We were hoping to have an apartment leased and ready by the time our first guests arrived, but that was not to be – were experienced months of dead-end leads, shifty apartment hunters and very little available rental property. Luckily, we were able to borrow an air mattress and make enough room for Jack and Emmy’s first couple of nights at our temporary apartment in Hamburg. It rained heavily and even snowed the week before they arrived and Laurel prayed for sunshine. It must have worked, because we were graced with clear skies and sunny warm weather for the whole trip. We spent three days here in Hamburg, letting Emmy and Jack acclimate before setting off on Laurel’s twenty-fifth birthday adventure. While still in Hamburg we went to a dollhouse museum, the Erotic Art Museum, The DOM (a thrice yearly carnival), dropped by The Erotic Messe (an adult orientated trade show) and spent a night bar hopping and people watching on the famous Reeperbahn (red light district). By the time we left town we’d had our fill of doner kebobs and anything even mentioning ‘erotic.’ It is a sad state of affairs when one experiences visual sensory overload in the booby department, but Hamburg’s nightlife can do that to you after just a few nights.
Ice cold beverages enjoyed by the Harbor
Currywurst, a German specialty
The view from our fortress (click picture for a larger image)
The same shot at sunset (click picture for a larger image)
From Koblenz, we had planned to take a boat tour down the Rhine and stop off at castles along the way, but we were told by the very helpful staff at our hostel that all the boat tours on the river don’t generally start until the first of April. We were off by a week as we had arrived there at the tail end of the winter season. The mood was dark until Jack had a brilliant idea – rent a car! I am not sure why this didn’t occur to any of us earlier; it might have something to do with the fact that we have amazing public transportation in Hamburg and that we’ve gotten used to not driving or it could have been the alcohol still in our systems, who knows. The rental car turned out to be a stellar idea, as we all had luggage with us and hauling our bags up and down the sides of small mountains to visit castles would have truly sucked.
The castle that Laurel wanted to visit most was Burg Eltz, a few miles down the Mosel River. Like the Rhine tour boats, it was still closed for the season, but we decided to take a drive just to get a glimpse of at the outside. On the way we picked up some snacks and a bottle of local Riesling from a wine vintner on the side of the road - Laurel negotiated the price and handled the sale all in German – I was very proud of her and her growing language skills. The countryside was beautiful – tiny villages on either side of the river, hills covered in grape vines, and everywhere there were ruined bits of castles that seemingly sprouted up from the steep vineyards. We took a twisting country road through small towns and green farmland before finally finding ourselves at the parking lot for Burg Eltz. After a short hike, we made an impromptu picnic on a cliff overlooking the massive castle – bread, crackers, Dutch Gouda, salami, lox, grapes, and cold white wine straight from the bottle. Everyone agreed that it was a great spot for a picnic. After lunch and a few pictures to record the event, we got back in the car and drove back up the river and through Koblenz again to get in the east bank of the Rhine. As we drove we had a map of all the castles on both sides of the river and had fun pointing them out to one another as we flew past. During our drive along the Rhine, we stopped at the one castle that ignored the seasonal opening “rules” - The Marksburg. Tours there started every half an hour and were given only in German – you can’t go through the castle on your own, as it is still a residence. However, since it was just the four of us, our guide was sweet enough to give us the tour in English. The castle was amazingly well preserved. It is the only one on the Rhine that has never been destroyed by invading troops, so it is all original. As we toured the halls, passageways and rooms, up and down narrow staircases, we were struck by how cold it was inside the walls. While it was nice and warm in the courtyards and on the battlements, you could have hung meat in the interior of The Marksburg. Just the thought of spending one’s days living idly in a castle seems so romantic but, the reality of such a fortress was that it would have been cold, dirty and somewhat gloomy within the walls. We loved touring it but decided it would probably have been better for one’s health and much more enjoyable to have lived in a little hut on the side of the river than in the big fortress on the hill.
Emmy and Jack with Burg Eltz in the background
Matt and Laurel (click picture for a larger image)
Our delicious picnic
Emmy pours the wine into Matt's homemade wine glass (classy!)
We saw plenty more castles on our drive down the left bank before arriving at our next accommodation, Burg Stahleck, which was a youth hostel built inside a thirteenth century castle overlooking the town of Bacharach. For most of that day Jack did a good deal of the driving along the rivers and coined some great road trip German – “Das Crapper Wagon” (the truck full of manure going ten miles an hour in front of us) and “Frau Bi-otch” (the woman tailgating behind us, refusing to go around).
