Grandma's Musings

Germany Trip

March 19, 2007
Dear Family,
I am still trying to get over jet lag, which is probably a good time to commit to writing the memories of our trip to Germany. As always, you are under no obligation to read it, and it will definitely be more detail than you are interested in.

We began the trip on Friday, March 2. After hustling to get ready we emerged at 5:30 a.m. to find Jonathan waiting on the landing, fully dressed, SMILING, and ready to drive us to the airport. We had to return to get the camera after going up the hill past Decagon, but otherwise got off without difficulty. It was so nice to be able to leave from Pullman. We had a long layover in Seattle, and were enjoying sitting in front of the huge, bright window in the center by the food court when Bryan found us. He had had problems getting back from his trip to Chicago, had to lay over in Seattle, and in typical style hunted us down. He and Dad had a quick and thorough conference before he had to catch his plane for home. Sadly Dad lost his Cabela multi-tool-flashlight at security. Our 9.5 hour flight was on a new Airbus plane that had small TV sets in the backs of the seats. Being able to choose a couple of movies to watch really helped hurry the trip along. I had wanted to see “Happy Feet,” so was pleased it was on the menu, but found it banal, so switched to an old “Jane Eyre” instead, which wasn’t. We had just an hour to change planes in Amsterdam, so raced through the airport, chafing at the delay of passport screening and yet another security check, and were thoroughly overheated but relieved to arrive at our gate with 20 min. or so to spare. The plane to Frankfurt was called a “cityhopper,” and was true to its name. We landed there in 2001 when we and Gillian met Ron and Mary Jean for our last German trip, and it was a bit surreal to be standing at the same Alamo desk in the same jet-lagged fog. We rented a small Opel station wagon, which had a bit of a rough ride but was otherwise perfect for our needs. We were on the road by 11:00 a.m. Saturday, heading for Rothenburg on the autobahn (we used autobahns as much as we could throughout our trip, and they really made the miles fly). We bought an excellent road atlas, which was worth its price many times over as we explored and hunted for hotels. Rothenburg was recommended by Rick Steves as THE medieval German town to see. We chose to go there because it was near Ansbach, where Dad had served on his mission. He looked it up on the internet and found that there was now a ward, so wanted to go to church there. R-burg was as wonderful as Rick said. We audaciously drove inside the walled city through a gate marked “nur fur hotel gasts,” hoping that would soon be the case, and found a place to park. The weather was cold with intermittent rain and an icy wind. It was a picturesque village with most of its medieval charm intact, if one could ignore the plethora of shops in place to accommodate the tourist trade. Using Rick’s map, we were able to find “Gasthof Goldener Greifen” just off the main square, a quaint hotel with a restaurant on the ground floor. We knew when we walked in that we wanted to stay for dinner as well as spend the night. We could see the family busily cooking, and the smells were delicious.

GGG had parking, so we moved the car to their back yard, finding our way through the narrow streets (using a good map from the frau) after

Mom in Rothenburg Sun. morning

only 3 tries. The hotel maintained the look of being probably 300-400 years old. There were exposed beams in our room, lots of nice woodwork, but also modern conveniences tucked in. Dad was delighted to find real federdeckes on the beds. We dressed as warmly as we could and, umbrellas in hand, set out to see the town. The temptation to duck into shops was enormous because of the biting wind. It was too early in the trip to buy souvenirs, so we felt a little guilty, but it saved us from freezing. Some dough balls called “schneeballen” are a local treat, so we bought one, and it was as unappealing as Rick had said it would be. When we could stand the freezing and ducking no longer, we returned to the hotel and ordered “schwein haxe mit rotkohl und kartoffel kloesse,” which was the special of the day. I must say right here that Dad could almost read the menus, but there were always surprises unless he asked the waitresses. Dad used

Dad with Rothenburg gate and tower

his German lots more on this trip than last; for some reason people were less likely to assume that their English was better than his German. Anyway, when our supper came we each had a huge pork drumstick! Think chicken, but about 10” long and 6” in diameter. I have thought since that we would have matched the setting had we picked them up by the handle and eaten them that way, but we just worked away with knife and fork. Everything was delicious, especially the rotkohl, which Dad loves anyway, but it was so good he asked the frau how to make it, and she happily explained. Dad got through most of his drumstick, but it was entirely too much meat for me. We dressed up again and went into the town square to see the 8:00 striking of the clock, which included some doors opening and some figures. It kept us up a bit longer (to help with jet lag), but was otherwise not worth it. We read guidebooks and plotted on maps for awhile before collapsing into bed. Unfortunately, beds on the trip were twins pushed together, with a feather tick for each of us, and ranged from very firm to downright hard.

