Things I Must Get Un-Used To

Well, I'm back. This will be my final post here on the "Squirrel Blog."

There have been a lot of emotions over the past week and a half. I had the opportunity to visit England and Denmark the week before our flight to the United States, so my "leaving Germany" emotions were dampened first by thoughts of "I'm visiting London, I must enjoy London," and later the stressed out knowledge that I, "Must pack, must be under the weight limit, must get on the plane." Interesting times. My first day in London was a constant realization that I was no longer in EP6 and that my daily German soundtrack was missing. It was really hard.

In my last weeks there, I started compiling a list of the things I'd have to get un-used to once I returned to the States. It is as follows, in no particular order:

• The 24-hour clock and the way Europeans prefer "half past" and "ten 'til" to "three thirty" and "four fifty."
• DD.MM.YY. Everything I write now is dated this way, and the transition is not going to be pretty.
• Open windows. Already in the States I've had to put on sweats because of the chill of air conditioning.
• Writing the number 1. My German class in the spring forced me to write European-style 1's, and I kept up the habit once I arrived. Now I'm not sure if I will switch back or not.
• Looking nice everyday. Females in Europe do not wear t-shirts. As the Jedi said when I informed him of this, "it is not forbidden," but it is definitely not a thing. Because of this, I've spent my summer thinking more about my wardrobe than t-shirt and jeans. It's been nice.
• A lack of that. German only has one word referring to a thing in front of you, and it translates to this. There is no second word that would be the equivalent of that, and so most native German speakers use only this in English conversation. It is so prevalent that I found that slipping out of my own vocabulary during the summer and had to work to retain it.
• Walking everywhere and feeling completely safe while doing it. Not to mention public transportation.
• German. I hadn't even gotten on the plane from Frankfurt to London and I was missing the constant swirl of German around me. By the end of my summer, I was making significant progress in understanding at least the idea of German conversations, and one of my biggest worries upon returning is that I'm going to lose that momentum.
• German keyboards. I'm used to my laptop being the English keyboard, but every time I sit down at a desktop computer, I get my y's and my z's backwards. Not to mention the different placements of quotation marks, apostrophes, semi-colons, and hashtags.
• What-you-see-is-what-you-get prices. In Europe, the tax is included in the label price, so what you see is what you pay at the register. When I bought breakfast in JFK airport on Friday, I was so confused by the additional cents added to my purchase.
• Change in 0.20. The Euro has twenty-cent pieces, not twenty-five, so I've spent the whole summer calculating change with that in mind. I've already discovered it's harder than you would think to get used to quarters again.
• Seeing the news. While in Germany, I got most of my news from a quick glance over my Facebook news feed and the trending corner. About every ten days I would go to my preferred news site and get more official information. But there has been some culture shock coming to the States where all the TVs are blaring CNN and all the newspapers have headlines I can actually read. I could go all philosophical on this, but I'll stop and just say it's weird being so inundated.
• An inability to read. Now that I'm in America, I can read all the things. Signs, menus, labels. It's weird. You kind of realize how much you didn't really need to know.
• A lack of small talk. The best part about being back in an English-speaking country is the ability to make small talk. I can chat with the barista, the waitress, the person in line beside me. It was one of the things I missed most in Germany {that, and Tex-Mex, and yes, I've already remedied that}.
• Group lunches and the following coffee break. I honestly don't know how I'm going to handle having lunch by myself. And what about those coffee breaks, where we discuss anything and everything and occasionally science? There is little hope of a replacement for either here {college life is too busy for such communal things}, especially since the people that made them so great are so far away. :(

I'll spare you the sappy blog post {and save it for my personal blog}, but in answer to your next question: Yes, I enjoyed my summer in Germany, every single aspect of it. I got to travel and see cool and historical sights, but my favorite part was my lab experience--and I'm not just saying that! You can ask Miquela; I was so excited to go to "work" every morning. My research was exciting and full of questions to answer...and my labmates were kinda the best, if you haven't figured that out already. :) It was a summer I won't forget, and I'm beyond grateful for the opportunity to have experienced Physics In Germany.

