October 2009: Adventures in Car Renting!

This post really completes the last one on May 21! On returning our rental car, the Avis employee inspecting the car noted a small scratch on the front bumper shell, and despite a lot of verbiage about no charges without my permission, added €177.43 to the rental bill, for which I signed. It was only when I got home, and reconciled expenses with estimates, that I found this excess charge - yes, it was detailed, but not exactly in noticeable type. Also, my rental contract with estimated charges was in Cdn$, the bill in Euro, and the midst of a car return garage, unloading luggage, is not the best place or time to do rapid currency conversion - although I'm learning, in future I will do exactly that!

I duly reported this damage to the Amex insurer, which covers this cost if the rental was charged to an Amex card offering such coverage, which mine does. I also reported to them the details of the damage as I had seen it.

Much to my shock and surprise, one week after return I received a letter from the unnamed and unsigned "Station Manager" and mailed not from Frankfurt but Avis Germany head office, indicating that I had returned their car damaged, that the damage was in excess of €750, and that as soon as the exact cost was determined, my Amex card would be charged the appropriate amount. The last paragraph suggested that in future I could limit such charges to €75 by purchasing Avis' damage insurance; clearly whoever initiated this letter was not aware enough of the rental contract to know that my own insurance through AMEX covered 100% of any damage charges.

Attached were badly reproduced, on an ink jet printer, small size (about 3" by 4") photos, showing the car I had rented, the speedometer reading (correct), and the front bumper in close-up with a note "front left spoiler scratched." The photos however showed "damage" much greater than the small scratch I had been seen, although on close scrutiny, on badly reproduced photos, it might have been visible. What was very obvious were four large patches of pure white, with no detail that would suggest scratching, as if the paint had simply been removed from these areas. Except, I checked with a neighbour who is an auto body mechanic, who told me that he had never seen a bumper shell or cover in which the underlying material was pure white; usually it is grey or black, sometimes a dirty yellow. Further, the day prior to turning in this car, we had driven through several severe rain storms, on secondary roads, and it was apparent even from these photos that the car was quite dirty, in fact I apologized to the agent checking us in for that. Yet, these white patches were absolutely pristine, and as I noted above, absolutely feature-less, showing no surface detail whatsoever. And more, checking a high resolution photo of this car taken during our trip, it was obvious that his "damage" was on the convex bumper shell in areas that had surface that was further forward on the bumper than the "damage." It was very difficult to come up with any mechanism of contact with anything that would leave the area in between these white patches unmarked.

After I had climbed down from the ceiling I contacted the Amex insurer, told them what had happened, and they asked me to mail in the material received from Avis, and that they would deal with it. They also assured me that whatever I was charged, they would cover it. I did so, followed by about two months of silence, from all concerned. I then got back to the Amex insurer, who by this time had re-embursed me for the €177.43 charge, to be told they had contacted Avis German with my objections to the charges, and had heard nothing back. They also noted that according to the contract I had with Avis there was no time limit to additional charges to my credit card (which they would cover) unless I could get Avis to sign off. I duly wrote Avis Germany, asking that this matter be settled, attaching my objections as I had submitted them to my insurer, and asking them to provide the original camera files of the damage pictures if there were to be further charges. That produced nearly four months of dead silence.

In late September, I searched around on the Avis Germany website, and found a general "complaints and inquiries" e-mail address, to which I duly wrote. That produced an un-readable e-mail (looking at the gibberish, it appears that jpeg files were pasted into an e-mail, rather than attached. An e-mail back produced the same thing. A further e-mail produced in time a letter from what is probably a clerk within Avis Germany, apologizing for the late(!!!) response, and adding that the damage documents requested (I hadn't requested documents, but photos) were attached (I guess included, but we'll give some grace for language!) Then there is a paragraph explaining that I was only charged €177.43 for the damage, that the "station manager" letter I had received was an automated letter, which "sometimes ... is sent with the wrong damage charge information." Then an apology for the letter with the wrong damage information. And then, a note that the actual damage was €619.50, but they would not charge the difference. In other words, a letter that is internally not consistent.

Included were copies of the original rental contract, but not the return version. Also, in German, a Damage Report, which clearly indicates in words and by a car diagram, the small scratch that I had seen. No indication on this report of the "extensive" damage in the pictures. And then, a "Repair Costs Proposal" which adds up to €619.50 before taxes, but shows a final cost of €737.21 . Some of the costs shown are ridiculous for what was a small scratch; body filler applied with a spatula three times, almost $600 in labour, more than an hour of paint-spraying, for example.

