"I know a spell that
would make you help
Write about love
It could be in any tense,
But it must make sense."
— Stuart Murdoch, 2010
Pop crooner Neil Sedaka once sang about breaking up being hard to do. And back in 2008 during one the coldest D.C. winters I can remember, I learned there is some real truth in Sedaka's classic lyrics. I was at the cross roads of my life — particularly with my career path and whereabouts — when, after a difficult split, a broken heart struck me from left field bringing about a miserable start of the year. I can't remember being more down and out in my entire life. I needed a quick pick me up and luckily I came up with the perfect remedy. I hit the shopping circuits and splurged like a jilted woman. I carelessly purchased the most expensive gift I could find within my budget — a shiny new bicycle. But not just any plain old ordinary bicycle, I purchased an all black Cannondale hybrid called Bad Boy.
With Bad Boy I found solace in simply riding a bike. He was like my new companion, partner and best friend. I rode him everyday, all the time, and everywhere. He took my breath away and in no time at all my broken heart was mended and I'd forgotten all about my cross-roaded career path and whereabouts. The only roads I wanted to cross was on my Bad Boy. I fell head over heels in love with a bike.
My love for Bad Boy eventually made me realize I needed a safe and more enjoyable place to ride. So I packed my things up and moved to a more bike friendly city called Takoma Park in Montgomery County Maryland, a suburb of D.C. Thanks to Bad Boy, the answer to my whereabouts were now solved. The hippy and hilly Takoma Park, probably one the friendliest cities I'd ever encountered on the planet, was the perfect place for safe riding. A place I'm proud to call home.
Speaking of home, after another successful year of living abroad, this past February I enjoyed a much needed, but unfortunately short, visit back to the States where I spent a lovely time with family, friends, Takoma Park and Bad Boy — who was unfortunately locked away in storage. You see, on the eve of my last day in the States before leaving for Sofia — almost two years ago now — I painfully contemplated taking Bad Boy with me. Sarah tried her best to convince me to bring him abroad. But the dangers of riding a bike through Sofia, that includes small obstacles like dangerous drivers, wild dogs in pursuit of anything going under 5 miles per hour and pot holes bigger than lunar craters — convinced me other wise.
So, I left Bad Boy behind. Deflating his wheels and my heart.
In time, my life in Europe would help keep my mind off of missing Bad Boy. But in more recent times, during a long awaited visit to The Federal Republic of Germany, home of two of the most important things on earth — Kaftwerk, the inventors of electronic music, and Haribo, the inventors of Gummi Bears — all those memories of falling in love with Bad Boy came back, again. Okay, okay — some of you out there are probably asking yourself how in the world did a visit to Germany conjure up these kinds of feelings? Well, I can explain that and share other memorable highlights from my days in Berlin, Munich, Cologne, Hamburg and many more of Germany's wonderful towns and cities, that included scratching off a second most desired dream destination, a moving memorial to a King, a golden ticket to a band of Scottish love writers, and some unavoidable cheating. Here's how it all went down during my Germany Journey . . .
At the start of April, after a couple of exhaustive months teaching art and dance at the American English Academy, I was more than eager for Spring break to arrive. And please don't misinterpret my words, I am still in love with teaching at one of the three American schools in Bulgaria — but the anticipation of my long-awaited trip to Germany made it difficult to keep my mind focused on teaching.
Unfortunately, Sarah, the girl from the north country that after three years together, I am still in love with, couldn't join me for my Germany Journey. Her boss from Chicago was scheduled for a series of meetings in Bulgaria. So, just like my travel times in countries like the Czech Republic, Turkey, and Egypt — to name a few — I was once again gearing up for another solo adventure. And even though I begged Sarah to make me a detailed itinerary similar to the one from my Nights Over Egypt, because of my success and survival in there, I really didn't need one. After Egypt, it's safe to say that I have now become a certified seasoned traveler.
And for the first time in my life, I truly felt seasoned. I wasn't nervous at all about traveling alone in Germany. On the other hand, I was curious as a cat to find out how the German people would treat me. You see, after hearing so many horror stories from folks back home and abroad of how cold and unfriendly German people can be toward foreigners — and each other — I was curious to see if all these stories were just hearsay or ignorant stereotyping from folks believing what they see in Hollywood films. And in my book of fine traveling, the people of a country are the most important aspect of truly enjoying a country. And what I would soon discover about the people of Germany would take me by surprise and catapult my ever-so-present celebrity status to an all new record breaking high. But before I go into details, let's head over to the first stop on my Journey — the Beautiful Berlin, Germany's largest city.
Klaus Wowereit, Berlin's current mayor and one of the most famous German politicians who is openly gay, once proclaimed Berlin to be "poor, but sexy." And although I can't vouch for the poor part, I can certainly vouch for the sexy part. Berlin was a mecca for the beautiful and stylish. It also had a large and diverse subculture, that included hippies, hipsters, punks, gays, and granolas. Berlin was my kind of city in just about everyway. It felt like San Francisco, Boulder, The Village and my very own Takoma Park all rolled into one. But what Wowereit failed to mention was just how friendly the people are in Berlin — and Germany in general.
