Würzburg

Würzburg's bridge over the River Main -
Franconian vineyards in the distance

Finally, we come to the last stage of the Mother-Daughter travels through Bavaria. I arranged to have five hours in Würzburg en route back home, which ended up being the warmest hours of our trip. We breezed through a walking tour of the city, had lunch at a well-known winery that Chris had been to on his Humboldt tour, and toured a fantastic palace before boarding our final train (of the twelve trains we took in all). It startled me to see the Oktoberfest crew again on the train, coming directly from Munich. They were still dressed up with gingerbread hearts around their necks, snoozing in their seats.

I am currently attending a Musikgarten with Daisy once a week. In that class, I have learned a lovely old German folk song about a bridge over the Main river. As I read that Würzburg's old stone bridge is the 2nd oldest in Germany (dating from 1133), and that it spans the Main, I decided to pack my dancing shoes. Well, actually I didn't, but I couldn't help taking a few inconspicuous skips and spins when I was on the bridge. Here is the first verse followed by my translation:

Es führt über den Main, eine Brücke von Stein,
wer darüber will geh'n, muss im Tanze sich dreh'n.
Fa-la-la-la-la, fa-la-la-la-la

An old bridge of stone, the Main river it spans

Whoe'er wishes to cross, must spin, swirl and dance.

Fa-la-la-la-la, fa-la-la-la-la

It's a shame to include the words without the music, so I've included the track from our at-home CD. It's actually not bad for "kids" music. While I was at it, I added a few pictures. The first image here is a photo I took on that bridge that I've digitally altered to look like a sketch (thanks, Katie Riddle, for addicting me to Picnik). The panorama shots are actually Chris' from his visit last summer when he took the long hike up to Marienburg Fortress, on the other side of the river, where a pre-Christian Celtic fort once stood.

Marienburg Fortress

Daisy and I jumped inside three churches clustered in the old town. The main cathedral, called St. Kilian's, houses the skulls of three sainted Irish monks, martyred in the 7th century. It's the church with the skinny twin spires directly facing the bridge. Once again, I saw works by the Bavarian artist Tilman Riemenschneider (we've been on his trail in Rothenburg and Bamberg, too). Some of his tombstones of Prince-Bishops here are impressive for their late-Gothic realism. The Neumünster basilica is built with a Romanesque interior and looks similar to Salzburg's cathedral. Finally, the striking Marienkapelle has some Riemenschneider's on its exterior: Adam and Eve are flanking a side entrance.

The altar of St. Kilian's Cathedral

The Gothic Marienkapelle

The city itself was not as decorated as Bamberg's; Würzburg was Germany's third most-destroyed city after WWII. That doesn't prevent it from having exciting, modern touches, though:

Unique Würzburg fountain

Daisy fell asleep in her buggy, so I had a solitary lunch at Bürgerspital, a nice Franconian winery that Chris had done a tasting at and toured (seeing the world's oldest bottle of wine). When I asked what kinds of wine I could try by the glass, the server quickly indicated that their Federweisser was from "today." Today? I had seen restaurant chalkboards advertising this mysterious wine all throughout my travels, and was excited to find out what wine from "today" tasted like.

It was white, sweet, and cloudy. They served it in a stemless glass. It was sweet, yet refreshing, like sparkling lemonade. In short, wine from "today" is delicious, and I asked if I could take home a bottle to share with Chris. I was ushered into the kitchen, and told to ask a busy chef. He pulled out a big white bucket of wine, poured some into an old bottle still with its original Silvaner label on it, screwed on a lid, and recommended that it be consumed that day. (Normally, these wines are just sealed with foil, since they produce so much gas; when I got home, the bottle overflowed a whole glass's worth before it stopped fizzing.) Later, I looked up the production process. It's made by adding yeast to grapes that wineries don't think will make good wine. Federweisser is extremely popular with onion cake in harvest season. It has a shelf life of a few days, but the first day is best.

Next, we got to see the prince-bishop's palace. The bishop here became a prince, with secular power over all of Franconia, after he granted Barbarossa, the Holy Roman Emperor, a divorce. It was very common in Germany for religious leaders to govern small states, and this had broad implications: as I understand it, protection from a different powerful prince-bishop is the main reason that Luther survived.

