The Wonders of Wurzburg

Last year I gazed longingly at notices for Wurzburg.  It sounded like a terrific destination, but it was too far and complicated from Munich.  Technically Wurzburg is in Bavaria.  Even more technically it's in Franconia which is part of Bavaria now, but for one reason and another the city is more easily accessed from Frankfurt. So that's where I went today--a long, expensive journey--but so worth it.
I set out early, and this time had to buy my ticket from the ticket desk, I not having the right combination of bills for the machine.  But I got a train right away--one of those sleek Intercity Expresses whose ultimate destination was Vienna--an eight hour trip in case you were wondering.  I got off rather sooner.
Wurzburg does not appear to be sign posted, but I set off in what I thought was a good direction and ended up at the Residenz.  This is the new palace of the Prince-Bishops of Wurzburg.  For most of its history, right up until the end of the nineteenth century, Germany was what historians call a splintered state with a weak central government and a proliferation of duchies, counties, bishoprics, and free imperial cities all with their courts and palaces many in imitation of Louis XIV's Versailles. Wurzburg is one of the most splendid.
Designed by Balthasar Neumann, it ranks up there with Schonbrunn and Nymphenburg.  Fortunately I'd got my energy back and was happy to wander around the enchanting Hofgarten before taking the English tour of the palace.  These are infrequent, but it is worth trying to schedule.  For one thing tours take one to parts of the palace closed to those not on a tour, so even if you can't get on the English tour take the one in German and just gawk.
And there is plenty to gawk at.  Marble, the most elaborate Rococo stucco work I have ever seen, gilt, marvelous ceiling frescoes by Tiepolo, an incredible tapestry series on the Life of Alexander the Great, plus the usual furniture and paintings.  I can't point to a highlight.  It was all a highlight!  After the tour I wandered the north wing which was not included on the tour.
Then I wandered the town and visited the market.  I found the tourist information office and turned my nose up at overpriced postcards.  I ate some gelato--mmm hazelnut!
Now that might be enough for one day, but I had another target.  The original home of the Prince-Bishops was the Festung Marian or Marian Fortress high above the Main.  It was only after things had settled down in the eighteenth century that the Prince-Bishops felt they could move.  Uh.  No one anticipated the French Revolution.
I did not want to walk and so went back to the Resideniz to pick up the bus that would take me up that steep hill.  It was quite a harrowing ride, with us having to back up to let other buses and trucks go by on the narrow roads and then we squeezed through a couple of stone arches.
The castle is actually not very fortress-like and the battlements were closed off, so I got no panoramic views of the city.  But I did enjoy the museum.  There's a lovely collection of porcelain and pottery from the Hallstatt culture of the Celts before the Germans arrived on scene.  The heart of the museum as far as I was concerned was a marvelous exhibit of the Late Medieval wood carvings of Tilman Riemenschneider.  Apart from the amazing skill and detail, is the beautiful expression of piety he conveys.
So by that time it was hot and humid, and I was worn out.  I'd missed the bus down, so I decided to walk back to the train station.  Ha!  Mostly down hill--rather steep, and I had to recross the Main, but after all it was a pretty easy walk.
The train ride back was slow and long.  We went through gorgeous countryside of wooded hills, but we made about twenty stops as well.  I arrived home tired and hungry--but satisfied with my day out.