We pulled into Bacharach just before evening set and the crisp air seemed to fit the scenery of the sleepy little village full of half timbered houses, shops and pubs all with the year they were built stenciled and carved into the beams above the doors or windows. Many of the buildings dated from the 1500s and were freshly painted and well kept. The town itself dates from the Roman era, but its “modern” history begins in the tenth Century. Aside from the knickknack shops, the cars and a fresh coat of paint and polish the town looked like it hadn’t changed in last five-hundred years. Our castle (at least it was ours for that night) was atop a rocky point on the left side of town and on the right side there were steep vineyards covered in grape vines in bud and bloom. The almost vertical terraced fields were worked by what seemed to be perpetually hunched men and women using motorized carts to carry tools, supplies, themselves and eventually the grape harvest up and down on a system of rails running straight up the sides of those hills. It was wonderful to have the opportunity to see the vineyards worked and to gain insight into just a tiny portion of the lives of the people in that part of Germany.
Castle placed in the middle of the Rhine to extract tolls from already heavily taxed merchants
View of the vineyards and castle wall tower from Burg Stahleck (click picture for a larger image)
After checking into our room, the ladies got dolled up and Jack and I put on clean shirts before driving down the mountain, back through a fortified tower gate in the old town wall and into the village. We had planned to go to a fancy restaurant in Bingen, farther south of us, but decided to stay in the quaint little village instead because of time constraints and because we liked the town so much that we wanted to get a taste of the local flavors. We chose a little country tavern whose sign boasted it was built in 1597 - think the reign of Elizabeth I in England and the works of Shakespeare. We were seated at a big table in the back and proceeded to order two bottles of local wine: a crisp Riesling and a full bodied red that we started pouring the moment it hit the table. The wine that night was made possible by the generosity of Laurel’s father. He had called a week or so before we left and asked that he be allowed to contribute to her birthday meal. As Laurel has bloomed into a fine little wino I could think of no better way for him to be included. Everyone at the table ordered local specialties – pork roasted on a spit, venison stew, and whole prawns accompanied by a mountain of garlic mayonnaise. Dessert was a bit disappointing - raspberries suspended in Jell-O on top of wet spongy cake (very German), but the great local wine made up for the dessert.
Curfew at the hostel was 10 PM so we back rushed up the side of the mountain, bought another bottle of wine from the café at the hostel, and played cards in our room until we were all tipsy. The next morning, we were up bright and early again, this time to load up the car and explore the little village. On our walk in town we found a path just behind the half-timbered shops that led to the ruin of the never-finished Werner Chapel, begun in 1287. The chapel has attracted visitors touring the Rhine for centuries and has been literary fodder for Bryon, Goethe waxed poetically about its ivy covered walls and Heinrich Heine describes it in detail in his novel-fragment The Rabbi of Bacharach. The ivy was long gone and the ruins had been cleaned and stabilized so that visitors could enjoy them in relative safety, but that tidiness leaves one with a want to see it in all of its overgrown ruinous glory.
One of many beautiful half timbered houses in Bacharach
Werner Chapel
After exploring the town and cathedral for a couple of hours we hopped back in the car and drove through Bingen and on to Mainz, having some fine Chinese food for lunch before visiting the Gutenberg Museum. Gutenberg was born in Mainz and there is a replica of his first press there, along with at least four Gutenberg bibles and many other texts produced by similar presses that were influenced by the movable type press. In addition to the European printing displays, there was an entire wing devoted to Asian printing methods from the same period and earlier. The museum, bibles and gift shop there were worth the side trip.
We arrived at the airport in Frankfurt two hours before our departure time and we were very proud of ourselves since our normal trip to the airport includes a mad dash for the gate. Our self-congratulations for being punctual hit a snag when we were told as we tried to check in that our flight had been canceled, but we were eventually offered the next flight to Amsterdam an hour later than our original flight time. For our aggravation, they gave us a really generous coupon for dinner, which was spent at the food court eating chicken pasta and drinking half-liter beers until it was time to go. We had to run to our gate at the last minute because we were so enthralled with the free feast and our good fortune that we almost missed the shuttle to our plane – wouldn’t that have been a kick in the pants?
Our plane landed in Amsterdam after the sun had set and we took a train from the airport into town. While helping Laurel a little with trip planning, I had found a houseboat on one of the canals that we could use as a home base while in the city. We booked our stay there for three days and as we walked to the pier all we talked about was how we were looking forward to sleeping late for a change. The Beagle Houseboat was docked sideways at the end of a former industrial canal, very near the train station and right at the mouth of the harbor, which gave it a nice view of the water from the port side of the main cabin. The aft side looked out onto a grey dirty concrete dock filled with junk in various states of decomposition. A neo-hippie guy named AJ owned the Beagle and to say the boat had character was huge understatement. This boat needed a good overhaul and a woman’s loving touch as it was more of a rusting bachelor’s flophouse than a B&B, but we had the place completely to ourselves and loved the quiet movement of the boat, so there was no muting over the lodging choice.