One wing of the U-shaped Würzburg palace

Certain rooms were only open to participants of guided tours, so in we went for another hour-long test of Daisy's patience. Furthermore, we had to check all bags: no cookies and no cameras. There was a little meltdown in the completely amazing room of intricately painted mirrors, but I was able to fully concentrate on huge ceiling frescos and frosting-like Rococo stucco because I smuggled in a Conni book. I even saw stucco that was modeled to look like draped fabric -it was so convincing. It was all done by a Venetian artist named Giovanni Battista Tiepolo in the mid-1700's. One thing that's hard to explain but stood out to me was the main entrance hall with large, arched doorways. I learned that it was actually for carriages to pull into, letting them ride inside the palace, right next to the grand staircase; a good way to impress guests.

Palace gardens

Princess Daisy

And after all that, we caught our train and rode back home. Besides the Federweisser, I brought Chris home a "tasting tour" of four outstanding beers: a doppelbock from Andechs monastery, Augustiner's Oktoberfest brew, the wheat beer from Bayreuth, and Bamberg's special Rauchbier, or smoked beer. With my assortment of German beverages, it was like I was making a symbolic representation of the Day of German Unity, which was that day celebrating the 20th year since the fall of the Berlin wall.

Bayreuth

Although I was targeting Bayreuth for only a couple of key landmarks, the rest of the city turned out to be a decent travel destination. It's bona fide Bavarian: it has its own wheat beer, the architecture is beautifully intriguing, and it's an educated university town. The sunny fall weather made everything around me seem to glow with happiness; I noticed a few families scampering in the parks, dressed in knitted hats and sweaters, gathering freshly fallen chestnuts.

In the Hofgarten

Ding-ding! For a change of pace, here's a pop quiz to guide the introduction of Bayreuth. Don't worry; there are only 5 questions and I tell you all the answers at the end.

Question #1: For starters, how is Bayreuth pronounced? 
A) Baby Ruth
B) BYE-royt
C) Beirut

Question #2: Here is Richard Wagner's grave in the garden behind his house, Villa Wahnfried. His wife is buried with him. What was her name?

A) Cosima Liszt
B) Fanny Mendelssohn
C) Marie Berlioz
D) Clara Schumann

Question #3: True or False: Wagner was born, lived, and died in Bayreuth.

Question #4: What is the following picture a part of?

A) A sauna
B) A playground
C) A world-famous opera hall
D) Paul Bunyan Amusement Park


Question #5: Which of the following street names in Bayreuth is not like the others?
A)Walkürenstraße
B) Wotanstraße
C) Parsifalstraße
D) Rheingoldstraße

Ding-ding! Congratulations, you're finished. Thanks for playing along. Here are the answers:
Answer #1: B) Standard German pronunciation.
Answer #2: A) Cosima was pianist/composer Franz Liszt's daughter. Her marriage to Wagner was her second, and they had already had three children together.
Answer #3: False. Wagner was born and educated in Leipzig. He lived in Dresden, Würzburg, Magdeburg, Riga (then part of Russia), Paris, Zurich, Munich, and Bayreuth. Towards the end of his life, he was hugely financially supported by his fan and friend, Ludwig II (Neuschwanstein Castle, died in Starnbergersee...). Wagner died in Venice from a heart attack.
Answer #4: C) Wagner's opera hall's interior is almost completely made of wood. Imagine a giant violin...that the audience gets to sit inside of. Resonant! And it kind of makes you feel like you're at summer camp.
Answer #5: B) Sorry, this question was too hard for non-Wagner buffs. All the streets are named after opera titles except for Wotanstraße, which is just the name of one of the characters, Wotan, the king of the gods. 

Bayreuth Festspielhaus
Every August, the Festspielhaus (festival theater) produces a marathon of  Richard Wagner's operas, a tradition that he began here with the premier of his Ring cycle. I would have gone to an actual production instead of just a tour, but the waiting list is 10 years long.

I have dreamed of this theater ever since I first heard about it in my Opera Literature class in college. Despite this - or because of it? - it was not exactly what I expected. The concept is exciting. Wagner's ideal was gesamtkunstwerk: a total art experience. With his operas, he was already blending a powerful mythological story, the intense visual stage, and otherworldly music. It's a five-hour immersion experience. With his personalized theater, he aimed to create the perfect viewing environment for the audience.

The Festspielhaus rests at the top of a steep, wooded hill. Paths wind through the forests on either side of the main road, leading to fountains and fantastical statues. When I finally caught my first glimpse of the theater, I was a little disappointed, since I had the grand halls of Vienna and Munich fresh in my mind's eye. Then, in a flash, I understood. And I was in love. It reminded me of a primitive pagan temple, so fitting for the romantic folklore of the operas.