From day one upon arriving in Germany, a country I am now not so surprised to see recently ranked at #10 on Forbes' 2011 list of the the top 10 friendliest countries in the world, that stereotypical image I had of the cold and unfriendly German quickly vanished. You see, after I got off the plane at Tegel, Berlin's main international airport, two friendly German strangers eagerly helped me find my way to the Hauptbahnhof, the main railway station in Berlin. Thereafter, another friendly German stranger helped me purchase a bus ticket from one of Germany's confusing ticket machines.
Kind and friendly acts like these would occur throughout my entire Germany Journey. It became common place to encounter a German stranger wanting to strike up conversation right out of the blue. Most wanted to know where I was from, some simply wanted to say hello or welcome me to Germany. On one occasion a very generous German girl paid for my entire S-Bahn fare after she discovered my euro was too large for one of those confusing ticket machines. Needless to say, all of these acts of kindness took me by complete surprise. And like Forbes, after a couple of days in Germany, I was good and ready to rank it up high on my own list of the most friendliest countries ever — a list that respectively includes The Netherlands, Czech Republic, Ireland, and the good old U.S.A. — just to name a few.
Contrarily, after telling my stories of the kind and friendly treatment to some native German friends I'd met during my Journey, most were surprised and skeptical, insisting that my case was a rare one. Some even voiced that the majority of German people do have a tendency to be withdrawn with strangers and even amongst themselves — furthermore adding that my kind and friendly treatment could have been a result of them simply being drawn to me. And although they might have been just filling me with flatter — looking back now, maybe my celebrity status or perhaps even my American status was working some magic for me. Or perhaps maybe I was reaping what I'd sawn for so many years of consciously showing kindness to foreigners visiting the States. Whatever the case was, the treatment I got in Germany made me feel quite welcomed and comfortable for the remainder of my Journey.
And I guess I should mention that unlike my celebrity status in the Balkan States, where about 75% of the attention I get probably comes from my cafe mocha complexion, this certainly wasn't the case in Germany. To my surprise, Germany had quite a large percentage of Blacks and other non-white ethnic groups or so-called races. I had this crazy misconception that it would be the whitest of the whitest countries on the planet. Man, was I wrong. Since the mid-1990s, the government and the majority of Germans have begun to acknowledge that controlled immigration should be allowed based on qualification standards, further establishing a high level of gender equality, disability rights, and legal and social tolerance towards homosexuals, who can legally adopt their partner's biological children and are permitted to have civil unions.
But when it comes to getting surprised in Germany, nothing would surprise me more after I stepped out my lodging doors at the Odyssey Hostel and took a long stroll through Berlin to discover that the entire city was covered in bicycles. Germans young and old were out riding for exercise or pleasure. They traveled solo or in packs. Parents even rode with their children attached to the backs! There were bike shops on nearly every block and bicycle lanes on every street. Bikes were almost equal to automobiles in numbers and had to obey strictly enforced riding laws. Once I spotted a couple of riders being pulled over by traffic cops for riding without headlights and helmets.
The biking life in Berlin reminded me of Amsterdam, but on a much larger scale. It was a sight for sore eyes after coming from Sofia, where I might spot a couple of bikers per week. It also made me think of Bad Boy and how much I still miss him. I'd so wished he was right there with me in Berlin to take my breath away once more. But unfortunately this discovery of the perfect city where almost everyone rode bicycles brought about the most sinister thoughts to my mind. Thoughts I had hoped I'd never dream.
Thoughts of cheating on Bad Boy.
I couldn't control it. Damn it, I couldn't even avoid it! I just had to rent a bike and ride through the Beautiful Berlin for myself. But before I could run back to the hostel and ask where the nearest and best bike rental shops were located, there it was right before my eyes, an enormous advertisement that pointed the way to the Fat Tire Bike Tour. The name sounded pretty cool to me, so I didn't even think twice about it — I was off as fast as I could to cheat on Bad Boy.
When I arrived at the Fat Tire Bike Tour store, they allowed me to choose any of the bikes on display. But none were to my liking. They were all ugly florescent-colored touring bikes and could never hold a candle to the handsome and menacing black frame of my Bad Boy. This filled me with much regret, so I decided to stay faithful to Bad Boy and ditch the whole cheating idea altogether. But just as I was about to walk out the door, a Fat Tire Bike Tour guide and fellow Statesman named Andrew pleaded, "sir, please take a test ride before you go!"
Little did he know, there was really no need to plead. I was actually hoping for an extra push to justify my dirty and deceitful deeds. So, I shrugged, "Okay. Why not?"