The Best Worst Decision Ever

Early this summer, our group sat down together and discussed our available weekends and how to spend them. Everyone had at least one must-do. One of mine was a bike trip. I was in Europe, and I would take an overnight bike trip in Europe. This was not up for debate.

There was much discussion about who was going, where we were going, which route we were taking, and where we would sleep. As the "Bike Trip" weekend neared, it was down to just Numa--who will be biking to Alaska next summer as part of Texas 4000--and myself.

     One of my labmates, The Coffee Boss, asked where we were going. "To Lohr," I told him, "but only for the day, and then we'll come back and bike somewhere else the next day."
     "Why are you not spending the night?" he asked.
     "Because all the hostels were full."
     He nodded in understanding, but then, when I told him it was only Numa and myself going, he said, "Oh, well if it's only the two of you, I have a tent you can borrow."

we have a tent.
p/c: numa

And that is how we came to bike to Lohr with a tent strapped to the back of my rented bike, and blankets to the back of Numa's. It was a great tent. I have never set up a tent before {I have never slept in a tent before}, but we managed this one quite easily, even if the instructions were in German.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. First we need to leave Würzburg.

departing würzburg. 

our first break.
p/c: numa

We stopped for a picnic lunch. Lunch on the Main. Numa's first encounter with what turned out to be Urtica Dioica, known affectionately throughout the trip as "the stinging plant."

view from lunch.

 Our next break was for swans {and a seesaw, and a boat}. This was also Numa's second encounter with the stinging plant.

swan break.

That Time We Didn't Take the Shortcut

Somewhere in here, we tried to take a shortcut. I say tried, because our attempt was unsuccessful. For a couple reasons.

1. I am extremely skeptical of the word 'short-cut,' so even though Numa had planned it out and it had been recommended to me by the Opinionated Romanian, I wasn't too keen on it.
2. We couldn't find the bike route of said short-cut, only a highway.

I realized afterwards that short-cut or no, these were the only directions Numa had written down. Thus, we had only a map and a set of directions no longer applicable as we continued on the long route. {And no, we didn't have Google maps.}

we also stopped to take pictures in fields like this.
p/c: numa

Our lack of directions wasn't too big of a deal. After all, as the Opinionated Romanian had informed us earlier, "There are signs everywhere. If you can't follow the signs, you probably shouldn't be on a bike." And he was right. There are a TON of signs. Every intersection has a white sign with a green bike and a green arrow {usually directing you to continue straight ahead}.

Well, almost every intersection.

That Time There Was No Sign & We Got Lost In a Cornfield

lost on a gravel road.
p/c: numa

One particular intersection had no sign. So we went straight. We ended up with a cornfield to one side, the river to another, and gravel beneath us. We stopped. We agreed that something wasn't right.

• This doesn't feel right.
• No, it doesn't. I don't know where we are.
• Me neither. There was no sign.
• No, there wasn't. What do we do now?
• I don't know. Do you want a cookie?
• Yes. 

we made it to Lohr.

We eventually backtracked 30 meters, crossed the bridge that had confused us to begin with, and hung out there for a while as Numa iced her stinging leg and I searched for signs. Turns out, we were not yet in the town {Gemuenden} we thought we were in. Which was good. We could keep going. Oh, by the way, that compass app on your phone? Totally useful on a bike trip.

It was somewhere around this point where Numa informed me that this bike trip was the "worst best decision ever." She was right, on all counts.