Once inside, I had the vague sensation that I was in line for a ride at Disneyland:

Here's the intimate theater. Fewer than 2,000 people fit. Seats are arranged in unbroken rows, forward-facing only. The same spherical light bulbs shine inside the theater, outside the theater, and at his home on the other side of the city. You've already seen the plain wooden seats and chairs (ug...5 hours).

Most of the detail in the room was on the ceiling; here's a close up of the most intricate, near the front. It's fresh and subtle compared to other opera venues.

With all this intimacy and simplicity, how did Wagner expect to transport his audience to a different world? He used two tricks to create what he called a "mystic gulf" between the audience and the performers. One was a double proscenium around the curtain, an illusion which made the stage seem far away.

 

The other trick was an orchestra pit that sunk way back under the stage. The musicians are not even visible when they play, and it gets hot down there, so they can wear flip flops and shorts. Even the conductor can barely see the singers, so his movements are video-fed to the stage for cues. Wagner wanted the sounds from individual instruments to mix together under the stage and emerge like a monster from its pit. I think that our tour guide said (it was in German, it was an hour, and I had a tired Daisy on my hands) that the floor and chairs resonate dramatically in the audience. This multi-sensory experience even involves touch!

Bayreuth's orchestra pit

Seeing this building changed the way I see Wagner. From what I had imagined, the theater was painted with murals and draped in purple velvet. That was the only way I could imagine tying in the plot with the theater. Now that I've seen the Festspielhaus, I see the operas that he wrote on a much more human scale: we are a people, sitting around a campfire in the middle of a forest, recounting our folklore as it comes to life before our eyes. It's the mix of natural and supernatural. I dig it, Richard.

Bamberg

Tom Cruise, in Operation Valkyrie, often speaks of his character's wife and children hiding out in Bamberg. In reality, Stauffenberg and his wife were actually married there. While much of the movie was historically accurate, Tom's pronunciation of this city was not (it should be more like BAHM-behrg). Chris had been here during his Humboldt tour last August, overnighting (German verb - a good one) in a converted palace and watching the night crowned by fireworks. Daisy and I spent two nights in Bamberg upon his recommendation, mainly since it was equidistant between two other cities that I had interest in, Bayreuth and Würzburg.

Some trivia: Bamberg lies on the canal between the Danube and the Main rivers. There are some other waterways in the city, too - I crossed 3 rivers heading away from the train station. It is a fast moving current, making a fantastic whooshing sound under all the bridges one needs to cross to get from one side of town to the other.

You might notice the authentic gondola with gondolier in this picture. Bamberg is one of the many cities which either claim to have a "Little Venice" or title themselves "Venice of the ___." Copenhagen, Amsterdam, Bruges, Colmar, Bamberg...Sure, they have canals, but they are all far cries from Venice.

Bamberg boasts highly decorated buildings in its old Altstadt. Here's just a snippet of what was around every corner:

 

St. Cunigunde

Old Town Hall

Bamberg has an impressive, old cathedral, dating from 1004 but not completed until the 13 century. In the mood for some more trivia? All past popes are either buried in Italy or France...except Pope Clement II (1005-1047), buried in Bamberg's cathedral. St. Cunigunde is also buried here, in a tomb carved by local master Tilman Riemenschneider. Also, a famous statue, until recently an "unknown horseman" with a long history of fabricated identities, has been identified by interpreting colors used in the remnants of paint: the 11th century Hungarian Christian king, Stephen I. We saw monuments to him in Budapest last year. I'm so impressed with the tools our modern society has at its disposal: finding paint on this?

Bamberger Reiter

A little tired of German food, I opted for a chic Italian place that squeezed me in between reservations. I think that servers in Europe (at Italian restaurants) actually speak Italian to their customers way more than they do in the US - it was fun to practice the five words I actually know. Daisy had her orange juice and liked dipping bread in the (delicious) tomato soup. All in all, dining here with Daisy was one of those memorable surprises that you can't plan on ahead of time. 

Munich, Close-Up

When we first moved here, I didn't really get it: I figured that everyone else back home already knew what I was learning for the first time; I thought that taking pictures in public was just plain embarrassing; I naively imagined that I would always remember the little details of our time in Europe. My first blog posts seem like hastily scribbled postcards: "Here we are in Salzburg, it was fun - you should have tasted this cake!" I've grown in my appreciation of blogging since then, but the fact remains that Munich has never had a proper treatment on Over the Ocean. Perhaps this, my third visit, will provide the opportunity?