Without imputing anything, if one searches around in travel magazines, travel literature, and on travel web sites (Google "car rental damage charges" for example), it is obvious that our experience is not uncommon, particularly for international rentals, when the renter is safely in another country and will find it difficult dealing with any charges suddenly levied on their credit card. Seemingly in such cases there are also charges beyond repair of alleged damage that appear; loss-of-use charges to cover loss of revenue for the period of repair - with no evidence that the vehicle actually could have been rented; and loss of value, a charge for supposed depreciation in the disposition of the vehicle at the end of its rental life, despite repair charges being levied for supposed restoration to "as new." One could support these depreciation charges for major accidents, which enter onto the vehicle's record, but they are being charged for minor damage such as paint scratches.

To defend against some of this

• never take a car without an inspection in the presence of the rental agent, noting all existing damage on the rental contract, and getting the agent to sign off on this;
• pay for the rental with a credit card that offers insurance of rental cars, and refuse the rental company's offer of a Collision Damage Waiver (CDW, which is not insurance, but only a limit to how much you will be charged for any purported damage);
• be aware of the details of your credit card's insurance; for example, some limit the amount they will pay for "loss of use" and "reduction in final value" of the rental car;
• at stations where you are simply handed the keys at the rental desk and told where to find the car (Frankfurt is one such station, but there are many more), insist that an agent accompany you to the car to make this inspection;
• if this does not happen, do not open the car or load luggage; take pictures of the car in its location (even an inexpensive digital camera is a good investment for this - make sure the date and time on the camera are set correctly for the location!), carefully inspect it, take pictures of any damage, and return to the rental counter and insist that an agent come and inspect the car with you; this is your right, not a privilege; do not move the car, if you do, you have taken responsibility for any existing damage;
• report any damage that you cause during the rental promptly to the authorities (if necessary) and to the rental company, and also to your credit card insurer, who usually require a fairly tight time limit, such as within 24 hours of damage, or as soon as practicable;
• on returning the car, follow the check-in agent closely during the inspection, and confirm any damage reported; take your own pictures of the car and any purported damage; also take a picture of the odometer; and make sure that the date and time of your camera are set correctly;
• at stations where on drops off the car in a parking lot without an inspecting agent present, take pictures of the car in its parking spot to establish location, and take sufficient close-ups of all sides to show that there is no major damage; if you have any doubt whatever about interpretation, or if there was damage present when you took the car, insist that an agent come and inspect the car and sign off on the condition report;
• if you are charged for damage that you believe you did not cause, dispute the charge with your credit card company, and ask the rental company to provide you with all documentation relevant to the charges levied, including pictures (original files, not prints) which you should be able to compare to your own pictures.

You may run into agents that object to having to do some of the above, but you are only exercising your right, and can politely point out that there is enough evidence of post-drop-off charges for damages that customers allege wasn't present that you are simply protecting yourself. If enough renters do this, perhaps the companies will decide to modify their policies.

To be fair to Avis, I also need to report a previous experience with Avis Canada in Regina, SK, which was everything one could wish for. We had a close encounter with a rabbit that suddenly jumped in front of our rental VW while we were going about 100 km/hour. It is surprising what damage a small animal can do; this totally destroyed the bumper shell at the point of impact, and, not visible to inspection, wiped out one of the car horns behind that part of the bumper. The damage was assessed at about $1200, and, because the destroyed horn was not immediately available in North America, the car was out of service for nearly a month. Throughout all this the Avis station manager in Regina was a model of what one could wish for, working with the Amex card insurer to get the claim settled with minimum work on my part. Documentation of the damage was supplied promptly (I did have my own pictures, and had also made a police report) and in the end there was no cost to me.

So, in terms of damage to Avis cars, we are 1 for 1!

Day 22: The Trip Home (22 May 2009)

We left the hotel in plenty of time to make it to the airport, return the car, and check into the flight home, with time left over to check if the alternate flight, to Montreal, might be better than Toronto. But again, the drive was not without its problems; like seemingly every other airport in the world, Frankfurt is constantly constructing new buildings, and therefore re-aligning and re-routing roads. Thus, we missed one or two turns which weren't quite where the GPS thought they were, but even with that, we pulled into the Avis section of the rental car return area in good time.

