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.

Garmisch: Day One!

On the tenth, the day of our departure, Brittany and I woke up around five-thirty to catch our six-thirty train. We found our own compartment for the first leg of the journey, which was nice because eventually we both fell asleep. Changed trains in Munich, and then it was just one hour to Garmisch-Partenkirchen. The scenery changed abruptly from flat fields to high mountains on both sides of the train.


The bed-and-breakfast where we'd made reservations was just a five-minute walk from the train station, which proved to be extremely convenient during our stay. The place, called Alpenkranz, was (sorry to use clichés) cozy and quaint. The owner's daughter showed us to our room, which was a perfectly acceptable room, but then two minutes later came back to say that they had a better room for us. The new room was larger, with sofa and chairs, our own bathroom, and even a balcony with patio furniture. Upgrade!



We only stayed to take off our backpacks and we were off again to Partnach Gorge (it was only eleven-thirty, so we still had most of the day). It was about a forty-minute walk from our B&B, and it was sunny outside. The walk took us past the Olympic Skistadion: the Olympic ski jump. The Olympics were held here in Garmisch-Partenkirchen in 1936, as well as the World Alpine Ski Championships in 1978.


The only gorge I've been to is the Columbia, so that's what I was imagining. This gorge was not like the Columbia at all. It was a narrow fissure in the rock (less than ten feet wide at points), very deep (200 feet in places, sometimes deeper), with a river rushing through the bottom. It was loud, too; the sound of rushing water through such a small space was deafening at times. A walkway had been created along the side, sometimes through the rock itself. You'd walk into a tunnel and it would be pitch black, with only your hand on the raw rock wall guiding you. There must have been streams above us as well, because even though there was blue sky, water was constantly streaming down from the rocks above.

Brittany even brought her umbrella--the streams from above were sometimes small waterfalls! I was glad my coat had a hood.


The walk through the gorge itself took twenty minutes, and then the path widened into a sunny, open area. It looked almost like a beach, with people sitting and eating by the river. We turned 180° and walked up a steep path that would take us back up over the gorge, parallel to where we'd hiked next to the river, but above the fissure. It felt exactly like Alaska, with pine trees around us and logs set into the path as steps. We came out into the open after ten minutes, and the view was amazing.


There was a large hotel and restaurant (Forsthaus Graseck) at the top of the hill, which seemed like an odd, inaccessible location for such. Patrons of the hotel don't have to hike there, as we did, but instead take a cable car up. Please note the remoteness of hotel on the very official Google Maps visual below:

Brittany and I sat in the sun and had lunch (well, mid-afternoon meal) at the restaurant. I had goulash, Brittany had salad with chicken, and we shared apple strudel for dessert. We took the cable car down. It was teeny.




Our stay at Alpenkranz, along with other B&Bs in Garmisch-Partenkirchen, comes with a Visitor's Card, which gives one all kinds of freebies and discounts in the city (mostly for the tourist attractions). With aforementioned Visitor's Card, we were able to take the city bus for free. After taking the cable car down and walking back to the skistadion, we took the bus directly back to the train station. We walked to the town center, and Brittany knew of an Indian restaurant that she and John had enjoyed on their trip to Garmisch. I felt guilty about eating Indian food while visiting Germany, but Brittany reminded me that I'd already had German food twice and did I remember how rich it is? I wasn't expected to eat the local cuisine at every meal. I felt better after hearing that... plus, I love Indian food.

Partnach Gorge

The three days Brittany and I spent in Garmisch-Partenkirchen were absolutely fantastic. Incredibly long post to come, but here's a picture of the Partnach Gorge to tide you over. Click for larger view!

Amberg

Despite the fact that the forecast had predicted rain, when we arrived in Amberg (forty-five minutes from Weiden) yesterday, the wind had blown all the clouds away and we enjoyed gelato while we walked around the stadtmitte underneath clear blue sky. Yogurt with cherries for me, Smurf-flavored and watermelon for Brittany (the Smurf-flavor was blue and undefinable, but good nonetheless).


We saw people walking on the balcony around the clock tower and tried to find the way up. We walked around the entire cathedral and tried several locked doors (some were teeny), to no avail.


Giving up the search for the stairway to the clock tower, we strolled along the main street, enjoying the nice weather, until the crowds thinned and we came across this empty cobblestone street. It happened to be the Amberg library, with statues of men reading on the steps. Brittany took my personal favorite picture:


We walked back to the river to see the Spectacle Bridge, named so because the arches' reflections in the water create two circles, like spectacles.



Last but not least, a friend had told Brittany that Amberg boasts the smallest hotel in the world, but Brittany didn't know where it was located. So we went back to tourist information, hoping that they would point us in the right direction. If they didn't, no big deal, on to Vilseck for dinner. But if they did and it wasn't too far away, we could try to find it. The woman knew exactly what we were talking about, and she pulled out a map. Turns out the Wedding House, or Eh'häusl, as it is known, was less than ten minutes away, back the way we'd come. While we walked back down the sunny strasse, Brittany read aloud the legend that goes along with the Wedding House:

"According to legend, a couple could only get a marriage license by the municipal authorities if they owned a house or some property within the city. A clever husband-to-be discovered a courtyard between two estates, acquired it, put up a front wall and a back wall completing the structure with a roof. Technically this fulfilled the regulations. The legend has it that in the following years the "Eh'häusl" very often changed hands thus enabling many couples to enter matrimony."

Finding the little house was very easy. It had a very notable door, and the flower boxes were decorated with wedding rings. Knowing that we had found this tiny attraction was fun partly because the street was deserted except for us.


An ominous dark cloud was quickly blowing our way and we felt raindrops, so we hurried back to the car and headed to Vilseck for dinner.


Brittany and John's favorite German restaurant, Gasthof Specht, is located in Vilseck, about twenty minutes from Amberg. Schnitzel! Delicious fried schnitzel. Although not with noodles. I am truly my mother's daughter, as I'd sung "My Favorite Things" to Brittany before eating at the restaurant, and when I called my mom later that night to tell her I'd had schnitzel without noodles, she began to sing it as well... My schnitzel came with onions and a fried egg, with tater-tot-like potatoes on the side. Brittany's favorite schnitzel comes with a mushroom gravy.


Tomorrow we leave for Garmisch-Partenkirchen, a town on the border of Bavaria and Tirol (Austria). We'll be staying for a couple days, but prepare to hear all about the Zugspitze, the highest point in Germany, upon my return. "Tschüs" is the Bavarian farewell, pronounced "chuse." Tschüs, dear readers!