John Wise – Page 219 – Dreams, Moments, Travels

Hanging Out In Frankfurt

April 20, 2013 JWise Photo of the Day, Travels

The train track into the city center from Heddernheim is still on a weekend construction schedule, meaning it only goes so far before we have to transfer to a bus to bypass the traffic snarl. Today’s drop-off point is at Eschenheimer Tor (gate), an old part of the city wall that once surrounded Frankfurt. Sadly, little evidence of that part of history still exists, although you can see on a city map of Frankfurt where the old fortification used to sit – they have been turned into a sort of green belt. This is also where we’ll pick up the train again as we make our way to the Hauptbahnhof (main train station). We have a short walk towards the river looking for a particular house.

Olaf’s house is the one we are looking for, and we find him before we see his place. Standing in front of his building looking for us, it doesn’t look like this old friend has changed much at all. Upstairs in his large flat, we first meet his kids, Johnny and Lucy, and then his wife, Sylvia. A large table is set, and we are immediately invited to breakfast. Good thing that was scheduled as a part of our getting together. Like all of our meetings here in Germany, there are a few moments of getting reacquainted before falling into conversation as though time stood still during the intervening years, though the technology has dramatically shifted.

I first met Olaf back in 1989, maybe earlier, but my foggy memory can’t be sure. He was living down the street from us on Glauburgstrasse with To and Roman. Roman was and still is a musician. At the time, his project was called Schaum Der Tage, and To was a member. Through Olaf, I would also meet Uwe Schmidt, now known as Atom™. Just as importantly, maybe more so, Olaf gave me a copy of “No Sense Of Place – The Impact Of Electronic Media On Social Behaviour” by Joshua Meyerowitz; still one of my all-time favorite books. When Caroline and I got our first copy of Imagine (3D software) for the Amiga, Olaf was right there over our shoulder, curious about the entire process. After we moved to PC and Windows 3.0 and attended Cebit in 1990, we were given a free copy of 3D Studio ver. 1.0 by Autodesk, who apparently liked our story of what we’d accomplished so far. This would start a relationship with 3D software that would guide Olaf’s career.

After breakfast, Sylvia and Johnny had to leave for soccer practice. Lucy entertained herself in another room, and Caroline, Olaf, and I spent the next hours talking about social responsibility, education, technology, and virtual reality. There was little time for nostalgia as we only had four hours to cover the past 18 years, but what we did get to share left Caroline, and I encouraged and happy that we’d had this opportunity to spend the first part of the day with Olaf and had the chance to meet his family.

We left Olaf’s walking along the river with the idea of visiting the Architectural Museum, as I’ve been looking for books that detail Germany’s town centers. So far, we’ve not had any luck finding such a book, and it appears they may only be available from souvenir shops in the cities themselves. The reason behind this need has to do with the project I’ll be working on when I get back to the States. It involves virtual reality and the Oculus Rift, which I hope will be arriving shortly after our return. On the way to the museum, we passed this Renault Twizy, a two-person electric car. Watching it scoot along, we couldn’t help but want one. Wikipedia shows that it costs about $8,000, has a range of about 61 miles, and gets along at nearly 50mph. The museum was another dead end; nothing about the architecture of Middle Ages Germany. One more stop to make this morning, this one to visit Jutta. We only had a couple of hours with my mother-in-law, but she’s always happy to see us and still can’t believe we’re here.

Time to head back to Stephanie and Klaus’s. Today, we are meeting Klaus’s brother and his family. While we were away, Klaus (a terrific cook we are learning) made a cake with a bunch of fresh fruit. Shortly after we returned the Meyer’s arrived, also with a homemade cake. Michael is Klaus’s younger brother. He’s married to Isabella, whose family is originally from Spain. Their two children are twins named Yanik and Emilia.

After cake and coffee, the eight of us headed out for a walk so the four kids (including my wife) could go out and play. This little scooter proved valuable on another day, as parking is often some distance from the house due to a lack of available spots. Caroline needed something from the car, and Stephanie suggested she take Katharina’s scooter. I do believe if we lived within scootering distance from work, Caroline would have one of these in Phoenix.

Not only is the train stop nearby, but the grocery and a pizza place too, a small stream and green belt also run through the community. To get to this lush setting, we only walked a few minutes up the street before being greeted by this surprise. Surprise because here we are a few weeks into our trip here and we are just now learning of it.

Let me update this to FIVE kids. Klaus dared sit down on the “Crazy Spinny Vomit Inducer Thingy” and allowed me to do my best spinning him so fast that centrifugal force nearly launched him into a neighboring country. Just before the flight (and my attempt to capture the moment Klaus became an astronaut), he put down a foot to brake himself. This probably doesn’t require stating the obvious, but Katharina was hysterical with laughter watching Dad spinning at hundreds, if not millions, of revolutions per minute.

It’s easy to believe that Katharina has really enjoyed getting to know her aunt Caroline. The two of them have spent as much time together as our busy schedule has allowed. Just nine days after we leave, Katharina will become a teenager, so the next time we see this happy, well-adjusted niece of Caroline’s, she’ll be well on her way to being a young lady. It’s been great getting to know her a little while she’s still so innocent and happy. If only all of us could be so excited and enthusiastic about our time in life.

