communist political thought.
The next morning in Munich was beautiful. We had a quick breakfast at Starbucks located right next to the Hofbräuhaus (I wonder if Hitler would have been a fan of caramel macchiatos, as I am once again drinking one). However, we learned in our Third Reich tour today, that Hitler took advantage of expressing his political ideologies in beer halls because so many men were drunk and willing to support his causes. I am sure that if the members of these political societies were drinking coffee instead of beer, Hitler would have faced more opposition to his Nazi party. (Alright, enough with the historical banter).
The famous Residenz was our next stop. This impressive complex was a maze of golden rooms, marble columns, and masterful works of art. Still under construction from WWII, we were only able to view “some” of the rooms. The forty or so we saw were plenty to formulate this sense of grandeur still existing despite the end of the Wittelsbach dynasty. The French gardens of the palace were beautiful as well—golden trees lined the entire walkway, with a sea green roof gazebo in the center. After the Residenz, we climbed the tower of St. Peter’s church and looked out on the bustling city. Church steeples dotted the streets every square mile or so, and on the distant horizon, the Alps were barely visible. Looking at the city from this vantage point, it is hard to believe that so much of it was destroyed by the British RAF in WWII. Reaching the bottom of the 360-step climb (the six-year-old in front of us counted every step in German—quite annoying although I do recall the dreihundertsechszig step somewhere quite near the top), we were excited about the sandwiches we had previously purchased and enjoyed our lunch at St. Mary’s Column—directly beneath the Glockenspiel. Also meeting at this locale was our Dachau tour group. Although I had researched transportation directions and was ready to commit to the emotionally-draining afternoon of visiting a former concentration camp, Jason and I decided a qualified Dachau guide would not only get us there and prevent our transportation-related arguments, he would also be quite more knowledgeable and informative.
After visiting Auschwitz two years ago and writing a serious research paper which in part dealt with the camp, I did not know what to expect visiting Dachau. I remember the void I felt as our bus drove away from Auschwitz, and I wondered if feelings of emptiness and anger would revisit me. In all, Dachau was a very different experience. It was quite educational, as I learned that Dachau was the archetype camp—the first one ever built back in 1933. Its first prisoners were only political, and Hitler and the Nazi party propagandized Dachau to simply be a reeducation facility. By the time of the Final Solution in 1941 and through the war’s end, Dachau was turned into a death camp. While the Nazis recorded only 32,000 people perishing there, that number is significantly higher since it does not include those the Soviet political prisoners who were murdered, the thousands who died on the death marches directly after leaving Dachau, nor the prisoners who died from disease and malnutrition immediately following liberation.
As we drove away, I found myself thinking more of the little town of Dachau (a settlement older than Munich) and what the concentration camp did to the identity of its people after the war. We learned that many people thought about changing the town’s name, especially since many expectant mothers still travel the twenty minutes to Munich to give birth just so their child won’t have the name ‘Dachau’ on any if his/her identification papers. Yet it was decided that changing the name could be connected with running from an undesirable past, and it was more important for them to memorialize the camp, keep their town’s name, and show the rest of Europe and the world, that they would face their past collectively and deal with the repercussions of former actions.
Returning from Dachau into Munich at nightfall led to a walk around the city, the finding of a small grocery store (which would provide for peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for the next several days), and a little pizza place for a quick dinner. Early night, getting ready for a big day in the morning.