The Avis technology was impressive; as we pulled in the person checking us in input the car registration number into a wireless handheld, and by the time I stopped the car and got out, he greeted me by name! As we unloaded, he checked the car for damage. After he completed that he pointed out what was a very minor and shallow scratch, on the under-surface of the front bumper cover, about 2.5 to 3.5 cm long (if this had been my car, I would either have ignored it, or buffed it out with rubbing compound). He suggested that it might have in fact been there when I picked up the car, asked me to fill out an accident report indicating that I denied having caused the damage, promising that there would be no charge to my credit card without my being contacted first, and then printed out the credit card bill for the rental. It was much later that I realized that bill actually included a charge of 177.43 (nearly $300) Euro for the alleged damage! (When I got home, I reported this "damage" to the insurer for American Express, as the Amex card I have insures car rentals charged to the card, and in due time I was re-embursed.) At the time I also asked if I should take pictures of the car, and the alleged damage, and was told that there was no need, as they would take pictures and provide them to me. Big mistake, as it turns out; advice to self, and to others; always take pictures of rental cars as you pick them up, and again when you return them, all sides and close-up, especially of areas allegedly damaged!

From there to check-in and dropping off luggage, and then to the gate for the flight to Toronto, which the agent checking us in told us had seats available, so no problem getting on in J class (Business class, given our priority). And so, on to the gate; and the next problem!

When flying contingent (space available, stand-by, etc.) with Air Canada, the electronic booking system takes care of prioritizing those standing by (based on seniority, and whether an extra service charge has been paid for business class). Once checked in, at the gate the agents simply fill available seats, business class first, then hospitality, based on the priority as shown in the system. It is fair, and impartial. Except, as it turns out, in Frankfurt, where there is marching to a different drummer.

Note for others flying contingent out of Frankfurt.When you get to the gate, you are expected to turn your boarding pass over to the gate agents to indicate that you are there - never mind that you checked in and ckecked luggage earlier - if you don't you are assumed to not be there or gone missing. By the time we caught on, they had filled all the J calss seats, and we ended up in Y (Hospitality), separated, with June sitting next to a very large man who took up half her space, and me sitting next to a lady from Iran who had a concept of personal hygiene different from that of North America.

But, we got home!

Day 21; The Rhine Gorge and a Lengthy Return with Traffic Problems (20 May 2009)

What with breakfast, and getting organized, it was nearly 9:30 a.m. when we left the hotel and headed westward along the right shore of the Rhine (rechts Rhein as the Germans call it), which in the Rheingau is the north shore. Since much of the first part of this drive covered territory we had seen the previous day, we stayed on various autobahns through Wiesbaden, and then went along the B42 road, which is the major road along this shore of the Rhine, as far as Rüdesheim am Rhein. This town, at one time one of the charming wine villages at the western end of the Rheingau, is now a major destination for most of the river cruise ships, and has become a collection of tacky tourist souvenir shops, and bars serving wine of questionable quality at highly inflated prices. If you are looking for the experience of genuine German wine pubs, look elsewhere in the smaller towns to the east. But Rüdesheim wasn't our destination; we were headed for the Abbey of St. Hildegard of Bingen, which is amidst the vineyards (owned by the abbey) on the hills above Rüdesheim. (Bingen is actually on the other [left] side of the Rhine)

It is in Bingen that Hildegard at a young age became a Benedictine nun early in the 12th c. and eventually became abbess of a monastery she founded at Rupertsberg. Renowned as a mystic, a student of the healing arts, as a composer of (now called) early music, she was also a consultant and advisor to popes, bishops and senior clerics of her time. She was one of the first persons to whom the Roman Catholic church's formal process of canonization of saints was applied, but that process was never actually completed. Despite this, she is universally recognized as a saint, and referred to as such by numerous popes, including recently popes John Paul II and Benedict XVI. Her remains are encased in an altar at a church named for her at Eibingen, near Rüdesheim.

The modern Abbey of St. Hildegard of Bingen is a community of Benedictine nuns (the full complement is 56 women, including the abbess) of the Beuron congregation of Benedictines (consisting of 12 each monasteries and convents in Germany, many of ancient provenance, but re-opened and modernized in the 19th and 20th centuries). The abbey church is of Romanesque architectural style, build of red sandstone interspersed with quartzite in the early 20th c. The convent and other buildings match in style and colour.Since it would take a booklet to describe this church and community, pictures of both interior and exterior, and a history of St. Hildegard and the abbey are in English here .