While the big kids played, the younger ones had no problem entertaining themselves. At this age, Emilia and her brother Yanik are amazed by everything around them, and it’s obvious how busy Isabella stays as she pushes, prods, and pulls them from potential danger. Though at times, like this one in the sandbox, we all get to sit back and watch them play.

I could have Photoshopped this to make it really look like Stephanie was knuckle-deep with her finger in her nose, but I thought better of it and decided to leave it looking like maybe she was covering her mouth while coughing, which she wasn’t. She’s wearing two pairs of glasses, as all moms have extra eyes in which to watch their children when they think they can hide from mom’s all-knowing vision of everything they do.

And this is the reason mothers need extra eyes. Yanik considers his options as he watches the intriguing, sparkly, fast-moving water rush by. He, Katharina, and Emilia had been lying down on a small bridge, dipping their hands into the water underneath them. Well, if this was so much fun, maybe getting in the stream would be great fun, too. Not if you’re Isabella; Mom was on constant vigil as he tempted fate by getting just an inch or two from the stream when he could. The photo is of him before he got close; here, he’s still far away. In a moment, he was but a grass blade away from taking a swim.

After a couple of hours of walking through the park and playing, it was nearly time to bid farewell to the Meyer family. It’s been a great afternoon getting to know a little about Klaus’s brother and his family. Before they left, there was some time left for scooter races and even time for Michael to try riding Katharina’s Wave Board. So far, this has been a perfect day.

How to put the icing on perfection? A perfect meal, that’s how! Klaus, Stephanie, Katharina, Caroline, and I took the train one stop back towards Frankfurt city center and then walked the rest of the way to Zur Golden Kron (The Golden Crown) restaurant. From the white asparagus soup to the Austrian-style dessert, our dinner in one of Klaus’s favorite places was amazing. And now it really has been a perfect day from start to finish.

Museum Day

April 19, 2013 JWise Photo of the Day, Travels

While here in Germany doing what we can to keep my mother-in-law Jutta motivated as she recovers from her broken hip, Caroline has been getting some time in for her job back home in Phoenix, Arizona. This means that early mornings and late evenings are spent on her laptop trying to put in some hours, so this time here doesn’t count against vacation. With most “tourism” sites opening at 10:00, we have the morning for Caroline to put in a couple of hours. By 9:30 today, we hopped on the train and headed for the museum district along the Main River. Our first destination is the Städel Art Museum.

Astonishment greeted me as we walked up a stairway to see this painting staring at us. Unfortunately, it is not the “original.” That version hangs in the Musée Royaux des Beaux-Arts in Brussels, Belgium. While Jacques-Louis David is the original artist of “The Death of Marat,” it was in his workshop that copies were made; this is one of them.

There are many known artists on display at the Städel, but only a handful are personal favorites, such as Marc Chagall here. This is his work titled The Rabbi.

From Paul Klee – The Lamb. It’s a sheep thing due to the wife’s obsession with all things fiber!

Caroline, too has some favorites featured here; this is “Pietá,” painted by Franz Von Stuck back in 1891.

Another for the wife; Max Liebermann’s “The Weaver.”

Since learning of Otto Dix, he has remained a constant favorite of mine for 35 years. While I was living in Germany from 1985 through 1995, I would visit any museum I could find after learning that they may have a Dix on display. This is his work “The Artist’s Family,” painted in 1927. If I’m not mistaken, the largest collection of his work is housed at the Kunstmuseum in Stuttgart, Germany.

Across the street from the Städel is a new footbridge over the Main that brought us to the path that took us to the Frankfurt Historical Museum.

On the way up that side of the river, we pass an older bridge, Eiserne Steg. Here’s Caroline standing just a few steps above street level with the high-water marks noting the flood levels of the Main River.

Once in the Historical Museum, we came upon an old favorite of mine, the model of Frankfurt after it was destroyed during World War II. In a sense, Frankfurt was lucky to have this occur; it allowed for the modernization of the city. Without the destruction, rebuilding this city would have proven nearly impossible, as widening streets and tearing out narrow historical wooden buildings would have taken decades to resolve with owners and lawsuits that would have worked to protect the history of the city. What came out of the ashes became the banking capital of Europe.

Caroline tried on 22 pounds of gear, simulating the suit of armor worn by knights. Fearsome, isn’t she?

After our morning into the afternoon museum walk, it was once again time to visit Jutta, followed by taking ourselves to dinner. But this wasn’t any old dinner, as we had been invited to join To and Caroline at their apartment on Friedberger Landstrasse. Caroline is To’s wife; they married two years ago, and she’s an art history major when not working at a job that pays. To make us grünne sosse (green sauce), which is that Frankfurt specialty dish I wrote of back on our first full day in Germany. After eating, we talked and talked until nearly midnight. Meeting with old friends and new ones (it was great to meet you, Caroline Ka Punkt) is like putting on an old suit of armor; it just fits right. With an unceremonious 23-second goodbye and rush down the stairs, we were hoofing it to catch the next train. Tomorrow morning at 8:00, we have a breakfast date with another old friend.

