Back in Weiden

It feels so good to be able to relax after this semester (especially with five weeks of diving!). Exams earlier this week were terrifying. The practical exam was on Monday (which, I'm sorry to say, I failed, but my performance for the entire duration of the dive course made up for it), a written exam on Tuesday (which I did very well on), and an oral exam on Wednesday. The oral exam turned out to be interesting- I answered the first and second questions perfectly (how does a second stage regulator work, and what do the marks on a EU-approved cylinder mean) but I completely choked on the third question, even though I knew the answer backwards and forwards. It was simply the stress of being put on the spot, with the proctor from the Danish Maritime Authority looking at me expectantly. Jens, my poor instructor, who knew that I knew the answer, was almost pulling his hair out and attempting to mouth the answers to me from behind the proctor's back.

But I passed! It's over! I have the little ticket that says I am a commercial diver! That very afternoon we went to the town center to walk around in the cold sunshine, and relish the freedom and our success.

Next day, Alex drove me all the way to Dusseldorf (almost on his way from Esbjerg to the Ardennes), where I got on a train and was in Weiden with Brittany by midnight on Thursday.

I'd like to be able to relax completely now that I'm on holiday break, but I do have two exams in January. Both which I will responsibly and dutifully study for... after Christmas. :)

I hear the girls (Brittany and her friend Heather, whose husband is deployed with Brittany's husband in Afghanistan) making Glühwein in the kitchen. Time for Christmas dinner!

Who knew things weighed less underwater?!

It has been FAR too long without an update! So, I say to all of my loyal readers: Sorry, Mom.

Classes ended five weeks ago in order for us to begin our dive course. The dive course is separate from classes at the university in that I am taking classes in order to get my Masters in Maritime Archaeology, but I am taking a dive course to get my commercial diving ticket. The diving ticket (or, as it's called in the United States, diving certification) is necessary for me to receive if I want to dive in Europe commercially (read: for money).

The dive course has been grueling. The first week was all theory, which means sitting and studying a whole lot of information. Including, but not limited to: decompression tables (both Norwegian Standard and US Navy), diving diseases (signs, symptoms, and treatments), equipment (regulators, cylinders, buoyancy control devices, first and second stages, etc), general seamanship knowledge (the phonetic alphabet, chart-reading, indicator buoys, emergency signals, knot-tying, etc), and diving legislation (Danish law, but a lot of which is governed by the European Union, and therefore applicable in other countries).

We spent the second week at a lake in northern Germany, diving every day for five days. No internet, no phone service,  and no one but my fellow divers (Alex, seen here fully dry-suited up, and Tori, seen here attending to Alex's flipper) and our two instructors. Every day, all day: eat, sleep, and dive.

 

Weeks three and four were spent diving at various locations in Denmark, with temperatures ranging from slightly-uncomfortably-nippy all the way to I-am-not-going-in-that-water-thank-you-very-much-it's-forty-degrees-are-you-kidding-me. Once we're in the water, usually we're given some sort of training or task, like building a frame using pipes and clamps, navigating using compasses (much harder than you'd think), performing searches and/or rescues, assembling structures with hammer and nails (that was fun: try building a chair underwater with wood. Wood that would very much like to be on the surface instead of in your hand at eighteen feet below). Using the dry suit was hard to do, as the suit (unlike neoprene) squeezes your body as you go deeper, so you have to inflate it with a bit of air as you go down. One frequently gets small "suit squeezes" if one doesn't keep one's entire suit inflated, which means one might now have small little bruises all over one's body... one might.

One of my shining moments so far was when my instructor asked me, while I was underwater (we have small speakers in the masks, so I can speak to the surface or to other divers while I'm diving and they can speak to me), to please move a sinker from one spot to another. This sinker weighs about one hundred pounds on the surface; I can barely lift it. On the surface. I stared at the sinker, while at a depth of about twenty feet, and said incredulously through the coms: "Are you kidding me? I can't lift this sinker! It's too heav-- wait. OK." And simply picked up the sinker and moved it. Haughtily. Pretending that I didn't just forget I was underwater, where things are more buoyant.

One more weekend left of studying, and then exams on Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday. Then I leave on Thursday to go back to see Brittany and spend Christmas with her in Weiden! I'm very excited; she just informed me that it's been snowing there. I'd love to be at home in Alaska for the holidays, of course, but a white Christmas in Germany with Brittany is going to be lovely.

