Darmstadt

Sorry.  I couldn't come up with a cute title, but now that I have dined I am feeling better about life and am willing to call this a successful day in spite of numerous frustrations.
It all started out smoothly enough with my morning's walk to the Hauptbahnhof--and you readers had just better learn to love it as it will be my daily first destination.  I know how to use the ticket machines, so I was able to get a day pass for my destination.
Darmstadt.  Here it is Sunday.  I was looking for an easy day trip to a pretty place.  I had definite things I wanted to see and then I would be home in plenty of time for the Tour de France--which seriously is going to be A Very Interesting Race This Year.  And it's not that I don't appreciate the Copa Mundial, but it's a game with a ball.  The Tour purges through pity and terror.
I arrived in Darmstadt. I knew what tram or bus line to take to get to where I wanted to go.  I look for signs and tend to trust them.  In this case and in this city, it was a mistake.  I don't know if someone screwed up or it was an act of malice, but the signs sent me to the wrong exit of the train station.  I emerged and saw no bus stops or tram rails.  I walked.  Something told me that this was the wrong way.  I trust my intuition.  Now the best thing would have been to go back to the train station and go out the other side, but I spotted a tram and some bus stops on what looked like a main road and went there.  This was of limited help.  I did not want to go to Berlin.  I wanted the city center of Darmstadt. Well, I am fit enough, and I ended up walking about a kilometer and a half into town--where I found a festival going on.  Fun.  Stands offered food and drink.  Rides and games abounded.  Except I could not find what I came to town to see!  I had a futile detour on the way following another false sign. What!?
By great good luck--for a change--I found the tourist information office and also learned that the museum I especially came for was closed--only a walking tour of the city was leaving in five minutes and the kind ladies at tourist information promised to find me a toilet.  I did not want to waste the day so I signed up.
My guide was pleasant and well informed.  She spoke very good English as well.  This is my problem with tours, and it's mostly to do with me.  I have definite ideas of what I want to see and the knowledge to decide what I find intriguing.  A tour does not cater to my particular interests.  So we spent ten minutes, for example, in front of the first electric power station in Hesse. We visited a Post Modern culture center where scientific lectures occurred from time to time.  I confess I have almost no interest in the pharmacutical giant Merck headquartered nearby.  We saw the outside of the former Hesse-Darmstadt palace and heard some gossip.  I liked the gossip, although compared to the Wittelsbach, the Hesse-Darmstadt lot seem dull.
We ended up climbing to the Mathilde Hohe--something I definitely wanted to see.  And, moreover, the advantage of being on a tour appeared.  Darmstadt is famous for its Jugendstil (Art Nouveau) Artist Colony buildings.  Not only did we view the goodies from the outside, but my guide had the key to one of the original homes now inhabited by the German Society for Literature and Language. Both the exterior and interior were wonderful examples of Jugendstil with curvy lines and organic forms.  I did not want to live there, but I did like being able to experience it.
When we emerged it was hotter and even more humid.  The tour was soon over and my guide bid me a very gracious farewell, and I went off to seek the bus back to the train station.  Since I had forgotten the festival taking up the streets in the center of town, this was the futile action of a complete sap.
Eventually I realized this and proceeded--after having wasted twenty minutes--to a place where I could actually catch public transport.  THAT side of the train station was simply sick with bus and tram lines--yet the signs within--and I did check-- pointed in precisely the opposite direction.  Never mind.  I was desperately dehydrated by this time having walked and stood in hot sun and humid weather.  I got some water and caught the train for home.
For dinner I had some salad and then I cooked some Maltaushen, which is a sort of German ravioli. The kind I bought was overstuffed with spinach and pork.  I dressed them in a most unGerman way with olive oil and garlic.  But DANG! they were good and filling.  To drink I had a crisp, off dry German rose.  During the summer I like rose especially with pasta.  It was Dornfelder/Spatburgunder--not at all expensive and very nice chilled with food.  This sounds like I know what I am talking about.  Ha ha ha ha.
Guten Appetiten!