A Day In Geisenheim, Germany

April 18, 2013 JWise Photo of the Day, Travels

Caroline and I had to leave Frankfurt relatively early today for a drive to Geisenheim. Our date is with Vevie Engelhardt, Caroline’s stepmother. It took nearly an hour to get out here; it would have taken longer if we could have stopped at all the places along the Rhein River we drove along, but we didn’t get away from Frankfurt at 8:00 like we wanted to. Once in the small village where Vevie lives, we picked a parking spot and started walking through the fussgänger zone (pedestrian area – no cars allowed) until stumbling upon her street. This didn’t work out as perfectly as it sounds; once on the street, we easily found house numbers 2 through 8 on the right but couldn’t find numbers on the left. Towards the end of the street, we turned left to see if maybe there were backside entrances, only 1 and 5, we needed number 3. So we returned the way we came, certain that we were missing the obvious. Once more, we checked the back of the building and found that number 3 was out of sequence. Great, in a moment, we were at Vevie’s door being greeted with some mighty big hugs.

We spend a few minutes seeing Vevie’s apartment, having a drink of some homemade? Berry syrup she made before she put lunch in the oven and took us on a walk of her neighborhood. It’s another beautiful day here in central Germany, though a touch on the cool side.

As Caroline and Vevie catch up on a couple of decades of conversation, I linger behind the two and enjoy the sights, concentrating on the photography.

I’m in love with these small villages. They are quaint, old, full of character, and while occasionally tagged by a graffiti hoodlum, as opposed to graffiti artists, they are not run down, dangerous, or falling into decrepitude as so many small towns in America are. How these places remain vibrant is nearly beyond my ability to comprehend.

We cannot pass an old church without trying the door. Sadly, the Lutheran and Protestant churches are closed all days except Sunday, where the Catholic church’s doors remain open every day.

I’d like to wonder out loud if a street-side display like this would survive 24 hours in New York City, or would the plants and containers quickly find themselves scattered around town at other people’s properties? Don’t get the wrong idea about my kvetching about America. I love the land I live in, but I’m saddened by our nearly silent acceptance of decay, crime, and lack of education that afflicts so many.

After our walk around town, we returned to Vevie’s place and sat down to lunch, and we talked. And we talked some more. Time for espresso and more talk. Along the way, we got a commitment from Vevie that she’d like to come visit us and see some of the beauty of the Grand Canyon, the Redwoods, and Yellowstone. We agree that next May or September would be best; a loose date has been set.

As we talked through the afternoon and were not quite ready to part company, we followed Vevie to a local Italian Eis Shop (ice cream) for a sweet. Awesome, spaghetti eis is on the menu; see earlier entry for an explanation of this amazing treat. Caroline and Vevie opt for a fruity eis. The ice cream was great as long as the sun bore down on us, but some pesky clouds kept sweeping by, throwing a chill down upon us. With it getting later, we had to bid adieu to leave us enough time to visit Jutta. It was a bittersweet farewell, although it was tempered with the hopes we’d meet again in little more than a year; our fingers are crossed.

Not an hour later, we were back in Frankfurt and arriving at Bürger Hospital much quicker than we’d anticipated; it was rush hour. As it has been every day we’ve been here, Jutta is thrilled to see us. We spend a couple more hours talking with Jutta and laughing with her, too, before the fullness we left Geisenheim with starts to fade, and I start thinking about what we’ll find in this city for dinner tonight.

Frankfurt and Old Friends

April 17, 2013 JWise Photo of the Day, Travels

The first half-dozen photos in this entry are for my friend Rob Lazzaratto, who lives in Tonopah, Arizona, and runs his own farmers’ markets. These markets in Frankfurt move around the city and can be found nearly every day; today, we are in the Bornheim area. What’s crazy is Frankfurt while considered a large metropolitan area, its population is just under 700,000 people. On the other hand, Phoenix, Arizona, is home to nearly 1.5 million people. The point is that Frankfurt has a more vibrant active marketplace for independent sellers and the number of people who visit them than the Phoenix area. Not only that, the markets here are open from early morning to just before evening. The same is true for the arts here. At every train stop we pass through, we find posters and flyers announcing various arts, music, and speaking dates across the area. The culinary and art cultures are alive and well in Frankfurt.

Germany, while it imports much food also grows a lot with the help of its extensive network of greenhouse growers. With the opening of the European Union, food products started moving across former borders with ease, just as we people are allowed to do now. Some 20 years ago, while those of us in private cars lined up at border crossings, the really long lines were formed by the kilometer or better of trucks that were moving livestock and produce between countries from France and Denmark to Italy and Greece and all lands between. These days, there are no border traffic jams; everything sails right through. The effect of all this unencumbered trade is that the selection of food choices has grown to offer Europeans incredible choices.

This potato stand was offering eight different varieties of potatoes, along with a few types of onions and garlic – all staples in the German kitchen.