Once again, Mom, sorry for the inexcusable hiatus... I've been very busy constructing chairs and other useful objects underwater. You wouldn't believe how many times I hit myself in the face trying to stick a nail in my mouth, before remembering I was wearing a full-face mask.

Copenhagen

This week is efterårsferie (autumn holiday) in Denmark, which means no classes this week! My friend Michael and I spent two days in Copenhagen--first time visiting the city for him, and the first time for me since 2004. We stayed at a great hostel right downtown and spent two days walking around sightseeing. We visited Amalienborg and watched the changing of the guard, and walked up the Rundetårn (Round Tower), which one climbs by the spiral, cobblestone ramp that winds up the interior. We explored the Botanical Gardens and walked around the waterfront, too. The weather was gorgeous clear blue sky, but it was freezing cold, so we tried to stay in the sunshine as much as possible.

 

 

Permission to judge me graciously granted.

Hey! Guess who has two thumbs, is in the university library in an effort to focus on her schoolwork, and would rather be doing just about anything other than working on her archaeological legislation paper?!

(The answer is me.)

(Although, it's bizarre that once I have an unpleasant paper due, somehow all the clutter in my life, both physical and digital, gets cleaned and tidied and taken care of. Rent? Paid. Computer? Defragged and scanned. Old photos? Renamed and filed. Emails? Read and returned. Bizarre, indeed...)

(If you think it sounds like I'm justifying this procrastination, I'd like to know how on earth you got that idea?)

(For reasons that currently evade my comprehension, I am beginning to suspect this blog has become completely superfluous now I've started grad school. Check back next month after the Copenhagen trip for actual content.)

(Hehe... "content." On this blog?)

Solo Bike Ride

I live for Pancake Sundays

As I mentioned in my last post, I fear that I have less to say now that amazing European adventures no longer occur on a daily basis. Don't get me wrong: it's no exaggeration to say that every day is something new. But not everyone finds my classes (which include GIS modeling, Bronze-Age Mediterranean ship construction, and prehistoric Danish coastal economies) nor my daily adjustments to life abroad (from corn, bizarrely, being found on Danish pizza, all the way to the deplorable lack of spring mattresses) half as fascinating or noteworthy as I do.

Nevertheless, for those loyal loved ones who do visit my humble corner of the internet tubes to see what I am up to, I thought I'd describe my daily life in general now that I've been here three weeks and have settled into some semblance of a schedule.

I have classes once a day on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, and twice on Thursdays. But don't let all that "free time" fool you as it did me. There is a ton of studying and research for which I am responsible outside of class. I promised not to gush about Egyptian intuitive and innovative design in ship construction (would that I could...); suffice to say that my classes are both exciting and exhausting.

As far as life outside of class goes, it's been very difficult to balance studying with socializing. I'm sure I've mentioned that I live in a house with three other MAP ladies, in a cul-de-sac with identical houses, all for students (including but not limited to students attending Southern Denmark University like me). The majority of my fellow students also live here at Hedelundvej, which means our free time is frequently spent with one another. Family-style dinners have quickly become a daily occurrence, with a different chef and location every night, leading to the necessity of a dinner calendar. For example, the night before last Alex and his girlfriend Mari, both from Belgium, made shrimp scampi, and tonight, Natalia, who hails from the Orkney Islands, is making us macaroni and cheese. Sunday afternoon brunch is always held right here at my house, where my roommate Sylvia (a third-year from England) makes a pile of pancakes for upwards of ten people. Pancake Sundays are my personal favorite.

The main form of transportation around here is bicycle. Only one guy in the MAP brought his car, and the rest of us either walk, bike, or take the bus. Michael found an abandoned, unlocked woman's bike in his shed (we all have lockable outdoor sheds) and he has three male roommates, so I claimed it for my own. It required a bit of repair (it had a punctured tube and crooked back wheel) but one grumpy old bicycle-mechanic and 200 DKK ($40) later, I had myself a perfectly acceptable bike. Since I acquired it, I've cycled every day to school, which takes about twenty minutes. It's been a rainy couple of weeks, which has made for some unpleasant rides, but after riding a scooter for almost three years in all kinds of inclement weather, it's really not so bad. One of my roommates, Dimitra, also got herself a bike, so I have a cycle-buddy to and from school most days.