‘Függerei’ng Things Out

So I am now sitting in a rather large coffee shop in downtown Munich, and about to rapidly attempt to describe the last few days in the twenty or so minutes I have before the shop closes (as great as this city is, everything closes early unless it is a restaurant or a Brauhaus). Besides eating daily copious amounts of cheese, the last few days have been quite varied. So back to Rothenburg, and where our journey left off.
Jason and I had an early start Sunday morning—successfully out of our hotel by 8am, which left us on the deserted cobblestone streets of the town. (We would come to find out a little later that it was in fact 7am when e were out and about since Daylight Savings Time had occurred the night before). Our bad ;). We ate a delicious breakfast at a local bäckerei, and then toured the town. Although it was drizzling slightly, it was absolutely beautiful. We came to a point where we could look at the far wall of the town with all the red-roofed houses safely tucked behind, and then downward to the lazy Tauber River ambling below. We then proceeded to make our way to the town center in order to climb the courthouse tower (which our map claimed to have the best views). Although the narrow flight of old wooden stairs was slightly unnerving, the view was breathtaking. The grand stone gate towers that marked the four entrances into the city appeared as mere legos—the town itself a child’s medieval play set.
Yet before the rain got too heavy, Jason and I were checked out of the hotel, and lugging our suitcases once more to some distant train station. We did notice, however (and to our satisfaction), several buses unloading hordes of Japanese tourists with bright pink and green umbrellas; we left Rothenburg in the nick of time. The next several hours led to the before-mentioned realization of “No Sunday traveling, bitte”, as all of the trains we were supposed to take to reach Augsburg that night were either hours apart or not coming at all. Oh the woes of ignorance. But onwards….
Well we finally made it to our hotel in Augsburg (by far the shadiest place we have stayed in thus far). Of the major things to see in Augsburg, Maximilianstrasse—supposedly the most beautiful street in all of southern Germany—was the first on my list. (Hold that thought…. I am currently being reminded that the coffee shop I am in is now closed…..
……Ok, I am back. From where, you ask? The McDonald’s next door. Probably the most tacky place to compose a blog, but desperate times call for certain measures that I would never do back home ☺). When Jason and I finally reached Maximilianstrasse, it was pouring rain. We were cold, wet, hungry, and tired, and needless to say, Maximilianstrasse did not appear to be the most beautiful street. And because we arrived on a Sunday, it didn’t help that everything was closed. However, our late dinner (although expensive) improved the testy situation. As I indulged in a delicious Quiche Lorraine with a glass of local Chardonnay, Jason’s stronger taste buds ventured to try the breaded pumpkin with risotto and a hearty wheat beer. The rain did not lift after dinner, and we decided to call it an early night.
The next morning, we shared a scrumptious breakfast of freshly baked croissants with strawberry jam, Müsli with sour yogurt (a typical European dish), fruit, and coffee. We sat at a window that overlooked the courthouse, the neighboring church, and the central Emperor Augustus fountain. Halfway through breakfast the sun brilliantly (and finally) came out, and we were greeted to a quasi-warm morning. After breakfast we went to the Függerei (the world’s oldest social settlement), and by far my favorite part of Augsburg. Now the history lesson (I know, you have been impatiently waiting for this to come). Well wait no longer ☺: Where our hotel and the Függerei are situated is in the Jakober section of town which was the most destroyed section of Augsburg after WWII. The name comes from Jakob Függer, who founded the Függerei in 1521. The complex was set up to serve the needy citizens of Augsburg, and the apartments are still in use by the poor today. During the Second World War, the Függerei housed an air-raid shelter, and many of the buildings—including the Catholic church onsite—were destroyed. Jason and I were able to tour the actual bomb shelter and learn of the destruction and reconstruction of Augsburg during the war along the way.
I happily left the Függerei complex—caffeinated from my WWII morning fix, and returned to the hotel to (also happily) checkout. Immediately upon walking to catch the tram, I began to use the fun word “Függerei” whenever I had the chance. Jason and I were not nervous about catching the 40 minute, non-stop train ride to Munich because we had ‘függerei’d (figured) out Germany’s rail system ☺. Hier kommt die Deutschbahn!