A Sunny Day in Frankfurt

Weltmeister.  That's the word I see displayed everywhere in great pride.  Congratulations to my host country Germany--winners of the World Cup.
I have been touristing hard, and it's caught up with me.  Truth to tell I am tired--genuinely physically tired.  Now if I had known, I would have had an easier day yesterday, and taken advantage of the sun to go to Fulda today, but feeling as I do, I decided that I had better give myself a fairly easy time of it.  There's a Tour de France rest day tomorrow, and I have plans for a major day of touristing. Stay tuned.
Today, I did set out.  I got myself a day pass for public transportation and took the S Bahn out to the town center.  I strolled down the Zeil pedestrianized street licking windows--well, not literally.   Lecher le vitrine--to lick the window--is a slang term for window shopping, I not being able to afford even if I wanted them--which actually I don't--the things displayed in said windows given the expense of this trip.  I revisited the Klein Markt and was far more tempted by the goods on display there.  One popular product appears to be artesianal pasta.  The tortelone looked good, but I am going to stick to Maultachen.  I also gazed longingly at a cheese counter featuring some lovely French cheeses (and it is Bastille Day!) that I love but cannot obtain at home.  Nevertheless, I turned away.  I'll return to Paris someday and eat them all then.
The fruit and vegetables are so brilliantly colored by expert cultivation and display as to look almost jewel like.
I made my way to the Romer and checked out touristy shops.  I like to do some birthday and Christmas shopping for some non-blog readers, but I don't think any of my friends would have any uses for beer steins or cuckoo clocks.  I refuse to give people "souvenirs."  I want to give something people can use or wear.  I'll just have to keep looking.
I crossed the Main by the Iron Bridge and paused midway to watch the water.  People who live in well-watered places will find my fascination with rivers mystifying, but freely flowing water is like a miracle to me, and I love to watch it.  I headed for Sachsenhausen, a old quarter of Frankfurt that largely escaped the destruction of the War.  It's a pretty district with handsome nineteenth century buildings and tree lined avenues.  I ended up walking quite a bit and began to feel the fatigue.
I thought it would be fun to take a tram, so I found a spot and a tram and boarded.  And it was fun!
I alighted at the Hauptbahnhof and walked around the nearby streets--carefully avoiding the ones advertising sex shows.  But I was really tired by then, so I stopped by my favorite Imbiss for--frankfurters!  And then I went home, dumped my stuff and attended the shopping center across the street.  Before going to the grocery store I took the elevator up to the roof garden and walked around and enjoyed the view.  It was pleasant and breezy.
After getting my groceries, I came home and washed my hair and collapsed.  Now I am enjoying the Tour de France, which is shaping up to be a great race.  I have no idea who will end up in the Yellow Jersey.
Dinner consists of the frankfurters eaten properly sliced with a fork and mustard and accompanied by some red cabbage.  I have some more Bitburger beer along with it.  At home I turn my little pink nose up at pork and especially sausages, but here they are so good!  It's nice to have a German meal to celebrate Weltmeisterheit!

A Rainy Day at Fulda

What to do on a rainy Sunday?  I supposed I could have bagged the blog and stayed home with green tea and kindle, but I get restless, and I need to do something--you know--historical.  I had to go somewhere, and in this weather I was not at all interested in changing trains.  But a destination beckoned, one with deep historical resonance--to me any way.

The train ride was longer than I like usually.  I mean I like train rides.  I don't like spending most of my day riding trains.  Frankfurt Hauptbahnhof offers wonderful destinations.  I could go to Berlin, or Hamburg, Brussels, Amsterdam (and ooh was I tempted!), and even Paris.  But, yeah, Fulda, a place most people have never heard of, but which means a great deal to me.

And now that I have been there--it means even more.  I adored Fulda--even in the bucketing rain!  I was only sorry that I was not staying there and lacked the time to appreciate the place properly, and I am saying this apart from the history.  Fulda is not on the American tourists' itinerary, and I say what a shame because the historic center is beautiful and charming, yes, even in a downpour. But first let's have some history.

Because there is a LOT of history. Boniface--that's St. Boniface to you--is called the Apostle to the Germans.  He was an Englishman whose family converted as a result of the mission of St. Augustine of Canterbury, and Boniface longed to spread the good news.  Fulda was an early foundation of the Benedictine Order by one of Boniface's disciples.  The saint's body was brought to the monastery after his martyrdom among the Frisians.
But the modern city shows little evidence of that early history.  Oh yes.  There's an old wall here and there, but never mind.  Come anyway.
The city center is easily walkable and pedestrianized.  I suppose my experience as a traveler gives me an instinct because I found the tourist information office easily enough, and it is very close to the historic sites I wished to see.  A clump of tourists sheltered from the driving rain outside the office, but I had an umbrella, stout shoes, the will to tourist. First of all I went to the Schloss or Stadtmusuem.  I was glad to get out of the rain and use the toilet, but I also appreciated the building and the period rooms.  The highlight for me was the Gobelins tapestries in one of the rooms.  I also gazed longingly at the beautiful Schlossgarten.  I'd put my umbrella away, and it was still pouring. Later when the rain slowed down I was able to explore a little.
My next stop was the Cathedral--a Baroque masterpiece all marble and gilt.  Then I went to the Michaelskirche, which had been advertised in my guide book as Romanesque.  I love me some Romanesque, reminding myself of Judith Starkadder and her (transferred) love of "olt churches," but this one was even better.  Not Romanesque at all but Carolingian!  St. Michaels was built in  832 on a plan I'd never seen before.  There was a short nave and then a central plan with the altar in the middle under a dome and a colonnaded ambulatory all around.  A few faint original frescos adorned the walls.  What a gem!
I spent most of my time just walking around admiring the town.  The historical center boasts a variety of buildings from different periods including half-timbered structures as well as those from the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries.  On my way back to the train station, I pulled out my map to check my position.  A Fuldan noticed this and asked what I was looking for.  When I replied, he gave me directions--auf Deutsche--which I mostly understood.  I mention this as another instance of the kindness of the German people to visitors.

