The day started with a huge breakfast tray delivered to my room. Even the dolls on the table are expressing their shock at the amount and elaborate presentation. I certainly enjoyed sampling the various breads, cheeses, cold cut hams, the hot chocolate, and the juice in a sugar rimmed glass, but wasn’t able to finish it.

I took the bus to Hohenschwangau. There I had to frown at an American student complaining after the bus driver didn’t understand her complicated question in English. I had been marveling that the driver had decent English skills. The brief ride took us to the ticket office for castle tours. I bought the ‘royal ticket’, which includes both castles.
Took a brief hike to the parent castle Hohenschwangau to join the 11:15 tour. Each tour lasts thirty minutes and we were not allowed to take any photos inside. The last owner, Luitpold, installed electricity and an elevator in 1905.

Walked back to the office area, where I had a light lunch of curry wurst mit brod, german sausage covered with curried tomato sauce served with bread, a popular street food, in preparation for the longer hike, about forty minutes, to Neuschwanstein.

I didn’t realize such a view existed in real life. Only in fairy tales and picture books of childhood.

The model for Disney castles. The thirty minute tour started at 1:15. The tour guide never smiled. Other observations: rooms were smaller than expected (the French have it totally beat in scale, and besides homes in American suburbs are huge these days), servant quarters were larger than expected but they had to use their own tiny steep passageways, the most unusual room was the grotto, an artificial cave room. Seems very odd now but must have been all the rage with European royalty.


The hike through the woods was pleasant. Other options included shuttle or horse carriage.

Back in town I took a stroll along the river taking in the view of the Bavarian Alps and small water falls.



Stepped into a restaurant where after just two attempts at communicating in German, the waitress reverted to excellent English. I had the regional specialty schweinstaxe (pork roast) served with bread dumpling and cabbage salad. A set menu for €12. In Italy each item had to be purchased separately. So unless you do family style with a group, eating out turned out to be actually cheaper here in Germany.

The last stop was at the mart for batteries and a not-as-intended apple soda, I thought it was juice, with a recycling deposit of €.25.

I returned to the home I was staying and once again couldn’t get the hang of the very simple old key. The lady came out looking exasperated to let me in. I spent the next hour just sitting on the bed in a brain fog.

There was a little culture shock on the night train. The WC was so different from the toilets on Italian trains. Clean with automatic push buttons and locks. Arrived in Munchen at 7 am and got myself a coffee and croissant. During which I couldn’t believe “Si” slipped instead of “Ja”. The shop person looked at me funny but understood anyway. A week in Italy has that effect. Even though I’d taken two years of German classes, I can’t seem to remember much. The train station here has the most expensive WC thus far at €1.10 with personal sinks and vanity. It’s also run with something of a traffic light system: red and green are obvious but the lights also flash red and green at the same time. This occurs after each use and only turns green after the attendant has checked the ‘status’.

Weather was beautiful the whole time in Venice, here, it is cloudy. Perhaps it rained last night. Much cooler too. My only jacket is getting quite dirty as it’s getting much more use than I expected.

I take another train to Fussen where I step out into a rainy town where I can’t see much. I rush into the nearest shop, which happens to be a Chinese restaurant, run, it seems, by people originally from southeast Asia. It’s already early lunch time so I order a meal, kungpao mit reis, hoping I could get some information as well. When I ask about lodging information, surprisingly it seems they have no idea about the area, they do try to hook me up with someone they know who occasionally rents out a room, but to no avail. So with no luck getting any pointers at all I head out into the drizzle.

As I am still on the outskirts of town I head towards where I perceive to be a more central location. I still can’t see too much ahead. Luckily I arrive in front of the tourist office with a moving stones fountain at the front. There they have a whole list of local homes with rooms available. And in no time it is all arranged that I go to one of them. Now armed with a simple map and address I head out to find the house. Now I have enough peace of mind to take in my surroundings and notice five sheep right behind a house with no fence or anything. They look so peaceful even in the rain.

A lady with white hair answers the door. Her English is limited as is my German so we cannot really communicate much. Unlike my home stay in Italy, this lady is extremely business like. I’m led to my little room with the shared bath. The home is immaculately maintained, and I feel slightly suffocated. I’m somehow able to communicate and arrange for laundry service in town through her.