The bikes on display were named after famous Rock and Roll artists, so after choosing a magnetic blue one called Everly Brothers, I took him for a quick spin. After my test ride, I re-christened the doxy bike Soft Boy, because he was indeed soft and terribly slow — but surprisingly, a pretty comfortable and smooth ride. And although Soft Boy would never come close to taking my breath away like Bad Boy had done on so many occasions, I still felt a nice tingling sensation after riding him. So after giving Andrew the thumbs up, I joined the rest of the Fat Tire Bike riders that included a fun and diverse bunch of travelers from various ages and countries that consisted of my good friends Jeroen and Laura from Holland, Amanda and Holly from England, Anne and Yu from China, and my boy John, a fellow solo traveler from Ireland, who I ended up grabbing dinner with after the tour.
Because I was one of the few experienced cyclist on the Fat Tire Bike Tour, Andrew designated me the Ass Man, a title given to the person who rides at the very back of the tour line keeping a watchful eye on stragglers and lost riders. My watchful eye was put the test after quickly discovering Anne had never ridden a bicycle before, resulting in her falling behind and walking her bike often during the tour. I felt pretty bad for her, so at each stopping point I patiently gave her some helpful tips and advice on riding for the first time. But my tips and advice were short lived. After a few worried and impatient looks from Andrew and the rest of tour group, including Anne's boyfriend Yu — the couple eventually made it easy on everyone and quit the tour midway through.
Speaking of the finishing the tour, besides Anne's turtle pace and some difficulty getting around The Berlin Marathon, one of the largest and most popular road races in the world, the overall experience of the Fat Tire Bike Tour was pretty spectacular. We stopped at some of Berlin's most important and historical landmarks, including The Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe, Brandenburg Gate, The Fernsehturm, The Reichstag, Checkpoint Charlie, Gendarmenmarkt, the Führerbunker, Charlottenburg Palace, Berlin Cathedral, Bebelplatz, a glorious ride through the Tiergarten and Potsdamer Platz, and a view of one of the last remaining sections still standing of The Berlin Wall.
After the amazing Berlin bike tour and a night walk through the beautiful East Side Gallery, an international memorial for freedom of approximately 100 paintings by artists from all over the world, the next morning uneasy feelings of cheating on Bad Boy weighed heavy on my mind knowing that he was a thousand miles away locked inside a dark storage room with deflated tires.
playing songs for children.
playing songs to learn and sing.
Speaking of music, not far from the famous Berlin Wall, on another wall not so famous, I made the most golden discovery of my Germany Journey. You see, during one of our breaks on the Fat Tire Bike Tour, I spotted a much sought after concert advertisement of Scottish indie-pop band Belle & Sebastian. And although I was introduced to the band in 2001 via my main man Rick Pepple from D.C. — the same person responsible for introducing me to hundreds of other life-changing music such as The Kinks, T. Rex, Television, and The Clientele — in recent times, B&S's wistful pop, reminiscent of Love and The Smiths, has been the soundtrack to my life in Europe. And after hearing the news of a missed live performance at the 9:30 Club last year in D.C., I was pretty bummed out, but hopeful of some European dates to be soon added to their schedule. Well, little did I know upon arriving in Germany, B&S had already added some Euro dates that included Cologne, one of the stops on my Journey. But the tricky part of the story was trying to obtain a ticket. So the hunt was on.
With high hopes the tickets weren't already sold out, I desperately searched most of Berlin's music venues and outlets hoping to find that golden ticket for sale — but nothing came up. So like a child who'd just dropped his ice cream cone in the sand, I emailed Sarah and cried the blues. Thankfully she understood just how extremely vital it was for me to see Belle & Sebastian live, so she thought fast and cleverly purchased a ticket on-line and had it rush-mailed to my hostel in Cologne.
But my worries weren't over. Now, I could only hope that my golden ticket would get to the hostel on time and unscathed. So I kept my fingers crossed tight and headed off to the next destination of my Germany Journey — the Magnificent Munich.
My crossed fingers would also serve a second purpose — to have another successful experience on a night train sleeper car. If you recall back to Episode 22 during my Nights Over Egypt, one of the highlights of that trip was experiencing a sleeper car for the first time — that I fortunately had all to myself. And although I had a truly sweet roommate from Canada named Alisha — overall, my second experience wasn't quite as cool as the first. And this was mainly due to an additional not-so-friendly and strangely peculiar male roommate, who, next to saying hello, goodnight, and goodbye, uttered not a single word more.
And some would probably be okay with this kind of behavior from a stranger sleeping next to you in a 6 x 9 sleeper room for just one night — but for me and Alisha, I ain't gonna lie to you, this kind of behavior seemed a bit on the creepy side. And you can bet I slept with one eye open and my right hand balled up. So, if you're thinking of doing a sleeper car for future travels — to get the best possible experience, you just might want to shovel out the extra cash for your own sleeper room to avoid creepy and unwanted company.
Nevertheless, in the morning I found that a sleepless night in a sleeper car didn't matter much after arriving in the Magnificent Munich, the capital city of Bavaria and third largest city in Germany, where I shared a dorm room at the Euro Youth Hostel with a couple of roommates named of Hon, from China, and Alonso, from Brazil. And although the three of us got along just great, since they were both full-time students our schedules clashed our opportunity to hangout. Which was actually a good thing this time, because from the very moment that I arrived in Munich — my mind was fixated on a special mission.
