Strasbourg
Even after a fine three week stay in Paris there’s still so much we’ve never done in this city. But now it’s time to leave all that for another day. We’re traveling eastbound next to Strasbourg, an old river port nestled into the French side of the Rhine, in the province of Alsace-Lorraine. So it seemed appropriate to enjoy a nice Quiche Lorraine and coffee on our last day before leaving Paris.
We depart from the Gare de l’Est, which serves Strasbourg, Berlin, Vienna, and other points easterly. There’s a restaurant just across the street called “La Strasbourgeoise” in case travelers need a preview of good Alsatian cuisine.
Our fast TGV train soon leaves Paris behind, and the rural countryside passes by our window. It’s only a little over two hours to Strasbourg on a very comfortable ride – that’s also somewhat sleep-inducing. A huge IKEA store (they’re all huge) flashes past as we near our destination.
We arrive at Strasbourg’s classic old 1883 station with its odd modernist glass front, built a few years ago to welcome the new Eurostar service to London. We take a cab since our apartment is on Rue du Welschbruch, a street that doesn’t appear on our map. In fact, the cab driver’s never heard of it.
The cabbie makes a few calls and soon we’re on track, passing a street construction project and the city’s Musée Vodou (we’ll skip that one) on our way to a nice two bedroom apartment, an entire floor of a modest home on a quiet residential street. It’s a ten minute walk to a bus line and it only costs €62 per night. (We’re not in Paris anymore, and from here on we’ll stay in good inexpensive apartments near transit lines.)
Our hosts, Elizabeth and Hayati were multi-lingual, as many Europeans are, so no problem there. We spoke English and Spanish, and they had all the bases covered in French, Turkish and Portuguese. With just a few extra hand gestures, everything worked out fine! (We did not attempt to speak Alsatian, which has no written form, and variable pronunciation!)
After we settled in, there was time to smell the flowers on our way out to find dinner. We scored a delicious döner platter from a local Turkish eatery, because we were hungry and they were open. Turkish döners (and anything Italian, of course) seem to be the default foods these days for hungry travelers who are menu-challenged.
Over the next several days we’ll hop a bus at the nearby Schnokeloch stop (Fun with German: say ’Schnokeloch’ three times real fast!) and set out to discover Strasbourg.
We get off the bus at Strasbourg’s well-regarded modern art museum. But after Paris we’re pretty much museumed-out, so we think we’ll take a break from that for a while.
Instead we’ll head into the ancient Petit France section of winding streets, canals, and old buildings to experience the museum that is Strasbourg itself. In so many ways this city is a smaller and more manageable version of Paris, with enough history (Founded in the 5th century! By Merovingians!) to keep us happily exploring for almost a week.
Strasbourg’s main plaza hums each day with activity that spills into the stone streets of the Quartier des Tonneliers, the old ‘Barrelmakers Quarter.’ On a warm summer day we’ll pause for a mid afternoon lemonade. But later the day becomes drizzly and we’ll search out a comforting glass or two from the modern descendants of those same old barrels.
These streets of sturdy old timber homes and tall stone buildings have seen the river commerce of the ages passing through the city’s old system of locks, connecting the heartland of Europe to the coast for almost two thousand years. These are the same streets that Gutenberg walked during his early efforts to perfect a printing press, although he had relocated to Mainz when he finally produced his famous ‘Forty-Two-Line Bible' (each page has 42 lines). It was one of the greatest technological leaps of its era, and it brought literacy to millions.
And our days generally end with a hearty Alsatian meat-and-potatoes platter with a side of choucroute (sauerkraut) and a good local brew.
In the end, as is often the case, our stay in Strasbourg was too brief. We make a point to return here some day to explore the nearby Alsatian Wine Route which so captivated Anthony Bourdain, and where he ended his life shortly after our departure.
But we’re going next across the Rhine into the heart of Germany, to the old university town of Heidelberg, on the banks of the Neckar River.