German Country Life

Each time I manage to croak out a phrase in badly accented German, I receive cordial complements on my excellent command of the language.  I perceive there is a European-wide conspiracy to give Americans--notoriously monolingual--some positive reenforcement for any effort no matter how feeble.  The last word accurately describing my assays into Deutsche. But the same thing happened in France.
Because it's Saturday, the Hessenpark, an open air museum of the sort I find irresistible, was easily accessible by public transportation.  I confidently set out and arrived in good time at the train station only to find an odd message on the display.  I did not think it applied to me or my destination, and folks were waiting on the platform.  So I waited, too.  I expected to make a connection and catch a bus to the Hessenpark.  I waited.  Nichts.  More waiting und mehr Nichts!  Maybe the notice applied to me after all!  At any rate I knew I would miss my bus, but this blow was softened by the knowledge that buses ran more frequently on this route on weekends.
I proceeded to a new platform, and there was my train ready and waiting.  We arrived in Bad Homburg far too early for me to catch my bus, but that was all right.  I strolled around the Kurpark admiring the fountains and actually wishing I had more time to explore.  The bus arrived, and I had a pleasant ride through beautiful countryside.  Germany is beautiful, you know.  The only concern was a sudden rain squall, but that soon passed.
Although I was the only passenger for Hessenpark on the bus, the park is obviously a popular sight--deservedly.  Truth to tell I wore myself out wandering the lanes and woodland and poking around the reconstructed buildings.  As much as I love castles, palaces, and the artifacts of high life, my heart belongs to the remains of everyday life.  Don't misunderstand me.  I do not long for the days without indoor plumbing or modern medical care.  But Europe often reminds me of a quieter, slower time when the car was not king, and towns were built with people and their capacities in mind.
The Hessenpark is lovely, and one can go into most of the buildings, and many of them have exhibits. Craftspeople on site give demonstrations and are happy to answer questions--if you are fluent in German, which (cough) some of us are not.
I know I would not want to live on a farm.  I am not especially fond of hard physical labor, and I hate barnyard smells.  On the other hand I enjoy seeing the animals--just so long as you don't ask me to muck out their stalls.  Pigs for example.  They stink!  There was a sow with her litter of piglets which were allowed to wander loose.  I got to pet one!  Piglets are so cute and precious. It's rather a shame they grow up to be so tasty. But as I petted the piglet I said to myself, "no sausage tonight."  So for dinner I had nuts and I also cooked some potatoes--impeccably vegan.  But tomorrow back to omni.
One can find touristy shops and places to eat, and the park also has a lot of picnic areas, and if I ever returned here with a friend or a group, a picnic would figure into the plans.  The park is also evidently a popular place for weddings.  As I was leaving I passed a wedding party posing for their post-ceremony pictures.

A Good Day for Worms

The day dawned sunny and bright, and I thought I could go further afield.  To Worms in fact.

