Non-German Food

German food is heavy. How heavy? We actually went out for Indian food for a break.

Mühlhausen Doors

We are here in Mühlhausen, in the German state of Thuringia. It's a quiet place in the former GDR, and it feels a bit time-warpy. There are many abandoned buildings - East Germany has a big negative population-growth problem - but also a lot of very well maintained structures, often right next to one another. What I found really beautiful about the town, besides all of its half-timbered houses and cobblestone streets, were the ornately carved and ornamented doors.
The woodwork is really amazing, and it manages to survive the neglect that a lot of these buildings have suffered. Even with peeling paint and decaying wood, the handiwork is still striking.
It's a history that I feel like could be told in a very interesting way. There must have been some very talented woodworkers - not to mention the stonemasons who did the frames.
I love all the wide doors that lead back to alleyways or courtyards. Many I've seen have this cool double-round-top design within the seam between the two panels.

Karpfe Diem

Our gasthof boasted "karpfen," all the tables around us at lunch and dinner were filled with karpfen, so - naturally - before we left, I ordered some karpfen, a regional speciality. It's carp and it is fried, as you can tell. What intrigued us most was the fact that its tail was curled the way it was. That's something that is usually attained when you cook a fish while it's still alive. It seems strange and/or impressive in this case because that means they would have had to bread it while it was alive, too. We have noticed that German people seem to have big, strong hands, but it still seems a little unlikely. (Though his face does look a little shocked, doesn't it?) Added bonus was definitely the little price tag flag. Oh, and did I mention it was delicious?

Bamberg

We were laughed at by a bartender for pronouncing Bamberg this way: "Bam-berg." Apparently, you say it this way: "Bam-berg." I have no idea what the difference is. It's a very nice city, though, and that bartender was a jerk.It was a rainy day, but not soaking-wet. We were able to wander around and feel good about being outside as long as we ducked into a cafe or braueri every so often. The river was roaring through town - the water seemed very high - and there were a lot of people in the narrow streets. The building above is the town hall, and it was very cool. We went in and poked around their collection of eighteenth and nineteenth century porcelain, almost by ourselves.
There were lots and lots of tourists. They walked around in silent groups, all listening to little earbuds that were receiving some kind of signal from the tourguides, who were speaking into microphones. Some of the guides wore powdered wigs, which were getting very wet.
The buildings were really fun to look at and are all mostly original - Bamberg wasn't roughed up much in the war.
We stopped in at a restaurant for lunch and had some predictably heavy food and some rauchbier, or "smoke beer," which tastes exactly like what it sound like. It's a beer that's been smoked. More precisely, it's brewed with malt that's been smoked over beechwood logs. It's a local thing, and it was interesting. Rebecca didn't like it because it reminded her of ham.
We headed up onto the hill to see one of the cathedrals, the Bamberger Dom. It was quite ornate and it was full of people, including Pope Clement II. Actually, he was dead, but his remains are interred in the building. His is the only papal tomb north of the alps. We took quite a few pictures of a tomb that we thought was his, but it turned out to be some bishop. The real tomb was up behind the altar, where you couldn't really see it.
We were impressed by the organ, which was suspended up at the top of the space. We were sad to have missed the concert that happened half an hour before we showed up.

We got back to our gasthof and had a comforting dinner of things we'd gathered in Bamberg and Kipfenberg, plus wine from the Moselle valley. Blood sausage, some organic cheese from the Bavarian alps, apple, avocado, walnut bread and "winter mustard." The mustard is mixed with apple preserve and mulling spices - the verdict: it somehow reminds of Christmas.

Ripe for the Picking

We saw these "BLUMEN" signs on the side of the highway throughout our drive to Bavaria, always at the end or beginning of a row of beautiful flowers. We figured they were a flower sale of some sort, but were happy to investigate more closely, finding one right at the entrance to our campsite in Kipfenberg.
We noticed this sign, which we couldn't translate, but seemed to say something along the lines of "Self Service" and then listed the price for one "stuck" to be o,60 euros.
There was a coin slot in which to drop your payment.
Hanging from the sign/bank were small knives to cut your bouquet with.
The flowers to choose from were beautiful here and everywhere we saw them along the highway.
It made me happy to think that a) the trust system still worked b) there were some sunflowers still in bloom and c) these 'blumen' could continue on growing until they were picked, there for everyone that passed by to enjoy instead of wilting away, encased in plastic wrap in the store window of a flower shop.

Oh Little Town of Kipfenberg

Merlin and I spent our first and second nights in Germany in the little town of Kipfenberg. Our plan was to stay in Eichstatt, a nice central location for exploring the Altmuhltal Natur Park, in addition to the city's own sites. Eichstatt's municipal camp ground was understandably empty, it being too cold to camp and all, but its lack of reception office, security or simple barrier preventing any guy drinking at the picnic table near the river (of which there were five when we arrived) from just walking up and ransacking our tent, made us explore other options.