But, some few personal observations!

As one walks from the small parking lot along a dusty road toward the abbey, one eventually walks along a very high wall of sandstone and quartzite, seemingly designed to keep out the curious (actually, from an architectural and engineering point of view, this is a retaining wall, designed to keep the abbey and convent from sliding into the valley, especially in extended wet periods). But, then the very first door one reaches in this forbidding wall leads into a largish room designated a "casual visitors" centre. It is intended for hikers, and walkers, and others who are not intending to visit the abbey proper, but might need some refreshment. And thus, in this room are available, free for the taking, water from a cooler, juices, and in a touch of modernity, coffee, espresso and cappucino from an automatic brewing machine. Also available are picture postcards, some booklets about the abbey, and some more extensive small books about the abbey and Benedictine life (there is a donations box for suggested payment for the larger items). All this is a reminder of the requirement in the Rule of St. Benedict (Benedict's treatise on how a monastic community is to live) that all visitors are to be treated as, potentially, being God, or Christ. With typical Benedictine genius, this community has found a modern way of carrying out this duty without tying up one or more sisters (of the very small number available) continually, day and night. (There is also, as usual in Benedictine houses, a guest wing and a "guest" sister, for anyone who wants to stay overnight or longer, with the invitation to participate in the life and work of the convent.)

From this room it is a short walk to an entrance into a small, pretty garden in front of the entrance to the abbey church. Inside, the first impression is of the usual Romanesque church, adequate but low lighting from small windows (this particular building, modern as it is, obviously uses some modern building technology to allow larger windows than genuine Romanesque churches; and the lighting is augmented very subtly by electrical means). The other immediate impression for me was how similar (yet different) this particular church was to the basilica at Maria Laach, with which I am very familiar, having stayed there many times with my friend Brother Marianus. The similarity is not surprising; St. Hildegard was built under the supervision of a monk from Maria Laach (another Beuron congregation community), who was also an architect. And the use of subtle electrical lighting to augment natural light may well be the product of my friend Marianus, who is a master electrician, who did a similar augmentation at Maria Laach, and also is called upon by the sisters at St. Hildegard to do their electrical work.

Here, as at Maria Laach, the first thing one sees upon entering the church is a painting of Christ, in a quarter spherical roof above an apse for the altar. (An apse is a semi-circular altar space, thus geometrically the roof of an apse is a quarter-sphere.) Both the Laach painting and this one show Christ as a young man, from the chest up. In the iconic tradition the depiction is that of Christos Pantocrator, Christ the judge of the world. And, as in the Laach painting, the eyes of Christ are slightly larger than proportional to the face, and no matter where you go in this church, they follow you.

In other ways, St. Hildegard is very different from the basilica at Laach. Architecturally, the most obvious difference is the addition of a choir for the nuns to the left of the altar space (chancel) in the liturgical North. (Regardless of physical orientation, liturgically the altar in churches is in the East, the entrance is in the West, etc., although St. Hildegard is also oriented East-West geographically.) This is a typical distinction between monasteries and convents in the monastic tradition; monks have the choir in the chancel, and participate in worship within view of the full church, nuns have their choir such that they are out of the sight of general worshippers. That is tradition; by no means is it always followed!

The other major difference is that Laach has very little decoration other than the apse painting of Christ; typical of Romaesque churches, where there was generally not enough light to allow viewing of decorative art. St. Hildegard is extensively decorated with paintings of (generally) female saints and other Christian symbolism, as well as a series of paintings of the life of St. Hildegard. All these are in a style called Beuronesque, which draws on various artistic traditions including Art Deco, but going back as far as classical Egypt. One of its characteristics is human figures that appear taller in relation to their width than normal, and muted yet very bright colours. It is hard to describe; it needs to be seen.

Leaving the church, I noticed a bulletin board just outside the entrance, which had the usual information about Mass times, etc. posted, but also a letter from the abbess to attendees at worship, outlining what was required for visitors to receive Holy Communion. It began with a statement that the sisters of St. Hildegard wanted to be as inclusive as possible, but nevertheless needed to be guided by the directives of the German Bishops' Conference, and then outlined the sisters' interpretation of those directives. I read through them carefully, and it became obvious that these had been thought about with great care; without going into details, after careful reflection, I decided that I, an Anglican priest, would have no difficulty receiving communion with the sisters under these condition (sadly, there was no opportunity to do so). I later had a conversation with the sister who ran the abbey wine shop (yes, the abbey wine shop), mentioned who I was and that I had come to the conclusion that I could comply with their conditions and receive communion, and that I thought that this letter had been very carefully drafted. What I got was a grin, and "Yes, we intend to be inclusive; you decide if you are excluded!"