It took us nine hours {more than twice as long as predicted}, but we made it to our desired campground in Lohr. We acquired some Radler, set up our tent with minimal trouble, and rested. I attempted to stretch my legs out and ended up in a great deal of pain. During the ride, my muscles hadn't protested--my posterior, on the other hand...--so I was surprised to finally get off the bike and find myself in what I told Numa was pain "worse than orthodontia." {Which, considering the fact that my prolonged and necessary orthodontic experience may be at the top of my pain list, is rather impressive.} Knowing that walking was better than sitting, we ventured into the town of Lohr.

tent accomplished.
p/c: numa

The Coffee Boss had informed us prior to the trip that there was a beer fest going on. He was close but not quite right; it was something along the lines of Würzburg's Kiliani Volksfest, what we would call a fair. It was smaller than Kiliani, but with just as much bright, noisy chaos and clamor. My lab group had informed me that I'd missed out at Kiliani by not getting any chocolate-covered fruit--"the only reason to go to Kiliani"--so we thought we'd make up for it here.

chocolate-covered apples

Sleeping. My first time to sleep in a tent. Given the lush grass conditions of Germany--they have this thing called rain--and the fact that I'd biked 60 kilometers, I had a pretty pleasant night.

Of course, we first had to go to sleep to the sound of the beer tent from the fair. We could hear the band and the people, and if our experience at Kiliani was any sort of clue, our bedtime in Lohr was right about when the party was starting. Party, in this case, means loud, fun, German music, and lots of standing on tables, singing loudly, and drinking plenty of beer. It sounded familiar, like home or something.

Then there were the fireworks. I disentangled myself from my Snuggie--ahhh! agony! please, Advil, work quickly!--and poked my head out of the tent flap to see if they were visible. They were not, but, as I told Numa, the sound of fireworks is one of my favorites given all the good memories to which I have it attached. Another sound that feels like home. It was a nice way to fall asleep.

We were awakened sometime later by the sound of German fest-goers returning to the campsite. Believe it or not, the sound of the German language has quickly become a reassuring sound to me. It is the sound of a coffee break, a lunch break, a quick trade of perovskite notes, a phone call...it is the sound of my friends, of people with whom I feel safe and safe to be myself. So waking in the middle of the night up to German, even drunk German, is not a bad feeling.

That Time There Were Mice Under Our Tent

I woke up with the sunlight outside...and movement...of something...beside me. Honestly, the first time it happened, I was still too asleep to bother worrying. But the second time, I started thinking things through. It is one thing to feel...it is another to hear the rustling and see the fabric of the tent floor flutter.

"Numa!"

I waited another twenty-or-so minutes before trying again. "Numa!"

She spoke to the wall of the tent. "What?"

"There are mice under our tent."

She whipped around to face me. "You better not be serious that there are mice under our tent."

And she was so serious that I said, "No, no, there are no mice under our tent."

Of course, the problem was that there were mice under the tent, and after that point we were both inching away from the rustlings, toward each other, until neither of us had room to move further. So we woke up and tried not to think about squashed mice.

They were gone when we packed up the tent. No sign of mice, squashed or otherwise.

That Time We Took the Shortcut

Since neither of us were looking forward to another 9-hour biking day, we decided to take the aforementioned shortcut. It took us ten minutes to face a confusing stack of signs, all pointing in different directions and none directing us to our desired destination: Karlstadt. We debated, pored over the map, consulted the compass, and looked so lost that after about ten minutes, a jogger asked if we needed help. He pointed us toward Gemuenden and said we'd just bike all along the river.

Skeptical that this was yesterday's long route, we followed his advice. The trail eventually led us to more signs, one of which pointed away from the river and into a forest--toward Weisenfeld, a town on our short-cut. So we went.

That Time We Biked Uphill In a Forest In the Rain

in the forest.

I assumed this forest path would last ten minutes. It lasted longer. It lasted uphill. It lasted through a rainshower. I wasn't crazy enough to attempt riding up the hill; I walked the bike, and instead of my thighs, my calves screamed. This was also when Numa's bike decided that rain was not worth the effort, forcing her to walk up, as well. {Also, stinging plant encounter number three.}

• [after rounding another curve] Um...
• What?
• It keeps going up.
• Please be kidding.
• I'm not kidding.
  