Every day it gets better. I am so happy to be here, because the more I learn about the field of maritime archaeology and what jobs are available, and what those jobs require, I feel more confident that I am in the right place. My intensive dry-suit diving course (separate from my graduate studies but absolutely mandatory to work in this field) is four weeks long, and begins after the first semester ends, in mid-November. You heard me right, people, I will be diving in Denmark and northern Germany in the depths of winter. Totally insane... or totally invigorating!? (hangs head... just insane... I know...)

Another week down

Classes started last Thursday, so by now I've had each class at least once. It's really bizarre to be back in school after taking such a long break, and it's been quite difficult to force myself back into be-quiet-and-pay-attention mode. I'm enrolled in three classes this semester: "Man & Sea" (human interaction with the ocean throughout history), "Archaeological Management" (federal and international legislation applying to archaeology), and "Methods in Archaeology" (mapping, modeling, global positioning, etc).

As classes go into full swing and I settle into a routine (more or less), I'm predicting that noteworthy anecdotes will become fewer and farther between. No one wants to hear about my presentation on Bronze-Age ship construction in Egypt for "Man & Sea" (although if you do, you're in for a real treat: I can expertly describe unpegged mortise-and-tenon jointing styles, internal transverse lashing to avoid hull penetration, and shell-first formation that characterized Egyptian boat construction at the time!).

Esbjerg and Fanø

The second- and third-years (technically there is no such thing as a third-year student in a two-year program; they are simply second-years who haven't finished their theses yet) have been beyond outstanding at making our first days here as fun and easy as possible. When I mention these seasoned veterans, I am only speaking about MAP (Maritime Archaeology Program) students. As far as I've experienced, the program is very insular. Among the twenty or so people I've befriended as of yet, only one guy comes from outside of the program. Michael is an Erasmus student from Austria and lives with Alex and Max, two guys in MAP. Because he lives with two MAP boys and because he is awesome, he has been integrated into our group of maritime friends. He's worried that he won't have time to make friends within his own program, and I shush him up and tell him he doesn't need other friends. Psh, other friends... please...

Two second-years, David and Xenius, planned a lovely outing that had us spending all day Saturday out in the sunshine. The Danish weather cooperated beautifully with us that day--it was hazy, so, warm and sunny but not scorching. We started at the square in downtown Esbjerg and David showed us the museum, the main pedestrian street (one particular cobblestone street is inlaid with small lights between the stones that mirror how the stars appeared in the sky on January 1st, 2001, which I thought was pretty cool), the student recreation center, etc.

Then we took a short ferry ride to the island of Fanø. The island is very small but incredibly sweet and super-Danish. Xenius told us the island used to be a big ship-building center and we saw figureheads decorating several of the small, colorful houses.

We stopped at a small store and loaded up on picnic supplies, then sprawled on the grass and enjoyed lunch with a view of the harbor and a hazy Esbjerg across the water. From left to right, that's Mo and Dimitra (both my roommates) and Caroline (a sweet second-year from Sweden). I only noticed the cannon pointed directly at Caroline's head when I posted this picture.

We walked about two kilometers (a little more than a mile) to Fanø Bad after we finished lunch. The beach stretched for miles in either direction. The road led right onto the beach, and cars and buses drive on the beach. There are even bus-stops right on the sand.

 

We had to walk for another five minutes or so to get to the water, but it was worth it. The warm haze, wet sand, and cool water were perfect.

Michael, our honorary MAP student, even came with us. Now I think about it, with all the time he spends with us, he may be correct in thinking he might not make any friends in his own program. But look how much fun he's having with us!

After sitting and basking in the sun, we walked back to catch the ferry back to town. I do like ferries.

Sorry for the hiatus...

Mini-post to show that I'm still here!


This was taken at the only coffee house in all of Esbjerg. I'd forgotten that the food culture in Denmark is dramatically different than food culture in the States, especially compared with foodie-heaven Portland. Danish food consists of potatoes, fish (all kinds of fish prepared in all kinds of ways), rye bread, and lots of cheese. Delicious, but not very conducive to variation. We've (the other students and I) have learned to cobble together a mix of Danish food and re-created dishes from our respective countries.

I've been here in Esbjerg for a little over a week now, except it feels like a month. In comparison to my general outlook on life the night I arrived, things have improved considerably. Not in small part to the fact that everyone here has been so friendly, helpful, and approachable (my first day here, the morning after the pub, a third-year whom I'd never met named Amanda breezed into my house, lit a cigarette, and asked me if I was ready to go. "Go...?" I said. "Yes, go. We're going to get you ladies some phones and some bedsheets.") But also because I've tried to relaxed a little, skyped with my parents, unpacked some of my stuff, and toured the campus a little bit. In essence, I've settled in, something I should have allowed myself to do before falling to pieces in the first five minutes.