We settled down in Kipfenberg, about a ten minute drive away and went out to have some drinks and dinner in town. The very first bartender we encountered, a lovely, older man who gave us some free pretzels with our drinks, said: "You're from New York? And in Kipfenberg? How sad!" The next morning, a prematurely balding man with one earring at an organic market similarly commented, "And you're in Kipfenberg WHY?"
Well, first of all, Kipfenberg is beautiful. Just look at it! The aforementioned bartender gave us some hints on good hikes, naming castles and ruins in surrounding towns, without even mentioning the amazing structure that looked over his own city from a hill above.
You know what else was amazing about Kipfenberg? Our breakfast. Germany is the first country we've been in that does breakfast, as opposed to just some toast or bread. As a result, we were able to get some real, big coffees and I managed to score a perfectly cooked hard-boiled egg at a local bakery. I'm not sure why the egg had been dyed pink, but I didn't hold it against them.
Did i mention that it was perfectly cooked? Because it was and with a deep-colored, healthy yolk to boot.
For those curious, I figured I would also provide a close-up of Merlin's breakfast: blueberry strudel. He asked for an apfel-strudel (apple strudel) and was told by the adorable, spikey-haired teenage waitress that blueberry was the freshest, just baked that morning. When she placed my plate down, she said "for the mrs." and with Merlin's, "for the man."
Our main reason for being perfectly happy in Kipfenberg? Our campsite. This was our spot, Field 4. We had it all to ourselves. On the other side of our car and tent was the river and right behind where the camera stood was the bathroom and shower station. There was also a vending machine that had beer and a washer/dryer. We didn't get to use any of those, but you have to give the site credit for having them.

All in all, we did not find it sad in the least to be in Kipfenberg. It was the perfect introduction to the country, in fact. Really friendly people, really hearty food, really beautiful natural surroundings.

Dachau

This seems like both a good and a bad post to begin our German visit with. Good because the holocaust is something that will always be associated with Germany, and that it's impossible to forget about when you visit. Bad because it is only a part of what this country is about, and isn't what is foremost in our minds as we travel around. We had to start somewhere, though, and we're starting with Dachau.
We parked our car next to lumber yards and walked by a fitness center, a donerkebab stand and an Opel dealership that all crowd around the walls. We drove in past a "pan Americana" restaurant. People have lives, here. We talked about how people put down their addresses - "such-and-such street, Dachau, Germany" - and how infrequently they must think about the concentration camp. It was a gray, chilly day and we decided to visit because we felt a little depressed anyway and thought we would just go with the mood.

Walking in, it's difficult to know how you're going to feel. Most of the tourists made their way silently from the parking lot to the entrance, and there was a sense of nervousness and anticipation in the air. The two women at the information desk were smiling and cheerful, which was startling - but, of course, they were just doing their job. How can you ask them to represent solemnity and sorrow for eight hours every day? They're just trying to explain how to use the audio guides and where the toilets are.
The place is mostly a recreation. The main building, in the picture above, is one of the few structures that still remains. Most of the other buildings were torn down, eventually, or fell into disrepair. The camp was actually used by the Americans, after the war was over, to house German prisoners of war. Later, it was used to house refugees. Nobody thought of it as a historic site until much later. I think that it became important only when people who were too young to remember the holocaust grew up and began looking for markers and pieces of the past. The people who remembered it must have wanted to forget that it ever existed.
It was a harrowing experience, but not in the way that I expected it to be. It wasn't a place that made you feel as though there were ghosts around, or where history seemed very present. The experience was more like reading a textbook, unfortunately. The museum has a lot of information, but very little to look at. The black and white photographs are much the same as the ones everyone has seen - it's difficult to make the connection between the blank, refurbished structures and the images that are presented to you. Perhaps the most powerful feeling was one of emptiness. Even though there were hundreds of people there, the space was large enough that we felt almost alone. Also, it's very quiet.
The barracks buildings were constructed for the museum - all the original housing had been torn down long ago. It was still interesting to see the buildings and to imagine life there. There was very little immediacy, though. Before we got there, I was almost frightened of being overwhelmed. Instead, I felt that I had to search for feelings of connection to the past. The picture below is of the foundations of the old barracks buildings, where all of the prisoners were housed.

I think it's interesting that this camp - which, in many ways is a symbol of the great destruction of Europe - is itself preserved. So much was wiped out here, both in terms of human lives and buildings. This space itself was almost lost as Germany changed around it - in fact, most of the camp is now completely gone, covered over by new buildings. It is a funny thing that this is now a historic site, when what it really represents is the demolition of so much history.