  

  log bridge over a stream, in the forest
  p/c: numa

Granted, the views within the forest were like something out of The Jungle Book, and the views post-climb were kinda worth the agony.

view from the top.

That Time We Lost the Bike Trail

Finally, we coasted about halfway down the hill and finally arrived in Wiesenfeld. We'd made it! We were about halfway through the shortcut to Karlstadt, and it seemed time to rejoice.

Except...the bike trail disappeared. We killed at least thirty minutes in that town looking for it. Oh, there were highway signs to Karlstadt {and the nearer Karlburg}, but no bike signs. Not one. Also, it rained. Again. Have you ever biked up and down a town looking for a bike trail in the rain? I don't necessarily recommend it. Especially if you just finished an unexpectedly long journey through a forest up a hill in the rain.

that elevation. no. just...no.

That Time We Walked 2km On the Highway, In the Rain, Uphill

We decided to take the highway. We didn't have much other option--we had to get home, and we knew this would take us there. The highway was uphill, and we couldn't bike fast enough uphill to keep up with traffic, so we walked. Did I mention it was raining?

We walked that highway for two kilometers. In the rain.

That Time We Attempted Another Bike Trail

And then we saw bike trail signs. A bike trail crossed the highway. Noting the directions, we decided to take one. Yet another gravel road...and then it turned the wrong way. After about a minute on the trail, we called a halt.

• This doesn't feel right.
• No, it doesn't. I don't know where we are. 
• Me neither. I don't know where this is going.
• Me neither. What do we do now?
• I don't know. Do you want a cookie?
• Yes. 

We stopped and had cookies in the rain. And then we went back to our highway.

That Time We Coasted Down 2km, On the Highway, In the Rain, Downhill

At least this time, we were heading downhill.

Maybe not so great, considering the wet roads and the rented bikes.

I won't say much about this for fear of terrifying the parents, but we coasted down 2 kilometers worth of highway in the rain. It was nuts. Not recommended, but it gives a person something to write home about {or not, depending on the condition of one's parents' respective hearts}.

And then we were in Karlburg. Karlburg is just a bit north of Karlstadt, and, like Karlstadt, it is on the Main river. That means it's on the bike trail. We were back on familiar ground. We stopped at a picnic table in Karlstadt for a snack-lunch of Pringles, cookies, dried fruit, crackers, and pretzels. The sun came out.

That Time Our Adventures Weren't Over

We were now retracing our steps from the day before, heading toward Würzburg. There were even signs for our home city! We were in the clear, things were looking up--

It started pouring.

sun and rain. sehr schön.

soaked and having an adventure.

We considered seeking shelter. We decided against it, hoped our phones would stay dry in our backpacks, and kept riding. Other bikers and walkers laughed at us as we raced past their hiding places. We laughed at ourselves. And kept riding.

{We may or may not have missed one sign and decided to bike into a forest. Like...smack dab into a forest. We had to turn around.}

The sun came out before the rain stopped, and I risked my phone to take pictures of the beauty that is rain and sunshine.

That Time We Made It Back

And then we were back in Würzburg. Familiar sights gave way to familiar streets, which gave way to familiar food: döner. We parted ways in the city, and I took my soaking wet self back to my apartment, where I took the best shower of my life and proceeded to drape the Coffee Boss' tent across my tables to dry {which it did}.

And that is the story of the "Bike Trip," the Best Worst Decision Ever.

Distances According to Google:

Day 1: 60.4 km = 37.3 mi

Day 2: 45 km = 28.0 mi

Total: 105 km = 65.3 mi

Of course, it was more than that given the backtracking and turning around. So this is a very conservative estimate.