When I was in junior high--the old version of Middle School--and we had history, there were references to something called the Diet of Worms.  It sounded disgusting, and it also made no sense whatsoever.  The text books did not bother, and the teachers probably couldn't explain that Worms (let's pronounce if auf Deutsch as vourms) was a town and "diet" in this case meant parliament. Martin Luther taking a stand there would have suddenly snapped into place.
I left early and stopped to buy some stamps.  The service desk at the post office is always packed, but there is a machine, the only problem being that one needs exact change.  The machine does give change--in stamps not coins.  Oh well.  This time I had exact change.
I got my ticket, and I knew what time the train left, but I also thought I'd have to change trains, and the Deutsche Bahn website was no help about that at all.  Neither was the ticket machine although it did helpfully print out a return schedule.  Fortunately the nice man at the information desk, not only explained it to me, but gave me a print out about my outward journey.  Next time I'll ask about the return journey as well.
I hate changing trains.  I come all over anxious even though I have done it many times before and always successfully.  Still I experience the fear that I will miss my connection or somehow get on the wrong train.  I shared my carriage with a big group of elderly Germans clearly on a an excursion. When the conductor came around he assumed I was with the group and was not going to check my ticket, but I held it out anyway.  He took it and shook his head and said something incomprehensible. What now?  The guy at the Deutsche Bahn information desk thought my ticket was all right and told me to take this very train.  I began to explain I was a tourist, etc, when my kindly seatmates, seeing my expression said, "Er macht Ihr spass."  Oh.  A joke.  I smiled and nodded.  Only if one does not speak the language, it's hard getting the joke--whatever it was.
One of the women tried to engage me in conversation.  She was awfully nice, too, but it must have been like speaking to an unusually inarticulate toddler.  Also we had to make a connection but our train was late.  My anxiety blossomed even more.  As it happened they held the other train for us and a few minutes later we pulled into Worms.
Worms is a charming town.  I found a pedestrian street and took a leisurely stroll around passing the Luther Memorial before finding the Tourist Information Office.  The town is well sign posted, and rarely had recourse to my map.
My first stop could not have been missed at any rate.  Many cities in Southern Germany boast a Kaiser Dom or Imperial Cathedral.  The one at Worms is dedicated to St. Peter and is huge and glorious Romanesque pile.  I wandered down the aisles and nave simply transfixed by the building and the wonderful deep relief carvings in the aisles and chapels.
I strolled around some more seeking out the city museum.  The collection includes some Neolithic Celtic pottery, but I was astounded at the exhibit of Roman and Medieval glassware.  It was produced locally, and I have never seen a better collection.  I also enjoyed the Germanic jewelry.  Truth to tell I share the barbarian taste.
Eventually I made my way back to the train station.  I knew--or so I thought--when my train would come, but I could find no mention of the transfer point on the displays or posted schedules.  I once again resorted to the information desk, and once again received solid information and a print out.  I found and boarded the train that would take me to a point--a different one this time--where I could catch the S Bahn home.
Except the train was late!  And those of us counting on a connection missed it.  Fine.  We had to wait half an hour, but hanging around on train platforms has never been my favorite thing.  One of the stranded passengers was a Deutsche Bahn guy, who got out his cell phone immediately and had a heated discussion with someone on the other end.
By that time I was worn out, but even when our S Bahn came, we still faced delays.  Several times we had to stop in the middle of no where to let more important trains go by.  When we got held up just outside Frankfurt Hauptbahnhof for no discernible reason, it just got to be funny.
Anyway I am home and fed now and a good thing, too.  The sky has turned dark gray, and it looks like it's coming on again to rain.

Standing at the Edge of Empire

This part of Germany was part of the Roman Empire for hundreds of years.  The vineyards tell the tale in large part.  Where Romans settled they planted vines and imported olive oil and garum, but not so very far north of here, the Empire reached its limit, and Legions, spread so thin, rarely breached the threatening forests beyond the Taunus Hills.
It looked like the rain would hold off, and I needed an easy day after a hard week of touristing, so I decided to return to Bad Homburg and go on to the Roman Fortress Museum at Saalberg.  Getting there was an easy enough process, but needed some precise timing.  I left here in good time and arrived at the train station intending first to buy some stamps.  But there was a huge crowd at the service counter and the machine would give change for stamp purchases only in more stamps.  Not on.  Then I found out the ticket machines for the S Bahn refused any Euro notes larger than ten.  I did not think I had the coins to buy the ticket and despaired for the train would arrive very shortly.  But after all I did have the Euro coins, and all was well.  Until the announcement came that the train would be late.
This is not a very common occurrence on German public transportation, but that morning--and I don't know why--one train after another arrived and departed late.  It wasn't the weather.  Now I began to fret.  I needed to catch a particular bus to Saalberg because they did not run very often.  It all worked out, however.  The S Bahn arrived in Bad Homburg with a few minutes to spare for me to find the bus stop and hop on board.
I had a pleasant ride through the town and into the heavily forested Taunus Hills.  Usually I am anxious on busses, but the stops were prominently displayed, so I had no doubts about where to get off.
The only downside of arriving at Saalberg Roman Fort was having to share the site with about three school tours--Middle School by the looks and behaviour of them!
The site is not large, but it is surprisingly lovely, and there is a reconstructed wall and buildings and displays in both German and English.  The museum holds a fascinating collection of figurines, jewelry, tools, and weapons.  I enjoyed wandering around and even got in a couple of woodland walks.
When I was finished with the fortress, I left to walk about half a kilometer north to the actual Limes,  I passed Roman stonework, and an elaborate system of earthworks sitting among the trees.  I walked down hill to find the largest earthworks, and the notice that this was the Limes--the northernmost limit of Roman power.  I have a taste for such places--although I confess they don't look like much.  Hadrian's Wall is hardly knee high now, and I would have missed the Antonine Wall--built of earth--if there had not been a sign.  I climbed to the top of the Limes earthwork.  The trees grew so thickly I wondered how the legions could guard the border of the Empire in such a spot.  I also reflected that the Germans, although fierce in their way, were not the ultimate in barbarians.  Many Germans became Romanized, and they easily converted to Christianity as well.  For Really Horrid Barbarians, one needed to go further north.
On the way home I shared my S Bahn seat with a German businessman who talked the whole way on his cell phone.  He was one of those people who never have to inhale so can keep talking and talking for half an hour at a time.  I caught a few words here and there.  Clearly he was talking about some big business deal involving finances and capital, but at one point he used the term--in English and a flawless American accent "an extreme pain in the ass."  I had to turn away and cover my mouth to hide my laughter.
On the bus back to Bad Homburg and on the S Bahn I saw wonderful views of the Frankfurt skyline. Mainhattan indeed!