Job number one was going to get my residence card, which is the kind of visa for which I was approved. I had a hard time explaining to the second- and third-years my feeling of urgency, but they didn't know that I did not receive a stamp on my passport upon entry into Denmark. That used to be the norm, but now foreign nationals (who have been approved for a residence permit, like I have) must go to the civil service ("borgerservice" in Danish) and register in person. I went armed with my letter of approval and my passport, and the woman assisting me even found my information from the last time I was in Denmark! I have a CPR-number (which is like a social security number) and am covered by the Danish social security system! Having my yellow card (or temporary piece of paper, anyway) is a huge relief.

Yesterday the second-years took us first-years around Esbjerg, and then on a ferry to the island of Fanø. We spent the afternoon walking the island and seeing the beach there. Post to come with pics! In closing: a Danish outlet is a happy outlet:

Arrival

The last two days have been a roller coaster of emotion and frustration and relief and then more frustration, not to mention a veritable deluge of information about the program (some good, some bad). I apologize in advance for this post, and wish I could offer my readers some nice aged cheese to go with the whine I'm about to serve up.

I should say that I am fully aware that the following includes a bald-faced pity party. I'm not proud of it, but this is a record of my travels, and I won't pretend that everything is always magical, exotic, and stress-free. The past month in Germany, of course, was fantastic and fun, and pretty stress-free. But I was staying with a very close friend who provided everything I needed and now I'm on my own. I'd like to say that I'm self-sufficient, but self-sufficiency in a foreign country comes with crossed fingers and a certain amount of fear.

Brittany and I woke up around four in the morning so I could be at the train station to catch my five am train (another example of Brittany's amazing selflessness). Please observe the amount of luggage I had with me:


Both of those suitcases were incredibly heavy. One of them had my down comforter crammed into it (and when the suitcase is unzipped, the comforter poofs out like Pillsbury biscuit dough from the can). Brittany helped me schlep them both onto the train, but then the beep that signaled the doors closing sounded. We quickly hugged, and she leapt down the train compartment steps, squeezing between the closing doors in the nick of time. I waved to her through the window as the train pulled away, trying not to cry, but also impressed with her amazing train-deboarding skills.

This train was running late, which made me miss my next connection. I had to wait in Nuremburg for an hour for the next one. Uneventful train-traveling for the most part (I think it is worth noting that people offered to help me with my cumbersome bags at every step of the way!), until I got to my third and last connection in the late afternoon. Right across the border into Denmark, there was construction on the railroad. It's a long story that includes me completely losing my head and bursting into involuntary tears because I was positive that I wouldn't get to Esbjerg on time (a rep from the university was picking me up at an appointed time and taking me to my apartment) and would therefore be left at some derelict bus station in the dark of night with all my belongings and of course be mugged.

But all the confusion and switching between buses and trains for several hours was made much more tolerable when I made fast friends with a girl of an age with me named Vanessa who was also trying to get to Esbjerg and who was putting up a brave front and doing her best to not cry (all right, fine, she was holding her composure and I was a pathetic weepy mess). She approached me, and in passable English, asked me if I was trying to get to Esbjerg and maybe could we travel together? We quickly bonded over our unfortunate, frustrating situation and it was a world of relief to have someone to talk to. She even let me use her phone to contact the rep and tell her to please come to the train station later.

Once we arrived in Esbjerg, at long last, and hugged goodbye and promised to keep in touch (a promise we've both made good on), a girl with a Southern Denmark University t-shirt approached me. She drove me to my house, gave me my keys and laundry card, and promptly left. That moment felt like rock-bottom for me. I did not want to be here. All of my stuff was still in suitcases; I could just take a taxi right back to the train station and go back to Brittany's on my Eurail pass and say "Hey... can I come stay with you forever?" Neither of my roommates, whom I'd met via Facebook, were home at the moment, which didn't help. I walked down the street to the Lidl, which is a tiny market that has all the basics: milk, eggs, some produce, bread, etc. Even though I had absolutely no appetite (despite my only intake that day being a croissant and a pretzel and string cheese), I knew I'd eventually want food. It was only around seven-thirty when I got back to my house, but I got into pajamas anyway. I was in bed (using the small comforter provided as a mattress cover and my own gigantic down comforter on top) reading when the doorbell rang. I went to answer it, and the guy introduced himself as Stephane, a third-year French-Canadian maritime archaeology student, and was I at all interested in coming out to the pub with other maritime students? I just about hugged poor Stephane, who was more helpful than he could know.

