Judging by my two most recent trips, it would seem that the single most difficult travel post to write and publish is the final one. As high-resolution memories of my time in Germany slowly fade into the more standard, pixelated haze, I find myself subject to frequent pangs of guilt that I have only now come around to collecting the highlights from among my recollections and putting them down here.
Arriving in Germany by way of train was not entirely what I had expected. Deutchland has such a famous reputation for clockwork mechanics and rail systems which are the epitome of punctuality. And yet, our train was late to depart and even later to arrive. My illusions were dashed on the cold steel rails like some unfortunate character in a Tolstoy novel. Surviving this let-down, my parents and I eventually arrived in Munich (Munchen), found our way to an inaptly-named airport hotel, and passed out. Early the next morning, we found our way to the airport and happily waited, and waited, and waited, and greeted my two older sisters and a niece. Thus concluded our time in Munich.
From Munich on, we would be traveling by rental car. Perhaps this was a necessity, as several of our destinations would be difficult or even impossible to reach by public transportation. However, my affinity for traveling by train meant that climbing into the small, unimpressive Fords was not entirely top choice. In any case, we had a bit of fun on the open autobahn.
Next on the list: Fussen, which is situated at the foot of the Alps, just near the Austrian border. This town, while quaint and pleasant in itself, served as the staging ground for a rainy visit to
Neischwanstein Palace -- more commonly known as the "sleeping beauty" castle, as it was the inspiration of the popular Disney model of a romantic palace. The story behind this particular palace is interesting and (at time) almost comical. As one tour guide pointed out, while the 19th-century constructor, Ludwig III, had wanted to build an "authentic Medieval castle", he chose a site which would require the destruction of one of the most significant examples of Medieval fortresses. While in the area, we also toured the nearby (and much more authentic)
Hohenschangau Castle.
From Fussen, we traveled on to Rothenberg. This small, walled town features a well-preserved structures and cobblestone streets, thanks largely to a mutual dislike for needless destruction between two opposing figures near the end of World War II. As the story goes, the town had been selected as a final stronghold by one of Hitler's dwindling generals. Like all other Nazi generals near the end of the war, he had been ordered not to surrender, and planned to take the whole city of Rothenberg down with him before allowing the approaching Allied troops to pass. Speculation would suggest that his subordinates were not entirely in accord with this suicidal plan. On the other side of the line, American generals had given orders to begin bombing the town in anticipation of an attack. Back in Washington, an official in the State Department with some sway came across the orders, and immediately recognized the name of a town his mother had always said was the most beautiful town she had ever seen. Picking up the phone, he made some calls and had the American commander delay the bombers, and offer the besieged Nazi troops a chance to surrender, even though it would likely be turned down by the so-ordered general. To their surprise, they received a positive response. Apparently, the general had left town for a couple days, and officer left in charge possessed enough sentimentality, common sense, or both to see a good opportunity in front of him. Tada! Rothenberg thus survived relatively unscathed. The old city walls, gate houses, and ramparts are largely intact and completely open to the public.
The next day, we made our way down to Wiernsheim, a tiny village near Stuttgart, or no particular interest to most tourists. To my family, it holds certain significance, as it is the town from which our Zundel ancestor emigrated to the United States. Despite the fact that it was a weekday, most of the town was quiet and inactive. A few people could be seen around the grocery store and a small ice creamery, but the rest of the streets and sidewalks were left largely alone. We wandered around the few streets, took pictures of a few Zundel signs, and eventually tracked down a few houses that belonged to or were built by Zundels before my ancestors left for a new world. Speaking with people was fairly difficult, as none of us spoke German and there was little demand for them to know English. Luckily, we communicated our random purpose to an oldish man in his garden, and he immediately got on the phone to call Rainer Zundel, a local English teacher. Within no time, we were all chatting with this man of common ancestry about the village and Zundel history.
It was also in Wiernsheim that my good friend Sebastian (whom I met while he was engaged in research studies in Portland a while back) came to catch up on lost time. He returned to Germany at about the same time that I left the States for Moldova, and we were mutually appreciative of a familiar and knowing face from our beloved Portland days. Heh heh...
While there is a hotel in Wiernsheim, it was unbeknownst to us when we made these travel arrangements. In dumping rain and rapidly dimming light, we booked it north to Hiedelberg. Forgive me if the spelling is incorrect on this. We arrived late a night and left early the next morning, so my only real memories of this town are blurred views of bridges crossing a beautiful, night-lit river, u-turns, and glimpses of what I later learned is one of the great attractions of Germany. I'll have to check that rumor out during another trip, I guess.
Our final stops were in Cochem and Bacharach, which lie on the Mosel and Rhine rivers, respectively. Both of these small towns were relaxed and hospitable in their character, and we made use of this comfortable air to enjoy the final few days together. This last leg of the trip included most of my immediate family, absent only my younger sister and my older sister's husband and son. Still, it was a wonderful opportunity for me to connect once again with the people I love, as we gently and curiously explored the nooks and crannies of these old German towns and the rivers to which they bring life.
In conclusion, I very much enjoyed my journey from Moldova to Germany. It was fascinating to have such an unusual opportunity to witness, first-hand, so many amazing places in Central Europe. Describing this trip to friends and colleagues, I would later describe it as highly stressful, not very relaxing, but altogether interesting and much appreciated. If we had traveled to only one or two of those stops along the way, or a thousand more, it would still have been pleasant for me primarily because I had the opportunity to see and be with my family again.
Thus, the Whistlestop Wanderjahr comes to an end. What will come next?