You see, in early 2008 my life was forever changed after visiting Warwick Castle in Warwickshire, England. And although my love for castles technically started in the late 70's after seeing a really cool castle in The Devil's Nightmare, a 1971 Belgium horror flick, Warwick was the first time I'd seen one in real life. And from that moment on, I'd become smitten with castles, vowing to see each and every one whenever I got to Europe. So on that note, I can now divulge the main reason why I traveled to Germany in the first place — to get a glimpse of the so-called greatest castle of them all, Germany's Neuschwanstein Castle, the inspiration for Disneyland's Sleeping Beauty Castle and the second most desired dream destination on my personal travel list right underneath the former #1, The Great Pyramid of Giza.
Now that the cat is out of the bag, you'll have some idea why my mind was so fixated on this special mission. So soon after I arrived that morning and dropped my luggage off, Owen Davis made the transformation from mild mannered school teacher to the brave and fearless Castle Hunter — and hoped the first train from Munich to Füssen, a small town in Bavaria, 3 miles from the Austrian border. During the two hour train ride, that included one of the most beautiful countryside views ever, I met another awesome solo traveler from China named Emma. The two of us got along like old friends and shared 3 important things in common — a love for travel, photography and a possible bite from a vampire. She was 50 and didn't look a day over 25.
But the more immed-iate thing we had in com-mon, was that she was on the same castle hunting mission as I. So the two of us decided to team up and hang out for the entire day, and even the next day back in Munich — where she was also staying. She shared fascinating stories of her life growing up in China and even invited me up for a visit this Summer. Hmm. . . do I see a possible China episode in the making? Perhaps. So stay tuned. Anyway, it was also nice having Emma along to capture shots that I could never get of myself next to the castle.
After arriving at Neuschwanstein and hoping a short bus ride, Emma and I were pretty surprised to find that we'd be killing two birds with one stone. Nearby, was another gorgeous 19th century palace called Hohenschwangau Castle, the childhood residence of King Ludwig II of Bavaria. So during a 3 hour wait, due to long lines, Emma and I brunched at a yummy restaurant in a nearby tiny town called Schwangau, where we met the third piece to our castle hunting trio — a cool dude from Singapore named Brandon. Schwangau is also where I'd get a full dose of celebrity status from a group of German high schoolers who asked the same usual questions, with an additional request to have their picture taken with me. I happily obliged, of course.
"Dream two was pretty special,
easily beats loving yourself."
To cut a long story short, when we finally took the first tour of Hohenschwangau Castle, which was pretty amazing inside and out — it would sadly pale in comparison to the second tour of the Neuschwanstein Castle. The only words I can come up with to describe seeing this palace in real life is just pure surreality. It was everything I had imagined it to be and then some. It embodied the vision of that quintessential castle in just about everyone's dreams and fantasies.
Upon arriving at Neuschwanstein's original Disney-like entrance, one couldn't help but expect a welcomed greeting from a beautiful princess or a knight in shining armor. Good thing that didn't happen — cheese-ball stuff like that could have possibly ruined one of the greatest and grandest moments of my life. Nope, the whole Neuschwanstein experience stayed real and lived up to the hype.
I fell in love with a castle.
After spending about 5 hours touring the exterior and interior of the castle, that included a glimpse of the great Richard Wagner's grand piano, shooting tons of photographs, and a walk across the glorious Marienbrucke to get that classic long distance post-card view, we finally pried ourselves away and headed back to Munich with a smile.
But my smiling time was short lived, because the next stop in Germany was indeed the sad point of my Journey. The next morning in Munich, I met up with another guided tour group and hoped a short train ride to Dachau concentration camp, the first Nazi concentration camp opened in Germany, located on the grounds of an abandoned munitions factory near the medieval town of Dachau, northwest of Munich.
The tone of the Dachau Tour was, of course, understandably serious. The tour group never really felt the desire for small talk between breaks other than the subject at hand. From the very start, Sonja, our very passionate and quite knowledgable tour guide from the U.S., began with a brief history of Dachau, Hitler and The Third Reich, before guiding us through what I can only describe as a seeing is believing experience. What I mean by this is, of course I've always believed what I've read or watched in film or documentaries regarding The Holocaust, but seeing the horrors inside a real life concentration camp changed my whole perspective and feelings in ways I can only perhaps describe to someone who has been there.
It was a perspective and feeling that was unanimously shared by each member of the Dachau tour group, including Sonja, who in fact, would not enter the gas chamber section of the tour with us, stating that the first time she entered a real life gas chamber, the realities made such an impact on her life that it became the sole reason why she'd joined the Dachau Concentration Camp tour. Furthermore adding that her first time was the very last time she'd entered one, fearing multiple entries could possibly desensitize her of the genocide of approximately 9 million European Jews and an additional 8 million people in other groups, including Romani (Gypsies), homosexuals, Soviet prisoners of war, Polish and Soviet civilians, the disabled, Jehovah's Witnesses and other political and religious opponents.
