This being Germany, there’s no better place to start with a scatology reference. After leaving Frankfurt early this morning on autobahn A5 for areas north, it wasn’t long before Caroline needed a rest stop. How about the next one? Sure. We slow down from 100 mph to 30 mph in seconds before zipping into the roadside toilet or the rest area called Krachgarten. Caroline bursts into laughter as “Krach” is noise (think farting), but the word is also similar to “Kack,” which is politely known as poop. So stopping at the noise garden to make some noise yourself fits the play on words that this is a noisy crap stop. While she runs to the toilet hut, I point my camera into the distance to capture this idyllic village nestled in the rolling hills. Before I finished shooting the panorama, it was immediately evident that Caroline was skipping out on making noise or water, which was what she really needed to do. Someone or something exploded in the women’s room; the shit had hit the fan and was flung far and wide. It’s not often that my wife can’t handle a rather disgusting loo, so this must have been exceptional. I asked if she took a photo, and she said, “Oooh,” refusing to go back to snap a pic. She laughed through her gagging as we sped back onto the autobahn.

We had left Frankfurt without eating a thing because we just wanted to get out of town and feel like we were going somewhere. By the time we are approaching Bad Hersfeld, our stomachs are growling in German for food. Just what kind of town is this? We can’t find a bakery to save us from starvation; the only thing left to do is to violate a rule of manhood; we’ll stop and ask someone. But is it rule-breaking if you send the wife in your stead? I stop the car in front of an open flower shop and wouldn’t you know that I would pull the car over in front of a historic house. Caroline is impressed; it’s the Duden House. Konrad Duden is the creator of Germany’s dictionary; it is he who became the bane of many a German learner who first noted the orthography (rules) for how the German language would be written, punctuated, hyphenated, and otherwise be made nearly impossible to learn by those of us lacking in linguistic skills.

A lady at the flower shop directed Caroline to go to the end of the road and park, and it would be obvious where the bakeries were. No, it isn’t. We finally figure it out, we are supposed to walk into the fussgänger zone (pedestrian area; every self-respecting German town has one). Now, we have four bakeries to choose from. The first didn’t strike a chord, a good thing too, as the one we chose had Zwiebelbrot (onion bread), which is an old favorite, and the bread we shared on the very first German road trip we took together back in 1989. We walked around for a moment, eating our breakfast before spotting this really cool Rathaus (City Hall) to ogle. At the left corner of the building is the Ratskeller, which is not a rat cellar. Ratskeller is a restaurant that is in or very near the city hall and is found in the basement. Only 90 minutes out of Frankfurt, and I’m starting to feel like this is a vacation.

First, we saw the monument, and then we saw the border crossing. That didn’t do us a lot of good, as autobahns are notorious for not having very many exits. At the next off-ramp, we left the highway and decided to use backroads to find our way first to the monument and then to the border check. Signs would be helpful back here; guessing was not. Finally, we find our way back to the autobahn, and this time, we are prepared to exit. This is the monument titled “Die Wölbung der Hände” or The Curvature of the Hands. These entwined hands are supposed to represent the coming back together of the two sides of Germany that existed during the Cold War. On to the next exit.

This is part of the old East German checkpoint where travelers would be inspected as they drove to West Berlin, which was a part of West Germany. Back during my military days, it was Russians that we American troops had to clear with. This was an intimidating event for us as we had to turn over our passport, military I.D., and travel authorization to some Russian soldiers who worked on the other side of a divider that we couldn’t see through. The situation was quickly defused as a voice from beyond the wood panel shoved some Russian medals under the divide and asked for twenty dollars. They needed cash like the rest of us. I told the faceless voice that I didn’t have $20, and he said “$10.” I told him I had five sold. With my inspection over, I was “free” to travel eastward to Berlin. Today, the checkpoint is a quiet reminder of a time that feels far away.

We weren’t supposed to drive so far east, but the detour felt like an obligatory one, and so we took it. Magdeburg was our destination. It was the childhood home of Caroline’s mom, Frieda Louise Auguste Jutta Linenkohl. Jutta is her preferred name. This house is part of the Schlachthof (slaughteryard) which is where her father worked, who was a veterinarian. Jutta was born on 25 July 1935 to Wilhelm and Helene Linnenkohl. She was the second born; her brother, who died during the war, was ten years her senior. During the war, Jutta and her family evacuated themselves 16 miles west to the small village of Druxberge due to the danger of living in a city that was starting to get bombed. Ultimately, the family settled in Hanover, another 75 miles west.

Jutta has never been back to Magdeburg, though she would love to visit. The next best thing was for us to visit, hence the detour. Most of the buildings in the area are falling apart, though there is visible evidence that the city is trying to save some of the structures. One building, in particular, has been converted into a large grocery store, Kaufland. In front of the store, we stopped for a couple of grilled sausages, grabbed a basket, and went shopping. With our onion bread from earlier, we needed some things to put on top of it. Salami and cheese sounded good, and so did the strawberries and oranges. Sadly, we didn’t see any goats, sheep, cattle, or pigs being brought to market, as depicted in this ornament on the facade of one of the buildings.

This stop in Magdeburg, as I said, was not scheduled, so we had little time for sightseeing. Not wanting to just shop, look, and run, we decided we had time for one more stop. The Magdeburg Dom (Cathedral) was our next stop. It was easy to choose this building as it towers over every other building in the Magdeburg area. Many of the other churches in town are now gone, destroyed to make way for other buildings, as communism/socialism had little use for these historic relics. Dynamite was the preferred method for elimination. Fortunately, not all churches suffered such a fate, such as this thick-walled giant. This cathedral is so well insulated that as we walk in, the first thing we notice is our warm breath billowing in front of us; it’s that cold.