Autogas

When pulling up to our very first gas station, on the highway in The Netherlands, we were extra sure not to pull up to a Diesel pump by accident. "There, that one says 'gas'!" I pointed out to Merlin.
We both immediately remembered our friend Lukas, in Amsterdam, telling us about natural gas pumps. Fuel is very, very expensive in Europe and a lot of people opt to convert their car's systems over to run on Autogas (basically 'propane'). It costs a lot to make the switch, but it saves a lot of money in the long run. Autogas costs less than half what petrol does and 40% less than diesel. Also, the carbon emissions are much lower, making it a more environmentally friendly option. So far, we've seen them in Holland, Belgium, Luxembourg and Germany. How amazing that we had never even heard of it! Even more amazing that the option exists. Good job, Europe.

Update: Autogas is also big in Australia and parts of Asia.

The Moselle Valley - Wine Country

We arrived in the Moselle Valley yesterday, with just enough daylight to pitch our tent at "Camport" a combination campsite and boat dock, then journey into town for some dinner. This morning, we woke up to a bright, sunny day, perfect for exploring one of the tiniest wine regions in Europe.
We crossed the road from our campsite and down a hill to find this single road into town. The man in the picture, who was walking his dog, wore a Yankees cap and was the only human we saw on our quick walk through the village. Then, up the hill we went to explore some vineyards.
I'm not sure if you can tell from the picture, but it was quite the incline getting up to this walkway. It was amazing, and impressive, to think of the people who pick grapes on these hills. Most of the vines looked harvested already, but we managed to grab one, small, sweet yellow grape each.
Along the trail were buckets and tools and a few tractors like this, which were much narrower than the average tractor. We couldn't tell if we were on private or public property, but every worker we passed smiled or at least nodded at us.
Every so often, we would come across a grape stash like the one above.
We descended a hill towards another town, and turned a corner to find this. The place where all those containers we saw were brought. It was the back of Wollenstein's Cooperative, which processed grapes from vineyards all around the Moselle. Our Lonely Planet had warned us not to expect to find too many mom-and-pop vineyards, but we were astounded to see how large the operation actually was. We went around to see if we could get a taste.
It looked like some sort of tour group had just passed through the Cooperative, because both people working there, a man and a woman, were busy cleaning out used tasting glasses and gift wrapping souvenir bottles. The man put his dishes aside long enough to offer us a taste of two Rieslings, one older than the other, from different parts of the Moselle. While we smelled and swirled and tasted them, two things caught our eye.
These plastic "champagne bottles" were set up on the wall to the right of the tasting counter. They read "Party for Kids" and, I hope, were simply bubble bath. But, hey, it's Europe. You never know.
Against the wall to the left of the counter were these plastic jugs, ranging from 2 liters to 10. We recognized their label from the signs we had seen at every cafe, bar and restaurant. Fiederwaissen. We asked about it and were told "it's not juice, but it's not wine." Well, I bet you can guess which purchase we made.
The packaging was just too enticing! We just thought, this not-wine/not-juice screams "camping." When we poured it into a glass we were even more excited about the purchase. For about a week now, I have been trying to figure out what the cloudy, yellow liquid I saw people drinking was. At first we thought it was Pastis, which Merlin said turned cloudy when water was added to it. Then, this morning, I saw an older couple each having a glass beside their coffee and I thought, 'Lemonade?' Turns out, what everyone has been drinking it Fiederwaissen.

Traditionally, Fiederwaissen is the first wine of the year at every winery in Luxembourg. Their first batch is released ten days after the beginning of the annual harvest, to give people a taste of the new year's product.

It's very sweet and has a pungent fermentation smell. We think it will taste better colder. So, our jug of Fiederwaissen is currently sitting behind the back wheel of our car, cooling down from a warm day's travel through the Moselle Valley in our backpack.

Our Two Travel Companions

Two friends from home have arrived and will be spending at least the next year with us.

Meet Nilla (short for 'Vanilla).

She got her name when Merlin traded in his cute little Volvo for her and said the following: "I'm going to miss having a car you didn't really see too many of on the road. This one is just so vanilla."

And this is GPSie (pronounced "gypsy," for her wandering nature).
She seems to have adapted to life in Europe pretty quickly, taking on Dutch, French and German words in a single day. We can't wait to hear her Russian.

Castle Hunting: Vianden Castle (part II)

This is Vianden Castle, which I had tried to take pictures of ten days ago. We explored it on our first visit to Vianden, a while ago, and thought it was really cool. The mist and generally bad weather limited us to mental-pictures. We went back to Vianden yesterday, for nutfest, so I got another shot at it.
We had known about this high-meadow vantage point from our rambles around the town, so we knew where to stop to get the best pictures. I had to do a little scrambling to get a good view - luckily, this fence was just barbed wire and not electrified.
The cows in the pasture weren't all that impressed. They didn't seem to mind us, though.
It's an amazing place for a castle, and I bet it's going to be really beautiful in a week - the foliage hasn't peaked yet.
Making our way down to the village, I was able to get these images too. The weather was superb. So much better than our first visit.