Chasing Castles and Fairytale dreams: Living the Once upon a Time Life
Day One, Two, Three, and… My trip with my middle daughter to Germany started like all great travels with a horrendous thud. (If you’d like to skip the details and go to the travel jump here.) On the day we were to fly out we arrived at the airport only to learn the incoming flight was delayed from Denver due to mechanical issues. This was our first hour delay. At the beginning of the second hour, the plane is in and there would be a quick turn-around. So quick that the cleaning crew did not bother to clean. There was dog hair all over the seats. I have never asked for handi-wipes before. With the smell of alcohol around us, we sat down. This is your captain speaking. Denver had grounded all in-coming flights due to severe weather. I checked my watch, we’d be okay with our three-hour layover, and as any born-and-raised Coloradan knows--wait an hour, right? Tick-Tock.
Thirty minutes later, they allowed de-planing. I expressed my concern that we will lose our window to take off because it will take too long to re-board, and…
We finally get the clear! Thirty minutes later, with everyone back on-board, we roll out onto the tarmac. It’d be tight, but we’d make it with a little sprint. I check with the United app-assistance. They “held” our seats on the next out-bound German flight, but waited to book due to many other connecting planes being delayed. A deep unease fills my gut—that bend in my experienced travel-intestine that says shits going sideways. Thunderous lightning cracks overhead. Sheets of water on the portal window mirage my hopes for an easy getaway.
And we sat for another hour. Our airport is now under gale-force winds. We are not allowed to fly. We are now past our connection time. Furiously, I try to get on the app to secure the seats. Gone. “Christopher” communicates that I must now fly through Chicago. And for tomorrow we would have to fly separately in bathroom odiferous nose-bleed seats.
From all around, and descending from the sky, we hear that ominous thud. We called my husband, and he drove us back home for two more nights of sleep (a 45-minute drive one way, four-times for him in 6-hours). They finally allowed us to de-plane, but the Montrose to Denver flight did eventually fly back that night over the Continental Divide—with our luggage. The thought crossed my mind to just stay on the plane to Denver and figure it out. But, a little gut-gremmlin yelled: NO!
I am glad I did not do that. There were no available seats out of Denver for 72-hours (3-days), and, at least this way we slept in our own beds (2-day delay).
We lost our time in Munich, and we lost our pre-booked walking tour. They charged us for both hotel nights, (and no, I didn’t purchase trip insurance. I have in the past for Europe, and meant to, but I forgot.)
Due to my work being unusually hectic with the down-turn in the economy, I haven't been on top of my game. The upside to a day at home, if there is one, is I had an unscheduled day for the first time in nearly a year. So, I did what I do and I sat down and began the edit of my second book: Skinwalkers.
Friday rolled around and off we flew through Chicago and onto the United partner Lufthansa. Curiously, a United employee who escorted us off the plane reminded us that the delayed was NOT due to the weather. It was a mechanical delay. Had it not been delayed for mechanical, you would not have had the weather upset the flight. Therefore, the airline was at fault. Now, due to my bad back, I need to fly in nicer seats. (This is why it has been two-years since my last BIG travel $$.) So, I should get a small refund on our first leg (economy), and then, to preserve the eight-hour bougie seats, I had to re-upgrade one ticket. I intend to fight for that.
Bullshit alert: when I looked to upgrade on my confirmation number, the nicer seat was priced at $1200.00. When I looked on my daughter’s side, it was $240.00! The lesson is always check your options (probably even better in a private search page.) We clinked our glasses of Avionic Aperitif with tonic (a new favorite), and I settled in for the 8-hour flight.
Day Four. We land in Munich. I have said before that I don’t tend to blog about my trips to California because it feels like going home. Southern California, being the land of my husband’s childhood and where we met in college, is a second home. And in some ways, Munich is like this for me, too. While not every time I come to Europe do I visit Bavaria, I have come to this land of my ancestors at least six times now. The BDR holds a special place in my heart. It is the land of distant cousins, and so when I am in the vicinity, I come to see them.
I feel bad, our delay caused us to have one less day with my German relatives. And while I have seen Munich Marienplatz plenty (even my daughter visited when she was 10), I am still sad. And while I have seen Neuschwanstein Castle twice, I have never seen it with my relatives—and that, too, did not happen. Nonetheless, my family invited us into their home and they made reservations at a local restaurant, and even though no castles were toured, I spent noch ein mal (one more time) magical evening with people my Grandmother was told 50+ years ago by the German government that we shared DNA. What I learned this time is apparently her grandfather had been a soldier for the German army, but who he was is lost, but he came from the farm lands of Augsburg, and anyone who might remember him as a personality is also gone, too.
