The Black Forest (Germany #17)

HEIDELBERG--Suddenly stricken by a bronchial virus, I took to my hotel bed for two hours in the afternoon, regrettably missing a guided tour of the baroque old town, which is dominated by the ruins of Heidelberg Castle on steep wooded slopes high above the River Neckar. The castle, a popular tourist attraction surrounded by a park, is a mix of styles from Gothic to Renaissance. An old stone bridge (erected 1786-88) and medieval bridge gate were originally part of the town wall.

Located in south-west Germany in the Rhine Rift Valley, Heidelberg (pop.145,000) occupies mainly the left river bank and is bordered by mountains. It’s among the warmest regions of Germany, with plants atypical of central Europe, including almond and fig trees. It’s an historic city, as well. The University of Heidelberg played a leading part in the era of humanism and reformation in the 15th and 16th centuries. Heidelberg's library, founded in 1421, is the oldest public library in Germany still intact.

From 1933–1945, Heidelberg was a stronghold of the Nazi regime. Non-Aryan university staff were discriminated against. By 1939, one-third had been forced out for racial and political reasons. During Kristallnacht (9 November 1938), Nazis burned down two synagogues and started systematically deporting Jews; 150 were sent to Dachau concentration camp, and thousands of others followed.

On 30 March 1945, the civilian population surrendered to the U.S. Army without resistance. Historians believe Heidelberg escaped bombing in WWII because it was neither an industrial center nor a transport hub, and America wanted to use the city as a garrison after the war (we’ve had a military base here since 1951).

On our second day here, I’d recovered sufficiently to take part in a trip to the Black Forest, a wooded mountain range in southwestern Germany bordered by the Rhine valley. It was a long drive, made longer by traffic congestion and fog that hid the high peaks and scenic hills. It was so named by the Romans because its dense growth of conifers blocked out most of the light inside the forest. Today, the Black Forest mostly consists of pines and firs, some of which are grown commercially. Due to mass logging and land use changes, it’s only a fraction of its original size. And in 1999, a cyclone downed trees on hundreds of acres of mountaintops, leaving some bare.

On a happier note, we had a fabulous lunch at an inn that included the famous Black Forest cake, which of course is made with chocolate cake, cream, sour cherries, and Kirsch.

On the way back to Heidelberg, I visited Kloster Alpirsbach, a Benedictine monastery magnificent in its starkness. Now a protestant church, it nonetheless has a Catholic church attached to it; a reminder of the days when if your prince changed his religion, everyone did. Monks began brewing beer there in 1095. A yeasty aroma in the air--and a sign on the brewery next door proclaiming theirs the “World’s greatest beer”--indicated that the beer-making tradition remains.

In the evening, we dined at a 350-year-old “romantik hotel” in the wine-growing region, where the vineyards grow on nearly vertical mountain slopes and all work must be done by hand because mechanized farm equipment can’t get up there.

Mad Ludwig's Castle (Germany #16)

NEUSCHWANSTEIN--Nothing like this 19th-century Romanesque Revival palace, which inspired Disneyland's Sleeping Beauty Castle, will ever be built again.    

King Ludwig II of Bavaria commissioned it as a retreat and in homage to his friend, composer Richard Wagner. But contrary to common belief, Ludwig (who was declared insane by his political enemies shortly before his death under highly suspicious circumstances in 1886) paid for the outrageously expensive palace out of his personal fortune and extensive borrowing, not with Bavarian public funds.

Neuschwanstein sits on a rugged cliff ridge above the secluded village of Hohenschwangau in southwest Bavaria, about a two-hour drive from Munich. At first sight against a background of snow-capped mountains, it is amazing, fabulous, dazzling. On my visit, the place is mobbed. Not surprising:  there are over a million visitors a year. Tickets must be applied for months in advance, so everyone with a ticket actually shows up, regardless of the weather.

It’s snowing as I stand in line in the little village at the foot of the mountain, first for pay toilets, then for the steep bus ride, not to, but toward the top. I’m wearing practically everything in my suitcase (two t-shirts, flannel shirt, light jacket, poncho) and it’s still not enough. After a prolonged wait and overcrowded bus ride, I walk the rest of the way briskly because if you’re late, you don’t get in. I’m herded through in 20 minutes.