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Heidelberg
Leaving the intricate tapestry that is Strasbourg, we took the bus again from the Schnockeloch stop back into the city and rolled our bags to the station, like average European travelers. Our train soon crossed the Rhine into green and forested Germany. It’s what we’ve seen in the Netherlands, Belgium, northern France – and well, Ohio, Kentucky, Illinois. The forest-dwellers of northern Europe displaced the native people in the central US, but kept the names they left behind. That’s how invaders, including our ancestors, do things.
As we roll onward past broad fields of croplands and through the industrial outskirts of large cities, I’m reminded of how productive the Germans are as they power the current European economy, along with the French and Italians.
After a train change in Mannheim we arrive at Heidelberg’s main station; posters for the city’s renowned University are hanging from the ceiling, and energy efficiency devices are on display. Colorful trams pass through the square in front of the station.
We catch tram no. 11 to the leafy suburb of Rohrbach, to a large efficiency apartment on a quiet street near a park, with a nice view into the neighborhood. It’s half a block from the Freiburger Strasse stop with a large poster reading something like, ‘When your online fling goes offline, don’t forget the condoms.’
The local cigarette machine has been burglarized with a pry bar, but it’s hard to feel bad about burglars ripping off drug pushers selling a product designed to be addictive.
It’s a warm day in Rohrbach as the tram passes “Joe’s Rock Cafe Heidelberg” where people are wetting their noses under parasols along the street. After we settle in at the apartment we walk the few blocks back for a couple of tall ones. A neighborhood bar is a good reason to book a small apartment away from the central tourist area.
The quiet residential streets of Rohrbach, as in Strasbourg, are a nice retreat from the intensity of city life in Paris. It’s a different view into the German culture. They have dandelions and lost cats like the rest of us, and the German flag is hanging out to support their team in the World Cup – before they’re quickly ousted by Mexico(!) and South Korea. One of our first tasks is to Google Translate “Ausfahrt!” (It means ‘exit.’ ‘Einfahrt’ means ‘entrance.’ Whew.)
Later that evening we’ll find a good nearby place in a garden for a hearty, simple, and inexpensive German dinner to welcome us to town. Generally the food is good at places like this where they rely on their local reputation.
We board the tram into the city, heading for the Hauptstrasse, the ’Main Street’ that snakes through the Altstadt (Old Town). This picturesque street has been important since medieval times, a place where students and merchants – and tourists and artists – have mingled for centuries. Window shopping is the main event with displays of everything from modern goods, cuckoo clocks, and beer steins, to traditional outfits for aspiring alpine yodelers. Plus “Italian Underwear.” On this particular day, a student demonstration for animal rights takes place in front of a statue of Robert Bunsen (1811-1899), Professor of chemistry at the University and discoverer of the elements cesium and rubidium. He also invented the Bunsen Burner that most of us used in chemistry class, where we realized we weren’t destined to be chemists.
The Hauptstrasse leads to Kormarkt Platz and a striking view of the jagged ruined castle on the hill called Heidelberg Schloss, looming over the town below. Begun as a small fort around 1225 and expanded over several centuries, this famous castle was destroyed in 1693 by French troops during the War of the Palatinate Succession (Remember that one? It was big at the time.)
We take a ride on the funicular up to the ominous castle, with its sweeping views over the city to the Neckar River and the Alte Brüche (Old Bridge). And a peek at the ‘world’s largest wine cask’ – it can hold 228,000 liters of the good stuff.
Various attempts at rebuilding the castle were followed by destructive fires, and it has essentially remained as a picturesque ruin since 1764. It’s been a favorite subject for artists, including England’s J M W Turner. Karl Phillipp Fohr did the ultra-Romantic painting shown here.
In 1838 Victor Hugo wrote of this old castle, “Three emperors…have laid siege to it; Pio II condemned it; Louis XIV wreaked havoc on it.” In 1880, Mark Twain described the vine-covered ruins in A Tramp Abroad: “Misfortune has done for this old tower what it has done for the human character sometimes – improved it.”