After the Dachau Tour and another self guided tour through three of Munich's deli-ciously breath-taking art museums, including the Alte Pinakothek, Neue Pinakothek, and Pinakothek der Modern, I met up with my boy Carlo, a good friend and Dresden native, who Sarah and I met in a New York Starbucks nearly 3 years ago. Seeing Carlo again was pretty sweet — and seeing him on his home turf was even sweeter. He made sure I ate some traditional German cuisine, which consisted mainly of meats and potatoes, including his favorite pig knuckle dish that he sucked down in 5 minutes flat. Yuck!
After dinner, Carlo and I had a much antici-pated pool re-match to settle. So after meeting Stefanie, a U.S. student studying aboard, who helped us find a suitable billiards bar to play in, we dueled it out. (Clears throat) of course, I swept him 6 to 0. And afterwards, a baffled and bitter Carlo gave me the coolest tour through Munich, that included Marienplatz, the central square in Munich, The Siegestor, a three-arched triumphal arch crowned with a statue of Bavaria with a lion-quadriga, The Propylaea, a gate in Munich at the west side of Koenigsplatz, and the surprise moment of the night that brought about sad memories and a smile to my face all at the same time — a two-year old makeshift memorial to the King of Pop.
You see, two years ago on June 25, 2009, the day the King fell, I was coincidently on my way to Chicago, a city 20 minutes away from his childhood home in Gary, Indiana. After meeting up with Sarah, who was already there on business, we quickly rented a car and drove out to the King's miniature childhood home that was covered in the most massive make-shift memorial I'd ever seen. Well, the makeshift memorial in Munich, that has lasted a stunning two years, consisting of candles, hand-written posters and pictures that oddly covers Flemish composer Orlande de Lassus' statue, wasn't quite as large as the Gary memorial, but the message sent was far greater. The manager of a nearby hotel where MJ was a frequent visitor, who maintains and keeps a watchful eye on the memorial, told me plain and passionately why the make-shift memorial has stayed intact for so long, "Owen, we want the message to come across from Germany that The King is gone, but certainly not forgotten."
Amen and long live the King.
Keeping with the subject of music, after Carlo and I bided our fond farewells, the next morning I was both eager and nervous to get to the next stop on my Germany Journey — the Charismatic Cologne. I was Eager to explore another beautiful city in Germany — and nervous to find out if my golden ticket had arrived. During the train ride, my nervousness was put at ease for a moment after meeting a wonderful woman from Cologne named Kamala of the SOS Children's Villages adoption program. And despite our age and cultural differences, we got along perfectly — even somehow managing to get away with chatting about forbidden topics like religion and politics during our entire 4 hour ride together.
When I finally arrived in Cologne, Germany's fourth-largest city after Berlin, Hamburg and Munich, I desperately found my way to the Station Hostel. Upon entering, I nervously approached the front counter and introduced myself. After handing the front desk person my passport, he quickly replied, "we've been expecting you, Owen." Then handed me an unscathed package containing one golden ticket to the Belle & Sebastian concert at the E-Werk. I released the biggest sigh of relief and thanked him three times.
I still had two more days to go and another one of those special missions to go on before the concert. So on the first day I decided to explore some of Cologne's sites and landmarks that included a breathtaking view, below and above, of the grand Cologne Cathedral, one of the best-known and most visited architectural monuments in Germany, a tour through two more delicious art museums: The Wallraf-Richartz Museum and Museum Ludwig, and a stroll through the romantic love-locked Hohenzollern Bridge. During the second day in Cologne I met a precocious 18 year old Irish girl named Janet at the hostel, who was bravely backpacking abroad for the first time. We clicked instantly and explored more of Cologne together. She was on an understandably tight teenage budget, so we dined at one of Cologne's many reasonable Turkish pizza joints. Janet was also a nice change of pace in terms of a roommate. And if you would pardon my meanness for a minute, the first roommate I had at the Station Hostel, whom I'd only met a few minutes before bedtime, was this big burly dude from the States who alternated from a loud mannish snore to a low girlish moan while he slept through the night. And although he was super friendly and seemed perfectly normal, despite his odd snore — I still slept with one eye open and my right hand balled up.
On the third day in Cologne, the same day as the concert, I had another special mission to hunt down a not-so-known medieval castle called Burg Eltz, nestled in the hills above the Moselle River between Koblenz and Trier. I was living a bit on the risky side of life by doing this just a few hours before the Belle & Sebastian concert, but this particular hunt was an urgent matter. You see, word on the streets amongst castle enthusiast claim that Burg Eltz is perhaps even far more stunning and beautiful than the great Neuschwanstein Castle, making it one of Germany's best kept secrets.