Marienplatz, the main square of Munich

Honestly, it seems too overwhelming, and not quite sincere, since documenting history was not even where my mind was this time around. It would be like me visiting Madison, Wisconsin next week and then spending a blog post discussing the city's developers and founders instead of the fun time I had revisiting a city that I had already spent years in. Ridiculous.

Instead, I present to you a smattering of images from my visit last weekend. It's kind of like the blind man touching just the ear of an elephant, but it's a nice ear.

After our five hour train ride to Munich, Daisy and I made a beeline to one of my favorite places in the city, the Viktualienmarkt. It sits on the same location as the old medieval market did for the salt traders traveling west from Salzburg. I spent a memorable morning here on Fat Tuesday last year, when I joined costumed spectators watching "The Dance of the Market Women." (There was lots of beer, whooping, and the lifting of skirts.) On normal days, it's a sprawling outdoor market offering top notch produce, specialties like cheese, honey, and spices, and handicrafts. The market women behave themselves, but it's still a lively place to be. The famous Soup Kitchen was our first stop; it's always impossible to decide on what to get when faced with the long list of homemade creations. Then, I just let Daisy walk around while I successfully stifled the urge to hide my camera and took some pictures.

Pumpkin-Chicken Stew at Münchner Suppenküche

This woman makes colorful, seasonal wreaths that would
sorely tempt me if I lived here

Why not decorate your home with hops? Apparently, they are calming and insect-repelling.
I saw these garlands strewn over restaurant windows a couple of times.

The market is permanently attended by numerous figures on fountains.
I love it when citizens quietly "dress up" city statues!

...but maybe not when the Oktoberfest crowd decides to dress up city statues...

While meandering through the city with Amberly and her family, we had a series of nice moments:

1) A sprightly elderly lady began talking with us (because she liked Daisy and because Susan is a conversation-starter), and she basically demanded that we follow her into a private-looking entrance behind some shops. It turned out to be a former palace, which we wouldn't have known about without her local know-how. As we thanked her and waved goodbye, she gave Daisy a chocolate bar.

Preysing Palais

2) Daisy needed to use a coffee shop's bathroom, and when we came out, the girls behind the counter offered her a free "kid's cappuccino," which is steamed milk with her choice of syrup (chocolate). It's just one more example of how she rakes in those goodies.

3) We had a nice lunch at the Hirschgarten (Deer Garden), the largest biergarten in Bavaria, where we could ironically both eat and feed deer.

Amberly with her liter

During the rest of our visit, Daisy and I went to the Deutsches Museum, which is a science and industry collection similar to the Smithsonian. It would have been way more fun with Chris...

We loved the hands-on, recreated mines. 

Wright brothers' Type A (1909)

I also brought Daisy back to the Frauenkirche, the twin Gothic onion domes of which you can see in the picture at the top. The tall domes were about the only part of the church that survived WWII. It's also where the current pope served as archbishop from 1977-1982.

Testing out the legendary "Devil's Footprint" in the Frauenkirche

And that's it! That was the first stage of our Bavarian adventure. Here's just one more picture to throw in that doesn't fit any category:

With Daisy, if something happens once it becomes a fact of life. The new rule is that whenever we go in a restaurant, she needs orange juice with a straw. Luckily, Germans are crazy about juice, so it's pretty much guaranteed to be on the menu. Whew.

Cowbells in Possenhofen

Typical of large European cities, Munich's hotel rates hover around 100 Euros per night. When those 6 million visitors strut through the city gates for Oktoberfest, though, the hoteliers can easily get away with charging double the normal price. Wanting to stick to my budget, I decided to sleep outside the city of Munich proper and take the train in. Even though it was a 40-minute trip, staying in the tranquil lakeside town of Possenhofen was worth it. I felt like I was in a separate world where modern rules don't apply.

Our B and B owner consistently called Daisy "Prinzessin"

While out for a walk after breakfast, I could smell delicious smoke rising from chimneys and mingling with the fall mist. The unsteady clonging of cowbells traipsed over the lush, green fields. I wish photographs could capture sounds and smells.

We saw traditional Bavarian architecture adorned with cascading flowers. It's almost as if the house itself is saying "Grüß Gott" (Greet God, the regional way of saying hello).

Bavaria fought hard against Luther's Reformation and is still predominantly Catholic. Miniature chapels and religious wooden carvings punctuated our route to the lake, called Starnbergersee.