A walk over the Old Bridge takes us to a riverside park, with a fine view back to the city and the castle ruins. A women’s sculling team is training in the river below. A park bench over here would be a great place to watch the ‘Schlossbeleuchtung’ which re-enacts the burning of the castle on certain evenings in June, July, and September, ending with fireworks into the night.
(Can you possibly think of a better name for this than "Müllschlucker?" — Carolyn)
The old city of Heidelberg rests in a scenic wooded notch where the Neckar River spills from the mountains and onto the fertile plain. Early evidence of modern humans in Europe, a jaw bone from ‘Heidelberg Man,’ was found here in 1907.
Heidelberg University was founded in 1386. (the University of Bologna, the oldest, dates from 1088; Oxford dates from 1096; Cambridge dates from 1209; Harvard dates from 1636.) The University is one of Europe’s oldest and most reputable centers of learning and has produced 25 Nobel Prize winners, the first being in 1905. (From 1935 to 1945, the Nazis banned all German academics from receiving the Prize after it was awarded to the prominent pacifist Carl von Ossietsky.) The oldest sections of the University remain nestled into the narrow streets of the ancient city, and today its lively students make up about a fifth of the population.
We hadn’t really planned to visit Germany, with all its conflicted history. But we made friends a few years ago with a wonderful couple in Mexico City, and they live in nearby Mosbach. Also, Carolyn had long ago considered applying to Heidelberg University for a year of college abroad, but was prevented by family issues from going. A visit to Heidelberg became part of our agenda.
While Heidelberg has seen its share of violent conflict over the centuries, it was one of the few German cities to escape Allied destruction during the Second World War. Meanwhile, nearby Mannheim was heavily bombed due to its important strategic industries. After the war, US General George Patton was badly injured in a car wreck in Mannheim, and he was brought to Heidelberg where he died. His funeral services were held here in the old Christuskirche. The weight of all of this history is still deeply felt in Heidelberg.
The sun stays out late in the German summer, and that’s one of the great blessings of Europe’s high latitude. (Almost all of Europe lies north of the latitude of San Francisco, and almost all of Germany lies above the latitude of the US-Canada border.) We finally break for a hearty dinner of brats and potato salad at nightfall, around 10:00 p.m., under a canopy of trees and umbrellas, before taking a late tram back to Rohrbach.
The more modern buildings of the University are on the other side of the Neckar River. A tram ride and a warm day’s walk takes us through the new campus to the Student Union, and the Biological Gardens. The campus is filled with Europe’s brightest students and plenty of youthful energy. We linger under shady trees in the peaceful gardens near a frog pond. On our way back we find a pedestrian and bicycle bridge, part of a dam over the river with locks and a canal. There’s a ‘fish ladder’ as part of the design, and the heavy old dam mechanism looks well suited to the job.
Tram no. 11 takes us back to the quiet streets of Rohrbach, and dinner at a nearby neighborhood Gasthaus. Warm lights glow from the windows of an inviting place called ’Traube,’ on Leimenstrasse. It’s a fine choice, as several platters of well-crafted fare soon adorn the table. The waitress mentions that Boris Becker, the tennis champ, hails from the little town of Leimen, just down the road. We toast his continued good health, while lamenting his years of self inflicted mishaps.
On a different day, another early evening’s walk through the back streets and garden-alleys of Rohrbach takes us to Gasthaus Rotter Ochsen (‘The Red Oxen Guest House’), a family-run place that’s popular with the locals. With our partial Germanic backgrounds, a large platter of bratwurst and a tall beer at this place is like Sunday dinner at grandmother’s house with a bunch of cousins around the table, except we can’t understand what they’re saying. I don’t think they were talking about us because we’re not that important, but so what – we were talking about them, too.