While I’m not a religious person, I am happy that these old cathedrals are still standing. They are often opulent and nearly always striking in their grandeur. There is trouble on the horizon, though, for some of these artifacts from our past: maintenance for a building this size and age is expensive. At what point do communities decide they are too costly? In other areas of Europe, I’ve traveled on previous visits; former churches have been converted to concert halls, private residences, and office space, but what would a city do with a cathedral of this stature in a place not on most tourists itinerary?

Within these houses of worship can be found some amazing art, sculptures, tapestries, and carvings. At the base of the pulpit was this beautiful piece of work; it is now part of our good fortune that it never came into contact with the destructive force of dynamite.

The Magdeburg Dom was built in 1209 atop an older church that was founded in the year 937, making it the oldest Gothic cathedral in Germany. Back in the early 1500s, Martin Luther preached here during the Protestant Reformation, and then in the 1800s, with the city under Napolean’s rule, the church was used for storage, including pens for keeping livestock. Since the fall of communism behind the Iron Curtain, the people of Magdeburg have raised over $2 million to renovate this historically important icon on their skyline. Let’s hope future generations see the importance of maintaining our cultural history.

It’s not easy walking through this cathedral so quickly, but we don’t have much time to give proper attention to the details on display. We can only look, register the memory in a moment, and move on. While my photos will give me something that allows me to linger for a time after getting home to Arizona, I’ll still have missed half of everything here that could have been collected by hungry eyes.

About to leave the sky is looking a lot more inviting than when we arrived. If only we had a few more hours to hang out, set up a tripod, go on a docent lead tour, see the place lit up at night, or come back for a service when the organ is being played. Instead, we need to get back on the road for our long drive north to Lübeck.

Time to break out the Zwiebelbrot and brie; we’re hungry.

The north of Germany is a pretty flat area, making for some expansive vistas. With no time to stop for photos, I had to shoot this from the moving car. No worries, though; I slowed down to 80 mph.

Trying to drive around a village brought us right into the middle of town. Welcome to Stendal, Germany. This place dates from the year 1022 but didn’t really show up on the map until Albert the Bear granted the community “Market rights” in 1160. At that point, it quickly became an important member of the Hanseatic League. Back when I lived in Germany, I never recognized the “Hansa” designation or its importance. It was only on this trip that Caroline asked if I knew the significance of a Hansa. The Hanseatic League was a confederation of merchant guilds that operated similarly to a union. The League provided protection and laws that governed merchants and the trade routes they operated in. It was in Lübeck back in 1159 that the league was started by Henry the Lion, Duke of Saxony. Right in front of me, all these years have been a glaring example of the name at work to this day: Lufthansa!

The broad sky, crepuscular rays, and dramatic clouds had us oohing and aahing in ways we didn’t 20 years ago while living over here. Maybe we were too jaded, or maybe too self-absorbed, but for whatever reason today we have a greater appreciation for the beauty we are seeing today out here on our first German road trip in nearly two decades.

We were already on the bridge when we recognized that we needed to stop, but there was nowhere to stop on this part of the road. So we continue our drive. After about a mile, we figured out that our continuation wasn’t a great idea and turned around to get a better look. Just before the northern end of the bridge is a small parking area; we park and start the long walk to the middle of the bridge.

Looking east, we have a great view of the wetlands of the Elbe River valley. While it is still “winter” temperature-wise, it is a glorious day to be on the road.

Approaching Ratzeburg, we are really short on time, nervous that the shop and sites we want to visit in Lübeck will be closed by the time we arrive. The only thing we can do is to take photos out of the windshield, and as we pass through Ratzeburg, we look on with dreams of our ultimate return. On that day we come back, we’ll hopefully be out on canoe’s rowing the Domsee, Kleinersee, and Ratzeburger See (lakes).

Lübeck, we have arrived. Hey John and Caroline Wise, we are closed. This is a bummer. The Niederegger shop is closed; they are the marzipan gods of Germany. The churches are closed. The Rathaus (city hall) is closed. Drats. At least this stone sheep can’t close or leave and so it will have to act as the main attraction.

Just because the city is shutting down doesn’t mean there isn’t anything to do. There is plenty to see in nearly any European city just while walking around. Above us is part of the Rathaus, and in the distance on the left is Niederegger. Pretty will have to suffice.

Down one street, up another. We meander this way and then that way. If only we had a full day to explore Lübeck, or better yet, an entire weekend. Not far from where we parked, we spot a hotel and step in to learn the price. Too much for us, we’ll keep looking or head on up the road. Hunger has returned, though, so we put the hunt for accommodations on hold and instead search for that special place that will sate our appetites.

Right around the corner, we find the perfect place for dinner: Im Alten Zolln. Perfect because it’s right here, and our car is across the street and up the block a bit. As will be the routine for all meals while we are in Europe, Caroline starts her dining experience with a glass of beer or, when in Frankfurt, a glass of apple wine. For dinner, I had something called Sauer Fleisch (sour meat) with roasted potatoes. Caroline ordered potato pancakes with smoked salmon. Full and energized, we decide against looking for a place in Lübeck and aim the car towards Kiel. Driving further north better positions us for our goal of reaching and spending some quality time at Wattenmeer. You’ll have to read tomorrow’s entry to learn what the Wattenmeer is.