Sun. March 4 we arose early so we could make it to Ansbach in time for church. We had arranged for Ceci to be our contact, so called her every morning on the Deca-cell to check in, which calls came to her right before bedtime. It was nice to start each day with a report and reassurance. That morning and every morning we were treated to breakfast in our hotel. This one took place in a sunny breakfast room, and consisted of a plate of meat and cheese, yogurt, soft boiled egg, hot chocolate, orange juice, yummy rolls of various sorts, jam, butter, cream cheese, etc. This was repeated every day of our stay, with the larger hotels adding scrambled eggs, sausage or bacon, muesli and other cereal, etc. And of course we ate heartily, sure that we then wouldn’t need to buy so much lunch. We drove to Ansbach and found the church without much trouble, at which Dad is so good. It turned out that there is a ward there because a U.S. base is nearby, and I would guess that ¾ of the members are American. They do everything bilingually, with an interpreter taking turns with the speaker. That seems a bit awkward to me, and cuts in half what can be said, of course. Most of the interpretation was done by an Elder Della Corte from western Germany, who Dad said spoke such excellent German that his translations were better than the English he heard. We talked with him afterward, and learned that he is a convert whose family is getting interested. Everyone was very friendly. We spoke to the bishop, too, who is a judge by profession (as well as by church calling, I guess). He is also bilingual, having spent some years in Canada with his family before returning to Germany. He found someone who would be driving to the city center for us to follow because Dad wanted to see where he had lived and look around downtown. He was only in Ansbach for a month, but that is where Olga Kraut and her mother joined the church along with some others. We did find his apartment, and took his picture at the door. We then parked and walked around the old city center. People were out window shopping and eating in sidewalk cafes. It was a bit warmer than the previous day, or at least there was no wind or rain, but we were glad to be well wrapped up. We had some ice cream, and buns from a bakery. We tried to find where the Krauts had lived, without success. We then drove quite a ways to Coburg because Dad wanted some bratwurst! Sure enough, there was the same stand serving the delicious wurst roasted on the pinecone fire.

One filled me up, but Dad needed two! We

Mom with Bratwurst

walked to the chapel that Dad had helped build, and took more pictures. It seemed to be better kept than it was in ’01, and we hope the branch is prospering. It was dark by the time we got back on the road, which made us want to find a hotel. We happened upon a small gasthof (I think we were the only guests) at a crossroads near Kronach, and spent a pleasant evening reading “The Rise and Fall of the Third Reich.” I read this aloud while we were on the autobahns as well as in the evenings in our hotels, and we got about ¼ of the way through it (almost 400 pages of tiny type) during the trip. It gave us a

lot to think and talk about and made us more interested in the geography.

Mon. March 5: Though the room and hotel were quite simple, the dining room was richly decorated, and we had our breakfast on bone china! We made our way through the

Dad in Coburg w/ world's best bratwurst

countryside to the relevant autobahn and headed for Gorlitz on the Polish border, another destination recommended by Rick Steves. We were moving along trying to avoid the solid line of trucks in the outside lane and keep from being smashed by the big Mercedes’ going 100 mph in the inside lane when the situation became a bit strange. Dad noticed that everyone seemed to be slowing down and getting into the outside lane, but couldn’t see why, so he kept on in the center lane until we were hailed by a policeman in the middle of the road, who gestured for us to pull off into a lay-by. By this time, the outside lane had come to a stop and we could see that there was a roadblock. A policeman asked Dad for his license, the car title, etc., then returned and wanted Dad to come with him. We were really glad Dad

could speak and understand German. I wasn’t very frightened as I waited for the 10 min. or so that he was gone, but surely wondered what was up. Turns out we should have slowed down and gotten in the far right

Dad at Coburg chapel

lane, which Dad didn’t pick up on, so we were both speeding and in the wrong place. He was just warned, since we were tourists, and says that the policeman was respectful and polite, for which he was grateful. We had determined that we wanted to see the Bastei, a national park on the Elbe River near Dresden. “Located on dramatic stone outcrops 305 m. above the river, the Bastei commands unparalleled views of the surrounding forests and mountains,” says the “Lonely Planet” guidebook. We were lucky to be there out of season, because if the huge parking lots had been filled, all the people would not have been able to fit onto the bridges that connect the towering granite (?) spires (rather like Bryce Canyon but bigger and more substantial) that have been eroded out of the hillside. We enjoyed walking on the wooden bridges connecting the rock formations and looking down at the Elbe R. far below as a passenger boat went from one tiny village to another. We did not enjoy the cold wind and occasional raindrops. It was well after noon when we left, and though we went through some towns, we couldn’t find a bakery or any place to eat. When we finally came to a restaurant, we sprang for a whole meal—mine schnitzel and Dad’s wurst—which we happily devoured. We went on to Gorlitz, found a place to park in the center of the old town, and located the Hotel Bon Apart (!) recommended by Rick. It was dark by the time we were settled, so we walked down through the town to the River Neiss, then climbed back up a cobbled street to Rick’s restaurant, Die Destille, which serves Silesian (German/Polish/Czech) food and has a Jewish ritual bath in the cellar (which we didn’t get to see). I got the recommended dish, Schlessiches Himmelreich—pork medallions with dried fruit in cream sauce, which was delicious. Dad chose the dish that included rot kraut and kloesse. We stopped by the tourist info place on the walk back and got advice and a good map of the city. Our room had rather crazy décor including large gilt plastic cherubs perched on the wardrobes and a bed with a square canopy frame looped with plaid fabric and a purple velvet spread.
Since I have covered only 3 days in 3 pages, this is probably going to be a long account. Maybe you would like to have it chewable installments. So here’s the first. Love, Mom