On our second visit, the owner-chef comes out with a big smile when he learns we live in Mexico (this was before MX beat the Germans in the World’s Cup!) to tell us of his youthful adventures on a bus trip from MX City to Guadalajara. We invite him to visit us in Kino Bay, but that probably won’t happen.
More Thoughts on Germany
A trip to Germany was an odd choice for us. We tend toward red wine countries like Spain, France, and Italy, and the warm Mediterranean lifestyle. My background is half German, at least as much as anybody is really anything – check your own DNA for a surprise!
Most Americans with a European family background left the Old Country as peasants, often escaping the endless petty warfare of the royalty. I haven’t been much attracted to Germany, but this seemed like a good time to visit, and maybe learn a few things about the fraught history of these people.
Back home I have a book called Germany on 50 Dollars. It was written in the 1930s and laid out a trip across northern Germany, or a trip through a southern route – you could take either one for a total of 50 US dollars. In those terrible Depression years, Germans carried bags of almost-worthless money just to buy groceries.
Not to downplay the horrors caused by the Germans during the Second World War, but modern Germany has come a long way from the devastation of massive Allied bombing in World War II, and the destructive worldwide Depression years before that – which were largely a product of Allied vengeance after the First World War, along with inept economic policies, and trade wars.
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Mosbach
The quaint town of Mosbach is about an hour away from Heidelberg. Our train threads its way up the pretty Neckar valley past numerous riverside weekend getaways and vacation spots. But I was on the opposite side of the train and couldn’t get any good pictures.
Our friends, Bernhard Stueber and Maria Louisa Malagamba meet us at the station to whisk us away for a tour of the town. Maria Luisa is from Mexico, she’s trained as a Doctor, teaches at a Mosbach school, and does tours of Mosbach as a hobby. Bernhard is a widely recognized and accomplished artist. He teaches art at the local high school (lucky students!), and it appears he’s done nearly all of the graphics and signage for the city of Mosbach. We couldn’t have asked for more educated and informed hosts.
We marvel at the skinny rooms and the furnishings in ‘the narrowest house in Mosbach.’ The fine craftsmanship of ‘the Palm House’ and other gorgeous sights look like the pictures we’ve seen in calendars and brochures of Germany.
The water spilling from a bronze barrel comes from a nearby spring, one of many along the this part of the Neckar River. I ask Bernhard if there’s a system to pump the water back up to the barrel so they don’t waste it, and he gives me a puzzled look. No, the water just runs down to the river. Like it always has.
We walk a few blocks to the Synagogenplatz where the town’s Synagogue once stood, and a memorial that reads, “Commemorating the Jewish Victims from Mosbach.” It’s a sobering reminder of the tragic days not long ago when jack-booted Nazis marched through this town and the rest of Germany, taking the Jews and others away to be tortured and murdered. The list of names is long for such a small town. Each side of the monument is engraved with them.
A short drive out of Mosbach takes us up to the fields and pastures carpeting the surrounding hills – a fine place for bicycling on a sunny afternoon.
Bernhard and Maria Louisa haven’t said where we’re going, but we soon arrive at a beautiful castle called Burg Hornberg. We relax over some afternoon refreshments on the veranda, complete with a tremendous view over the Neckar Valley.
The ride back to town is equally spectacular, on a steep grade down through the local vineyards.
Back in Mosbach we enjoy dinner and an evening together in their lovely home where we are surrounded by Bernhard’s impressive work. We discuss art, graphics, and design with Bernhard, and local history and Mexican politics with Maria Louisa, over a fine dinner (that she seemed effortlessly to prepare), until it’s time to catch our train back to Heidelberg.
We are so grateful for Bernard and Luisa’s hospitality and will look forward to spending more high-quality time with them in our future travels. And we hope they’ll visit us soon in Kino for additional long conversations around the table on our veranda overlooking the Sea of Cortez.
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But now we’ve run out of time for this part of Germany. We need to board our next train and move onward, into the former lands of East Germany. We hope you’ll stay with us for that next interesting leg of the journey. —PRW