Well, there was no way Owen Davis, alias the brave and fearless Castle Hunter, was going to leave Germany without getting a glimpse of this baby — so that morning I hoped the earliest train possible to a small town called Moselkern in Rhineland-Palatinate to begin my search. And if you were to look up ghost town in the dictionary, you just might find a picture of Moselkern next to it. Because when I finally arrived at the station, after a two hour picturesque ride through Koblenz, where I got an extra added glimpse of Stolzenfels Castle and Lahneck Castle, the scene there was straight out of creepy Stephen King novel.
Other than a myster-ious ado-lescent girl lying on the platform crushing daisies with a stone, the station was literally deserted with no one even working the ticket counter. There goes my idea of asking someone for directions. I had to figure this one out on my own. And I sure as hell wasn't going to ask the girl crushing daisies! The only scent I had to go on now was some vague directions I jotted down from my Rough Guide and an even vaguer old wooden sign posted outside the train station that pointed the way to Burg Eltz.
After speed-walking through a disturbingly quiet and deserted little town filled with abandoned mansions and an old cemetery, at the end of the street I approached another sign with a bit more information that read: "Castle Eltz — Hiking trail 90 mins," this time pointing towards a dirt path that ran along side a small flowing river that submerged into a dense forest. Believe me, I was pretty frightened at this point and in a matter of seconds, my castle hunting motto quickly changed from brave and fearless to cowardly and fearful. I had to stop for a minute to think twice about all this. You know, to see if it was worth it.
I thought to myself, "if I were truly a certified seasoned traveler, then a creepy little pathway shouldn't stand in the way of getting to my destination, right?" I also thought of how awesome it would be to brag about my dangerous castle hunting mission to Miss Seasoned Sarah when I got back home, who, although studied in Hamburg for over a year, unfortunately never got the opportunity to see Neuschwanstein or Burg Eltz. This second mission would put me up 2 points ahead of her in the castle hunting game.
Somehow this ridiculous little competitive spirit of mine motivated me. Because after sucking in my chest, I started walking that pathway as fast as I could — looking over my shoulders each step of the way, hoping I wouldn't stumble upon a German psychopathic-serial killer or a pack of wild German Shepherds. But to my surprised, what I ended stumbling upon was the most unlikely of all things I could have possibly imagine.
A girl.
Yep, it was a girl in hiking gear walking straight ahead of me, going in the same direction. I contemplated on approaching her at first. I mean, come on — I know I said Germany had a good number of Black folks, but far as I could tell, none of them were hanging out in the countryside roaming the forests. So keeping this in mind, I didn't want to freak her out or anything. But at the same time, I thought, "if I don't approach her, it would probably look even creepier if she turned around to find this Black dude slowly walking behind her."
I came to the conclusion that I had no other choice in the matter but to put all this so-called friendly German hospitality I'd been receiving to the real test. If Germans were really the kind and friendly people I had perceived them to be up to this point, then cafe-mocha-colored-me approaching this girl in a deep, dense, and deserted forest shouldn't really matter much, right? The girl should respond in the same friendly manner had I approached her on a well lit and crowded street, right? Right?!? Don't answer that! Both of our assumptions are absolutely incorrect this time.
Because after I caught up to her and said hello, the girl's face lit up with the biggest smile and spoke the happiest of hellos. After this moment, there was no more doubt in my mind that Germany could possibly top my list of the most friendliest country I've ever encountered on the planet. After introducing herself as Elena from Cologne and confessing the same aforementioned fears that I had of walking alone through the path, she surprisingly ask, "would you like to join me on my hike to the castle?"
"Of course!" I anxiously replied.
She smiled big again and told me just how relieved she was to have my company. Then I playfully, yet seriously, scolded her for wearing headphone while walking alone in the forest, a possible reason why she didn't hear me approaching her. She wholeheartedly agreed with me, but added that, had she not put the earphones on, the deafening silence of the forest would have killed her first.
Love that German sense of humor.
But what occurred after our 90 minute exhaustive hike, that included us getting lost a few times due to signless detours, wasn't very funny at all. You see, after emerging from the forest the vision ahead of us almost brought tears to my eyes — the legendary Burg Eltz was practically covered in scaffolding and cranes. Just a few days before my arrival, I was told, Burg Eltz had undergone reconstruction. And what made it so awfully painful and sad, was somehow being able to see all the potential of what could have been, had the construction crap had not been there. It was a total bummer.
Since I'd come so far, I had to try and make the best out of this bummer situation. So Elena and I took a quick stroll inside of the castle's beautiful non-reconstructive interior, where we at a yummy brunch and I got another heavy dose of castle celebrity status, this time from a group of Belgium high school students. Besides requesting pictures and asking the usual questions, the students also told me that although they enjoyed their trip to see Burg Eltz, there's really no other castle on the planet that compares to a Belgium castle and that I should definitely plan a special castle hunting mission to their country soon. I never doubted the students' words for a second. After all, The Devil's Nightmare was filmed in a Belgium countryside, you know.
