Oddly, I can find no mention of the "Rabenleitte reservoir" I mention, anywhere else on the web except in this report.
Sometimes You Have To Tough It Out
For those of you who didn't hear, I traveled to Germany on business a few weeks back. It came about by a lucky "break" -- my project lead hit a patch of gravel while bicycling and broke his collar bone, leaving me to go in his place (the voodoo doll seemed to do the trick nicely). What follows is the complete trip report, in full boring detail. Because I ate and drank so well during the trip, I even decided to include a complete reporting of my meals.
*** Saturday, Oct 29 *** "More of anything?" "More of everything!"
Because my company travels by plane so much, we routinely get upgrades to first class. The beautiful thing here was, I *was* the first class section. That's right, I had all of first class to myself, including my own private (and rather comely) flight attendant, for eight hours. I was even offered any movie I wanted to watch. It's the only way to fly.
It seemed a crime to be getting paid for all this. Although, it soon dawned on me that figuring out the breakdown of work hours between Saturday and Sunday would be no easy chore -- flying across midnight over six time zones on the day they set back the clocks for daylight savings time. Oh well, sometimes you have to tough it out.
(The meal: Some sort of duck appetizer, greens salad, chicken in apricot glaze, heated raspberry tart, topped off with a whole bottle of German riesling.)
*** Sunday, Oct 30 *** In which Mark falls in love 37 times in the airport
I arrive in Munich, rent a car and drive two hours north to the US Army base at Grafenwohr, arriving at 11AM. The exercise our company's software was supporting was being run out of a large Oktoberfest tent there. I was unable to sleep on the flight, so I just decide to stick it out and stay up as late as I can to get over the jet lag. I put in a nine hour shift.
Hotels and guesthouses in the area are booked solid for the exercise, so the guesthouse (Gastof Weich) I end up in was a half hour drive away, in Hirschau. My room was a converted attic, very cool.
(Lunch: Schweinenschnitzel with potato balls. Dinner: Jaeger Schnitzel mit Spatzle, and a Pils. This was the meal I had been salivating for since two years ago, when I visited Bavaria for a couple of days.)
*** Monday, Oct 31 *** In which Mark visits Amberg
I visit the city of Amberg in the morning, just to walk around. Other than that, just a long day of work.
(I am forced to eat on base. Lunch: ChiChi's, taco and enchilada. Dinner: Hamburger from Burger King [the Burger Fuhrer, as it is known].)
*** Tuesday, Nov 1 *** In which Mark almost visits Czech
Drove out to the Czech border in the morning. The car rental place made me sign an agreement that I wouldn't take the car into any of the former Eastern Bloc countries, so I was hoping to just walk across the border. Nothing doing -- there is a very long line of trucks and cars waiting to get across.
(Lunch: The Burger Fuhrer again [sigh]. Dinner: Josefshaus [Hirschau] -- Jager Schnitzel again, plus several Thurn and Taris Pilsners.)
*** Wednesday, Nov 2 *** In which Mark enjoys the night sky
Long work day again.
At night, while driving back to Hirschau I notice how clear the sky is. I stop for about twenty minutes to lie on my hood and look at the stars. It is so quiet that the only car that drove past the whole time I am stopped is audible two miles away. Not for the last time on this trip, I think "life is good".
(Lunch: Fig newton from the PX. Dinner: Rahmschnitzel with noodles [excellent] and several Patrizier braus at the Gasthof Specht in Grafenwohr.)
*** Thursday, Nov 3 *** "My hovercraft is full of eels."
Long work day yet again, nothing terribly noteworthy, so let me wax philosophic on the subject of the German language and German phrasebooks.
German, at first blush, seems like it would be simple to learn. It is typically spoken loudly and clearly, and shares many words with my native English. I had in fact vowed to learn to speak it passably in time for the Schnitzius family reunion (which will be taking place in June 1995 [in Krov on the Mosel river in southwest Germany]), such was my confidence. Looking into the matter some, though, it seems that the German language is a nightmare of genders, declension, odd cases, and strange word orders (worse than English, from what I can tell). I will still be taking a course in it, but I am no hopeful of achieving anything close to fluency.