*I don't think I've mentioned The Coffee Boss before. He's one of my many awesome labmates who always has a smile for me and an invitation to some sort of ep6 social event. We don't interact much in the lab, but I've always been honored by his not forgetting me when it's time to eat or "break." He is called The Coffee Boss because he holds the record for drinking the most coffee in ep6 {we keep track of these things} and thus gets the distinguished honor of drinking from the "Coffee Boss" mug.

Food To Miss

Remember that coffee post where I said I was going to make a food series? Well, the series isn't going to happen, but I've compiled a list of the foods {and drinks} I'm going to miss when I leave Germany:

bratwurst im brötchen.

APFELSCHORLE Every time I drink this, all I can think of is, "Why don't we have this in the States?" At first we described it as carbonated apple juice, but that's actually not an entirely accurate description. Apfelschorle is a mixture of apple juice and mineral water. When you buy it pre-made {like in a bottle}, the ratio is heavy on the apple juice. But when you order it in a restaurant, it's less apple{and better this way}. The first time I mentioned to The Jedi how much I liked it, he told me it was also a favorite of his, but he liked to make it himself so that it wouldn't be too sweet. After trying lots of variations, I agree with him.

BRATWURST This should totally be a given, so I'm just going to say it and leave it at that: German bratwurst rocks every other bratwurst. As it should.

BUTTER The first time I bought butter here--and it was one of the first thing I bought--I was simply trying to stock my refrigerator. The label read Deutsche Markenbutter, which meant very little to me other than the fact that it was, indeed, butter. However, it turned out to the best and creamiest butter ever. {I had had something like it before, once, in Texas. Central Market has a "European Style Butter" available, and it is similar.} I now buy nothing else. Some Googling has informed me that Deutsche Markenbutter is first-class German butter and is required to be produced in a dairy and be made either from milk or directly derived from cream. It must have four out of five stars and be tested every month to make the grade. It. Is. Worth It.

currywurst mit pommes.
{internet photo}

CURRYWURST It's basically just a sausage smothered in ketchup sprinkled liberally with curry. The sausage varies depending on whether you're in Berlin or in the cafeteria. Frequently served with pommes {see below}.

DESSERT This mostly applies to cakes, since they're the dessert of choice and Germans like a lot of them. It's not that they're particularly special--although I think it is worth noting that a larger percentage of Germans seem to be knowledgeable about cake-baking than their American counterparts--it's that they're not particularly sweet. I'm not the biggest fan of most American desserts because they give me a sugar headache after three bites. German desserts understand the value of taste over sugar, and the result is dessert I can actually enjoy. {And yes, those of them that have been to America have negative opinions about the insane amount of sweetener we apply to our desserts.}

DÖNER Also known as a kebab {or a gyro, back in the States}, the prevalence of döner is the result of a huge influx of Turkish immigrants after the second world war. {Germany needed laborers desperately and enacted a visiting worker program that encouraged this.} Now there is döner available on every street--especially in Berlin, but also in Würzburg, and it's the best thing after a long and/or hungry day. So much food in one pocket of bread.

FRUIT & VEGETABLES I'm particularly speaking of the strawberries and tomatoes. When I first arrived in Würzburg, there were strawberries everywhere, in all the stands. I had to try them, and I wasn't disappointed. But then...the tomatoes. Let's talk for a moment about tomatoes in the States. Home-grown tomatoes are red through-and-through, and they taste like heaven. But when you buy them from the grocery store, chances are that they're not deep red on the outside and that their middles are white and dry. {If you've never had home-grown tomatoes and are content with those from the store, I pity you.} Well. The tomatoes from the German grocery stores are as red and juicy and delicious as American home-grown ones. They're so good that Miquela and I would even eat them as-is {the way you eat an apple}. Gonna miss the tomatoes.

ICE CREAM In downtown Würzburg, a person has ample opportunities to eat ice cream. Very thick and creamy ice cream. In a cone. One scoop = one Euro. I'm pretty sure the only place you can get "ice cream" that cheap in the US is the Wendy's dollar menu. Not to mention the flavors...the other night I happened upon a basil-lime ice cream. Yes, yes it was delicious.

