Border Crossing

One of the strategies I used in planning this trip was looking for cost savings, particularly in terms of lodging and meals.  Other than Amsterdam, every other place I stayed offered breakfast as part of the price.  I got in to the habit of taking extra rolls, meat and cheese, and fruit so that I could make a meal for later in the day.  I actually recommend this as a way of saving on meals.  The other advantage of this is, eating alone is sometimes just easier in your room. 

As for lodging, I had the deal of the century in Amsterdam. I paid 10 Euros a night for a room plus 5 Euros for linens, a bed with clean bedding, and private access to a bathroom. It was definitely no frills, but there's no where else I can think of that would have afforded this kind of bargain.  As I looked around for other deals on hotels, I realized that the hard core reality meant I was going to have to work in the 45-60 Euro range for the rest of my visit.  I decided to look for other ways to save on lodging costs.  When I realized I was going to have two significant train trips I thought...Night Train.  I didn't want to lose precious daylight hours sitting on a train.  Taking a night train meant I wouldn't have to lose time while traveling.  Cindy and I had used the night train from Prague to Krakow, and it worked reasonably well for us on that trip.

I've already written about my trip eastward (see my post "Walking after midnight in Venlo"), which had nightmarish qualities.  The cost was extremely high and I had to make four changes, including the infamous four hour layover in Venlo in the middle of the night.  Even though I packed quite light, lugging my backpack and small roller back on and off of each of these trains was not my idea of effective strength training.

Cutting to the chase, I ended up in the Flensburg train station a bit before 9:00 p.m. waiting for my 10:30 p.m. departure to Schiphol.

While it wasn't deserted, exactly, they were definitely closing up for the night.

After spending 12 hours on the train from Flensburg to Amsterdam Schiphol on the return leg of my journey, I have come to realize that I've can't do this anymore.  I just can't sit and stare. Sleep is ephemeral, particularly when one doesn't have the luxury of stretching out on the bench in the compartment.  Having slept in a sleeping car some years ago, I realized that it's completely not worth it to buy such a ticket. The sleeping car I was in accommodated six women--strangers all, stacked up three to a side in very shallow berths.  I've become increasingly more claustrophobic as I've aged, so that is definitely a "no go" for me.

I had thought I would be able to stretch out on the bench on this trip, but when I hopped on the train. I managed to get on just barely in time before the train pulled away from the platform, in spite of trying to position myself where my wagon was supposed to be located.This train was stopping at various points, coupling and uncoupling, which meant I had to get in the right wagon, the right compartment and the right seat, or be damned to ending up somewhere I didn't want to be.  I burst in to my compartment and found two young men stretched out on each of the benches.  It really wasn't a problem since I didn't need to sit by the window in the middle of the night, but two of us were going to have to share a bench.  The third traveler had the luxury of stretching out for the duration of the trip (lucky boy).  Naturally, I was one of the "sharers".

My bench mate told me, "I don't sleep on trains,"  and he wanted to chat for a while.  Much to my surprise, I felt my eyes start to drop, and was overwhelmed by the clear desire NOT to chat.  Regardless, we talked a bit.  He told me he was a taxi driver in London who had just delivered his nephew to Sweden.  He was returning to Calais to pick up his vehicle which had broken down in France.  He was originally from Turkey, and his language skills were probably right down there with my German skills.  Still, he was a pleasant young man and I didn't want to be rude.  At one point, the poor kid was propped up on an elbow "sleeping".  Before I knew it, his head was down on the second seat of the bench and he was out for the rest of the ride.

This was a 12-hour journey.  There were many, many stops, complete with screeching brakes and jolting halts, and some rather loud folks in nearby compartments.  Regardless, I found I was nodding into fitful sleep.  My neck went through some miserable contortions as I dropped off in to sleep, only to move into a more comfortable position. Comfort wasn't an option.

Finally, our young friend got off the train in Köln, about an hour and a half from the border with the Netherlands in Emmerich.  By this time, it was already 7:30 or so.  As it turns out, it was a very lucky thing he left when he did.