No German table is complete without bread. This may be the single most important food in Deutschland. The biggest complaint you are likely to hear from Germans traveling in America or England is that we eat the most boring, spongy-soft, taste-free substance that we dare call bread. Bread here has gusto, crunch, and heft. There may be more bakeries in Frankfurt alone than all the convenience stores in the state of Arizona. As a matter of fact, the typical German dinner at home is called abendt brot (evening bread), and it’s just that: a couple of pieces of bread with some cheese and deli meat, maybe a small salad too.

All things olive. From sheep cheese marinated in olive oil to more than two dozen variations of the olives themselves, this stand was offering the gourmets of Frankfurt nearly every form of this famous fruit to the public walking by this morning. Nor do these sellers have the market cornered, as another street-side shop was offering a different variety of olive-drenched products.

A seasonal favorite in Germany is asparagus, but not just any asparagus; it must be white asparagus. So, how does one grow white asparagus? The fields across this region where asparagus grows are covered with plastic or a thick cover of mulch. This process ensures the asparagus shoots never see the light of day. Deprived of sunlight, they do not produce chlorophyll and so they remain white. The color is not the only difference; the taste is also much more subtle, well, at least to me anyway. From April through June, this German delicacy remains in high demand; its price also reflects that point.

One might start to think that Germans are foodies, though many would argue that German food is quite boring. When looking at the important staples in this country’s diet, cheese and plenty of it, plays a big role. At today’s market were three vendors selling cheese products, and not a slice of yellow nondescript cheese product was to be found, nor ‘cheese’ in a spray can. While cheese may not be a religion as it is to the French, Germany could easily be in second place for bragging rights to those who love cheese more. When perusing these cheese mongers wares be prepared to walk away with a little of everything. Also, here in numbers are the meat sellers, from chicken and fish to tons of pork, beef, and wild game, but I didn’t capture a photo worth sharing.

This is not graffiti. It is a painting at the end of an apartment building showing typical daily life in Frankfurt, where women drinking apple wine hang out with blue goats, laughing the day away.

A week ago, the trees were still bare, the air freezing cold and everyone was bundled up in winter clothes. Not so true today as the trees are exploding in color, and the temperatures have crawled out of brrr into the mid-20s Celsius (75 Fahrenheit). And the flowers are not the only thing making themselves seen; it’s time to break out the “I’m not sure yet if it’s time for summer clothes” – skirts still have heavy leggings underneath them, and short sleeve shirts have jackets draped over the arm; just in case.

If you only walk with your eyes looking straight ahead, you will miss much in any given European city. Details pop out of nearly every corner; in this case, it was a face adorned to the front of an apartment underneath a balcony just overhead.

Meet To Kuehne (pronounced Toe), an old friend of ours. To is approaching a level of fame that has him being recognized on the streets of Germany, but he still has time for us. So much time, in fact that we have been invited to dinner on Friday night, he’s promised to make dinner himself. Also on the invitation is another old friend, Olaf Finkbeiner, but I’m having trouble getting hold of him. I hope he makes it.

Who did make it for today’s meeting with To was Manuel Francescon von Oberursel! These two guys are very special in our lives as some 20 years ago; they helped me make a video for Caroline’s birthday that still makes us laugh to this day. After our departure from Germany, Manuel made a career for himself making short films and ultimately started working in TV and radio. The four of us sat outside in the sun at a local cafe for hours, hearing their voices again kept smiles on our faces the entire time. Saying goodbye to Manuel was hard, as the idea that we may not see him again for many more years was a bitter pill to swallow. Today, we realized just how much we miss our old friends.

By late afternoon, we were once again on the move, back to Bornheim to pick up a prescription for Jutta.

After arriving at the rehabilitation clinic, we couldn’t find any sign of Jutta. We knocked multiple times at her room, figuring that maybe she was in the restroom. We’d already checked the dining room and were on our way to the doctor’s office when Stephanie showed up, telling us that Jutta was back in Bürger Hospital. Just before panic sets in, she tells us that Jutta’s wound is infected. Could be worse, at least, as she didn’t break her other hip! With all of the required train stops that would be needed to go to the hospital and Caroline behind with work she’s been trying to keep up with from her job back home, we decided to head back to Stephanie and Klaus’s place.

This is the headquarters of the European Central Bank. We left our first train at Hauptbahnhof (the main train station) to walk up the street to the train stop, where the subway would take us to our temporary home. With restaurants from Malaysia and the Balkans to fast food joints selling Pakistani and Lebanese specialties, we walked amongst the international throngs, admiring the diversity that has become Frankfurt. It seems fitting that this multi-cultural city would become home to this conglomeration of states that make up the E.U.

Twenty years ago, this subway stop was Theater-Platz; today, it is Willy-Brandt-Platz, named after the popular and long-standing German Chancellor. Downstairs, we will board the U1, U3, or U8 for our short ride home, which not only runs underground but emerges into the light of the day for the majority of our trip to Heddernheim.

And this concludes this very long entry. Earlier, I said summer had arrived; maybe I exaggerated a little, as here’s proof that spring is upon Germany: cherry blossoms.