MÜSLI Okay, so this breakfast cereal is available in the States. I even have a spectacular recipe for it back home {it's been my staple breakfast for a good four years or so}. But it's been so cool to eat müsli in the country of its invention! What is müsli? It's an oatmeal-based cereal--think granola but untoasted or syruped--with nuts and dried fruits mixed in. Techincally, müsli is simply the German word for cereal, but after the introduction of American breakfast cereals, it now applies only to this kind.

PIZZA German pizza has a different style than in the States {so much so that those of my labmates who have tried American pizza are extremely unimpressed}. The crust is thinner, and the sauce has different spices and flavors. My favorite is the Margarita pizza. It's just a fancy name for a cheese pizza, but it's so tasty that you don't miss the toppings.

POMMES After the United States' loss to Belgium in the World Cup, we were discussing the for-fun attempt of renaming "Belgian waffles" to "Freedom waffles." I commented that there had been similar renaming of "French fries" to "Freedom fries" about ten years ago when there were international policy differences between the US and France. "We don't have that problem," said the Opinionated Romanian. "We just call them pommes."

currywurst mit pommes {done right}.
{internet photo}

Though pommes is technically just the German word for French fries, it's taken on a new meaning within our Albino Squirrel group. Because there's a few differences in the method of eating German French fries compared to American. First off, you must think thick fries...not those thin things you get at McDonald's. Second, not only can you complement them with ketchup, but mayonaisse is perfectly normal {and it's so good}. Third, the ketchup and mayonaisse often {but not always} go on top of the fries...not beside. And fourth, they're eaten with a fork more than half the time. This is pommes, and I'm going to miss it.

PRETZELS Everywhere you go, there is a bakery. And every bakery has pretzels. Good pretzels. Really good pretzels. Really good and warm pretzels. For 0.65EUR. Need I say more?

RADLER A post about German food and drink is not complete without Radler. Someone has to mention it, and since I'm over-age in both the US and Germany, I'll do the honors. Radler is a half-and-half mixture of beer and carbonated lemonade {basically, Sprite}. It's perfect for those of us who aren't particularly fond of beer or its effects {i.e. me}, and I wish the US had a similar low-alcohol-content, non-bitter, beer-like drink. May have to fix that. But Radler is super-popular here; like the apfelschorle, it is acceptable to both buy it pre-made or mix it oneself.

bratwurst und sauerkraut.

SAUERKRAUT Pickles are my favorite food, so it shouldn't come as any surprise that I've become quite a fan of what is basically pickled cabbage. So good, and I might have to figure out how to make my own come Texas-time.

The German Flag

The German flag. You've probably seen more of it than usual due to that, uh, you know, tournament we won. That World Cup thing. :)

I didn't think anything of it. When we arrived in Wuerzburg, the city was already decked out with Schwarz, Rot, Gold! {Black, Red, Gold!}. The first thing I saw out my window was a house sporting a German flag. Coming from a country--and state--that drenches itself in red, white, and blue, I chalked it down to patriotism and pride. Normal.

And then we had an interesting conversation at lunch one day. Someone mentioned that they'd been driving and had seen a house that had covered its entire front with the German flag. The house was the flag. And The Computer Guy* {not to be confused with the IT Guy} commented on how that would never have flown {there's a pun for you, Alex} eight years ago.

Huh?

vs. Algeria
p/c: numa

"Oh no," they told me. "You don't display the flag in Germany. It would look political. Someone would ask you if you were part of the Nationalist Party." {I've had this conversation with two different groups of people, and the reasoning was practically verbatim.}

But what happened eight years ago?

The World Cup was held in Germany in 2006. Germany ended up in third place, which means they played an equal number of games as the championship team. This means they were making headlines for several weeks {trust me, I've lived this}. And according to my labmates, this was when people began to display a cautious appreciation and affinity for the German flag.

