So, with my liver in a revolution and my gut jiggling with an extra couple of pounds of wurst, I get to return to warm and windy Southern California. Next years Oktoberfest starts on September 20th (Sarah?), anyone want to go? I think I could manage to do this again.
In other MomSays… news; I will get no brake at home, as I am pulling a quick turnaround and in a couple of days will be off to somewhere warm! (and they thankfully don’t use euros)
The rain and the cold finally moved in for my last day in Bavaria. I had been expecting it for a while but it finally made for the first dreary day. The sun did peek out for a second in the afternoon, but by that point in time I was on my third beer in a pub with an Australian and really couldn’t be asked to snap more than a couple of pictures. So thus, my last day in Bavaria ended as it began, in drunken reverie.
After spending most of the morning riding my rented bike the 32 kilometers around the local lake; with the obligatory flat, that comes with rented bikes (I had to wait 30 minutes while they brought me another), I felt that I should spoil myself. It was a cool sunny day, so I thought to sit out in the sun and order myself a beer and some sausage.
Perusing through the menu of the small café I was able to decipher beer (bier), and with my superb German, the section with the heading “Wurst”. It went on to list about 20 different types of sausage, most of which I recognized, then I saw the “Allgaur-something-something-something-mit(with)-brot(bread)”. I was in the Allgau Alps, it was slightly more expensive than the other wurst, so I figured it would be something special I had never had.
Half way through my beer the waitress came over and with a smile handed me a plate with easily 9 types of cheese on it and a basket full of bread. I quickly deduced that the “something-something-something” wasn’t actually sausage. Oh, well, at least I like cheese as much as I do sausage…
Gouda, Gryree, Swiss, Bleu, a soft walnut covered cheese… Then there it was, hiding under some onions and paprika, a cheese I have never seen before. It was the smallest piece on the tray. I stuck my fork in it and brought it to my nose, one big whiff and my eyes shot open in surprise! This cheese had the distinct odor of semen!
I stared in shock as I pondered how I’d go about putting this in my mouth… I cut it in half and stuck this man-juice flavored queso onto my tongue, with a piece of bread in my other hand, in case I would have to quickly destroy the flavor.
To my dismay and to that of all my readers, the cheese didn’t actually taste anything like it smelled, it was just another wonderfully tasty piece of European dairy product. Although, come to think of it, I have never tasted that particular body fluid, so how can I actually know?
The Castles of Schloss Neuschwanstein and Schloss Hohenschwangua are some of Bavaria’s biggest tourist pulls. Fortunately for me its not the high season of summer, but that still didn’t stop a plethora of tourists from appearing by the bus loads. I walked (all 12 kilometers r/t).
Anyways it was a rather mellow day of wandering essentially “new” castles; Neuschwanstein was finished in 1886 and was lived in for 170 days before the Kings death when it (six weeks later) became a tourist attraction. It was probably the best investment Ludwig II ever made for Bavaria, 10 euros per person times thousands of people a day in the summer… I am sure it has payed for its, once insane, 3 million dollar price tag.
More lunches with a view and a coffee in a decorative cup! (By the way, my picture above is the “standard” which I think every tourist gets or at least buys on one of the millions of postcards.)
After a great few days hanging out with Markus, I set out this morning to try and catch a few more “must see” Bavarian tourist attractions. The unfortunate part is that Markus wasn’t driving us at insane speeds, so I had to get on the train and spend the days best hours there to get to Fussen, Germany; home of the last Bavarian ruling family.
I got in a little late in the afternoon and by the time I had found a hostel, showered and eaten a kebab, it was getting late. I trudged through the streets for about an hour until I finally came to an internet shop and I was able to get my blog all fixed up.
After, that madness was taken care of, I grabbed a bottle of Italian red (2 euros!) and headed back to my empty hostel to read and drink.
I woke up at 10:30am, and during the next three hours while Markus slept I was able to finally catch up on editing blog pictures and writing. By the time he woke up and we ate our brunch, it was pushing 3pm.