After settling in I head back out to town and start out with some afternoon tea. Rooidos Vanille, not much of a taste but wonderful aroma in a huge cup, probably three times what I would usually drink. I can’t see very far ahead because of the rain but I can see lots of green, plenty of water.

The oddness of a ski jump slope amidst the green.

I see another large stone fountain on my way to see the lakes. It is so simple but beautiful. I’m writing a lot more since the last day in Venice (I had been taking maybe half a page of notes on average but this day I suddenly wrote five pages), but getting lazier about taking photos. After a light dinner of shrimp salad from Nordsee, I head back to my room. I struggle a bit with the old key and finally the lady comes out to help and demonstrates how it is done. There is a sign saying “shower only between 6:30-22:30″. I wait a bit till 6:30 pm to take my shower thinking it a bit odd and too restrictive. Only later I realize that it meant 6:30 am, and was a very reasonable arrangement. I think I’m way too caught up in the elderly lady’s stern image.

Last night thanks to the worst snoring ever, myself and a girl from Quebec formed the instant bond of a fellow sufferer. After almost no sleep we went out together and shared our torment over croissant and cappuccino.

Started the day with mass in the chiera right next to the train station. The church is heavily decorated, reminding me of St. Pietro in Vatican. I thought mass would be all gentle, but maybe it is the Italian blood, the priest was, well, very passionate. I could only guess what his speech might be about. Really all I could get was, Christo, padre, Santa spirit, tre persona, demon possess, hosanna, Gloria, alleluia, amen, benedic.

Afterwards I head to one of my favorite spots in Venice, the steps of a statue in the middle of Campo S. Stefano. There’s even a mandolinist who plays soft beautiful music, the kind you could spend hours with. There’s not many places in Venice where you can sit and rest your legs, probably for the benefit of bars, cafes, and restaurants. This is a rare place where I can sit in the shade for free, other than of course the donation to the musician. I find I quite enjoy being in this very central and public place, having my own time, writing, listening to music, and occasionally people watching. A pretty little German girl attempts conversation with me, but I struggle to find even a few Deutsch words.

The hidden corners of Venice are like jewels, perhaps because nobody tells you about them and they are not in maps. Sometimes they are right next to the bustle of crowds but few notice. Like the place I’ve parked myself now. It is right next to the busy road to the station but blocked away by three road side stands. Only those who look beyond them can find this place with six precious stone benches, little spots of green, even stairs by the waterside with a view of the bridge in front of the station.

Here and there I see ladies drawing. I wondered whether they were tourists or locals, amateurs or professional artists. But whatever the case, it looked like a romantic thing to do.

In the late afternoon I approached a fascinating area with beautiful half circle stairs when a huge dog barked and ran straight towards me. I’m not usually bothered by dogs but this one clearly seemed to be in attack mode against an intruder. It wasn’t on a leash either. The owner did manage to regain control before anything really happened but I was shaken and left the spot soon after. And then… the tears started flowing. I suddenly felt all the troubles of the journey and for an instant wanted to head back home, right away. But then in a second wave of sadness I realize home is somehow not inspiring either. There is no place that I truly miss. It is quite disturbing and I feel guilty towards the people around me too.

With all kinds of analyses of the incident swirling in my head I board the night train to Munchen.

In the spirit of finishing things that I’ve started…

My only whole day in Venice began, typically, without a plan. The whole island is walkable on foot so I let my feet take me wherever it would. I started out in the morning at the fruit market near the hotel, sampling some grapes. I probably saw all the famous sights at least from the outside, but didn’t care to remember the names. I see in my notes that I saw the Accademia for free, but I have no recollection how. Maybe something to do with the Chorus. I also rode the waterbus instead of a gondola. Experienced two different meals, one awful and one great.

I guess the way I carry myself around here makes it look obvious I don’t have money. Although that was somewhat intentional, as I didn’t want to be a conspicuous target when I was traveling all alone, I find there are some downsides to that as well. None of the African boys ask me if I’m interested in the bags they are selling. No one shouts to me for a gondola ride. Even the hotel people don’t ask me if I need a room. Service people at restaurants forget about me for nearly an hour.

One thing Venice does not have? Cars. Not a single car on the island itself. Everyone has boats and there is a car park for use when getting out of Venice.

At our ‘hotel’ room there are five tiny beds, which are not even level. By now I’m not surprised about that much. The surprise came later in the form of a slim little Japanese girl.