Eight years ago.

vs. Argentina

Having these conversations gave me a whole new appreciation for the World Cup. Coming from a sport-filled but soccer-less background, I was enjoying the tournament but had no passion for it. Now I have great respect for this event that, one could say, singlehandedly united a country and gave it back its flag.

vs. Algeria

Because during the World Cup, the flag is everywhere. The colors are worn as accessories--scarves, leis, mustaches, nail polish--and chosen as part of the wardrobe. Flags are painted--or temporarily stuck--onto faces. There are flag-style capes. Or you can just wear the flag as a cape. You can wave little German flags on sticks, or you can hang one from your window. Don't forget the black, red, and gold pennants across your balcony railing!

vs. Argentina

Of course, after the World Cup, everyone puts away the flag. The colors scuttle away, back in a drawer or a closet somewhere. But just wait: in four more years, they'll return. In four more years, schwarz, rot und gold will once again fly.

 * I wish I had a better nickname for him. "He Who Notices That I Don't Speak German" is just a bit...long. But it is consistently the role that The Computer Guy plays. When I'm lost in a German conversation, the odds are that it will be he who notices first. "Guys, Melody doesn't understand what we're saying," he'll tell them {and then I'll blush and everyone will apologize and we'll switch to English}. He is The Computer Guy because he is the other half of our tech department and the one who a) opened up and diagnosed my laptop when it had its troubles, and b) set me up with my own desktop at my desk.

Bonn: The Gummy Bear Expedition

A couple weeks ago, Joseph informed me of the Haribo Gummy Bear Factory in Bonn. So, I googled it. I found a million and one reasons to go. There were yelp reviews, youtube videos, articles, and blog posts. With every single review and picture, I found a new reason to go. I couldn’t come to Germany and not go there. The internet won me over.

yelp review

So two weekends ago, a few of us traveled to Bonn, Germany for the sole reason of visiting the Haribo Factory Store, and it was a magical experience. I don’t think my writing could ever do the store any justice. It’s a good thing that pictures are worth a thousand words.

The Day We Walked to Austria

The trip we took Saturday was my favorite yet. It was also probably the cheapest, believe it or not.

Let me first inform you, because I'm really quite proud of this fact: we walked to Austria.

comparing Neuschwanstein to Disney

We did a bunch of other things, too. The purpose of Saturday’s expedition was actually to visit Neuschwanstein Castle, possibly one of the most famous castles in the world. {You may recognize it from Disney.} We’d planned to go a couple weeks ago as part of the Rothenburg/Bamberg {yes, there will be a post eventually} trip, but tours inside the castle were booked. We planned for another weekend, but those tickets were booked, too. After looking at some mediocre reviews of the 30-minute tour, we agreed that it wasn’t worth the expense and extra scheduling. Instead, we made our plans.

     “I’m going to Neuschwanstein,” I told the Right-Hand Man and the Raman Spectroscopist.
     “Oooh,” said the Raman Spectroscopist. “I’ve never been there.”
     She and the Right-Hand Man informed me that no one thought very highly of the king who had built the castle in the relatively recent 1800s. “No one is quite sure how he died,” the Raman Spectroscopist told me. “He drowned in the lake.”
     “He walked into it,” said the Right-Hand Man. “He was crazy.”
     “Well, no one really knows,” she persisted.
     “He walked into the lake and died,” he repeated.
     “I mean, it could have been suicide, but--”
     “It was. He just walked straight into the lake one day. He was crazy.”
     The Raman Spectroscopist gave up.

Our party to visit this castle consisted of Joseph, Numa, Thomas, Victoria, and myself. We took train and bus for over four hours before arriving in the town of Hohenschwangau {the town at the base of the castle}.

There is more English {and Spanish and Japanese} in this Schwangau than anywhere else in Germany, I’m pretty sure. Even Berlin. This place is overrun with tourists. The last stage of our train trip was so crowded that we sat on the floor in the space between cars. My memory of Hohenschwangau is little more than mobs and mobs and mobs of tourists.