The pub was fun, and as promised I did meet more maritime archaeology students, mostly second- and third-years. It was quiz night, and after the quiz (we came in third) I was definitely ready for bed. No one else seemed to be ready for bed yet, except for a blond Danish boy named Stefan (different than the French-Canadian) who said he needed to get up early in the morning and was therefore calling it an early night. I couldn't help but notice he had not one but two motorcycle helmets with him. I knew he lived in the same neighborhood as I, and I also knew we were a ten-minute bus ride or a forty-minute walk from that neighborhood. I asked casually if anyone else was using that helmet. He said no, and offered it to me. "Want a ride?" That is how I, oddly enough, found myself on the back of a motorcycle on my first day in Denmark. The short, breathless ride helped distract me from all my second thoughts, albeit for only a few minutes.

Arriving home, I got under my comforter for the second time that day. I apologize for the long, boring post that seemed to consist of me complaining. It has gotten better since that day, as I've settled in and met my roommates (who are great) and explored a little bit. Details to come, friends and family. I miss and love you all.

Volksfest

On Friday night, Brittany and I and a few of her friends went to a volksfest in Weiden. "Volksfest" means "carnival", and while there were indeed midway games and carnival rides, we stuck to the beer-tent. There was a great band playing folk and swing music, with frequent sing-along songs (sorry for the blurry pic).



Brittany paired her husband John's tracht hat with her own dirndl to complete her German ensemble. And below (and above!) is her good friend Heather, whose husband is deployed with John in Afghanistan. Heather and Brittany were among the few people wearing their dirndls at this particular fest, which was unusual.




There were even fireworks, which I'm pretty sure I've never seen on a night other than July 4th. Brittany took pictures of the fireworks. I was nursing my beer, so my hands were full...


As I type, Brittany and I are enjoying a top-notch lightning storm! I've only ever seen thunder and lightning once before (in Denmark, as a matter of fact), so while Brittany calmly drove us home from the Chinese restaurant where she treated me to dinner, my face was pressed up against the window like a kid outside a toy store. Now we are home, and the storm is moving away from us. But a few lingering flashes still light up the windows, followed by the deep rumble of thunder. It's giving me the goosebumps!

Tonight is my last night in Germany- my train leaves at five am tomorrow morning, and I arrive in Esbjerg around five pm. I haven't let myself dwell on the impending move, beyond making travel arrangements. Given the choice right now, I'd stay right here with Brittany.

Leuchtenberg Castle

Brittany took me to Leuchtenberg, a castle ruin perched on the top of a hill above Leuchtenberg, the city. It was a relatively small castle ruin, but it was fun to go down into the dungeons (it wasn't specified as a dungeon, but that is what we decided the underground room was) and climb to the tallest tower. The weather was gorgeous that day (Thursday), which made for good castle-exploring and lovely views.




Thanks to our recent visit to the Medieval Crime Museum in Rothenburg, I can tell you that the birdcage-like thing within which I am confined is called a pillory, and was used to embarrass criminals in front of the whole town.



In this one, Brittany can face the bright sunlight (literally), while I cannot.

Rothenburg ob der Tauber

On Tuesday morning, we took a six am train, changed trains three times and arrived in Rothenburg ob der Tauber at about eight forty-five in the morning (I'd like to note here that Brittany plans all train-travel for the two of us).

The town center of Rothenburg was about as quaintly and picturesquely European and Bavarian as I've seen yet. The cobblestone streets were crooked and some led up and others led down, houses were every pastel color of the rainbow with complementary shutters on every window, and wrought-iron signs were in front of every store.


To temper such idyllic charm, our first stop was the Mittelalterliches Kriminalmuseum (Medieval Crime Museum), full of pillory cages, stocks (see Brittany and I testing out the stocks in the above picture), and myriad more unmentionable objects. Actually, the entire museum made my skin crawl and as we walked away an hour later, I wondered why on earth I'd wanted to go in the first place... I spent 4€ so that I could have the heebie-jeebies for the rest of the day. Yay!