Nevertheless, I wouldn’t have missed this for anything.

Designed as the romantic ideal of a knight's castle, Neuschwanstein is furnished with numerous towers, ornamental turrets, gables, balconies, pinnacles and sculptures. Ludwig’s bed is so ornate it took 400 carpenters 4 ½ years just to carve the top. Many rooms bear a border depicting the various operas written by Wagner, including a theater permanently featuring the set of one such play. A swan motif appears everywhere--in wood carved ceilings and walls and doors, in metal door handles shaped like swans, even in a giant ceramic swan sculpture encased in a glass box.

Construction began in 1868, when the foundation stone for the palace was laid, following the demolition of the ruins of twin medieval castles on the site. In 1884, Ludwig moved into the highly theatrical but still unfinished complex. Had it been completed, the palace would have had more than 200 interior rooms and halls. Only 14 were finished. Even so, it has secret passages, a stalactite cavern with an artificial waterfall (between the living room and study), a winter garden with a fountain sunk in the rock, and many private little nooks.

My all too brief tour ends in the large music hall, the last room completed before the king’s death.

Bavarian Genes (Germany #15)

MUNICH--The Hofbräuhaus is arguably the most famous beer hall worldwide. Located in the city center, it also operates the second largest tent at Oktoberfest (first held in 1810), which for two weeks attracts millions. But we did not go there. Instead, our trip leaders who insisted that it was vastly overrated, took us instead to another major biergarten, the Paulaner, where lunch proved an amazing feast.

Huge platters arrived at our oblong table containing thinly sliced Knackwurst (veal and pork), roasted pork, smoked fish, white sausages, potato dumplings, potato salad, a variety of Bavarian cheeses, freshly baked pretzels, and other delightful morsels such as salads and thin sliced white radishes. For dessert there was apple strudel with vanilla sauce

And beer, of course. Munich is famous for its breweries. Weissbier (wheat beer) is a Bavarian speciality, though Helles and Pils are more popular. Dunkle, which gets its dark color from burnt malt, is another favorite. I liked them all, just as I enjoyed all the beers from every region. Bavarian genes, I guess.

After our magnificent lunch, the tour of the city continued. On Ludwigstrasse, one of four 19th century grand royal avenues connecting the inner city and suburbs, we saw state ministries and palaces in Italian renaissance style. To the north, the skyline featured clustered high-rises, including BMW headquarters next to the Olympic Park.

We visited the Alte Pinakothek, an important art gallery containing 14^th-18th century European masters. The exhibition rooms were large, airy, air-conditioned, and very quiet, with high ceilings, white crown molding, red brick walls, and natural wood floors inlaid with triangles and squares. Religion was the subject of most of the paintings, which tended to be very large, with elaborate gold frames.

Many were Puritan portraits. In a wedding picture by Titian, a man and woman are seated side-by-side, holding hands. An early Rembrant offers a dark image of Christ on a Cross. Durer and Rubens were featured artists.

After the Alte Pinakothek, we had free time to explore other museums on our own. This was followed by another enormous dinner at Lowenbraukellier, a restaurant and beer garden annex to the massive Löwenbräu Brewery, most of which was destroyed during a bombing raid in 1944 and then rebuilt.

During the meal, Experiment arranged for us to meet two charming young German ladies who’d been involved in the program. Both spoke flawless English. One, who was still in high school, had lived in Alabama for a year. The other now commuted to work in a design firm in another city. Once again, these Germans seemed so much like Americans and were full of good will.

After meeting them, it occurred to me that the best educational opportunity we could ever provide for American students would be to send them abroad to study for a year. I have no doubt they’d come back more enlightened. And if they ate as much as we did, fatter, as well.

Three Chirps (Germany #14)

MUNICH--It’s about 8:30 in the morning (Fri., Oct. 7), and I’m in my tiny hotel room at Hotel Carat getting ready for another busy day of touring. Beige walls with blue gray trim, wine-red dotted carpet, unusual shower with round glass doors that seal when pulled closed (to fit the small space). Put a band aid on my finger this morning after cutting it while ineptly using scissors to un-knot clothesline in the shower (traveling light means frequent cold water washing).