We decided on a little more hiking for the afternoon and an evening of Jazz.
Markus, intent on making sure I hit every important spot in the region, had us out early to find some local culture and history. Starting with his local farmers market, followed by a castle and the old town of Tubingen; I was exhausted by the time we were drinking coffee, eating Black Forest Cherry Torte, and talking of the night’s plans.
Stuttgart was having a “Night of Culture”, which was essentially 70 venues all with live bands, theater, dance, book readings, art shows and the like for us to partake in; all for 15 Euros including the shuttle bus all over town. There ended up being five of us, all traipsing around listening to assorted Funk bands, watching some (very bad) interpretive Theatre pieces, and fortunately avoiding the German book readings which would have probably drove me to the nearest bar.
Speaking of bars, the Germans know how to put on an event. Of all of the assorted places we visited, none was short on beer. Never did the thought cross their mind that “Hmmm… this is the regions parliament, maybe we shouldn’t bring in a full bar.”
Needless to say, by the time 1 am rolled around and we were entering a “cultural” dance club, I was a little wobbly. It was nothing that a couple hours of my horrible dancing couldn’t fix. Around 3am the club decided to give up its “cultural status” and let in hordes of people. With the world closing in, we decided to depart, climbing back in the Mercedes for some more speed across the autobahn and a pre-sunrise bed time.
The engine purred. My palms were slightly sweating, I glanced over at the calm German sitting next to me at the steering wheel; absolutely calm; my eyes drift down to the speedometer, 190KPH (118 miles per hour). The lane next to us opens up, and without even blinking, Markus shifts his new Mercedes into 6th and floors it past the small (ecologically friendly) cars in the right lanes of the autobahn. I am pressed against the black leather seats.
“Hey.” He looks over at me. “220. (136mph)”
He smiles the smile of any good German auto engineer at a car as finely crafted at this. Were doing speeds reserved for the race car drivers and other Germans, I am nearly crapping myself at the thought of what would happen if we blew a tire right now.
Another car, something fancy and Italian, screams past us on the left; Markus, now beaming with pride at the European auto industry, turns and says with no envy “Now, that’s a fast car.”
The drive home from Oberstdorf, which took us almost 3 hours to get to yesterday, flew by in an hour and twenty minutes of insane speed on a much emptier autobahn.
Other things took place today; like an amazing 10 milehike, or me eating a plum dumpling covered in vanilla sauce (Germknodel), or some astounding cliffswhich I climbed all over, but compared to the insanity of the ride home, I couldn’t vividly recall any of it.
Also on vacation this week, Markus, was keen to do a little hiking in the Bavarian Allgau Forest; He had stated as much in his e-mail, and I was wonderfully thankful to have a local guide, instead of getting jammed in with the tourist crowds at the normal spots. We spent a couple of traffic filled hours driving from near Stuttgart (where he lives) down to Oberstdorf, the southern most German city, sitting on the Austrian border.
An avid hiker, whose parents brought him to this forest for most of his childhood, he already had a few trails he had never done before in mind, and with the changing color of the leaves, my camera and I were happy to tag along.
The hike was relatively mellow, with plenty of time for lunch on a hilltop and a cappuccino in the little café on top of the mountain. We wandered back down, past numerous amounts of bell ringing cows and (after checking in with the information stand) found a tiny room in a guesthouse back in Oberstdorf.
Finally we get to my favorite part of Germany; Food and Beer. We found a local steam beer brewery offering three types of glorious beverage; Pils (a standard lager, think Becks only better), Dunkle (a darker red beer with lots of flavor) and a Wiessbier (a Hefenweizen/wheat beer). I went for a giant liter of Wiess and ordered myself a Gambsbraten (roasted wild game, which was Ram, Markus seemed to think) which was quite pleasant.
The night progressed though various stages of drinking and after spending a couple of hours playing ping-pong with the locals we called it a night.