We partook of the famous Rothenburg treat: schneeballen. It means "snowballs" and they are made from strips of dough balled together and fried, then topped with anything from powdered sugar and dark chocolate to marzipan. This is my sub-par picture of schneeballen:


Brittany had checked out a Lonely Planet guidebook on Bavaria for me, which included Rothenburg, so I was toting it around with me. A restaurant that sounded particularly good was not shown on the guidebook map, but we thought we'd try to find it anyway. We walked almost out of town, turned back, and asked directions from an innkeeper. He warned us that the place was located on the banks of the Tauber, which meant not just a hike down to the river, but a hike back up. Still we persevered. Unter den Linden was way, way off the beaten path, but we did escape the tourists that were beginning to crowd the stadtmitte, and the service was great. We even taught the women working behind the counter, one of whom was the cook, the English word for chives. I'd asked about something on the menu, and she brought out chives (which was the answer to my question) and asked us what they were called. She even had me write the word down, and left it on the cash register. As Brittany and I walked to a table, we could hear them repeating it: "Chives. Chives. Chives."

After lunch, and the steep walk back to the city center, Brittany showed me a famous Rothenburg destination: Kathe Wohlfahrt Weihnachtsdorf. A gigantic explosion of Christmas ornaments, decorations, and paraphernalia. It was Buddy the Elf's greatest fantasy. It was also one of those stores designed like a maze, winding back and forth so that everyone has to go through the entire store in order to get out.

After coming out into the sun again, and being mildly surprised that it was indeed August and not December, we walked the town wall. Rothenburg center is surrounded by a 3.5-km-long wall, complete with arrow slits. I'm no good at estimating distances, but I'd peg the height of the wall at about thirty feet.

This week Brittany also took me to a castle in nearby Leuchtenberg, and last night we went to a volksfest ("carnival") in Weiden. Posts and pics to come!

I leave for Denmark on Thursday. I finally received my address in Esbjerg, so now I have a place to sleep once I'm there. And then school starts on September first! Blech! I know it was my decision to go back to school, but it's school. I'm hoping that because this is graduate school, and because I am part of a focused program, then I will enjoy all my classes. If you work at what you love, it's not work, right?

In which the Navy saves me.

Family and friends, the last couple days have been low-key around Haus Kuterbach, except for yesterday, when we spent the day in Rothenburg ob der Tauber (pictures and post to come).

But I have to impart a story about our trip back from Garmisch-Partenkirchen. Brittany and I were on the platform in Garmisch waiting for our train, and I noticed a few English-speakers also on the platform. They happened to sit in our compartment on the train as well, a few seats away. Brittany and I were facing one another, and the English-speakers were also facing one another, so I had a clear view of two of them. A few stops into the trip, a large man who was sweating profusely came into our compartment, gestured to the seat next to me and asked in German if it was available. I automatically said "Frei"("free"), but a moment later regretted it tremendously as that man reeked. I almost gagged as he sat down, and then almost wept as I realized what I'd done. How long is he going to sit here?! I didn't want to hold my nose, but neither did I want to inhale the funk that I'm surprised wasn't visible around him, like the cloud that accompanies Pepé Le Pew.

Minutes later, one of the English-speakers approached us and said to Brittany, "Hey, we couldn't help but notice you're American! We were wondering if you would like to come and sit with us... and talk about America...?" Brittany laughed nervously and said, "Um, maybe." The guy had not once looked at me, even though it was obvious that Brittany and I were traveling together. When the man returned to his seat, Brittany turned to me and made a skeptical "Do-you-want-to?" face. I leaned forward urgently and said "Yes. Yes, I do. Please let's. I will tell you why later." I could tell Brittany was confused, because the guy had seemed odd, offering to "talk about America" and not acknowledging me at all. She also hadn't smelled my neighbor (much to my surprise and envy). But she went with it because I was adamant. Once we sat down with the others (two boys and a girl), the one who had invited us leaned to me and said in an undertone, "I smelled him as he walked by and you looked like you needed saving." The girl next to him nodded fervently, adding, "You did not look happy!" The boy explained that he hadn't looked at me because he didn't want to raise suspicion with the malodorous German and embarrass him.

Our new friends, Justin (my savior), Cici, and Charlie, were all with the Navy, learning Russian in a language course in Garmisch-Partenkirchen. They were all very friendly and, of course, had my eternal gratitude.

What with men helping me with my wurst unbidden (top that phrase, readers), and now young Navy enlistees swooping in to save me from stinky situations--what will I do once I leave Germany? How will I get by on a day-to-day basis? Will the Danes be this benevolent? Does Denmark have these superheroes in street clothes, waiting for the chance to help a foreign national in distress? I don't seem to remember any spontaneous assistance from the locals eight years ago... although trying to assist me in social situations at 16 was a fool's errand. Not to brag, but I was pretty adept at fitting my entire foot into my mouth. And I've only gotten better!

