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 ☺.