I tried to use as much German as I knew in every situation, figuring that was the only way to learn it. Also, it really is true that the locals will treat you better if you at least make an effort to communicate on their level. I had a German phrasebook which came in handy, sometimes. Most phrases in the book, however, such as those for asking directions, generated only a flurry of incomprehensible German in response. At this point I would always have to interrupt with a phrase I grew to know and love: "Ich spreche wenig Deutsche" ("I speak little German"). So the phrasebook was for the most part useless, except as a vocabulary builder.
(Lunch: I satisfy my chronic pizza addiction at the food court on base. Dinner: Jaegerbraten mit bratkartoffelen, "Eis und Heiss" for desert, plus several excellent beers.)
*** Friday, Nov 4 *** In which Mark meets an old German man by accident
Work is slow in the middle of the day, so I take off to find Rabenleitte reservoir, a place recommended in the tourist guidebooks that happens to be relatively close by. I soon discover that driving the back roads during the daytime can be a harrowing experience, due to the combination of slow- moving farm vehicles and impatient drivers more used to the autobahn. The reservoir was pretty interesting, as far as reservoirs go.
On the way back I make a wrong turn and end up having to make a U-turn in a parking lot. An old German man in a big beat-up van backs into my front end. We both get out of our respective vehicles but can do little more than point and shrug, since neither knows the other's language. Fortunately there is no damage. I was afraid I would have to dig into a certain section of my phrasebook that I was hoping I would never have to.
*** Saturday, Nov 5 *** In which Joe and Mark are the Ugly Americans
Long work day again.
This evening, after dinner in Grafenwohr, Joe (a cow orker) and I decide to drive back to Hirschau where we are staying and have a couple more beers.
(First, a quick word about the pubs in Germany. At least in Bavaria, all the pubs I went to were exceedingly similar, always consisting of the following ingredients:
they are part of a guesthouse;
they serve excellent food, consisting mostly of pork dishes;
wooden fixtures everywhere;
the feature beer of only a single brand from a nearby brewery, mentioned on a lit sign visible from the street; each brand, though, has several different varieties (pils, weiss, dunkels, etc.);
a gambling machine;
a long table at which the regulars sit
The German solution to drunk driving seems to be to always have one of these places within walking distance.)
Joe and I make our way to one such pub (Goldenes Lamm) just down the street from our guesthouse. We are the only ones there, except for the long table of regulars (who were eyeing us suspiciously). Eventually, though, they wave us over to their table.
In the ensuing mayhem, we manage some level of communication, despite the language barrier and copious quantities of beer. At one point I think we played darts, but I could be wrong. I do remember Joe teasing the waitress several times during the evening, and her successfully communi- cating her response through the effective use of sign language, if you catch my drift.
(Lunch: Fig newtons from the PX. Dinner: [Gasthof Specht] Rahmgeschnetze- something.)
*** Sunday, Nov 6 *** In which Mark recovers
Had a beer-free day today. The resulting sore throat I develop could just be coincidence.
(Lunch: Mexican food at ChiChi's on base. No dinner.)
*** Monday, Nov 7 *** In which the Tailhook Incident is relived
During dinner at a guesthouse in Grafenwohr, we are sitting at the long locals table because of the size of our group. A young GI approaches Mike (a member of our entourage) and out of the blue says "I think you're a scumbag. I saw what you did to that waitress, and I don't appreciate it." and walks away.
We sit in stunned silence for several seconds. We eventually figured out what happened: at one point earlier, Mike had turned around suddenly in his chair, and accidentally elbowed the waitress; he had to reach around her quickly to keep from falling over. The GI at the next table saw this and interpreted it as a grope.
We explained this to the old man that was sitting next to me at the locals table. With a dismissive wave of his hand, he said "Dvink more bier" (this guy was cool). "She can take care of herself." As several in our party were getting steamed, we leave before there is any incident.
(Dinner: Gasthof Specht, Rahmschnitzel again.)
*** Tuesday, Nov 9 *** In which Mark sees a musical god up close
During the week the military newspaper Stars and Stripes had mentioned a concert scheduled for this day in Munich that I desperately wanted to see -- Paul Weller (for the unlearned heathens, he was front man for the Jam and the Style Council). Since the excercise wrapped up early, I check out of my room and head down towards Munich again. Not knowing where exactly to go, where to buy tickets, or even how to speak the language, I am non- theless successful.