What were we talking about?

Garmisch: Day Three!

Friday, our third and final day in Garmisch-Partenkirchen, was a mellow day, compared to our eventful last two days. We didn't have a specific time of departure, as I was going to use my Eurail pass in any case, and Brittany would just purchase a Bayern Pass, a discounted train ticket for use inside the state of Bavaria.

We slept a little later than the previous day, and enjoyed a leisurely, lengthy breakfast. This breakfast was even nicer because the morning before I'd carefully tasted everything offered, and so now I knew everything that I preferred. Bread with cheese and salami on top, muesli with yoghurt, and coffee.


Our plan was to take the Zugspitzbahn from Garmisch to Eibsee, and spend some time at Eibsee Lake. We rented a rowboat (6€ for an hour) and paddled out onto the lake. Brittany had brought a book and I'd (maddeningly) forgotten my book at the B&B, so I had bought a magazine at the train station.


After the lake, we took the train back to town and walked to the pedestrian zone. This area, which has been the norm for every town we've visited, is a cobblestone area where cars are not allowed to drive, usually with fountains and statues and the Rathaus (city hall) or a church close by. Shops line the pedestrian streets, along with restaurants that usually feature outdoor seating.

Brittany and I found a place that looked reasonably priced and offered delicious-sounding food, and we sat in the shade (both of us had had rather pink noses and preferred to stay out of the sun). Brittany ordered asparagus cream soup and salad with spezi (cola and Fanta), and I ordered Weisswurst, a Bavarian white sausage, a pretzel and Weisswurstsenf (sweet mustard), and, of course, radler.


I was just getting started on my sausage, when an old man, another patron, who had been sitting near us approached me. He gestured to my plate and said something in German. I asked him if he spoke English and he shook his head and gestured again to my plate. I looked at Brittany, who shrugged. He made a twisting motion with his hands, so I hesitantly turned my sausage over, wondering what on earth this man was getting at. He finally motioned for my silverware, which I gave him, if only out of pure bewilderment. The man carefully turned my sausage, cut it down the middle, and peeled the skin off the meat. Then turned and went back to his seat. I was a little shocked, as well as a bit embarrassed that I'd apparently been eating my food so blatantly incorrectly that he felt compelled to come and literally do it himself. But I said "Danke" and he said "Bitte" and waved it off, and Brittany consoled me, and I ate my skinless sausage, which ended up being really good.

After a stop at the local chocolate shop, we decided to catch the next train home.

I would strongly recommend Garmisch-Partenkirchen to everyone. The town has everything (hiking, biking, paragliding, mountains, lakes, etc.) and is both beautiful and historic. It even has people who will help you eat the local cuisine, should you unknowingly be doing it wrong. Great destination for such a short trip and I definitely would love to go back someday.

Tomorrow: Rothenburg!

Garmisch: Day Two!

Zugspitze day! We'd reserved the entire second day to go up and explore Germany's highest point. The picture above is of the Zugspitze from Garmish-Partenkirchen. We were headed to the rightmost peak, in the center of the picture.


Our plan was to round-trip up the Zugspitze. We would take the cogwheel train (Zugspitzbahn) from Garmisch to Eibsee (a lake at the very base of the mountain), then up the mountain, through the mountain, and onto the Zugspitzplatt, the glacier on the other side of the mountain. From there, we'd take the glacier cable car (Gletscherbahn) to the peak itself. Our way down, however, would be straight from the peak via cable car (Seilbahn) back to Eibsee, from whence we'd take the cogwheel train back to Garmisch.



The cogwheel train (named for the cogs necessary to pull the train up and through the mountain) was next to the main train station in Garmisch, but separate. I could not use my Eurail pass to take this train. One must purchase a special ticket to ride the train, and say whether or not they'd like to include passage to the summit (whether by cogwheel or cable car) as well. We asked for the Zugspitze Roundtrip. The trip from Garmisch to Eibsee was about twenty minutes, and then from there it was a steep half-hour climb. Going up the mountain provided a great view of Eibsee Lake from above.