Our Dutch Houseboat (click picture for a larger image)
View from the top: Laurel in a rooftop lawn chair
The Beagle was built in the 1980’s as a steel-hulled houseboat. It wasn’t one of those noble working barges that had been lovingly refurbished after years of faithful service into a neat and tidy home for a growing family. No, it was the Amsterdam version of a doublewide trailer. It looked as if had been motored into place and never moved, painted, or refitted again. The upstairs had a large sitting area with two computers hooked up to the internet, a fridge stocked full of munchies that would have made Cheech and Chong squeal with dilated red-eyed delight. There was also a huge, formerly white cotton canvas hammock that stretched from one side of the boat diagonally to the other side and made a great little nest for napping together, updating journals and a great spot to just enjoy the sunshine coming through the windows in the afternoon. The lower area had four single beds, a micro-sized TV and a wall covered in questionably secure little lock boxes – Spartan, but beds and linen were clean and comfortable. While the Beagle was ours alone, it was moored right next to where the tour busses park and we were greeted every morning with tourists walking by, stopping and peeping in the windows trying to see the occupants of what was possibly the first house boat that they had seen on their trip. Also, while AJ slept and worked elsewhere, he did stop by the boat once a day to check on things. We were out during one of these visits and while there he closed all the windows and smoked the place up before leaving. When we returned and opened the door plumes, I kid you not – PLUMES, of dope smoke billowed out of the door. As we hurried around to open all the windows and let the place air out I noticed that the smoke formed an almost perfect line in the air about four feet off the ground. He must have lit a pound of the sticky green stuff on fire while he was there to make that kind of impact. Not your typical guest-relations move…
The plush interior of our houseboat (click picture for a larger image)
Matt spent lots of time in the hammock, chilling out & catching up on his journal
That first night we explored the red light district, which was conveniently located close to our houseboat and had a dinner of beer and donuts - AHHH health food! Since moving to Germany we have seen plenty of prostitutes on the Reeperbahn in Hamburg and when armed with a beer and a doner kebob they and their prospective customers make for fine people watching from a bench across the street. In Hamburg, most of the ladies stand in very neat orderly German rows along the sidewalk soliciting their services while covered in warm fake fur and down jackets for most of the year. Things were done somewhat different in Amsterdam: the women (always look for an Adam’s Apple…) sit or stand or dance in red florescent-lit windows wearing very, very little. Certain parts of town and certain streets cater to a different clientele of customers and the ladies themselves run the gambit from runway model to four hundred pound grandmas. Where we happened to enter, the ladies in the windows were very large, scantily clad black women. My darling wife was somehow not expecting either the reality or the horror in the first lady’s window as we walked by. The woman was not, how shall I say, very fetching – Think George Forman with long fake cornrow braids, stretch-marked boobies sagging to his waist that were pushed to the extreme side of his torso by a round belly. Add glossy red lipstick, a high stool for him perch on and a florescent green barely-there bikini covering just tiny bits of all that lovely flesh and you will have an idea of what Laurel’s first glimpse of the Amsterdam sex worker was like. Laurel jumped a foot up and a foot to the side and made a strange little noise of terror at the sight.
Emmy takes a bite of Matt's Space Cake (click pic for a different shot)
Emmy checks out a former church that is now a restaurant and club in the heart of the Red Light District
We spent the next few days riding around Amsterdam on bikes, taking in the sights. Laurel and I don’t get to ride very often together and for me the rides with her around the city’s parks and streets were a gift. When not on the rental bikes, the ladies spent a good deal of time in town shopping, while Jack and I were relegated to purse holding duty. Nothing says manly or macho like standing in front of a hose specialty shop with shopping bags stacked at your feet, a designer purse held awkwardly high up next to your chest with both hands, and the lost puppy look in your eyes… Yep, Jack and I could feel the testosterone just oozing out of our souls, which must have caused us to emit a pheromone that made other men turn away either out of a shared remembered shame or for fear that what we were enduring was a communicable disease. In between fits of clothes buying frenzy (Emmy…) we hit the museums. The Van Gogh museum was first on our itinerary, spending at least two glorious hours listening to an English recorded audio tour guide and looking at some beautiful master works. Emmy and I had seen the Anne Frank House before and I really wanted Laurel to take a tour, but we rode past it multiple times and the lines were just too long (one should go on a week day, not in the summer an hour and a half before it closes).
For me at least, Amsterdam was a welcome break from the frenzy of the Rhine tour. I would have loved to stay on the boat a few more days, just soaking up some more local culture, reading about the city, enjoying the sunsets from the roof and snuggling in the hammock for long quite afternoon naps. Laurel and I will go back to the Netherlands this fall for a few days after all the college kids go back to class. Instead of Amsterdam, next time we are planning to experience Rotterdam or Groningen – the bicycle capital of the most bike-friendly nation in Europe.