Lüneburg – End Of The Road

April 16, 2013 JWise Photo of the Day, Travels

Looking up Ilmenaustrasse in Lüneburg, Germany

Standing on the corner of Ilmenaustrasse and bei der St. Johanniskirche in Lüneburg, Germany, just doesn’t have the ring of the old Eagles song about Winslow, Arizona, does it? Then again neither does Hotel California remind me of our hotel here in Germany on a foggy morning. I’m not even sure if there is a song that conjures these gray morning blues that accompanies the feeling that we’ll be exploring under potentially overcast skies the entire day. This is such a strange contrast, remembering that there’s always the threat that we’ll not see any blue sky today, it is after all, a frequent European phenomenon compared to the Arizona desert where we can be 99.9% certain that we’ll see some corner of blue sky every single day over the course of a year. But we are here, and it’s the end of winter, and so as we are apt to do, we’ll make the best of it.

Man riding his bicycle in a narrow alley in Lüneburg, Germany

It is too early out here for much foot traffic yet, just the way we like it. Watching a city wake up became a passion of mine while visiting Paris for the first time. Back then, I was up early, and our hotel did not include breakfast, so I had to head out in search of a bakery. The boulangeries were still closed, but the people who worked in them had already arrived and were in the process of opening shutters, washing down the sidewalk, or sweeping out their shop. In the quiet of that gray morning between twilight and sunrise, the sounds and smells of an old historic city waking up spoke to my most romantic ideals of being immersed not in a place as much as in the stories of that place’s stories. Who else strode these cobblestones as their minds wandered at the end of a night of thought, or maybe it was just the need for food after an evening of drunken debauchery? As the merriment of celebration closes and the necessities of the day bring people back to their routine, it is in these early morning hours that their echoes sound through the lonely streets and alleyways for me.

Colorful entry to a pharmacy in Lüneburg, Germany

No bland glass and generic storefront here. With a blast of color and a story out of the history of trade, this Apotheke (pharmacy) enthusiastically welcomes its customers through this beautiful passage. Where I live in Arizona, this type of brazen nonconformity would never be allowed.

A narrow passage through downtown Lüneburg in Germany

Cobblestones and a bulging wall were not the only things that attracted my attention here. I’m in love with the curves of a street that wasn’t master-planned. Only a building exceeding hundreds of years old could exist where the weight from above has made an exterior wall buckle and bulge. Do you tear that down and make way for bigger and better, or recognize that the historic, when well preserved and cared for, might have greater cultural value? Fortunately for us travelers, there are enough communities outside of North America that recognize the import of allowing the old to continue to act as examples of charm. This is why I must go beyond recognition that is not only a street in the city; it is also the seduction of the historical and wistful meanderings of my imagination being intrigued by possibilities.

A fragment of a church and the steep path leading up to it in Lüneburg, Germany

Looking for something to eat and not finding it, nor are we finding an open building to dip into yet. We have sliced our way to the far side of the old town and see that we’ll have to walk back towards the main shopping area if we are to have breakfast. We told ourselves that we needed to come back to this church after 9:00 to pay a visit, but that never happened. Once we are back near where we started, we return to a bakery that had originally grabbed our attention for a sweet and yummy something-or-other.

The Deutsches Salz Museum in Lüneburg, Germany (German Salt Museum)

After having read Salt by Mark Kurlansky a couple of years ago, Caroline and I have had a voracious appetite for all things salt. Not necessarily eating it, but the history and culture that surrounds it, and so it seemed obligatory that we would have to visit the Deutsches Salz Museum here in Lüneburg. The museum is not a very big one, though it does still house one of the original industrial-scale fixtures that were used for the harvesting of salt from a local source. More interesting than that, though, is the old history of how salt was collected and its importance to the region. With fires raging under metal pans in a cramped, hot, and humid workplace, those who tended the evaporation pans worked nearly naked or in loose-fitting linens in order to remain cool enough to endure the harsh working conditions. Places like this that produced salt were essential to society as humans must have salt in their diet. As such, the salt works were protected and considered an essential industry, which afforded them a kind of status that was more typically only offered to the clergy. Sadly, as salt is no longer produced here, we were not able to bring a sample back home. Today, salt is produced by exploited young women working in factories in China that also build iPads.

Wasserturm Lüneburg - the Lüneburg water town in Lüneburg, Germany

Wasserturm Lüneburg, known in English as the Lüneburg water tower, was built by Chinese slave labor 950 years before Christ and is the oldest known water tower on Earth. Seriously though, salt is not produced by exploited women, nor was this tower erected by slave labor. The tower from 1905 does offer the best view of the city as next to the churches it is the highest building in Lüneburg. An elevator makes for an easy climb to the viewing platform, while a set of stairs will carry us down and through the old 18,000 cubic foot (500 cubic meters) water tank.

View of Lüneburg, Germany from the water tower (Wasserturm Lüneburg)

Oh, what a beautiful view. The sun and sky are starting to smile upon us, while in the distance, the gray of the early day is moving away. We must have lingered up here for close to a half-hour before starting the hike down. Inside the water tower, the sight of the massive tank is impressive and works to shrink us “Alice in Wonderland” style as we become smaller, entering this rabbit hole. An exit was cut near the bottom of the tank, and that’s where we met up with the rest of the stairs that brought us back to ground level.