The fifteen-minute trip through the mountain itself was very dark and disconcerting. But once through the mountain, we were at our destination on the glacier, in a station. We were waiting our turn to go outside amid the crowd, and Brittany was taking my picture next to the cogwheel. I was trying to be patient about getting outside to look around, and my monologue was something along the lines of: "It's ok, we've got time, we'll be up here for awhi- OH MY GOD! LOOK!" Out in the sunshine, the scenery was unreal.





And we weren't even at the summit yet! This was Zugspitzplatt, an area overlooking what would be a glacier. There was a restaurant and gift shop, a chapel, and lots of space to walk or hike around in the sunshine. There was also enough snow to merit sledding! As you can see, I amassed an army of children and then, with dignity and grace, tobogganed down the slope (I let the kids go in front of me, which is why they are absent from the second picture).



The last cable car back down the mountain doesn't leave the Zugspitze until late afternoon, so we were able to relax and take our time before heading up to the peak. Brittany knew that it would be crowded up there, so we enjoyed the quiet and the view from Zugspitzplatt for awhile first.


When we eventually did board the glacier cable car that would take us to the top (a five-minute ascent), it was jam-packed. Little handles hung from the ceiling to grab onto, and a little old lady next to me was far too short to reach them. She laughed and made a face at me, then reached her arms up. I, for a wild, fleeting moment, thought she was reaching for me, as though to say, "I can't reach those handles, so I'll hang onto you!" So I automatically hugged her... like you do... It quickly turned awkward, as it turns out she was just reaching for her friend... I tried to apologize but she didn't speak English. Fabulous. I was due for a public faux pas.


Reaching the top of the Zugspitze swept all embarrassment away. It was incredible. The peak consisted of two buildings, and large balconies, big enough to cover the summit. One was the German/Bavarian side and the other was the Austrian/Tyrolean side (the Zugspitze spans the border between Germany and Austria). The balconies had plaques showing the peaks in each direction, giving the name and height. The Zugspitze, being the highest point in Germany, boasts the highest biergarten (outdoor place one can purchase/drink beer), so we had some lunch and beer, and I wrote some postcards for families back in Portland. I posted them from the Zugspitze itself, so the stamps will say they were sent from 2,962 meters (9,718 feet)!


No border patrol or anything to cross over into Austria! Tyrol ("Tirol" in German) is a state in Austria, just like Bavaria ("Bayern" in German) is a state in Germany. It is noteworthy to say that while the Zugspitze is the highest point in Germany, it is not the highest point in Austria. But still neat!


The technical summit was marked by a giant golden cross, and it was on a small peak all it's own (on the German side!), near and above the viewing balconies. In order to reach it, one walked down steps alongside the building to the rock itself, stepped off the man-made building and onto the mountain, walked across a natural rock span that was barely four feet across with nothing but air on either side (there was a cable knee-high onto which mountain climbers could clip their ropes), then climbed a ladder and walked along another slim, treacherous ridge to the cross. There were people making the trip, which, if one went slowly, took about half an hour there and back. I wanted to do it, as did Brittany, but there was no way. In our tractionless sneakers and with no mountaineering gear, and with people literally shoving one another out of the way (no joke, 9,000 feet in the air). There were other unprepared people (i.e., wearing nothing but street clothes) going over to touch the cross, but they looked ridiculous and arrogant, next to the properly-attired and helmeted mountaineers.


To take the cogwheel up and the Eibsee cable car down is the most popular way to enjoy the Zugspitze, so Brittany and I had to get a reservation for a ride down. It was actually a close call: people were standing in a long line, and there was a large chart showing times, times that were methodically being crossed out. Brittany suspected that this was for cable car rides down, so it was a good thing we checked. If we had waited, we would have had to take the cogwheel back down.

Our reservation wasn't until four-fifteen, and it was only around two pm, so we still had plenty of time to explore. We looked around the gift shop, and Brittany got a sweet little cutting board with the Zugspitze etched onto it. I found a poster of the Zugspitze that I liked, which is great because I brought little to decorate my walls with. We took the glacier cable car back down to the Zugspitzplatt and sat in the sun for a bit longer as well. Then we went back up to the peak to board our Eibsee cable car down the mountain.

Evening was a quiet affair. Delicious pizza and radler (half beer, half lemonade, fully amazing), eaten outdoors, with the Zugspitze as a picturesque backdrop. Bed felt great after a full day of hiking and exploring, and Brittany and I had both had a bit of sunburn on our faces!

In closing: sweet Zugspitze panoramic action! Click for fantastic larger view! Note the golden cross marking the summit on the left side of the picture.