I think I must have dozed a bit on the bench until we hit the border.  Once we stopped, two tall, thin young men with shaved heads and wearing bomber jackets burst into the compartment and flashed some kind of card (identity?) saying "We're from immigration.  Are these your bags?"  Even in my logey state, I felt something was "off" about these two.  The card flash was rather ridiculous.  It could have been a library card with a peppermint candy in the middle.

The young Swede and I looked at each other and said to each other, "They're not from immigration."  We heard the two young men going down the corridor of the wagon, and stop a few doors down to say "Open your bags.  You have stolen goods."

The Swede said, "They didn't ask to look in our bags.  They're looking for darker people."

The Swede looked a bit like me, actually.  He could have passed for my son.  Obviously, we looked Northern European, and therefore passed muster.  Additionally, the perception that a mother was traveling with her 20-something son might have also worked in our favor.

We then saw the two shaved headed men leading two other young men to the end of the corridor.  They had handcuffed these two guys.  All of a sudden, one of the shaved headed men came back in to our compartment and asked again if the bags were our own.  We nodded "yes."

After they left, I told the young Swede that I felt helpless, but that we should try to do something.  What was happening just seemed so clearly wrong.  I looked for train personnel, but saw no one from the Deutsche Bahn in sight.  In fact, after having our tickets checked in Flensburg, we hadn't seen a conductor.

I told the young man that I was a Jew and that I had spent the previous week visiting concentration camps and Holocaust related sites.  This felt like a hint of deja vu.  

The train pulled in to the Utrecht station and the Swede and I got off, as did the shaved headed young men and the two young men in handcuffs.  As they left, one of the shaved headed men said to the handcuffed young men, "You need to stay close to us.  It will go very badly for you if you do not."

God...

Wandering in Flensburg

When I arrived here in Flensburg I told the proprietor of the  Gastehaus Seewarte

that I was here because this was where my great grandfather was born.  His response was, "so...you must have a look around."  That's exactly what I did today.

I managed to gas up and return my rental vehicle without incident (and that was a blessing).  I asked for directions from the car rental shop and walked into the city center.  This was, by far, the most beautiful day I've enjoyed since coming to Europe on October 11.  It was just super weather.  In fact, I was dressed too warmly.  I finally figured out I needed to shed my sweater after sweating my way up and down the high street for the entire morning.  I can't count how many times I had to wipe my brow.

After making a brief visit to the Tourist Information Office where I saw this delightful sculpture,

my first stop on my walkabout was the "Registrar's Office" near the Rathaus (City Hall).

My goal was to find a copy of my great grandfather Friedrich Petersen's birth certificate.  I thought if I could find it I might be able to discover where he lived and what his parents' names were, possibly even their vocations.  Unfortunately, when I rang the bell I was told that the office was closed (at 10:00 a.m.) and that I should return tomorrow at 8:30 or 9:00 tomorrow morning.  Fortunately, I have planned for another day here, so there's still hope.  I would really like to have that information, but if I don't get it, it won't be the end of the world.

Reluctantly, I left the Rathaus area and made my way to the city center.  When I first starting walking up "Holm"/Grosse Strasse"/ "Norderstrasse", what the British would call the "high street", it was not terribly busy.  Within 90 minutes, it was almost crowded--something I found surprising for a Tuesday.  It really reminded me of the various city centers in British towns and cities.  The stores might have had different names, but they served the same function.

As is my habit, I took wayyyy too many pictures.  I always get to the point where my "battery is exhausted"--meaning I have taken around 300 pages a day, give or take.  Today, my philosophy was to try to capture buildings which might have been around when my great grandfather was here.

He was born on the 13th of December 1848 and left Flensburg for New York in 1865--I think--to avoid being conscripted into the Prussian army.  (Flensburg was lost to the Prussians in the Second Schleswig War in 1864.)

My first tourist-like activity was to visit the St. Nickolai -Kirche.

