Romantic Germany

Our train pulled into Nürnberg in the early afternoon. The blue skies and warm temperature were a welcome change from the cold and rainy Berlin. The best, however, was knowing that in just a few minutes we would be in our rented car speeding (legally) down the autobahn through the idyllic German countryside, bound for the quintessential romantic German town - Rothenburg ob der Tauber.

Rothenburg ob der Tauber

I was caught off guard as we drove slowly through the narrow streets of Rothenburg trying to pay attention to the GPS directions while unable to keep my eyes off what is perhaps the most charming place I have ever visited. We passed through the centuries-old gate house and down a quiet cobblestone street filled with the same awe that has for hundreds of years entranced travelers,  merchants, and artists alike. I stared up at stone churches and across windowsills of colorful houses. Even in that moment it became perfectly clear why Rick Steves - that seasoned backpacker who single-handedly put Rothenburg on the tourist map (for Americans) - considers this his favorite place in Europe.

Rothenburg was known for its
red colored tile roofs.

Rothenburg was one of the largest medieval cities in Europe, a massive crossroad of trade, strategically located halfway between the mercantile hubs of Hamburg and Venice. In 1274, it was given the status of Free Imperial City, which allowed it special privileges and an opportunity to grow. The city was surrounded by rich land and was even famous for its textiles. But a long and storied history which included a siege in 1631 during the 30 Years War stripped the town of its riches and left its inhabitants with the Black Plague. It lay in economic ruin for the next 250 years until the 1880s when romance artists, writers, and poets descended upon the sleepy town to breath life in it once more. Their stories, poems, and paintings brought the world back to Rothenburg. 

One of the guard towers
of the city wall

Our bed & breakfast was located in a quiet corner of town, a 600 year old house that was cozy enough for a Nancy Meyers (The Holiday, Somethings Gotta Give) film to be set there. The facade was covered in ivy, vines, and flowers while deep red geraniums spilled from the windowsills. Passing through the little front door, the low ceilings, oil landscape paintings, aged wood furniture, and abundance of game mounted on the wall put us in the proper mood for the best of German country living and hospitality. But as charming as our lodging was, we weren't here to spend the whole time in the house. We grabbed our cameras and headed for the city wall. 

The city wall is a couple miles long, with a pathway that allows people to walk practically the whole thing. It provides wonderful views over the city with slits cutout for bowmen, and later riflemen, to see outside the city. Every few hundred feet is a tower, and while most of them are closed to the public, the tallest is open and a rather fun climb to the top. About 200ft high, it offered the best panoramic views over the city and surrounding countryside. In the distance we could see a hot air balloon steadily rising in the late afternoon sky, no doubt with much better views than we had. 

Back on the ground, we walked the quiet streets admiring the abundance of quaint shops. Hanging above the doors over the streets were the iron shop signs with the intricate details and charm to show people their specialty. A few in particular were an iron helmet, a boat, and a pair of trousers. While some of the shops were truly authentic, we couldn't help but notice the ones filled with postcards, magnets, and everything else souvenir.  There were not many people this time of year, but just enough to make it feel slightly touristy. 

Things were fine for a while until I noticed the inevitable: Chinese and Japanese restaurants. Oh lord, I had a bad feeling about where this was heading. Not long after, just about the time we sat down on a restaurant terrace for supper, I heard it: Chinese - and no, it wasn't coming from Alex. I looked up and could see what appeared to be bus loads of Chinese and Japanese tourists. I saw no end in sight, but at least for the time being they were very well mannered.

The Nighwatchman

The highlight of our time in Rothenburg was the Night Watchman Tour. Here, an actor plays the role of a medieval night watchman and tells the story of the city. He was one of the best story tellers I have ever heard, staying in character the whole time and mixing history with humor to keep us all entranced by his words. In medieval times, there would be four night watchman, but today there is only one - a good thing in his words because "that means I don't have to share the money!" He walked us down the Herrngasse - the rich people's street - and out through the south gate. When we returned to the city, down a narrow, dim-lit street, he pointed out a particular bar that has been quite popular for years. Its name is 'Hell' and as he put it, "If someone here tells you to go to Hell - do it. It's good advice!"

Hell

We heard great stories of the town, especially how it had risen to prominence, fallen, and risen from the ashes again. During WWII, Rothenburg had been mostly spared by bombings. However, in March 1945, as Nazis were fleeing nearby Wurzburg, a general ordered them to take refuge in the fortified Rothenburg and defend it to the last man. As a result, allied planes dropped 16 bombs on the city, destroying 2,000ft. of the ancient wall, several buildings, and killing 39 people. Word of this reached the US Deputy Secretary of State, General John McCloy, who was familiar with the city because his mother had come in the late 1800s, the same time as the poets, artists, and writers. He remembered the beauty she described, and ordered that no more bombs would be dropped and the city spared if the citizens would surrender it. They did, and the town was saved. After the war, McCloy was awarded the "Honorable Protectorate of Rothenburg." 