Our own Nuremberg Trials

I am currently standing in what is a German 7 Eleven looking out on dreary day, Jason’s tired face, and the empty station of some random town in the middle of nowhere called Treuchtlingen. We have to wait an hour for a different train to take us to Augsburg, and through the rough course of the morning (2 previous train rides and a bus), I have realized my negligence in not researching Sunday travel (aka, Don’t do it.) Yet with the spare time, and Jason looking up German words, his concentration broken up occasionally by a sip from his KellerBier, I have once again decided to write and detail the journey of yesterday. From Würzburg we headed to Nuremberg, where I was eagerly awaiting our visit to the Dokumentatioszentrum Reichsparkeitagsgelände (or the unfinished building constructed in 1933 to be a venue for National Party gatherings, and the locale of the 1946 Nuremberg Trials) and to Zeppelin Field, where Hitler had his architect Albert Speer model his design after the Greek Altar of Zeus—marbled steps and pillars all included, and the location of the Nuremberg rallies. Yet before we could reach these anticipated destinations, we encountered more transportation woes, hence the entitlement of this blog “Our own Nuremberg Trials”. Although we reached the city with no problem, the time from arriving on the platform to walking into the museum (so yes, we did finally make it there ☺) was disastrous. First, we had to store our luggage in lockers at the station, and after our first failed attempt (where I lost 4 euros), we were finally successful. We were supposed to take the city’s S-bahn to our final destination yet could not find its location in the train station nor which line to take. After some arguing (yes, this is a truthful blog), we decided to try our luck with the tram system. To end the frustration and the growing animosity between us, Jason opted to pay the twenty euros round trip for a cab ride. Although a kind gesture, my better judgment said no, and taking my guidebook and pointing to where we needed to go, a tram operator finally pointed us toward the right direction.
The museum was great. Although all in German, they have audio-tours available for free in English that guided us back in time to the rise of Hitler, the Nazi Party and the SS, and into WWII and the Holocaust. The last few rooms of the museum were devoted to the Nuremberg Trials, and I finally took out my camera to capture the books and tapes of what transpired as well as pictures of the 12 leading Nazi commanders after their executions. Fascinating. After the museum, we took a stroll through a quiet park and ended in front of Zeppelin Field. The “field” itself is now a soccer stadium, and as Jason and I looked up to the marbled structure where Hitler once stood and thousands of soldiers and Third Reich supporters heiled their Führer, our ears received the not-so-historical-treat of ‘Apple-Bottom Jeans, Boots with the Fur’ blasted from the nearby stadium speakers. I stood where Hitler stood that day, and I myself gave a small “Heil” (although Jason would say it wasn’t very subtle).
After leaving Nuremberg, and several more train transfers later, we reached the sleepy town of Rothenburg ob der Tauber, just after nightfall. Now Rothenburg is a German gem to say the least, located on the Romantic road and still gated by medieval walls with cornerstone gate towers. The cluster of houses, shops and bakeries (still maintained from the haphazard planning of the medieval ages) were like lit-up pastel gingerbread houses. After checking into our hotel (Bavarian style with window gables and all), Jason and I set to explore the city although all of the shops were closed. We ate dinner at a cute little Italian place just off the main square, and although we successfully ordered in German, once the waiter found out we were Americans, spoke to us in English the rest of the time. Even my “Zahlen, bittle” (To pay please) was met with “Just one moment” from our waiter. Oh well, can’t say we didn’t try ☺.

Wunderbar Würzburg

Compared to the wiles of previous travel days, our journey to Würzburg am Main (Würzburg on the Main River) was uneventful. We arrived and had a short walk from the train station to our hotel (although it might as well have been a hostel, as the accommodations—in large part due to the weird seafood scent percolating from the restaurant below—were definitely sub par. No urging was needed to encourage us to leave as Jason and I left quickly left to explore the city. The first place of interest was Würzburg’s infamous Residenz. This colossal palace structure (referred to by Herr Rick Steves as the “Versailles of Germany”) was commissioned by two prince-bishops between 1720 and 1744. Inside, Baroque gilding wrapped the marble pillars and archways in gold and the world’s largest fresco by the renowned Italian artist Giovanni Tiepolo graced the ceiling vault of the main staircase. After wandering the halls and appreciating the artistic mastery of each room, we proceeded outside into the misty fog where we found the beautiful garden practically empty—simply waiting for its ivy arboretum, grand stone staircases, and tree-line walkways to be captured by the precision of Jason’s camera.
We left the Residenz and proceeded to a unique pair of steeples in the distance. Along the way, we passed a World War Memorial Site (seriously by chance—I think it is just that I am a walking WWII magnet), which displayed six stone crosses with the years 1939 through 1945 listed on each one. In the center was a sculpture depicting six massive German soldiers carrying the coffin of a fallen Bruder. Needless to say, I was quite excited by the find.
Without a map (I know—huge improvement since the days of Europe Semester), we ambled around town, capturing the Dom St. Killian, the Neumunster-Kirche, and the Markt Square by camera memory and of course our own.
After a delicious dinner, we came across the Rathaus (or City Hall), and what began as a simple picture taking exercise turned into a Zweiteweltkrieg (World War II) history lesson as we discovered a small well-lit room and entered inquisitively. A three-dimensional model of the city’s destruction of 1945 lay before us. From the graphic picture-covered walls, we learned that the bombing raid on Würzburg which occurred on March 16th 1945, only lasted 20 or so minutes yet destroyed 80 percent of the town. Based on the pictures and the information provided (or at least what we could ascertain from German), the restorative effort that went into the post-war skeleton so that it would resemble its pre-war grandeur was phenomenal. Another hour of night exploring brought us back to our hotel and to our beds.
Jason and I woke from our slumber, to a misty morning in Würzburg, but ready to tackle the morning (after a latte macchiato and a croissant, of course ☺). We had to take on the grand Festung Marienberg which sits on loftily on the hill above the river Main surrounded by medieval stone walls and vineyards (I know, a stark contrast, right?). Ok, brief history lesson: in 707AD, a church was first built on this site, and the construction of the fortress commenced in 1201. It served as the residence of the prince-bishops until 1719, and today it remains a famous landmark and houses museum. After a slightly steep climb, we were greeted by the medieval fortress, its garden walking paths, and an impressive view of the city sleeping below. Walking back over the Alte Mainsbrücke—and old bridge with large stone statures erected in each nook—I was quaintly reminded of Prague and the journey still to come.