The 14th/15th century church is named for St. Nicholas (aka, Sinterklaas; aka Santa Claus, etc., etc.), patron saint of children.  It boasts the most elaborate renaissance organ facade (1609) from Hinrich Ringeringk.

This is really a lovely town.  In addition to reminding me of Worcester (and other British towns), in other ways it reminds me of Duluth.  The town slopes down to the water of The Flensburger Fjord.

It is a beautiful expanse of water, and creates a gorgeous harbor.  I'm so impressed by the wonderful sailboats all along the harbor.

After "rubbernecking" my way up and down the Grosse Strasse,  I decided to check out the water side of town.  After walking on the board walk by some of the most beautiful sailboats I've ever seen, I came upon the Schiffahrtsmuseum/Maritime Museum.  Unfortunately (for me), it was all in German and I could only make out the bare outline of the stories.  For the ship enthusiasts (especially, the model ship enthusiast), this place would be heaven on earth.

My strategy here again was to focus on ships which might have been around when my great grandfather was walking the streets of Flensburg.  Although the entry fee was 6 Euro, for 2 Euro more, I got access to two other museums for the next three months, but more on that later. I also had to pay just under 2 Euro to lock away my bag and coat.  Ah well...

I started to yearn for what my family calls a "buck-me-uppo" (read coffee, sweet, etc.), but by the timeI got done at the Maritime museum, the streets, and more importantly, the cafes were packed.  And why wouldn't they be on such a gorgeous day?

After deciding it wasn't going to happen, I decided instead to go to the Museumberg

 where I was able to use that 8 Euro ticket I bought at the Schiffmuseum.  I was particularly keen to see what I thought was the Hans Christian Andersen Haus.  It's funny what your mind does.  No such place exists in Flensburg, although there is a plaque which says, essentially, "he slept here."

The place I was looking for was the Hans Christiansen Haus.  He was a painter and was part of the Art Nouveau movement.  The HCH is now an art museum with an eclectic collection of paintings, sculpture, furniture, fabric art, installation art, etc.  This was more my style than the Maritime museum.  There was much more to my liking (although I didn't like it all). I loved the sea-inspired works. 

The furniture was really beautiful.

After finishing up in this museum, I treated myself to a cappuchino.  While in the I met a couple who spoke English and they helped me figure out where to catch the bus back to my "hotel".

Before leaving the Museumberg, I visited the Alter Friedhof (old cemetery) which featured the Ilstedt Loewen (once a symbol of Danish victory, now a representation of German/Danish friendship).  It was just returned to Flensburg in 2011.

The cemetery itself was unusual.  I made sure to take photos of  "Petersen" gravemarkers, although I feel quite certain they wouldn't be related.  I'm pretty sure my forebears were not the sort to find a place in this kind of cemetery.

This was the most unusual cemetery I've ever visited.  The layout and design were unlike any I've seen.  It was actually a very peaceful way to end my sightseeing.

I found my way to the bus and once I arrived at my destination, I decided to treat myself to supper out (as opposed to the breakfast leftovers I've been eating for supper the last three nights).  The proprietor of this hotel had recommended a place last night, but once I was ensconced in my room, I had no interest in going out again.  Today, I thought I'd go ahead and check it out for myself.  He extolled it as an excellent restaurant.  The web reviews are less than stellar, but it has one major thing going for it--the water.

I had linguine with scampi, and the best of all...a Flensburger Pilsner.  The pasta was fine, but the beer was delicious!

When I was in England last year found fun signs to share.  Here's the best I've found in a long time.

Return to Nuremberg

There are some cities which demand multiple visits.  Such is the case with Nuremberg.

Our first order of business was to buy me a new camera.  I'm grateful to my friends for indulging me in that request.  As I told them, I absolutely required a camera for this part of the trip (meaning my visit to the camps).  We checked Karstadt, a big department store in Nuremberg, but to no avail.  A clerk there sent us to Saturn, an electronics store similar to Best Buy.  The clerk who helped me was excellent, but I was surprised I couldn't use my credit card.  That was unfortunate, because I have to pay for my last (and most expensive) room with cash, and I'll have to fill up the tank of my rental car by paying with cash.  I won't have much left at the end of the trip.