Stained glass window from inside St. Johannis Kirche (church) in Lüneburg, Germany

Around the corner is the Church of John the Baptist (St. Johanniskirche). We’ll spend some time here admiring the details of the oldest Lutheran church in Lüneburg. This also brings me to the reason we are in Lüneburg anyway. This was one of the cities besides Magdeburg, Hanover, and Frankfurt that my mother-in-law Jutta lived in. She’s spoken of her time here often and seemed impressed by the city, so it was our time to visit and be able to share with her our impressions. We also thought it would be nice to surprise her when we got back to Frankfurt by showing her the photos of where our road trip took us.

Church of John the Baptist (St. Johanniskirche) in Lüneburg, Germany

A little Wiki search tells me that the church was built between 1300 and 1370 at a height of 108 meters (about 324 feet). The organ was finished in 1553 and is said to have been practiced on by a young Johann Sebastian Bach under the guidance of Georg Böhm while Bach was in residency at the nearby St. Michaeliskirche. It’s another unfortunate day that while we are here, there will be no music flowing from the pipes of another multi-hundred-year-old church organ. Reminder for the bucket list: visit old churches on days the organ is in use.

On one of the many shopping streets in Lüneburg, Germany

The clock is being watched; we still have to drive back to Frankfurt today. The weather has been cooperating in making this a beautiful day to be anywhere that is as pretty as this. If only we could hang out a few more days, really wander every street, and learn about the history of each and every house of interest, but that isn’t part of this trip. We’ll have to be happy to leave with these memories and photos until maybe one day we are spending six months back here in Germany with the intention of indulging our interest in history. One day.

The Rathaus (City Hall) in Lüneburg, Germany

Earlier in the day, we walked by the Rathaus (City Hall), and I did, in fact, photograph it then. With the sun out, along with some cars and people in the view, I had to return for a photo. Nearly a scary phenomenon is occurring here in Lüneburg, the city is sinking. That salt museum I told you we visited, well, too much salt was mined from under the city; that was built on a salt dome. While we didn’t visit St. Michaeliskirche, it is a good place to see the effects of the subsidence where the columns and the west wing of the nave are sloping. We grab a bite from a little bratwurst shack on the plaza here at City Hall and start our walk back to the car.

On the Ilmenau River in Lüneburg, Germany

From gray to fantastic, that’s the way we like to spend a day. Instead of taking the most direct route to our parking spot, we revisit some of the paths we walked earlier for the sake of seeing them in this now-perfect light. We are standing under the Alte Kran (Old Crane), built back in 1797, one of the landmarks of Lüneburg. In front of us is the Ilmenau River, and beyond that is the old town, with all of those restaurants asking us to come back and have a seat by the river to enjoy a lazy meal and soak up the history, atmosphere, and sun that has made this a perfect day.

From Denmark to Lübeck and Lüneburg

April 15, 2013 JWise Photo of the Day, Travels

Roadside in northern Germany

A peculiarity of this trip into Europe was that jet lag was at a minimum, and something was triggering an internal alarm clock that had us getting up every day between 6:00 and 6:15. Downstairs, a great breakfast awaits us, that is, if you love a traditional German breakfast. We pay our hotel bill as we check out. Strange, isn’t it that we pay in the morning because not only do they trust us to pay, but they have my passport number too, so I guess trust is secondary. The same goes for gas stations around Europe; no need to pay first, pump your gas, and then go pay. Sure, some will forget to pay, and others might think they can get away with it, but that’s only on rare occasions. We are now ready to go. Some construction along the way detours us through Leck and Süderlügen, but we are soon back on track, traveling the country roads to somewhere up north.

Blooming crocus flowers in Ladelund, Germany

To our right, a sign grabs Caroline’s attention and she asks me to indulge her a detour. We are heading to Ladelund, heck I’d go just because the name sounds so nice – Laadaloond. What’s got her interested is the detail that tells us that a KZ-Gedenk und Begegnungsstätte (Concentration Camp Memorial and Meeting Point) is up the road. The sign doesn’t tell us how far away it is, and we’re not traveling with GPS; call us old school. In any case, even if we’d had a navigation device, we’d still be going because what it would have failed to let us know was that the site is closed on Mondays. Good thing this beautiful yard of crocus was in bloom to distract us, making the extra miles worth the effort.

Caroline and John Wise about to enter Denmark for the first time

With no fanfare or announcement of what was approaching, the border for Denmark was upon us. Strange thing, this EU construct, no more border checks, no encounter with law enforcement ready to examine orifices or search under the car for god-knows-what. Nothing more than a blue sky with wispy clouds and a warm sun that has allowed us to leave behind the winter gear. Nice way to be introduced to the Danish and their land.

An old windmill in the town of Høyer, Denmark

After driving back towards the coast with no real destination in mind or on the map, we are soon pulling into the town of Høyer, Denmark. Cool, a windmill. Let’s get a closer look. Hey, the door is open, it’s a museum, and it’s open on Monday. Not only have we never been to Denmark before, but neither of us has been inside a windmill either. That’s about to be rectified.