There's a Hat Named After it

First of all Congratulations to my host country, Germany for their stunning victory over Brazil--although one needs to sympathize with the Brazilians over their loss in their home country after putting on such a party.
I am officially over my jet lag, but sleeping late meant getting out late--in the rain.  When one travels in Europe one must assume rainy days will occur, and since I did not experience them last summer in Munich, and since at home we experienced a thirsty Year Without a Winter, I was over due.  So I took the S Bahn out to Bad Homburg.
The element Bad in the name indicates hot springs, and this lovely town in the Taunus Hills became one of the favorite resorts of King Edward VII of Great Britain.  I don't have much opinion of him as a person, but apparently he could turn on the charm as needed and did some good diplomacy, most importantly getting Britain and France to be chums after centuries of enmity.  Also there's his favorite hat named after guess where.
As I emerged from the train station it poured buckets, but as it was not windy or especially cold, I carried on.  I saw no signs, but I did see some historic looking towers in the middle distance.  I decided to head for those using main roads, so I wouldn't get too lost.  As I proceeded up hill I also noticed a sign for a major German department store usually to be found in town centers, which confirmed my plans.  I turned onto a pedestrian street with a name I recognized.
I stopped into the department store to get some perfume.  I enjoy smelling expensive and some Chanel was set out for sampling.  I chose "Chance."  I also used the toilet--for free!  I could hardly believe my luck.  Moreover, I found a branch of the bank whose ATM--Geldautomatic in German--I use.  They are partners with my bank back home, and I hate paying ATM fees.  So I got some cash and proceeding finding much scope for window licking in the elegant shops.  Fortunately I was not in a hurry.
I found Tourist Information where the nice young man at the counter supplied me with maps and brouchers about historic attractions in the area and also gave me a bus schedule and explained it for me.  I am coming back to Bad Homburg probably twice as there are good goodies not suitable for rainy days nearby.
I strolled through the historic center.  Bad Homburg is a lovely town.  I found the castle gardens and plunged in.  Now walking in parkland on a gloomy, rainy day is not the best way to experience it, but I still enjoyed myself.  On sunny weekends I would guess the paths would be crowded, but I had the trees, lakes, and streams largely to myself.  How I reveled in the greeny gorgeousness.  This is what I come to Europe for!
After a thorough exploration, I headed back up into the town and strolled slowly back to the train station licking windows as I went.  I got the S Bahn back to Frankfurt sharing my car with some teenage girls singing Bruno Mars songs in English.
On my way home I took the short cut I'd discovered through the giant shopping mall across the street. On impulse despite my fatigue I decided to explore the mall.  Most of the stores are clothing chains and not that interesting, but they have an international food court that would not disgrace California and some intriguing gourmet shops.  But then fatigue had really set in, so I came home to share it all with you.
Dinner is potato noodles.  I had no idea such a thing existed, but now that I have tasted some--well. Of course!  I just pulled a package off the grocery store shelf.  I knew the word for noodles, and these looked interesting.  I expected that I'd have to boil them, but no, they get fried in olive oil because that's what I had.  I doused them with that grune soss.  Ha! I am getting as bad as Goethe.  But seriously these are good--something like frites.  To accompany the repast I have more Reisling.  Very nice indeed on a rainy evening.
And in other news.  Chris Froome, last years winner of the Tour de France has spent this years TDF falling off his bike--today on slick, wet roads.  The last time was too much. He was hurt and abandoned.  So sad.