We managed to get the camera and get to the Frauenkirche for his noon "greeting".  The clock reminded me a lot of the Astronomical Clock of Prague.  They are very similar, but from what I could tell, the moving parts of the Orloj were made in the 17th century.  The clock itself was built in the 15th century.  The "Männleinlaufen" was built in the 16th century.  Still, it's similarly fascinating and charming.
 
At the strike of noon the trumpeters raise their trumpets, drummers (unseen in this photo) drum, a flautist raises his flute, another set of characters ring bells and one more raises a book.  Then, the seven electors come before the Emperor and bow.  They make three circuits.

The Schöner Brunnen (beautiful fountain) is another wonderful attraction on the grand marketplace across from the Frauenkirche.



There is a superstition that if one rotates a golden ring built in to the fence surrounding the fountain one's wish will come true.


From there we went up to the castle.  As we had done the last time I was in Germany, we saw the "hoofprints" of the robber knight Eppelein von Gailingen's horse.  The myth says that  when given his last wish, he asked to ride his steed one last time and jumped over the the wall across a moat..


This spot is close to the five-cornered tower which is the oldest structure in the castle and the city.  The story is that there was a miscalculation as the builders were constructing the tower, yet they managed to make the interior square.

We walked by the Tiefer Brunnen, or deep well, but didn't go inside.  Apparently, there's a cost.  At that point, it was time to eat.  Robert had an idea as to where he wanted to go,  but it was closed.  After a few other strikes, we ended up at a nice place near the hanging bridge.

We then made our way to the 13th century Lorenzkirche.

We also went in to the Sebalduskirche, but my new camera need to have its battery charged, so I didn't get any photos.

When I visited in 2008, I went to the Doku  Zentrum and the Zeppelinfeld.  There was no time for that on this trip.

Downtown on its own has many attractions.  I will need to make another trip. This display is in front of a procelain store, selling this guy in much smaller sizes.

The first four photos come from the internet.

Ode to Leonore

Today is my dear friend Leonore's 85th birthday.  I have the great distinction of having been present for her 75th (a surprise party at Joe Kelley and Nancy Gruver's house), her 80th (a grand affair in Schlusselfeld, Germany with her nearest and dearest) and now her 85th, also in Germany.  Although I couldn't be with her on this particular day, I did spend the bulk of last week with her.  I'm glad to say her eldest son and daughter are with her today, as are her very good friends Rainer and Sylvia.  She has yet another week of celebrating before she returns to Duluth, and I wish her great health and happiness for the coming year and all the years to come.

Leonore has been a great friend and inspiration to me for well over 15 years.  I am blessed to know her.  She has been my teacher, my supporter, my advisor and most importantly, my friend.  I have learned so much from her about World War II, the history of Germany (and Europe) dating back to Middle Ages to the present day, and on and on.  

Leonore is one of those people who is a "fixture" in Duluth.  Having lived in Duluth since the 1960s, she's almost a native.  She knows more people than anyone else in Duluth.  She's always saying, "You know xyz, don't you?"  Of course I don't.  I've only lived there 25 years.

She's involved, or has been involved,  in numerous civic organizations, from Matinee Musicale to Sister Cities to University for Seniors, and of course, the Baeumler Kaplan Holocaust Commemoration Committee.  She's never been just a figurehead, she's always been deeply involved and taken leadership and made a number of presentations herself--including her stellar performance in 2008 when she told her own story, "Zeit Zeuge".  She never stops learning and growing.  She is a model for us all.

Leonore is generous and kind.  She puts herself out there for others and offers her home to international travelers, most particularly, opera singers.  Leonore knows (and loves, no ADORES) her opera.