I tried for nearly eight-years through my childhood education to learn the German language, and I ended up with a butt-load of Germany nouns and very little ability to structure a sentence. What I find is, unlike the French, most Germans look favorably upon you if you make even a small attempt at their language, but just as quickly say: maybe it’s better if we speak in English.
The next day, my family treated me to a “typical” German breakfast of a selection of sliced meat, cheese, and seeded breads and pretzels. It is very clear that American-sized coffee does not exist in traditional German culture. So, I always order a second cup. My kingdom for a nice 20-oz drip!
The Romantic Road
Harburg is considered the oldest and best preserved castle along the Romantische Straße (Romantic Road). The stone castle is found on the edge of an ancient meteorite crater (UNESCO), along a road which meanders over hills and dales and protects the red-roofed village.
This is the northernmost location of the Roman invasion (10 BC - 16 AD). And from the south, Neuschwanstein actually begins this medieval fairytale highway. The Romantic Road is much like our Route 66. During the 1950s, to improve the German image, the government re-branded this byway to lure in tourism. And it worked.
There are two layers to Schloss Harburg (schloss = stately home). You can spend a few Euros to walk around the castle keep, the sanctuary, a small art museum, and a private display of tin soldiers and doll house miniatures. You can spend more money for a proper tour—this is all in German and an English pamphlet is provided. We chose not to do the guided tour.
Most, if not all, pre-medieval/medieval stately homes in Germany were strategically built on top of a prominent outcrop, so you could see the marauders approach. Schloss Harburg is no exception. You can drive all the way up to a pay-parking lot, then pay a fee to walk around the yard/keep, and then also a fee for the museum tour. Serendipitously, we did NOT find the road to the upper parking lot. Instead, we pulled into the little village, found free parking, and walked through the village to the castle. They provided signposts along the path with QR codes in English, so we could hear a lot about the location (which mostly summarized horrible deaths). Anyway, we crossed a quaint waterwheel/bridge/mill area, and hiked to the castle on the Fairy Tale Trail. Along the way local artisans have strung fiber-arts and painted fairytale creatures, pottery mushrooms and bundles of branches woven into bears and owls. This hike made the castle worth it. Maybe seeing the inside would have been worth it, too, but I loved the cultural heritage that the trail gave us.
The village of Dinklebühl, which translates into Spelt Hill, is surrounded by all sorts of farmland. It is one of the triumvirate of medieval walled cities along the Romantic Road. The other is Nördlingen to the south (did not visit this trip) and Rothenburg Ob Der Tauber (more on this later). Dinklesbühl sits upon an important trade crossroads between the north-south Italian (Roman) road and the East-West route along the Rhine from the Eastern European countries. As early as the 12th Century the village had a record of holding a market, and as an Imperial-Free city in the 13th century, was only beholden to the Holy Roman Empire, and as such, built the wall to protect it from the Gaul/Germani tribes.
Inside the stone walls and gatehouses are premier examples of half-timbered buildings (think Hansel and Gretal), and one of the purest German gothic cathedrals, St. George. Inside the nave and off to one side is a scale model nativity scene set amongst iconic Dinklebühl buildings (and for a Euro you can make the lights work), and this is only improved upon by the rows of stone ogival arches of the soaring ceiling. After a hearty lunch and a coffee, still small but I ordered it “groß” pronounced gross, but translates into large, we continued to our evening reservations inside an actual castle.
Burg Colmberg. The word burg translates into what we would picture as a transitional castle stronghold. This particular castle is tucked high onto a hill against a nature preserve filled with European deer.
Today, this castle-hotel is family owned and operated. When we arrived to check in there was a 9-yo boy at the register who solidly picked his nose and ate it right in front of us. Yum. He was scolded by his mom.
If you told me this hotel inspired the Disney cartoon-movie setting for Beauty and the Beast, I would believe it (I know it is set in France). Everything about this guesthouse, from the taxidermy animals to the dark stained wood beams and the imperfect stone walls scream Franco-German countryside hunting lodge. I don’t want to overuse the word “quintessential.” But damn if it isn’t.
The restaurant served gravied venison and potato salad—it even had a small chapel. This place is definitely destination wedding worthy.
The reason we are in German is not just for vacation. My daughter will start a two-year masters degree in Potsdam come October (English speaking). I decided to have her meet her relatives on the off-chance she needed some kind of support, and make my trip into a tiny excursion—tour some old and new favorites. We reserved a couple of days in Berlin—a place I have never visited and another couple days in Potsdam to get her oriented. Stay tuned meine kliene tourist.
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