At this point, I realized the mission wasn't a total bummer after all. I was glad I made the journey. I also thought, since Sarah had never been to Burg Eltz, perhaps the two of us could someday visit it together when it is free from the awful scaffolding and cranes. It would also give me the opportunity to show-off my true certified seasoned traveling skills and finally show my Miss Seasoned Sarah the way for once.
I'm just not in the running
And we don't need a lifetime
We're following the right line."
The time was getting dangerously close to showtime. So after bidding a fond farewell to Elena and the Belgium students, I quickly made my way back to Cologne where I got lost trying to find the E-Werk venue. But as usual, friendly German strangers were eager to help me find my way. But each time they showed me, I'd just get lost again. Okay, okay, so I'm a little directional-challenged — but give a brother a break, I was in a foreign country! Anyway, it was about 5 minutes before showtime when I started to panic. Then thankfully I ran into a cool dude from Spain named Antonio, who was in Germany studying abroad. Coincidently, he was also heading to the Belle & Sebastian concert solo, so he invited me along and the two us hung out at the show.
Speaking of the show, if I were to sum up my feelings in just a few words regarding my life in Europe, I would simply tell you that I didn't see it coming. So when lead singer and songwriter Stuart Murdoch and his amazing band of Scottish love writers opened up their sold out concert with "I Didn't See It Coming," the opening track from their latest album Belle & Sebastian Write About Love, it brought unavoidable tears to my eyes. But don't tell anyone.
After the fitting opener, the band continued their energetic momentum with dancing and a little chatter in between songs. Musically, B&S were quite an impressive band live, closely replicating the original recordings, but slightly different enough to please. They performed a mixture of album tracks, singles, b-sides and some surprisers including, "Come On Sister," "My Wandering Days Are Over," "If You Find Yourself Caught in Love", "The Boy with the Arab Strap," and "The Loneliness of A Middle Distance Runner" — a favorite number of mine that ended with a pretty cool whistle in unison from the crowd.
My main man Rick Pep can vouch that it took an unusual good amount of time for him to ween me into liking Belle & Sebastian. About 9 years, I think. I'm really not sure why it took so long considering that after getting deep into their music, I can now easily rank them right up there with the best. I guess there's a time and place for everything in life — even music. Today, not a day goes by that I don't crave Belle & Sebastian on the radio. Thanks, Rick. I Love you, man.
Speaking of the best ranking music, the next stop on my Germany Journey — the Happening Hamburg — just so happens to be the city where my all time highest ranking band got their start — a little known band from Liverpool called The Beatles. You may have heard of them, but before I go into that, my next train ride from Cologne to Hamburg, was pretty nice and afforded me the company of another friendly German stranger named Luka from Heidelberg, who spent a few years studying abroad in New York. Luka and I had a wonderful time bonding over our love for the Big Apple, while enjoying a picturesque ride through some of West Germany's lovely towns and cities, such as Düsseldorf and Dortmund.
After I arrived in Hamburg, it was a bit tricky finding my way to The Backpacker's Hostel in St. Pauli from the HBF. But with a little help from more friendly Germans, I eventually made it. Karin, the front desk girl at the hostel, who saved my butt one night after I stupidly lost my room key — who for this, I promised to buy dinner when she came to visit Bulgaria, which she did the very next week — showed me to my 8 bed mixed dorm room, which was kind of a mixture of all my roommate situations I'd experienced during my Germany Journey so far — with slight alterations. There's was a quiet and creepy girl from Japan, who pranced around practically half-nude and uttered not a single word to anyone. A rude bunch of unfriendly-loud snoring-drunk Austrian boys, who also uttered not a word to anyone and, again, kept me sleeping with one eye open and my right hand balled up.
On my first day in the Happening Hamburg, the second largest city in Germany, that was similar to Berlin and Cologne, but with a unique vibe of its own that is somewhat difficult to put in words, I wasted no time and headed off to Beatlemania Hamburg in St. Pauli. The permanent exhibit that focuses more on the story of the rise of The Beatles in Hamburg, that included original members the late Stuart Sutcliffe and Pete Best, was basically a weak imitation version of The Beatles Story in Liverpool. A couple of redeeming factors were an additional temporary Andy Warhol exhibit and the nearby Beatles-Platz, a plaza with a Beatles street sign, a silver plated circle of engraved song titles, and five memorial statues representing the original Beatles: John Lennon, Paul McCartney, Sutcliffe, George Harrison, and a hybrid of drummers Best and Ringo Starr.
Because Hamburg was identical to Berlin's enormous bike friendly vibe, after the exhibit I was terribly tempted to cheat on Bad Boy, again. But realizing full well now that there's just no substitute for my Bad Boy, I decided to be a good boy and refrain from cheating for the remainder of my Journey. So instead of riding, I joined up with the Free Hamburg Tour and let me feet do the walking. It made my feet tired, but kept my conscience clear.