Leonore has so many talents and gifts.  She gardens, she knits, she sews, she makes wax ornaments, and she cooks (Marrow Dumpling Soup or Pflaumen,Kuchen, anyone?). 

Leonore is Oma to three Enkelkinder of her own, and many, many more (including my four) who have adopted her.

Leonore has had the great gift of making a life for herself that is all her own.  She has shown the way to aging with grace and dignity.  I want to be just like her when I grow up (finally).

Liebe Leonore, Herzlichen Glückwunsch zum Geburtstag!

Rothenberg ob der Tauber

The last time I was in this small city was in 1973.  My dad took the fam on an excursion to this charming town, reknown as a medieval walled city.  I got a little nostalgic remembering this as one of the last times every member of my family traveled together.
 

Unfortunately, nearly 40% of the city center was destroyed during World War II.  (Photo of Rothenburg after WWII ) I thought I understood Leonore to say that the city fathers were able to rebuild the town with donations from the United States.  Ironically, I read a number of documents claiming that the town had been untouched.  One scholarly article in a geographic journal alluded to a number of sources as suggesting that the town had survived the war unscathed.  Clearly, that was not the truth. 

A number of buildings escaped damage, including the St. Jacob's Church and that was well worth the visit.


My memories from visiting back in the '70s are of crowds and crowds of people.  I remember eating my first "real" German Bratwurst, and loving it!  I think I had it in a bun like a hotdog, but I could be dreaming.

I also remember the shops.  My mom was a real "Hummel" figurine fan, and these were in abundance here.

I think the number of shops appealing to tourists must have increased since the '70s.   The town (like many throughout Europe) has a Christmas fair, but also has the very large Kaethe Wohlfahrt stores.  This particular store is like Christmas on steroids.  My friends Leonore and Sue LOVED it.  Sue was taking pictures until she saw the sign requesting no photos.  This, of course, was not a problem for me since I didn't have a functioning camera.

The wall around the city is quite extensive.  We enjoyed walking through part of it and seeing the many name plaques on the wall from all over the world.









While preparing this blog, I learned that the town has a Jewish history as well.  We didn't have time for museums on this trip, but if I get the chance to come back, I would enjoy learning more about it.

Quoting from the town's website:  

"Following the first mention of a Jew in Rothenburg in 1180, the town experienced a blossoming of Jewish culture. This is where the famous Talmud expert Rabbi Meir ben Baruch von Rothenburg taught for over forty years. He founded a Yeshiva on Kapellenplatz, a school of Talmudic studies that attracted scholars from all over Europe. A bronze plaque at Kapellenplatz No. 5 commemorates Meir von Rothenburg.

"After the complete expulsion of the Jews in 1520, the synagogue and cemetery (now Schrannenplatz) were leveled.

"The community hall on the corner of Judengasse / White Tower, known as the 'Jewish Dance House' is a reminder of the Jewish community. Like the Rabbi Meir Garden, the building is a reproduction. Replica Jewish gravestones are set into the walls of the garden.

"Original gravestones from the 13th and 14th centuries can be found in the Judaica Department of the Imperial Town Museum in the old Convent Courtyard.

"Lined with half-timbered houses, Judengasse has borne its name since 1371. Here Jews and Christians lived side-by side. This is the only surviving late medieval Jewish street in Europe.

"The house at no. 10 (not open to the public) still contains a Jewish ritual bath, known as a mikvah, which is still filled with groundwater. There is a reproduction in the Imperial Town Museum.

"The Judaica collection in the Imperial Town Museum includes medieval Jewish gravestones from the 13th and 14th centuries.

"The collection also includes valuable ritual objects, a seal belonging to the Jewish community dating from 1410, an oven crook and a tin plate Hanukkah candleholder."

That's something to look forward to in the future.

I borrowed the images in this blog from the RodT website, as well as the Hummel figurine site.