          The weather here is “variable.” After carrying a jacket and umbrella around all day yesterday, I opted to leave them at the hotel when I went out to dinner. Naturally, it rained and turned windy on the walk back. As I passed through the very contemporary railroad station, I still felt that I was entering a time warp since train stations are practically extinct in most American cities.

          I also met the only unpleasant German I’ve encountered since arriving a week ago: an aggressive panhandler who kept shaking a plastic cup at me and insisting even after I firmly and repeatedly told him no. At the point where I was about to really lose it, he gave up and started bothering someone else.

Today, after a history lecture, it’s off to the museums again. (The level of activity makes the time pass quickly; this trip is already half over.) My lecturer/guide is a dark-haired woman named Jessica, whom I judge to be in her late thirties. She’s smartly dressed in a tailored beige top with an olive skirt, black tights, and black ankle boots. As part of her talk on Munich and Bavarian history (a fairly complicated topic), she tells of the significance of traditional Bavarian folk dress: a knot at the waist can mean anything from married to unmarried to virgin! She says Germans from different regions often have a difficult time understanding other dialects.

          After a short bus ride, it’s time for a walking tour of picturesque downtown Munich, which is full of impressive baroque churches and massive construction projects (often disguised by faux fronts). The city's high altitude and proximity to the northern edge of the Alps mean that precipitation is high; rainstorms often come violently and unexpectedly--as I discovered last night. So today, I’m carrying my umbrella again. The range of temperature between day and night can be extreme, as well, so packing for this trip was tricky; before it’s over I’ll probably be wishing for another sweater.

At 11 o’clock, a huge crowd gathers in a sprawling square, craning their necks toward a high City Hall tower, where two 16th century stories are performed daily on a huge, ornate clock (the Rathaus-Glockenspiel). As 43 bells chime, 32 mechanical figures re-enact the first story: Duke Wilhelm V’s marriage to Renata of Lorraine, including a joust with life-sized knights on horseback. In the second story, similar figures representing the city’s coopers dance to provide hope during the plague years. Nobody in the crowd leaves until a very small golden bird chirps three times, signaling the wonderful 12-15 minute show is over.

Victors' Justice (Germany #13)

MUNICH--How could this (Hitler’s rise to power, death camps) have happened?

          Most historians point out the centuries of never-ending European conflict preceding WWI, the ruinous peace terms Germany was forced to accept after losing that war, the beggaring of the German people during the Great Depression, and the failure of Germany’s weakened democratic government to solve the country’s economic problems (unemployment, hyper inflation).

According to a Zen proverb, “When the pupil is ready, the master will come.” In this case, Germany was the pupil. The master was a charismatic, rabble-rousing Austrian, who used propaganda brilliantly to scapegoat Jews and Communists. Promising to end Germany’s suffering and restore the country to greatness, Hitler was freely elected. Then he immediately overthrew the government.

Instead of simply demonizing Germans (who along with the Brits are our most reliable allies in the world today), Americans might look closer to home. I don’t think it takes a genius to find parallels between post-WWI Germany and contemporary America. The point here is that, as free people, we must all remain ever-vigilant to keep the would-be Nazis in our midst from ever gaining control again. And I don’t just refer to those who proclaim themselves neo-Nazis.

What about the German people back then--were they all Nazis? According to someone in whom I place great confidence (my tour leader/law professor Joachim), once Hitler came to power almost everyone either bought into his crap or at least went along with it, some for personal gain. But considering what the Nazis did to anyone who didn’t go along, how much choice did they really have?

After WWII, the Nuremberg War Crimes Tribunal began a process of “de-Nazi-fication” to prevent former Nazis from returning to power. Germans were divided into four categories: 1) the ring leaders (most were eventually executed); 2) the helpers (such as the factory owner who accepted slave labor to meet Nazi production quotas); 3) the fellow travelers (those who passively supported the Nazis); and 4) the innocent (not many). But there were many younger men who were judged to have been “misled” by their government and thus were allowed to resume their careers in such fields as law and medicine.

This represented a huge change in the way the winners treated the losers. Instead of the traditional “victors’ justice” (where the winners exact war reparations and vengeance), Nuremberg began the system of international justice still in use today. Because some who were charged with war crimes were actually found innocent at Nuremberg, the German people were forced to realize that there really had been German war criminals. This helped to win the peace that we still enjoy today.