A more tasteful tower.

This is the iconic Holstentor in Lubeck... or at least, this is how it looks made out of marzipan. The real gate and huge towers were shrouded in scaffolding and draped in a photographic reproduction... making for a rather surreal approach to the city. The gate was there, but... not exactly.





A market was happening that day in front of the Rathaus (1250). The whole area smelled like sausages.





This is a close up of the glazed brick on the Rathaus. It had a beautiful iridescent quality, and was used in several places in town, including the Holstentor. If we could have seen it.





One of the main streets in the old part of town. The banners on the right hand side with the woman's picture on them were related to the big election being held while we were there. There were political billboards and banners everywhere as we traveled the country.

Purdy. Purdy Car.

We've noticed of late that Priuses (Priui?) have been multiplying in our neighborhood like bunnies. There are suddenly 3 on our block alone, and last week I counted 4 passing by at one of the intersections here while we waited for a light. This makes sense really, as our neigborhood matures from its early bohemian, starving artist vibe into an enclave of working (film) Industry types who are all suddenly realizing they'd better reproduce before they get any older, but still want to be hip. This is a Democratic stronghold, and living here suits us, but I just couldn't bring myself to buy a Prius, no matter how socially responsible that would be. We just couldn't get past the ugly. So we are bucking the trend, and bought this instead... a Mercedes SLK 280. Its purdy. Its speedy. Its a hardtop convertable. It gets... well... better gas mileage than our other car. And we have the Vespa to alleviate any gasoline guilt. Still, I feel we've managed to buy yet another Republican car, and I imagine that at night, after we've parked it in the garage, it mutters to the SUV, commiserating over the indignities of being driven around by a couple of Democrats, and plotting on how they should get together and beat up the Vespa.

Warp speed

Wir fahren, fahren, fahren, auf der Autobahn.

Must be Italian

Here I am, in the rain, in Fritzlar, our lunch stop the first day. I am standing there in that fugue state brought on by a long flight, thinking, "I'm cold. Its wet. But I'm in Germany! Hooray! But I am cold. And wet. And hungry. But I'm not at work! I'm in Germany! Hooray!"
The little Italian Chef Guy behind me was a fixture on this trip. He was very popular and marked the location of many an Italian restaurant along the way. We ate Italian fairly frequently in Germany because:
a) We don't much like German food.
b) German food doesn't much like me.
c) The Italian restaurants were run by Italian immigrants so the food was pretty good, and sometimes great.
d) I can read a menu in Italian and German better than one in German alone. This was handy because the adage "Everyone speaks English in Germany", really isn't true.





Darrin is waiting for his pizza rucola.

The Fairy Tale Road

For our first day in Germany, we took it easy and wandered along part of the "Fairy Tale Road"... a route that, among other things, has connections to the Brothers Grimm and their stories.
This is the Altstadt (old town) of Marburg, high up on a hill and accessed by a slightly creepy elevator. The streets are empty because its 8am on a Sunday, and only over-eager jet-lagged tourists are running around with cameras at 8am.




Part of Marburg's Schloss (castle).




Here we are in Hameln (or Hamelin... yes, that Hamelin...) in front of a statue of the Pied Piper, which is obviously a big deal in this town. There was a walking tour marked on the sidewalk with painted rats, and you could buy little rats made of bread dough everywhere, including our hotel lobby. Incidentally, we are getting splashed here... I am actually pretty soaked, since it took Darrin forever to set up the camera, and multiple tries at exposure.




Streets of Hameln at night.




An accidental picture of the Rat-catcher's House (1603), a nifty Weser Renaissance building.