Surviving the autobahn

Veteran readers of the blog will remember when I rented a car in England last fall to take my visitors around the country for fun excursions.  I had driven in the UK when my family lived in England for six months in 1972, but I was 18 and foolish.  As an adult, this seemed like a pretty risky undertaking.  Regardless, I weighed the options about how my friends and, later, my husband and I, would manage to see the things we wanted to see in the brief time we had available.  Driving a car made the most sense.  Many, many places are not convenient train trips.  For example, if I recall correctly, taking a train from Worcester to Stratford upon Avon, was a ridiculous number of hours, in contrast with the mere 45 minutes it took by car.    The same situation exists here on the continent.

This trip has served many purposes.  I visited Anne Frank's house, a museum dedicated to the memory of the Jews in Elburg and the Jewish quarter/museum/Portuguese synagogue in Amsterdam.  I visited Rotterdam University in the hopes of opening some doors for faculty and student exchanges.  I visited with my dear friend for her 85th birthday, and now I am about to visit two concentration camps.  I will end this trip with a visit to the birthplace of my great grandfather.  The first part of the trip was accessible by bus, tram, train and chauffeured car.  The visit to the camps is not accessible by way of trains.  Renting a car made the most sense. 

As I planned this trip with my friend Leonore, we discussed the pros and cons of schedules and means of transportation.  The car seemed an inevitability.  Leonore's son Robert always rents a car when he comes to Germany for a visit.  Leonore had every confidence that I could make this work.  I listened to her arguments and agreed it made the most sense.

Well...sense, schmense.  I was terrified.  We've all heard stories about the crazy speeds autobahn drivers can achieve.  The one refrain I heard over and over again was "KEEP TO THE RIGHT".  I've been a bundle of nerves for the last 24 hours. Unfortunately, I think I managed to share that anxiety with everyone around me.  My dear friends reassured me the best they could, and I am grateful for their support.  I want to apologize here for my Nervous Nellie Nonsense.  I'm fine.  I have miles and miles to go, but truly, I'm just fine.

I teared up a bit as I said my goodbyes, got behind the wheel of my VW Passat and promptly screwed something up.  Robert had helped me program the Navi and gave me a little pep talk.  I finally managed to turn left and head to the autobahn.  Really...it was all pretty easy.  Yes, there were some major speed demons along the way, but I got the feel for it and moved along with the traffic.  I actually passed a few times and got the speed up pretty high myself, but mostly I stayed at a rational 120 km/h. 

The roads were in great condition, and I noticed only two billboards the whole trip--and that includes the A70 and the A73!  My grand impression was--clean.  The countryside was beautiful--the colors were high, and there was lots of green in Franconia.  The Thüringener Wald was also quite lovely.  My biggest surprise
were the tunnels--silly me, I had no idea! Here's what I learned from the internet:  "Rennsteigtunnel.



This longest tunnel in Germany has a length of about 8 km (5 miles) and is considered to be one of the safest tunnels. The tunnel cuts through mountains with the famous hiking pass called the Rennsteig."  You learn something new every day.

I'm now safely holed up in my lovely Weimar B & B, about ready to settle down for the night. The innkeeper speaks absolutely NO English, so she has to put up with my schreckliche Deutsch.  Poor dear, she's looked rather baffled a few times--mirroring my own incomprehension, I'm sure.

Franconian adventures and follies

My first full day in Elsendorf involved a brief shopping trip, a visit to a former synagogue and intact cemetery, a visit to a brewery, and a taste of heaven in Sylvia's kitchen.

After breakfast, we headed to the next town over to do a little grocery shopping.  Even though it was just a little ways away, we were stopped by a train--twice!

It wasn't a hardship though, because it afforded us a longer look at the lovely countryside.

The grocery store was the size of neighborhood grocery stores in the U.S. which, unfortunately, are disappearing.

The big difference is, this one had some pretty nice looking baked goods at the checkout counter.


I love German pretzels!  They bring back memories of the six months I lived in Stuttgart with my family.  My sisters and I used to go to the neighborhood baeckerei and buy pretzels for breakfast.