Market Square

The night air had grown cold. After one last stroll through the now darkened, empty streets we made our way back to the cozy inn for a good night's slumber. We were awoken by our neighbors not too long after putting our heads down. I swear I thought people were that loud only in the movies, certainly this couple was loud enough to be heard throughout the whole house! I reckon Europeans are just a bit more outgoing in that department. Nevertheless, we had enough shut-eye to get up early the next morning for some breakfast, catch the morning fog creeping through the streets -reminiscent of a film noir, and quickly off in our car bound for the Alps.  

Once again on the autobahn, there was no traffic. As a young lad I had always been under the impression that the autobahn had no speed limits. Even though it is no longer true, there are still sections in the countryside that are marked with the four wavy lines signaling an end to all speed limits. I had encountered a few of these the previous day, but didn't really have the distance to push the car to the limits.  Today was my lucky day: not only was there little traffic, the distances in the speed limit free zones were much longer. This lead-footer was in paradise as he zoomed down the road at a whopping 135mph! 

Neuschwanstein

We were heading south to the fairytale castle of Ludwig II, King of Bavaria,  Neuschwanstein. The famous "New Swan Stone" lies on the Austria-German border. We drove across the border into Austria briefly before winding back through the mountains to the castle. It was a perfect day: blue skies, warm sunshine, and green, red, orange, and yellow leaves as far as the eye could see. Peeking out from the tree tops was the shining white castle, its magnificence befitting that of Disneyland - wait, it's the other way around...indeed, this castle was the inspiration for Walt Disney's magical creation. 

Hohenschwangau

There were tons of people visiting the castles that day, and since we were a bit late arriving, we had to take a later time to tour the castle. All was well as it allowed us time to first visit Hohenschwangau, the childhood home of Ludwig II, which sits opposite Neuschwanstein. This castle is much smaller, appearing like an oversized manor house one could find anywhere in Germany or the U.S. for that matter. From here, we had wonderful views over-looking the Alps and Swan Lake below, the namesake for both castles. After walking around the first castle, we made our way down to the lake where we encountered a beautiful swan and her ducklings. I could imagine Peter Tchaikovsky sitting with us admiring the scenery and being enchanted by the story of Ludwig II, drawing from it at least in some aspect inspiration for what would become one of his most famous works. 

A little bit about our friend Ludwig II. He was born in 1845 and became king at the age of 19. He grew up at Hohenschwangau, and knew the surrounding woods and mountains well. He had always dreamed of building a new home to spend the rest of his days in his beloved 'Eden.' Owing to his homosexual tendencies, he was obsessed with all things art and music, and was a major patron to theaters and artists, whom he often entertained in his home - and presumably in his bed. He was quite anti-social, and neglected his duties as king, choosing instead to stay isolated from public life. Even as a boy, he dreamed up building a romantic castle on the hill that would become Neuschwanstein. 

We hiked up the long way to St. Mary's bridge, which offers the best side view of the castle. It was a sturdy yet rickety bridge that was frightening to be on because so many people were on at once. Nevermind that it was a good 250 feet straight down, and people were bumping into one another left and right. We finally were able to get a picture, and I quickly pushed my way off and walked onwards to the castle. 

Once inside, we weren't allowed to take photos. We marveled at the spectacular attention to detail: the long corridor with stoned arches; the grand ballroom that was never used by anyone but Ludwig - and maybe a male lover; the throne room, with its byzantine chandelier, arches, and paintings of his perceived great kings looking down where the throne would have sat - it was never built; and of course his opulent bedroom, the ornately carved bed of mahogany adorned with spires and flying buttresses looked as though it belonged in a cathedral. Indeed, it was truly fit for a king. 

Courtyard Entrance

Ludwig was declared mentally unbalanced and ruled unfit to be king. He was arrested the following day, and within forty-eight hours was dead - no one knows whether he was killed or committed suicide. Within weeks, tourists were already lining up to see his castle. One last look around the courtyard entrance, and we bid Ludwig and his castle farewell. In hindsight, it is perhaps one of the most impressionable places I have visited - hurray, two in a row! 

From there we crossed the border back into Austria to drive through the winding roads of the Alps. They are truly magnificent - indeed I could hear them singing (cheesy, I know). Steep wooded mountain sides towered around us, their rocky, snowy peaks punctured the deep blue sky. Back below were wide, stunningly green fields dotted with little villages and houses. When Zugspitze came into view, the enormity of it was evident from the beginning. Sure, it was no Mt. Everest, but it certainly made us feel quite small. The snowy summit reflected light in all directions. We had to move fast in order to catch the last gondola ride to the top. 

 Sadly, we didn't arrive in time to make the summit, but as it's said, even dark clouds have a silver lining. In our case, it was Lake Eibsee that did it for us. A beautiful alpine lake at the base of the mountain, it offered views better than anything we had seen thus far. The water was clear enough for us to see the bottom, yet provided a perfect reflection of its motherly mountain bathing in the warm sunsetting light. We hiked the trails surrounding the lake, passing a spectacular moss covered forest floor. A few deer could be seen in the thicket, though they didn't mind us. We sat down on rocks at the water's edge, and simply took it all in. It was amazing to be completely in the moment, with no distractions around - just us, the lake, and the tallest mountain in Germany watching over us.