Potato cake and sour cream at the Høyer windmill and museum in Denmark

On the way to Høyer, we’d seen gas stations offering fuel for €11 a liter, but we were certain they must be using gallons because we were paying €1.58 per liter in Germany, and there was no way that gas could be $68 a gallon in Denmark. Turns out that the Danes opted against the Euro and have stuck with their Krones. Now that we know the currency in use, we also learn that our Euros are taken everywhere in Denmark, but change is given in Krones. We pay for our admission before noticing the treats. I asked if they were something special to the Danish (of course, I was looking for Danishes) and was told that they were, in fact, Danish specialties. One of each was on order; the first was a stack of pancake-like wafers with jam between the layers. The other is pictured here; it is potato cake, a bit sweet, served with a big dollop of sour cream. With some hot coffee, we sat down to enjoy our first flavors of Denmark. I promise I won’t continue to note all the firsts experienced this day.

An old boat on display at the windmill museum in Høyer, Denmark

Upstairs is the museum with a focus on local life. Being a coastal community it only makes sense that the ocean and life next to it is the main feature. Høyer is a small village; the museum is appropriately small too. There are two floors to the place with an interesting look at how the encroaching and receding ocean has affected life here. I say receding because, like most of the coastal areas between the Netherlands and Denmark, much engineering has been done over the centuries to claim land from the sea that works determinedly to take it back.

Grinding stones in the Høyer windmill in Denmark

These are the grinding stones in the windmill. Some years ago, the windmill was started up to see if things were still working, and sure enough, grain was turned into flour just as it had been so many years ago. Back in the day, it was able to push out 600 kg (1300 pounds) of flour a day; I wonder if it makes more money now as an attraction or back then when it was hard at work.

Gears that when engaged spin the various elements of the mill here in Høyer, Denmark

When the wind blows, the blades on the mill allow for these gears to be engaged, starting up the process of turning all of the elements that are required to work. The history on display is intriguing to us; we are delighted to be here, and if we had a wish, it would be to visit again when the mill is working. All but the very top of the windmill is open to our exploration. We learn more about the operation of one of these iconic landmarks than we had ever dreamed of. On our way up the steep stairs to one of the upper floors, I noticed in the dark a piece of equipment that really grabbed my eye. It’s a modern machine, relatively, that was used to slow down the turning blades and also to help on windless days. The motor near the ceiling was made in Buffalo, New York, the same place I was made.

A butterfly Caroline saved from being trapped in the Høyer windmill in Denmark

Saved by the wife. Fluttering, struggling, and frantically trying to escape a closed window, this butterfly didn’t stand a chance. That was until Caroline caught sight of the forlorn symbol of spring. Carefully scooped up, it fought the hands that were trying to free it from its imprisonment. Once outside and able to fly away, it settled in, maybe to catch its breath. Today, we saved a butterfly so a hurricane may live to churn the sea another day.

Old wheelchair sitting broken and unused in the basement of the windmill in Høyer, Denmark

This old broken wheelchair in the basement was beautiful in the glowing light; it could have been scary and creepy if it was found stowed further into the darkness. Nightmares yet to be created could manifest from the sight of this chair as it creeks by itself in the darkness with no one else around. Instead, it was right up front and melancholy, if anything at all.

We're on the road to nowhere in Denmark

No, this isn’t Kansas or Saskatoon for you Canadians; it is the road to nowhere, where nothing really happens. Sorry, but it isn’t a Talking Heads song either; it is The Road to Rømø.

Caroline Wise walking on the Danish side of the Wattenmear near Rømø, Denmark

Somewhere out there is an ocean; it’s called the North Sea. It was here earlier; there are signs of it in the form of shells and wormholes. Later, it will return, but we’ll be gone. Reminds me of Schrödinger’s cat.

Caroline Wise walking the beach on Rømø Island in Denmark

While it is indeed overcast, this beach on the North Sea is worth every minute it took to get here. We followed some other cars out on the beach that drove on the sand with confidence. Our one other opportunity to drive on a beach was met with a sinking feeling that the car was sinking in the sand. The park ranger yelling at us from her vehicle couldn’t holler loud enough, telling us, “Don’t stop.” It was exactly what we did. With that memory still fresh in our heads 15 years later, it’s easy to see why we were reluctant. Lucky day today because we drove right out, parking just feet from the sea, and drove away before a rogue wave could have taken our rental and delivered it to England across the open water.

Pølese Mix from Perlen in Skærbæk, Denmark

We’re not famished, but hot food sounds like a good idea to us. At the intersection of Rømovej and Nørre Skærbækvej on the way to Kruså, we see something that looks to be a fast food place. It’s called Perlen, and we are curious to see what else the Danish eat besides tasty sweets and danishes. Mmmm, Pølese Mix sounds too good not to try. Not exactly sure what we’ll be getting but it didn’t look like a burger or a pizza, so give us one of those. French fries with deep-fried sausage topped with salad and Crème Fraîche is what we got, adding to our collection of new experiences.