After shopping, we headed back to Rainer and Sylvia's and helped pick up walnuts which had fallen to the ground and in the alleyway behind their home.

Sylvia then places these nuts in a machine which dries them, which I assume is necessary before they are cracked and the nutmeats removed.  This was my basket, but Leonore and Susan had full baskets as well.

Once we completed our chore, we were on our way for a little adventure.  Our first stop was a home in the nearby village of Aschbach which had once served as a synagogue.  Sylvia had arranged with the current resident for us to visit.  It was an unassuming home tucked away in a quiet alley.

The floor sported a stare which was original to the house.

Our host led us to the second level where I perceived services were held.

I think I understood our host to say that the elevated level was where women sat (apart from the men).  I noticed one small piece of Judaica in the home.

This menorah featured the names of the twelve tribes of Israel.

Our host then led us to another building on the property

where he revealed a mikvah.

I was curious about the source of the water, because, according to Jewish law, the water for the mikvah requires moving water: "Any "natural" water, as a pool, pond, creek, stream, river, or lake, whether these waters originate from a spring or accumulate in a natural way from rain, melted ice, or snow, or the waters of the sea or ocean, are proper for immersion and purification from the state of Nidah, except that when a running stream is used for Tvilah, it must be ascertained that this stream originates from a spring."  Leonore ascertained that when in use, the water was accumulated during rains in cisterns.

We said farewell to our host and headed over to the Jewish cemetery in Aschbach.  As we drove, we passed this mural painted on the side of a building.

It was for a business called "Sylvia's Salon."  I love the various murals painted on homes and small businesses in German villages.

I visited the Jewish cemetery in Aschbach when I was in Germany five years ago for Leonore's 80th birthday.  This time, I wanted a closer look, so I climbed over the wall (this is where the "follies" come in).  Not only did I make my raincoat filthy, I inadvertently broke my camera.  I was able to take a few shots, but truly...it wasn't worth the 149 Euros I had to pay to replace it.

Sylvia was able to wash my coat, fortunately,  It looks better than it has since I bought it.  The camera gave me a few more shots, but then died an absolute death the next day.  I'm an idiot!

Our next stop was a brewery--which was Steve and Susan's major motivation for coming to Europe, that and celebrating Leonore's 85th birthday. 

We visited the Brauerei Zehendner in Mönchsambach.  Everyone was pretty rhapsodic about the quality of this beer.  I think I understood them to say their brewing process takes six weeks.  I think its about one week for some U.S. craft beers.  We had a private tour, which was very kind.

After buying two cases for our hosts, we headed back to Elsendorf and took a really long nap--or at least Steve and Sue did.

We got back to Rainer and Sylvia's around 7, and were introduced to two friends of theirs who became part of our group, Bärbel and her husband Markus.  They had come over to help celebrate the harvest with Onion Tart and Fresh Wine.  According to one website, "If you travel in fall through the wine growing areas left and right of the Rhine, you will find inns, restaurants and many vineyards offering sparkling new wine (Federweisser). They often serve it together with freshly baked Zwiebelkuchen."  We weren't in the Rhine, but we were following the same tradition. 

This is not Sylvia's Zwiebelkuchen, but I didn't get a photo because we were all too busy eating. Needless to say, this was a treat and a half.  Sylvia's dough is fantastic.  The filling consisted of three eggs, heavy cream, creme fraiche, MANY sliced onions, and speck (bacon)--although Sylvia made a vegetarian version for Bärbel.  There were three "pies" all together, and the nine of us ate them all!  We were warned not to mix Hefeweizen bier and Federweisser at the risk of a killer hangover.  Since we had all started with beer, we were really cautious about the Federweisser.  It was really delicious--more like a fruity soda, along the lines of Squirt, but since it's "young" it's still fermenting.  In fact, it's not really sealed, so it continues to ferment event after it's been bottled.  It's effervescent, but potentially killer.

We had a grand time eating and drinking, drinking and eating, and then eating and drinking some more.