Das ist alles für heute!

Hurrying to Heidelberg

Well before I commence the telling of a great day in Heidelberg, I have to tell of a horrendous night. Once again, the faster these next sentences are read, the more stressful the situation becomes even to the reader. So here we go. We arrived by boat in Bingen at 8pm and in the dark had to locate the train station. Once found, we were supposed to take a train from Bingen to Heidelberg (according to Rail Europe). No trains to Heidelberg. After confusedly asking for help, we had to take a train to Mainz. From Mainz we had to take an additional train to Darmstadt where in three minutes and to change platforms to catch the last train of the night to Heidelberg. That train put us into Heidelberg a little after midnight. Now for the Heidleberg Bus system. We were told to take Bus 33. Looking at the map, the Karlsplatz stop was the closest to our hostel. Yet after 20 minutes of bus driving and the city of Heidelberg behind us, we realized that the bus line did not stop there and all of a sudden we were pulled into a 45 minute loop, and we desperately tried to ask our German-only-speaking bus driver for help. He dropped us of somewhere near the vicinity of our hostel on the way back and pointed us in the right direction. The streets were completely empty and most of the buildings dark. We finally found our hostel, by now it was almost 1:00 am, and it was closed. Although we banged on the door, nothing. An older man on his bike road by and asked if we needed help. We explained the situation, he suggested us taking a taxi to the youth hostel across the river, which was open 24 hours. I was already on the verge of tears, exhausted, and did not want to pay for another hostel when we already paid for the one we had. As we were walking away, a man with his dog approached, asking us if we were looking for a place to stay. We said we were supposed to be staying at the Sudpfanne Hostel, but we were so late that it had already closed for the night. He said (in English—yay) that he was the owner of the Sudpfanne. My fervent silent prayers ever since the painful bus ride were answered. Gino, the hostel owner, unlocked the hostel, retrieved keys for us, and then carried my suitcase to our room, which was located in a cute building a few blocks away. Definitely believe God sent Gino to us. We went back to the main building twice during our stay in Heidelberg to look for him and say thank you, but both times, no Gino. I told Jason that of course he wouldn’t be there since he was probably an angel ;-). (I am only partly kidding). Ok, ok, enough of the rambling..

Waking up the next morning to get free (delicious) coffee and a butter croissant from the Café below our bedroom was a great start to what turned into a perfect day. The weather in Heidelberg was freezing, but the sun was out and it was beautiful. After viewing the magnificent Heigelsgeistkirche (located about 50 steps from our front door), we proceeded to the Alte Brücke and took some incredible pictures (or at least every picture where Jason and my cameras share the same subject matter, his pictures will be the incredible ones. Stupid Rebel XSI lol) All we did that day was walk the whole city of Heidelberg—from viewing the steeples and stone facades of the Jesuitkirche and Peterskirche (oh, the word “Kirche” is “church” in German) to walking the Hauptstrasse and making a few purchases (I bought boots!!!) to climbing the forest-laden hill behind the Altstadt (old town) and reaching the infamous Heidelberg Castle for a perfect view of the entire city at sunset. After a delicious dinner at Schmidt’s, where I consumed Estragonmistkratzerle (trying saying that ten times fast… or even once, for that matter) which ended up being white chicken and baby mushrooms sautéed in a creamy tarragon sauce over pasta and was delicious, Jason and I went on a long walk on the other side of the river where we were given a beautiful view of the cityscape at night. All said, that day rectified the previous night ☺.