Riding bikes in Amsterdam is absolutely the best way to see the city and experience the street life as a local (Hold mouse over first image for a surprise)
One of many unique clubs in the Red Light District (Hold mouse over image for a laugh)
The next stop on our journey was Berlin. The night before our departure Laurel went online to look up the address and directions to our next lodging, David’s Cozy Lil Backpacker Hostel. She went to a different website than the one she booked through, one where people are allowed to leave comments about how they really felt about their experience. The commentary was not pretty… “Mattresses on the floor,” “dirty sheets and pillowcases,” “bedbugs,” “no door on the bathroom.” We made this little discovery after Jack and Emmy had gone to sleep and we silently freaked out. There was no way in HELL that I was staying at a roach motel! I used my ‘nuclear option’ – I got on my cell and called my corporate travel agent in California and begged for help. They, of course, hooked us up with a hotel reservation at the plush Intercontinental near the Kiser Wilhelm Kirche for super-cheap. I would not have wanted to witness Emmy’s melt down upon arriving in the German capital to find bugs in her bed. It would not have been pretty and there would have been at least one stabbing. We surprised her the next morning with the good news of the averted crises and with information about the upgraded lodging plans. Emmy thought about it for a second and said in her dry matter of fact way, “It’s best not to trust anything with the word ‘cozy’ in the title.” (After returning home to Hamburg the hostel charged us a night’s fee for canceling and Emmy coined the new phrase ‘Cozy Bastards.’)
While in Berlin we tried to use our brand new Lonely Planet for Germany guidebook to round out our plans, but unfortunately someone at Lonely Planet hasn’t been to the city recently and a good bit of the information contained in the Berlin section had not been updated in years. Fucking Lonely Planet, they didn’t mention the off-season for the Rhine River trips or the castles either… Using this crappy guidebook, we had also planned on a nice day at the Egyptian Museum only to be told that it no longer existed. Luckily, we were told that the collection had been moved to a new location on Museum Island and was on display with a great Greek and Roman collection. We saw the terra cotta bust of Nefertiti and a display of found treasure complete with gold Roman and Greek coins.
We were in Berlin during the weekend and had planned to do a little clubbing, but the first night we were so beat from all the early morning wake ups, train rides and flights that we just went out for a fabulous dinner and then watched the new Bond movie on the Pay-Per-View channel in our hotel room, wearing sweatpants and t-shirts. For dinner, we went to KaDeWe, the largest department store on the continent. It had 7 floors, covering an entire city block, full of designer clothes, electronics, household goods, linens, and the top two floors were devoted to food - Laurel and I visited last summer while they were still building the top floor cafeteria - We had been lured in by the promise of chocolate covered ants by our bus tour guide, although we never did find any. This time we ate on the new top floor, which housed one of the grandest gourmet cafeterias that one could imagine. Everything was self serve – wine, cakes, salad and lobsters. The steak and pasta cooked to order. Everything was weighed at the checkout register and you don’t want to how much we paid for dinner – the food was great, but there was a little bit of guilt felt by all for the amount of coin we had dropped at a buffet.
Best friends outside the Classical History exhibit in Berlin
On the last night of our adventure we tried to find a good club to go to but, all of the recommended spots had a dress code and one of us (OK, it was me…) hadn’t brought nice shoes with him. The club we were really hoping to go to “The Oxymoron” (apropos because Emmy and Laurel used that word as an insult when they were too little to know what it meant) was having a Roaring 20’s themed party but we really didn’t have the right stuff for that. After asking for a recommendation from a young semi-trendy hotel employee working the front desk, we made our way down to a funky little up and coming district east of the Tierpark (Zoo) and had dinner at a fabulous little tapas place. We had multiple bottles of sangria to kick off the evening, ate a lavish dinner on scarlet cushions inside a warm Bedouin-ish appointed tent and then went dancing at a nearby club that must have employed the worst DJ in Berlin. He played songs that were popular when Jack and I were in high school and the girls were in Elementary (Yes, they are young-ins’) that were shite even then. He cut from one tune to another with no transition and the beat and music from one song to the next were most of the time at polar opposites of the crappy spectrum of ‘80s tunes. We danced to it anyway and I “think” we stumbled out around 4:30 AM, but it is all a little fuzzy.
By the time we got home to Hamburg we were all absolutely beat. I had to go to work the next day and it hurt! Normally, my climbing trips are the balls-out, no sleep, suffer-fests but traveling with Laurel is usually much more mellow. My wife seemed to have taken up the mantel for this one. She slept on and off for a couple of days after Jack and Emmy left. Over a quiet meal and a couple glasses of wine at home a few nights later we agreed that our future European adventures would be more laid back and that we would try to experience one place at a time and savor it instead of trying to shoehorn in as much as possible. That sort of travel/agony I will save for climbing trips with my friends Mark, Matt, and Ross!!