Hear Ye! Hear Ye! Summer is Over
Tuesday, September 05, 2006
Hollywood has ruined the rest of the world for us. It has destroyed all sense of genuineness and replaced it with quality fabrications. It has caused us to look at authentic sites and have no awe when we see them. The Turtle and I just came back from Rothenburg ob der Tauber (that there is what we in the writing world like to call foreshadowing… stay tuned) this weekend. The oldest walled city in all of Germany. I can’t remember if it’s all of Europe, anyhow -- it’s old. 12th century old, and the most phenomenal part of the place is it hasn’t changed since those medieval nights.
When you walk into town it feels like you are on a movie set. The buildings are gorgeous, highly adorned with friezes, a massive wall surrounding the city and a moat on the other side of it. You expect to see knights wandering by with squires at their side. The only exception is that the streets are cobble-stoned rather than being muddy corridors filled with shit, the dead, and more shit. Which I was thankful for. I say a movie set because we Americans have no idea how to deal with times of yore. We think that ‘hey this looks just like that movie’, or ‘hey this look just like that Renaissance festival I went to when I was kid’, but in fact its real. These stones have been here longer then there has been an America. Longer then most of us can trace back our heritage. Its inconceivable for us, a culture who tears something down after is been around for 40 years to even fathom something that is 400 years old.
On Saturday we left CheckPoint Bratwurst with friends to head to Rothenburg. Our ride was a bit late, which I expected. Punctuality is a law in German culture but in American culture it’s more of a disease. No one claims to have it but every now and then an outbreak occurs. With us piled in to the car, moving down the road, after waiting at Cinnabon to open for some coffee, we started signing along with the radio and enjoying some idle chatter. Two hours to get to our destination, or at least that is what our borrowed GPS system said.
Traveling along, traveling along, we’re seeing German landscapes, starting to climb mountains, getting onto smaller and smaller roads, then dirt roads. Passing horse drawn carts. Seeing men using scythes to cut down wheat. Was that a witch burning? I realize that this is supposed to be archaic but did we just take a left onto the Age of Enlightenment. Don’t you think they would have at least built a hotel for people; hey didn’t someone make a reservation? Millie begins to panic, panic leads to desperation, desperation leads to her pulling out the handy and calling the group that is supposed to meet us. In the cabin of the car we hear, “Yeah that’s what I put in. Really? Nothing else came up. Oh. There it is. Yup. Nope. Okay.
It would happen that, like the States, there are cities that share the same name. Springfield, Albany, Intercourse, and Rothenburg. There seems to be a few, but what you have to pay attention to is the words that follow the name. That’s some sagely advice my followers. Write it down. I don’t see those pens moving. Very good.
To make the most of unexpected situation, we got out wandered about in this small, diminutive town called, where is that postcard, ah here it is, Hirschhorn. It was nestled on a mountain with a ruined castle sitting above it and the Rhine River flowing below. Quaint, charming, easy to see all it had in a couple of hours. We moved on like the travelers we were that day. Packed up the ass, readjusted the GPS, threw caution to the wind and moved out on the autobahn for another two hour ride.
The first thing you see when you enter Rothenburg proper is this ominous wall, fifty or so feet high with 100-foot towers every 400 meters. Crossing the moat to enter the city you are hit with stank of ages as the moat is at the bottom of the hill; therefore everything slimes its way down into it. From that point on you have entered a time machine. As if it wasn’t enough, to intensify the feeling, we happen to come on the one weekend where there is a Renaissance-esque festival going on.
The reason for the fest is this, and it’s so German, during the Thirty Years war the town was about to be destroyed by Catholic armies. In a strategy that has never been seen prior or since, the Mayor of Rothenburg saved his town with a bold maneuver. He told the general of the Catholic armies that if he drank a gallon of wine in one chug then the Catholic armies would have to leave the city as it stood. The General, always one for good entertainment said why not you fool. Fully expecting the man to either fail by vomiting, choking or just giving up. The mayor being a stout man chugged, and chugged, and chugged and raised his jug upon high turning it over to show not a drop of alcohol remained. He then passed out and remained unconscious for three days, yet the city was saved. This was the weekend to celebrate this heroic alcoholism.
We raised glasses in Prost! Watched fireworks explode over the city. Visited a medieval torture museum. Bought a neck violin. Ate Bratwursts and Schneeballen. And looked around saying to each other with glee “Damn, this is just like Disneyland, but more real.”
More details here and shiny full-color picture. Click don't run.
posted by Don Taylor @ 6:29 PM,
1 Comments:
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At 5:17 PM,
said...
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Had that been Jager then I'd be really impressed.