     “I am going to Neuschwanstein,” I told the Opinionated Romanian.
     “Ah, Neuschwanstein,” he said. “You are going to a place in Germany where most Germans have never been.”
     “I’ve noticed,” I told him.
     “Yes, you see, Germany is...” He paused, looking for the right analogy. “Germany is like a bowl of ice cream.”
     “Ice cream.”
     “Ice cream full of chocolate sprinkles, which are castles,” he explained. “And Neuschwanstein is just a more impressive chocolate sprinkle.”

exhibit a: mobs of tourists

Well, to see this impressive chocolate sprinkle, we walked up the hill to the castle {along with, you guessed it, mobs of tourists}. A word of warning for anyone ever considering castle-visiting in the future: castles are built for a reason. The whole goal of a castle is to be as impenetrable and unapproachable as possible. THEY ARE HARD TO APPROACH. It is very quaint and all to think of castles being built on hills, but when it comes to visiting them...ouch. I mean, Neuschwanstein is on a mountain.

So we climbed a hill and arrived at the castle.

And then we turned around.

Our fascination with the castle lasted all of, I don’t know, two minutes. We kept turning around and admiring this:

And this:

And this:

The castle is very nice. Almost too nice and too perfectly...castle-y. It feels plastic. And with all the tourists, one can’t appreciate the beauty or historical significance or anything. Here it stands, the ostentatious castle of a mad king. Now check out those Bavarian Alps.

picnic

We took a different route down the mountain and ate our picnic lunch at the base of a lovely little waterfall. {A waterripple? Ice-cold water trickling down from the mountain.} Then we were off again.

Since Neuschwanstein is quite close to Austria, we’d had a plan to follow a particular road across the border. It was my plan, actually, but now that we were finished with our castle viewing, I was getting worried. We had spent more time approaching the castle than anticipated, and I realized that I hadn’t brought any sort of map or directions with me. {There is no 3G at Neuschwanstein, come to find out.} I didn’t want to take us into Austria without some idea of where we were going.

lake alpsee
photocredit: numa

We went to see {and take pictures by} Lake Alpsee while we considered our predicament. That was where I found the sign. There was the trail to Pinswang, Austria.

check out that turquoise

We took it. Almost immediately, we left the tourists behind and were presented with views of trees, mountains, and beautiful Apline lakes. The lakes. They are the same clear blue as the Caribbean. They are gorgeous. The turquoise waters of Lake Alpsee, surrounded by high and jagged mountains...the beauty I saw Saturday was almost enough to make me cry.

the border!
photocredit: numa

I do not know how long we'd walked our trail through the mountains when we finally crossed the official border {no station, no passports, no one in sight}. We headed for the town of Pinswang, which turned out to be a quiet country town with fields and horses, surrounded by towering mountains. There were flowers everywhere, too. More so than are in Würzburg currently.

en route to pinswang

As we continued walking, I began to worry that we’d miss our transport back into Germany. I was so stressed, in fact, that I ignored the bus stop that would take us back right on schedule! I’m really grateful that the others on the trip noticed my error and called me back from my laser-focused mission to get to the unnecessary train station.

The temperature that day was also about 95 degrees Fahrenheit {have to specify that nowadays}. When we got out of the sun and onto the bus that would take us back to Germany, Joseph said it was “the best money he’d spent all day.” I agreed.

Upon arriving in Fuessen, Germany, we bought more water. At our next train switch, in Augsburg, we bought ice cream. And upon getting on our last train in Treuchtlingen, we fell asleep and didn't wake up until Würzburg {actually, that's not true: we dozed sporadically due to the constant fear of missing our stop}. It was possibly one of the most exhausting days of my life. I mean, we saw the most impressive chocolate sprinkle in Germany,

and we walked to Austria.