Two Corners of the World and Some Very Important Announcements

Before I get down to the adventures, I have a few announcements to make.

First, let’s start with cheese! I think it deserves the exclamation mark or, at least, the German variety does. Wonderful stuff, especially the gouda we partnered with apple for lunch today.

Second, bugs. They’ve arrived in force. I’ve had three blissful bug-free months and the world seemed fine without them - nothing fell apart, the birds went on singing, the sun still rose. Are they really that important?

Thirdly, some of you may recall that fateful day when Margs and I set out and I lost my toy elephant (no need to ask why he was coming along); anyway, would you believe, I found an identical elephant!

And lastly, when I announce, friends, Dad, brothers (Darcy, if you even bother to read this, I still haven‘t had an email from you and now everyone knows this so you‘d better get cracking), that I shall have no Internet access for a while I do not expect you to consider this time-off from emailing me …

KONSTANZ

We arrived in Konstanz by a train that circled the lake and took us past fields of caravans, tiny villages that don’t seem large enough to warrant their rather grand castles (does it not seem unfair that Germany has a trillion castles and Maddy, who is so well suited to the castle life, I’ve heard many people say, has none?), water birds: white swans fishing with necks tucked, ordinary ducks and others with coats grander than anything I own, and bevies of boats that sit still on flat, endless plains of water; we arrived to a warm sun blanketing yellow light across the city and the day couldn‘t be more perfect.

That warm blanket was soon ripped off, replaced by a sheet of rain and grim skies of grey. Not wanting to linger in our average room, we donned coats, and, armed with umbrellas, tackled the walking tour we picked up from the tourist office for one Euro.

Konstanz is an old city and around every corner and under every rock there is a place of note, which might be lovely on a day bright with sun, but with rain rolling off the umbrella on to a map too large to handle well, our combined mood was not cheery.

It was decided rather optimistically that perhaps it wouldn’t be raining on the other side of the lake, so we traipsed down to the harbour and caught a ferry across to Meersburg, a town of five thousand with two castles - an old and a new, which the bishops of Konstanz used as summer residences once upon a time. The rain did finally dissipate so we ambled up the steep cobble-stoned streets to Altes Schloss, one of Germany’s oldest castles, which is said to have inspired the Grimm brothers. Since you can’t move without tripping over a castle I can’t attest to the validity of this claim.

On Thursday we caught a train and then boarded a bus to the Unesco World Heritage site Richenau Island, a place where everyone owns an orchard and a boat and leases space to hives of irritating insects. We walked all over, following the signs of men with walking sticks that led us through front yards, down narrow roads with no footpaths, around old churches - though I seem to have lost track of old - and along the calm waterfront. When two bus drivers wouldn’t let us on their buses, we walked to a café and walked inside to the counter where the proprietor let us have waffles and coffee and seats so we could have a break from all the walking we‘d been doing. Really, I’ve done so much walking, I could retire from it.

FREIBURG

We moved on Friday, and two trains and a rather stressful trek later we arrived at the very awful Hotel Sonne; in fact, it depresses me to describe the awfulness of the place so I won’t - just imagine that hotel you wish you’d never been to and that’s where we were.

Freiburg is just the prettiest little town; blossoming magnolia trees dot the sidewalks, the Dresiam River runs near our hotel and on her banks the locals sprawl, baking in the sun’s glow, and it’s been glowing a skin-warming 22 degrees. A streamlet follows the narrow boutique-and-café-lined streets; it is the Bachle and folklore says that if you step into these waters, you’ll marry a Freiburger.

After visiting the markets in Munsterplatz, where we finally had the famous German sausage, we journeyed to Schauinsland and caught a twenty-minute cable-car ride to the peak. This ride offers up gorgeous views of green meadows and wooded hills, and when you reach the very top, you can look down on the Rhine Valley and across to the still snow-capped Alps. Up high the air was cloudy with remnants of the volcanic ash that has the European airports in a tizzy.

On our return we stopped in the city centre where, like the Pied Piper’s children, we followed the glorious sounds of a gypsy family singing on a street corner. The largest crowd I’ve seen buskers draw was ringed about them, engrossed in the performance. They were so marvellous I wanted to get my extended family together, knock out some of the older women’s front teeth, give the men some walking sticks and cowbells to bang, and set out on a grand travelling choir adventure. Only, other than the odd few, none of us is that musically inclined, and not even in my wildest dreams - and I can’t seem to stop dreaming these days - would we ever sound like they did.

For our last day in storybook-pretty Freiburg, we hired brand-new bikes and set off along the river, riding out of town to green meadows where Freiburgers take their dogs for walks and play strange games with wooden blocks. We circled back and traversed the empty streets; Mum was in charge of directions and turned corners at whim until we’d left the map far behind. We eventually stumbled across a tram track and followed the number 5 back to the centre. Afterwards, we walked across the city to the guide-book recommended Reis Garten, where we had wanton and vegetable soup, so delicious my mouth watered after every bite, and tasty ginger beef with cashews. It was still sunny late in the afternoon when we wound our way back to the hotel to commence packing for the next leg of our journey.

Mum and I are in Heidelberg but my fingers are too tired to go on, so whoever is out there reading will have to wait a few days for the next instalment.