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.