Paul was absolutely brilliant. Hairs were standing up on the back of my neck at several points. The only down side of the concert is that I am now addicted to secondhand menthol cigarette smoke. Muncheners are like chimneys.
Driving back to my guesthouse in Starnberg (outside Munich) I come to several disheartening realizations:
I have only just enough money to pay for my room;
There are supposedly a couple of teller machines in Munich that take American bank cards, but I have no idea where they are
The instructions for how to call back to the states are safely locked in Joe's head, which was now rapidly traveling westward.
I sleep fitfully.
(Lunch: Bavarian pretzel on streets of Munich [tough and stale]. Dinner: schweinenbraten and Hacker-Pschorrs at the guesthouse in Starnberg.)
*** Wednesday, Nov 10 *** In which Mark breathes a sigh of relief
I eat a big breakfast, because I do not know when I'll be able to eat again.
I manage to figure out how to dial the American Express emergency travel number; they inform me that there is an AmEx travel office in Munich that would let me essentially forge a check from my bank for cash. After getting lost several times I manage to find it. When I finally get the cash in my hand, I guess the relief is evident on my face, because the cashier says "You can eat now, yes?"
I head out to Ottobeuren, which features a Benedictine abbey that is really phenomenal. It is supposedly the crowning achievement of the Baroque period; so incredibly detailed that it is almost tiring to look at.
I then decide to head down and spend the night in the Alps. I find a guesthouse in Tiefenberg, outside of Oberstdorf, that has a nice view of the Alps from my balcony of my room. As it is nearly winter but skiing season is not yet in swing, I am the only guest.
[Breakfast: standard German fruhstuck with big spread of meats, breads, and cheeses. Dinner: [Oberstdorf] Chicken heine-something mit brat- kartoffelen. I discover why Germany is not famous for their chicken dishes.]
*** Thursday, Nov 11 *** In which Mark visits the Royal Castles
After getting desperately lost in the Alps, I make my way to two of the Royal Castles of King Ludwig II, Neuschwannstein and Hohenschwangau. Hohenschwangau is impressive but I would have enjoyed it more if I could understand a word the tour guide was saying. Fortunately, Neuschwanstein has a tour in English (Neuschwannstein, by the way, is the one that the Cinderella castle at Disney World is modelled after).
After these castles I dip down into Austria. I blow just about a whole roll of film in the vicinity of Plansee, at a beautiful emerald-green lake nestled in the Alps.
I return to Germany and check into a hotel in Oberammergau, which incidentally is the city where a massive world-famous Passion Play is performed every ten years. They apparently do a massive business of selling crucifixes and other religious knick-knacks here.
(Breakfast: basically the same spread as before, only with addition of a bowl of cold cereal in what appears to be curdled milk. Not wanted to offend my hosts, I try some, and am relieved to find out it is just peach yogurt. Dinner: Rinderschmorrbraten, with several Paulaners, in Oberammergau.)
*** Friday, Nov 12 *** In which Mark castles again
I set out for yet another Ludwig castle -- Linderhof. While smaller than the other two, Linderhof is nontheless very impressive inside.
The rest of the day I had just set aside to wander around through the Alps some more. Some cities I travel through: Garmisch-Partenkchn., Mittenwald, Walchensee, Bad Tolz, Gmund, Bad Weissee, Tegernsee, Schliersee.
I plan on just sleeping at the airport my last night so I head back into Munich. After pizza dinner (I was Jonesing again) I wander the streets in search of a bar to kill some time; I settle on a little French restaurant that has two beautiful women working the bar. Flirting in an odd mixture of German, French and English, I discover my favorite beer yet (Wiehanstephan Export Dunkels); after a few of these, I buy a couple to go and head for the airport.
(Breakfast: usual. Denied lunch because of the idiotic German law where all businesses close from 2PM to 5PM. Dinner: pizza in Munich.)
*** Saturday, Nov 13 *** In which Mark flies home
I sleep well in the airport, and board the plane in the morning. The flight home didn't quite compare with the flight out -- I was stuck back in Business class with the common folk. Oh well, sometimes you have to tough it out.