Our Free Hamburg Tour guide named Eric was an openly Gay expat from the US. And although he was a bit awkward and nervous at the beginning, he finally warmed up to us midway through, making for an excellent guide and fantastic tour that included another culturally diverse bunch of new friends named Danielle, a student from the U.S. and two wonderful female travelers from Italy named Tanya and Louise. For 5 hours, Eric guided us through Hamburg's most treasured monuments, sites and stories, that included the Hamburg Rathaus, WWII Bombing of Hamburg, Stortebeker, Medieval churches — St. Petri and St. Jacobi, Deichstrasse & The Great Fire, St. Nikolai Church, Hanseatic League, Binnenhafen, Hafen City, Fifth Cholera Pandemic, Speicherstadt, the awesome Chilehaus, the pointiest building in the world.
When I returned to the hostel after the Free Hamburg Tour to face another dreadful night with my new roommates, I found out that no matter how bleak a bad hostel situation can be, there's always a diamond in the rough. In this case, there were two that just arrived in town by train — Nina, from Munich, and her friend Maryn, from Holland. I was quite honored, but hesitant, after the two girls, who'd recently become long distance friends after meeting at a hostel a year ago in Australia, invited me along to crash their one day reunion in Hamburg. I resisted at first, but the girls insisted I come along — so I gave in.
And never once did I feel like a third wheel during our awesome times together, that included an early morning visit to the ever-so-popular and super crowded St. Pauli's Fish Market, dining out at Hamburg's many outdoor cafes, and taking many strolls through Hamburg's beautiful and legal graffiti covered blocks. Maryn told us that her boyfriend, a fellow former graffiti artist, was interested in seeing some real Hamburg graffiti, so she took loads of photos to take back to him.
The next morning on the last and final day of my amazing Germany Journey, Maryn had to unfortunately return to Holland, leaving Nina and I on our own. So after lunching at a popular yummy vegetarian restaurant, the two of us decided to spend our last night together hanging out in Germany's infamous Reeperbahn, a street in Hamburg's St. Pauli district and the city's red-light district, often called the sinful mile.
And although it seemed a slight bit shorter than a mile, it was indeed a filthy sin. When the clock struck 5, the quiet and other wise deserted streets of the Reeperbahn quickly filled-up with hordes of rambunctious and drunk tourists. It was fascinating to see people acting completely free and out of control, but to be quite honest, this attraction wasn't a big deal to me. I can see drunk people acting a fool anytime. No, what I wanted to get a glimpse of was the legal prostitution ring I'd heard and read so much about.
Well, if I had never met Nina, I would have never spotted one single red-light lady on my own. Surprisingly, they were all dressed like your typical German girl next door, she had to literally point them out for me. The red-light girls were void of the usual scanticaly-clad gear. They blended easily into the crowd with the only identifiable feature being a tiny splash of the color pink, for example, on a scarf, shirt, purse or shoe. The entire scene was truly fascinating and reminiscent of Amsterdam, but on a much tamer scale. For the red light ladies' protection — I am assuming — they formed a circle completely around a police station block, where they aggressively approach on coming males. Because I was walking with Nina, they made no eye contact and totally ignored me.
When night finally approached, Nina and I bided a fond farewell. She had to hurry and catch her train to Ireland, the next destination on her own journey. In hindsight, I realize that spending my last day with Nina made for the most fruitful and perfect ending to my Germany Journey. Next to being an awesome travel buddy, she also provided me with first hand knowledge and personal history of her country — something I probably wouldn't have ordinarily come by had I stayed in a stuffy old overpriced hotel. I guess you can say hosteling is always good for meeting cool people, even if you are forced to sleep with one eye open and your right hand balled up.
Speaking of fruitful, before you continue on to the final conclusion of my story, please feel free to click on this link to view about 500 photographs from my incredible Germany Journey — that tell a far better story than I can.
"If I cheer the other team,
killing peoples not my scene
I prefer to give the inhabitants a say
before you blow their town away."
— Stuart Murdoch, 2010
When you think of a country like the United States of America, the word slavery or Trail of Tears aren't the first things that come to mind. And the act of genocide probably doesn't pop into your head when referring to countries like Serbia or Armenia. But when you think of Germany, whether you'd like to admit it or not, The Holocaust is the first thing that comes to mind. It's sadly synonymous with the country. So for a country who seems to have to wear one of the most devastating acts in history like a badge, I would like to commend them in recent times for doing their best to try and right a wrong and move forward.
Thank you Germany for enforcing strict laws prohibiting the markings of a swastika or giving the Nazi Salute. Which for the record, I never witnessed anywhere during all of my entire Journey. Thank you Germany for setting up memorials throughout the country dedicated to the millions of victims of The Holocaust. And most importantly, thank you Germany for making it a requirement by law that each and every child under the age of 18 makes a mandatory visit to a concentration camp before they are allowed to graduate.
There's only a couple of places on Earth that I can imagine spending out the rest of my life. New York's number one. Of course back home in Takoma Park. Perhaps even Amsterdam or Prague.
Now, I'm adding Germany to the list.
Be seeing you.
O