Guten Abend everyone!

Wir sind hier!

Daily Insight: A Kännchen means a pot of coffee. It is for one person. You do not ask for an extra Tasse (cup). Jason and I shared one cup.

Well at last, I am sitting in our hostel room looking out the window and I can see the two bluely lit towers of the Cologne Cathedral—known as the “most famous Gothic structure in all of Germany” (or at least according to my guidebook). Either way, I am finally at a breathing point in one of the longest day(s) (the whole loss of a day as quite confused me) I have had in a long time. I want to briefly recall what has transpired, because as expected today was far from uneventful.
To begin with, 11 hours of plane travel ended us in Zurich where we were immediately bombarded at the airport with gourmet chocolate, Swiss watches, high-end wine bars, and fully furnished waiting areas with multiple electrical outlets, all in a very clean and modern airport. I, on the other hand, took it to mean that the secretive echelon of Swiss bank accounts really does exist ;-).
We left Zurich for Dusseldorf after a few hour lay over. I realized that every time entering or exiting the plane, the steward or stewardess would greet me “Hello” or Thank you, Goodbye”. Yet whenever they saw Jason, every time they said “Guten Abends” or “Vielen Dank” or “Auf Weidersehen”. We decided that he just looks more European (or at least more German than I ever will). We met a helpful young German-American on the plane named Patrick who advised us on the direction of the S-bahn station. Jason helped me realize (after the fact) that the train we were supposed to be on just left, so we waited another half hour to catch the next one. My memories of Dusseldorf are thus confined to the airport, the Mercedes Outlet, and the noises and smells of the main station.
Upon arriving in Cologne a little before 10pm, we exited the station only to come face to face with the afore mentioned infamous cathedral. Although it was no more than 40 degrees outside with the wind-chill factor, Jason and I did not go directly to our hostel that was about a mile away, but instead ran around the main square, snapping picture after picture. Yet the long trek down the darkened streets of empty Cologne in that weather was far from pleasant. I believe the sheer awe that we were actually in our liebe Deutschland allowed us to persevere. At the verge of freaking out that we were lost, there it was: Jugenherberge hostel—where the rooms were quite nice, the people not very friendly, and the computer keyboards retarded. But that is beside the point; at 3pm back home in sunny Santa Barbara, we went to bed in schoene Germany.
Waking up at a quarter to seven this morning confused the both of us as we looked outside and the view and its darkness were the same has it had been when we went to bed. After a quick breakfast in our hostel, and Jason finally being introduced to the cold cut meats and cheeses that Europeans call “breakfast”, we were on our way quickly as possible to the Altstadt (old town) of Cologne. We went immediately to the Dom to finally go inside. We both stood speechless for several seconds as our eyes took in the grandeur of the nave, the colorful vitality of the stained glass windows, and the vocal purity of the practicing choir—yes, the German language (especially when sung) is stunningly beautiful.
After ordering my first Starbuck’s latte in German, I blew my cover when I failed to understand what the barista asked next. Apparently he asked if I wanted it for here or to go. I am thus prepared for next time ☺. And then in a quick turn around of events, we left Cologne and made our way to the town of Koblenz where we were to begin our Rhine River Cruise. With suitcases and backpacks in tow we plowed our way through the cobblestone streets of Koblenz to the Deutsche Eck (known as the German corner), which is where the Mosel River meets the Rhine. From this point we took the Köln-Dusseldorfer River Cruise to journey the 30 kilometers (of the possible 1,320) from Koblenz to Bingen am Rhine.
Although excited about the sights to come, the warmth of the cabin combined with the completion of our first real meal led me to an unplanned little Rhine Cruise nap. Yet when the sun finally broke through the clouds sparkling on the river and on the windows of the houses, Jason and I were pulled from the coziness of indoors and ventured onto the boat’s upper deck. Chilly, but peaceful, we sat snuggled in our peacoats and steadily worked away: me on my blog, Jason on his Life of Pi. With 3 more hours of cruising before us, a handful of famous romantic castles still to see, a late train to catch in Bingen, a 2 hour ride to Heidelberg, and a hostel to find once again in the dark, I take my leave to enjoy the moment. Until next time meine gute Freunden.
Tschuss!