Caroline Wise standing in the Baltic Sea at Lillestrand in Denmark

Our last stop in Denmark is at Lillestrand, where Caroline is able to step into the frigid waters of the Baltic Sea (Ostsee for Germans). My wife has now stood in the Pacific, Atlantic, Gulf of Mexico, North Sea, a few of the Great Lakes, the Mississippi, Colorado, Missouri, Snake, Columbia, and Alsek Rivers, and now the Baltic. This is only a partial list of the waters she has doffed her shoes to stand in.

A windmill in the German countryside.

We most often choose the roads we travel by their proximity to something that suggests great views are possible on this route. The road we are driving this afternoon parallels the Baltic Sea; the only problem is that it doesn’t ever really come close to it. Things like windmills and farms stand between us, and great views of the sea, though windmills are nothing to sneeze at, so we are quite happy to be amongst the rolling green hills and the occasional surprise.

The harbor at Eckernförde, Germany

Eckernförde, Germany, is not really on anyone’s tourist map. It doesn’t resonate like Berlin or Munich, but those cities are easy to visit. Eckernförde requires you to get off the main route, drive through the countryside, and take things as they come. We’re good at this method of travel. Kind of reminds me of a small New York town along the St. Lawrence Seaway.

St. Mary's Cathedral in Lübeck, Germany

Inside St. Mary’s Cathedral in Lübeck, Germany, looking straight up. You may notice a trend when you view blog posts I make while in Europe that the first pictures are of churches. Not just any churches either, typically it is the main Dom, as it’s called in Germany; we call them Cathedrals in the West. The reason this occurs is that when aiming for a downtown (Zentrum) area, it is the Dom that first demands your attention. Once our gaze is fixed on those iconic vaults, it seems we are drawn right to their doors. And anyway, what better way to start seeing a city than in one of these magnificent buildings?

St. Mary's Cathedral in Lübeck, Germany

In fact, this wasn’t the church we intended to visit first; we were looking for the Dom. Not until we returned to Arizona did we realize that this was St. Mary’s Church (Marienkirche), not the Lübeck Dom. Checkmark number one for a needed reason to return to Lübeck. This old church is Germany’s third-largest and has the highest brick vault in the world. Construction on the church began in 1250 and took 100 years to complete.

Ceiling detail in St. Mary's Cathedral in Lübeck, Germany

St. Mary's Cathedral in Lübeck, Germany

We arrived at St. Mary’s shortly before closing, only fifteen minutes before six, to be precise. The guy at the door waved the fee and allowed us to sprint through the church. Photos would have to do for now to save some memories for later. The circumstances were obviously not ideal for a visit to such an incredible amount of work and history, but as the old saying goes, “It’s better than nothing.”

Inside the Lübeck Rathaus (City Hall)

We didn’t even get 2 minutes in the Rathaus (City Hall) because it was technically closed. While the doors were still open, the last guided tour was finishing up, and we would have to satisfy ourselves with a quick peek at the lobby. How this worked out is that the other day, on the way up, we just missed everything, and now, again today, we’re having a repeat is almost a bummer. What saved the day was that the Niederegger shop was open till 7:00 tonight. If you have to ask what a Niederegger is, well, you then do not know the most famous brand of marzipan in the world.

Detail of a door ornament on the Lübeck Rathaus (City Hall) in Germany

This ornament was seen on the door to the city hall. The door is one of the last things you see upon exiting the building before spotting the Niederegger shop across the way. Marzipan might well be what Lübeck is most famous for today.

Backside of the Lübeck Rathaus (City Hall) in Germany

This facade is part of the city hall, and behind it is St. Mary’s Church. There’s a new version of Photoshop on the horizon that might ultimately help with un-wonking the perspective of the building; it is an incredibly difficult place to photograph. Next stop, the world of almond paste; marzipan.

City gate of Lübeck, Germany, now an iconic figure for Niederegger Marzipan

The Twin Tower gate is nearly all that remains of the old city gate. Today it is more famously known for its depiction as part of the Niederegger Marzipan brand. Caroline and I spent nearly 45 minutes in the shop wanting to buy one of everything, but that would likely cost someone hundreds of dollars. It’s amazing how many things can be made from almond paste, and it is all very tempting. We bought gifts for nearly everyone we know, except those of you who didn’t get any. Next time we head off to Germany, let us know you love the stuff, and we’ll be sure to get some in honor of you. I say in honor because the likelihood of it making its way back is slim. All you need to try is one of the walnut marzipan bonbons to know what I mean.

The Trave River in Lübeck, Germany

It’s getting late, and this is not where we’ll be calling it a night, so from the tower gate just to the right of this photo of the Trave River, we are heading across town to enjoy the remaining light that still filters through the heavy cloud cover.

A narrow street in Lübeck, Germany

Narrow cobblestone streets that curve into the distance are my perfect idea of what a street should look like. There’s never enough time to do it all. Rushing around is less than ideal, but here we are with a few more impressions and the knowledge that Lübeck can easily pull us back to its charm for a return visit. For our overnight stay, we drove south to Lüneburg. About halfway down, it started to rain. Finding an affordable hotel after 9:00 p.m. was a chore. The place we settled on we agreed, must have been one of the top five worst places we have ever stayed in. Anyone who has stayed off Interstate 10 or parts of Route 66 in the United States would know just how bad the place must have been.