Jessica in Deutschland: October 2010

Just south of Darmstadt along the B3 or Bergstrasse are a series of adorable old towns with a certain similarity of name. Let's see if you can pick it out: Weinheim, Heppenheim, Bensheim, Mannheim, Seeheim, Reinheim, and the list goes on. It turns out that Heim means home and once I visited Weinheim and Bensheim I could see how the name fits. The towns have a certain cozy, homey charm to them. A bit of German Gemütlichkeit. That was another great word I learned recently that cannot be adequately translated into English, rather like Schadenfreude. To explain Gemütlichkeit my officemate showed me pictures of rustic homes with a fire burning and a tall glass of beer on the table. I would have substituted in a hot chocolate, but I got the concept.

Back to the -heims. I started with Weinheim. I arrived and immediatley took my morning constitutional, which consisted of a hike up the hill to the remains of the old castle or Burg. I have already posted multiple castle remains on the blog so I will spare you pictures of crumbling stone. What cannot be captured on camera is the feel of crumbling castle remains when you are the only visitor strolling along the ramparts. Most castles are swarming with tourists who are chatting, taking pictures, and generally giving the place a touristy feel. An empty old castle has quite a different vibe. The history of the place seems more palpable.

Following the hike up to the castle was the long walk back down and lunch in the center of town. As is quite common for Saturday there was a local market with fruit and vegetable stalls, cheese carts, meat trucks, and bread stalls. I ate outside (drausen) and enjoyed a beer and a flammkuchen. The flammkuchen is a specialty of the Alsace region and consists of a crisp paper thin piece of bread with cheese, onion, and ham. I however went for the non-standard flammkuchen with cinnamon and apple. Who could resist warm cinnamon apple? Not I.

After lunch I strolled through the old part of Weinheim that was originally the tanning district. The houses are all half-timber and line streets that curve, twist, and double-back on themselves regularly. Adorable and something that can only arise from a time without urban planning, or really planning of any kind. I've attached a couple of pictures of the houses from Weinheim as well as a few from Bensheim. You will notice that very old houses have descriptions of what the house was used for or what was changed over time. Enjoy!

Not sure if this is any historical interest, but I was just amazed at the sheer quantity of plants on these houses.

As soon as I figure out what that says next to each date, I'll update it here.

Clearly the door moved on this house. In front is a narrow
canal that I imagine was important when this area was
full of tanneries.

If you click on this picture to enlarge, you should be
able to make out the descriptions of what this
building was used for through the centuries.

I must admit that Prague was never a city I that was high on my list of vacation spots, but recommendations from multiple quarters won me over. People gushed about the gorgeous Baroque architecture and Old World charm of the city. As my brother pointed out, it managed to keep these attributes by not being important enough to bomb in WWII and not being rich enough behind the Iron Curtain to build up significantly after the war.

I was excited to see this city, up until the point when I started reading all sorts of travel warnings about both legal and illegal ways the Prague citizens were going to steal from me. There were the armies of nimble pickpockets, extortionate taxi drivers, and unscrupulous restaurant owners, always trying to cheat tourists with hidden fees. I read through web sites describing ways to avoid being targeted and having all your money stolen. It put a bit of a damper on my excitement. Then I remembered that I lived in New York and all of this sounded an awful lot like the warnings my mother always issued in Brooklyn. Still to give away the plot ending now, I was not robbed in Prague, although I did have one "Couvert" fee tacked onto the worst of all the meals in Prague. That seemed like a double insult. Food was bad AND they had the gall to charge this weird cover charge.

I am happy to say that that was the single blot on the entire vacation.

As is so often the case with travel, Regina and I did have an adventure actually making it to the flight. I learned that although German bus drivers (Busfahrer) are not inclined to wait for people, they will stop if you leap out in front of them like a crazy person (wahnsinnig). We were not late for the bus station, rather the pick up point was not located right in front of the waiting area (Bushaltestelle), which seemed the most logical place, but well behind it. Then to add an extra icing of frustration to our morning, the airport did not list gate numbers for any of the flights in Terminal D and E. Oh, no, if you were foolish enough to take one of those airlines, meaning not Lufthansa, then you would just have to ask the staff how to get to your gate. It all worked out fine and to add a dash of humor to our morning, the airport bused us from the terminal to our plane. They picked us up at the gate drove us down to the end of the terminal and back around to the plane that was sitting about 100 feet from where we started. I think the bus actually dropped us off further from the plane than we had been standing five minutes ago. So mch for German efficiency.

And now for Prague.

Prague is indeed lovely. I think that all I can do is just post a bunch of pictures here to show some of the buildings and interiors. On Saturday night, we went to a concert in one of the churches and it was just wonderful. A mezzo-soprano, oboist, and organist playing a collection of music ranging from Bach in the Baroque, to Handel, and then ending with Cezar Franck.

As I mentioned before, we had one bad meal, but all the rest were wonderful. We found a French bakery our last morning and had to-die-for chocolate croissants. We also ate dinner at a French bistro. And we did have one meal in a Czech pub with the world's scariest waiter. He was clearly pissed off about something, so Regina and I did our best to be quiet and undemanding. I had a cabbage pancake with sausage and gobs of sour cream on top. And a beer, of course. Hearty food.

And now, without further ramblings on my part, pictures of Prague. Enjoy!