On a clear day, you can see the Alps

This lake is where Ludwig II, builder of the famous Neuschwanstein castle and grandson of Ludwig I of Oktoberfest fame, mysteriously drowned in 1886. His cousin Sisi lived here in Possenhofen Castle when she wasn't needed as Empress of the Austro-Hungarian empire. Today, it is a beachy summer paradise for the city dwellers.

I am under the impression that Bavarians have found the good life. Men wear feathers in their hats. People display potted plants like team flags. Neighborhoods, nestled in exquisite natural beauty, feature intricate woodwork and cows wearing cowbells: the manic drive for efficiency that churns in other places melts away in surroundings like these. I know that I will never live in Possenhofen, but I hope to somehow adopt a leisurely Bavarian elegance in my lifestyle. It's partly "Stop and smell the roses," but that is not active enough. If I could coin a new phrase, it might be something like "Go ahead and use your cowbells," by which I mean, "Add an extra layer of richness to your life, ignoring the demands of efficiency."

Oktoberfest

Exactly 200 years ago, King Ludwig I of Bavaria married Princess Therese of Saxony on October 7, and to celebrate publicly they organized a grand horse race in Munich on a place now called "Therese Field." Almost every year since then, the celebration has been commemorated as "Oktoberfest," although most of the fest's days land in September (This year, it ran from September 18 to October 4).

This year's poster

It's known for being hokey, crowded (over 6 million visitors came this year), and touristy - not exactly the "Europe through the Back Door" that someone like Rick Steves highlights. Although I have always been curious about the event, it seemed that it was not an essential German experience, especially since we've spent so much time in Munich, and I let it slip on my list of priorities.

Until Amberly. She and I met up in Paris in March of 2009 while she was visiting her parents in Europe, and for this year's rendezvous she proposed Munich, during Oktoberfest. I didn't need much convincing. Thus, last weekend, while Chris used the vacant house for some serious work on his applications, Daisy and I spent four nights and experienced four cities in Bavaria. I hesitantly checked out Oktoberfest and observed our lovely Munich, pulsing with the beat of the iconic festival, proving itself to be above the hoke and cheese.

I've heard people compare the event to a drunken Halloween, since everyone dresses up and there's a lot of beer. However, I'd like to spend a little time refining that idea based on my experiences.

In my opinion, it's more like a Renaissance Fair than Halloween, but even nicer, since the period costumes look absolutely sharp. Men wear finely stitched Lederhosen with crisp checked shirts, knitted socks, and sometimes buttoned earth-tone cardigans. They all look like they are goin' courtin', no matter their ages. Whatever the men's tradition for those calf socks is, it looks pretty cool. (To hold a knife for wood carving?) Women of all shapes and sizes look amazing in their Dirndls, complete with frilly petticoats, colorful aprons, flirtatious white blouses, and tied-up bodices.

Department store window

I didn't even know designers made clothes like these...or with these prices:

Dirndls: 699 Euros, 1750 Euros

So, my first point is that dressing up makes people at Oktoberfest look better, not worse. Next, I learned that, contrary to it being overrun by Americans, Bavarians compose about 75% of the attendees. The locals actually like it! For example, look at this eyeglasses store window I noticed in a non-touristy part of the city:

You wouldn't do this to your store if your neighbors hated Oktoberfest

In addition, it's not just for wild college students. I saw with my own eyes tenderly-dressed families enjoying pony rides and carousels together, holding hands with gingerbread hearts around their necks. It's a heartwarming and kid-friendly event.

Daisy, helping me out with a giant pretzel

Jesse, Susan, Nate, and Amberly at the carnival rides

Well, if I had the only pen in the world, Oktoberfest would be re-billed as a festival for families, local German traditions, and high fashion. What I've conveniently left out of the story are The Tents.

In front of one of the 14 tents

All the breweries of Munich pitch a huge tent, hire a brass band, and release their special Oktoberfest brew. It comes in liters, which are carried 6 at a time by the hardworking ladies with starched white caps. People book reservations for a particular tent in advance by phone. It sounded a little to wild to bring a two year old to, but I got to sneak in with Amberly and Nate to watch for a while. Even though I didn't have a beer, I was still swept away by the music and singing and wanted to join the groups of friends dancing on tables and waving their steins. Next time.

Because of the other-worldly atmosphere of the tents and the potentially quick consumption of multiple liters of beer, I wasn't surprised to see a little stumbling or scrapping outside. I admit that Oktoberfest has its unsavory aspects. Overall, though, I was impressed by how good-natured and un-tacky the whole ritual is. Maybe I'd go again, maybe not...I'll go if you go.