~Hölly

The Journey Begins

So I find myself sitting in Jeannine’s American Bakery—I know, not exactly the right place to bring one’s computer—but with the journey a mere 4 days away and the knowledge that I will not be returning here for a month, I couldn’t help myself. Thus with my warmed lemon scone and non-fat vanilla latte in close proximity, let me tell you of the events to come.

This Monday evening, Jason and I will be leaving Los Angeles and flying Swiss Air to Zurich. Yes, nonstop. (Read this next part as fast as you can): We will then quickly catch a connecting flight to Dusseldorf, Germany, where upon landing we will immediately find the S-bahn station, take it to the Dusseldorf Hauptbahnhof to catch a late train to Cologne, where we will miraculously find our hostel, go to sleep, wake up at the crack of dawn the next morning to briefly see the sights of this historical and charming city, and then be on the 10am train to Koblenz to catch a Rhine River Cruise to Bingen, only to have 30 minutes to find the train station there, to catch the train to Heidelberg, and to arrive at our hostel in Heidelberg at 10pm. End of Day 1. Whew. (Proceed to read at normal pace): If Jason and I are still getting along at the end of the 14 hour plane ride, the chaos of public transportation, finding the hostels, and being on time for all the departures I have ideally (and perhaps idiotically) scheduled into our first day, then we are off to a grand start.

What is next in this crazed journey you ask? Below I have included a copy of our itinerary:

Germany, Austria, and Czech Republic Itinerary

October 19-November 13, 2009

October 19- Leave LAX 7:20pm, Swiss Air, Flight 41

October 20- Transfer in Zurich, leave 5:45pm, arrive in Dusseldorf 7:05pm.

Train from Dusseldorf to Cologne.

October 21- Cologne to Koblenz, Rhine River Cruise from Koblenz to Bingen.

Train from Bingen to Heidelberg.

October 22- Heidelberg

October 23- Travel to Wurzburg (begin Romantic Road journey)

October 24- detour to Nuremberg, spend night in Rothenburg ob der Tauber

October 25 (Sunday)- Rothenburg to Dinklesbuhl to Augsburg

October 26- Augsburg to Munich

October 27- Train from Munich to Oberammergau OR full day in Munich

October 28- Train from Munich to Fussen (then back to Munich)

October 29- Munich (Dachau)

October 30- Munich to Berchtesgaden (Hitler’s Eagle Nest) to Salzburg

October 31- Salzburg

November 1 (Sunday)- Salzburg

November 2- Salzburg to Vienna

November 3- Vienna

November 4- Vienna

November 5- Vienna to Prague

November 6- Prague

November 7- Prague to Berlin

November 8 (Sunday)- Berlin

November 9- Berlin

November 10- Berlin

November 11- Berlin to Dresden

November 12- Dresden

November 13- Leave Dresden 11am, Swiss Air, Flight 4285, leave Zurich

1:20pm. Arrive at LAX 4:45pm.

By now you might be wondering the precise purpose of this trip since most of us know the best time to go to Germany is not late October/early November. Brrrrrrr. I will thus explain in as few words as possible how this trip came to be. First, my favorite area of study as a-now-History-graduate is 20^th century German history. About a year ago, I wrote in my journal a simple question: “Can I be in Berlin on November 9^th?” (That fateful date this year will mark the 20^th anniversary of the fall of the wall and its symbolic end of an era of communist controlled Germany). I laughed when I wrote that down, knowing the unlikelihood that I would be able to go. However, I received plane tickets to Germany from my parents for graduating from Westmont this past May, and the chance of my presence at the Brandenburg Gate on the 9^th gained quite a few percentage points. Next, by working two jobs for the past five months, I have been able to save enough money to spend the above-mentioned 26 days in Germany, Austria, and the Czech Republic (all three of which I visited during October and November two years ago on Westmont’s Europe Semester program). The history major in me (and the slight ability to speak German, ie “Ich spreche ein bisschen Deutsch”) has prompted my return. Lastly (and quite importantly), I have found an incredible friend willing to embark on this journey with me. Jason and I have devoted our summer to researching, planning, working, saving, and practicing German. And here we are; eagerly and nervously awaiting Monday’s departure, finishing packing, and saying our good byes.

I hope you too will follow our journey.

And now that the last of my latte is cold, and all that remains on the porcelain plate is a few scattered yellow crumbs, I must take my leave.

Vielen Dank für Ihr Interesse (much thanks for your interest).

Liebe Gruesse,

Holly