Trippin'
The world is remembering this week the 25th anniversary of the fall of the Berlin Wall. It made me recall that just 10 months later, I was in Germany during Reunification Day, a national holiday with broadcasts from Berlin. I was only in Bavaria, but everyone was out in the countryside riding bicycles or hiking. Even though I didn't speak or understand German, I could enjoy the historic and festive spirit. Here are some remembrances of the trip:
"The Rule" was simple. If my sons did a semester abroad, Mom got to go visit. So, as soon as #1 son's travel information began to arrive and deposits were paid, I began to talk about making some of my own. It would be my first international trip--to Salzburg Austria--and I didn't really know where to start. It was then that my mother tossed out a wild idea: "why don't you take your father with you?" He had never been outside the U.S. either, even when he served in the Army Air Corps and expected to be shipped overseas.
The seed took root, and the itinerary began to take shape. We would fly into Frankfurt, pick up a rental car, and spend some time in Germany and Alsace--where Dad's forbears had come from --before going on to Salzburg.
My friends, more experienced than I, assured me that language would be no problem. They also advised that finding places to stay as we went would give us more flexibility. This novice took that advice--the only reservations made were for the flights and the rental car!
We navigated the flughaven at Frankfurt and the car pickup without difficulty. The adventure began! We drove directly to our first stop, Weisbaden. Dad's maternal grandfather had grown up in that area. And we drove and drove, around and around, seeking a parking spot. We were getting desperate by the time we finally found one--we needed a lavatory. Luckily, there was one on the street nearby. Unluckily, it required coins. All we had was paper money. So, much to my shame, our first meal in Germany took place at the Golden Arches. I correctly assumed that there would be bathrooms there.
Our next lesson was to discover that finding a room in Weisbaden in the midst of an autumn festival was futile. So, across the river we went to Mainz. Found rooms and a nearby neighborhood restaurant and no one at either the hotel or restaurant who spoke English. This being before cell phones, it made for an interesting meal and calls back to the U.S. to assure everyone of our safe arrival. It was the beginning of conquering the whole art of phrase books and gestures!
Over the next two days, we settled into a rhythm of our own making. We would find our night's lodgings in smaller towns along our route. The parking in the cities was daunting! We would set out after our gasthaus breakfasts, drive toward our next destination, find our rooms, and then go out to see the sights. I drove. I made all the decisions (not that I wanted to, but Dad insisted). Hence, I got us lost--and found. Luckily, Dad never complained at my choices. As a third generation farm implement dealer, he was fascinated by the farm lands, the machines, and construction techniques. And content with a simple dinner and stein of beer in a local rathskeller.
There were a few more amusing language incidents: requesting two rooms when the assumption was, even though I was much younger, that we were a couple. The one German phrase I conquered was, "Ich Mochte zwei einsenzimmer fur eine nacht, bitte," "I would like two single rooms for one night, please." And, the confusing morning when the time changed during the night and we didn't know it. Try hand signals with the Alsatian gast haus owner to communicate that!
Nevertheless, these same signals and a map allowed her to point us toward the village in the Vosges Mountains where my great grandfather and his family lived until coming to the U.S. and settling in north central Illinois.
The trip was a blessing. Probably more deeply appreciated now than at the time. We had had a complicated relationship, both of us introverts who could sit in the same room for hours without talking. And I basically left (escaped?) our small town life as soon as I entered college. So, I was a bit apprehensive about those many hours together in the car. But it was fine. I can't pretend that we went deep in knowing each other better, but it was a nice, companionable time. And just six years later,
he was gone.
So, the memories are good ones. Particularly when we reached Salzburg and #1 son--also #1 grandchild. Evenings sitting at table with the house parents enjoying their typical Austrian Tuesday evening supper of apple dumplings. Wandering through farmers' markets, exploring Salzburg and taking the funicular to the castle. And the three of us--three generations--lifting our steins at the local beer hall.
"The Rule" was simple. If my sons did a semester abroad, Mom got to go visit. So, as soon as #1 son's travel information began to arrive and deposits were paid, I began to talk about making some of my own. It would be my first international trip--to Salzburg Austria--and I didn't really know where to start. It was then that my mother tossed out a wild idea: "why don't you take your father with you?" He had never been outside the U.S. either, even when he served in the Army Air Corps and expected to be shipped overseas.
The seed took root, and the itinerary began to take shape. We would fly into Frankfurt, pick up a rental car, and spend some time in Germany and Alsace--where Dad's forbears had come from --before going on to Salzburg.
My friends, more experienced than I, assured me that language would be no problem. They also advised that finding places to stay as we went would give us more flexibility. This novice took that advice--the only reservations made were for the flights and the rental car!
We navigated the flughaven at Frankfurt and the car pickup without difficulty. The adventure began! We drove directly to our first stop, Weisbaden. Dad's maternal grandfather had grown up in that area. And we drove and drove, around and around, seeking a parking spot. We were getting desperate by the time we finally found one--we needed a lavatory. Luckily, there was one on the street nearby. Unluckily, it required coins. All we had was paper money. So, much to my shame, our first meal in Germany took place at the Golden Arches. I correctly assumed that there would be bathrooms there.
Our next lesson was to discover that finding a room in Weisbaden in the midst of an autumn festival was futile. So, across the river we went to Mainz. Found rooms and a nearby neighborhood restaurant and no one at either the hotel or restaurant who spoke English. This being before cell phones, it made for an interesting meal and calls back to the U.S. to assure everyone of our safe arrival. It was the beginning of conquering the whole art of phrase books and gestures!
Over the next two days, we settled into a rhythm of our own making. We would find our night's lodgings in smaller towns along our route. The parking in the cities was daunting! We would set out after our gasthaus breakfasts, drive toward our next destination, find our rooms, and then go out to see the sights. I drove. I made all the decisions (not that I wanted to, but Dad insisted). Hence, I got us lost--and found. Luckily, Dad never complained at my choices. As a third generation farm implement dealer, he was fascinated by the farm lands, the machines, and construction techniques. And content with a simple dinner and stein of beer in a local rathskeller.
There were a few more amusing language incidents: requesting two rooms when the assumption was, even though I was much younger, that we were a couple. The one German phrase I conquered was, "Ich Mochte zwei einsenzimmer fur eine nacht, bitte," "I would like two single rooms for one night, please." And, the confusing morning when the time changed during the night and we didn't know it. Try hand signals with the Alsatian gast haus owner to communicate that!
Nevertheless, these same signals and a map allowed her to point us toward the village in the Vosges Mountains where my great grandfather and his family lived until coming to the U.S. and settling in north central Illinois.
The trip was a blessing. Probably more deeply appreciated now than at the time. We had had a complicated relationship, both of us introverts who could sit in the same room for hours without talking. And I basically left (escaped?) our small town life as soon as I entered college. So, I was a bit apprehensive about those many hours together in the car. But it was fine. I can't pretend that we went deep in knowing each other better, but it was a nice, companionable time. And just six years later,
he was gone.
So, the memories are good ones. Particularly when we reached Salzburg and #1 son--also #1 grandchild. Evenings sitting at table with the house parents enjoying their typical Austrian Tuesday evening supper of apple dumplings. Wandering through farmers' markets, exploring Salzburg and taking the funicular to the castle. And the three of us--three generations--lifting our steins at the local beer hall.
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