Leaving the abbey church, it is a very few steps to the abbey shop. It sells the usual items in such Benedictine shops in Germany, icons, bronze medallions and sculptures, art books, scholarly works, illuminated cards and frameable inspirational sayings, all produced by Benedictines within the Beuron congregation. I already had a not inconsiderable number of these from my times at Maria Laach. But, there is also the abbey wine shop. St. Hildegard sits among some of the best wine-growing land in the Rheingau, and the sisters produce some very fine wines. I had previously sampled some of them; I mentioned that my friend Marianus from Maria Laach does electrical work for the sisters. As they are part of the same "family" there is no charge or billing for this, but they always send him back to his monastery with a selection of some of their fine product, which he then shares with his brothers and visitors. As I was looking over the selection (yes, drooling; none of these wines will ever make it to Ontario) I started chatting with the sister in charge of the shop. I mentioned where I was from, and that sadly we couldn't get any of these wines in Canada. Well, why didn't I just take a supply home with me? I mentioned weight limits on checked baggage, plus the problem of breakage. Well, why didn't I just carry it with me; she'd be glad to put my selections into a carefully packed box, complete with handle. I explained the problem with liquids on airplanes, at which point she looked very puzzled, and said that any fool ought to be able to tell the difference between wine and explosives. Another reminder that monastics are at once very modern, using the most modern of devices and technology (the wine coolers in this shop would be the envy of connoisseurs [and why does LCBO put their wines out on shelves where the temperature can bounce up and down several degrees whenever the door opens?]), and yet not very much up on the non-essential (to their life) "ways of the world." It goes right back to the Rule of Benedict; that monks (and nuns) are not to distract themselves with worldly matters which do not affect their life, which is one of work in support of their community, and prayer.

Leaving St. Hildegard's, we worked our way back through Rüdesheim to the Rhine shore, and then took the car ferry across the river to Bingen (which is on the left side of the Rhine, left of the direction of flow, that is.) There are no bridges across the Rhine between Wiesbaden and Koblenz (about 70 km), all of the cross-river traffic is carried by ferries, which are actually very efficient, and probably do not take much longer for the crossing than a bridge would require. This also leads to a totally unrelated story (to us that is), but does relate to some of my earlier rants about the limitations of GPS technology.

[It seems that when BMW first put in-car GPS units into their high-end cars, 7 series, they weren't aware that some of the underlying maps, which were on CDs, had "limitations." And thus it was that a couple, in a car worth about $70K was navigating towards a destination on the Rhine that happened to be on the side opposite to the one they were driving on, in a thickish fog! The GPS duly navigated them to one of the ferry docks where they would cross to the other side, and they duly drove off the dock because the GPS didn't know that you had to wait for the ferry! I note that now, my GPS prominently warns that you must drive onto ferries before proceeding.]

After leaving Bingen, we proceeded northward, left-Rhine, along the B9 (Bundesstrasse 9), through the many small towns and villages that dot the shore of the river. Castles abound on this stretch of the river, on both shores. Two things are immediately apparent as one drives; one is the immense amount of traffic on the Rhine itself; barges in both directions carrying every imaginable goods (coal, gravel, bricks,you name it), and passenger ships, both day excursion and multi-day river cruise ships. The second thing one notices is that the road is parallelled by double railway tracks, on each side of the river, and it is seldom that more than a few minutes pass without a train going by in either direction, on either side; passenger trains ranging from local trains, regional express trains, to ICE (Inter City Express), and freight trains, again carrying all kinds of goods. Germany (Europe?) is much more committed to rail travel and freight than North America, and passenger train travel is a very important part of a national transportation strategy - local public transit, streetcars and subways, integrate seamlessly with trains of all kinds, local, regional, and inter-city. (A while back I was a speaker at a conference south of Bonn, staying at a hotel in a little village on the Rhine, which had a streetcar stop outside. It was possible to buy a ticket at that streetcar stop that would allow you to travel to the nearest subway station, and from there to the Bonn railway station, and then on to Cologne by train, and back! We could only wish!)

Eventually, we arrived at the Lorelei. That name is not well-known in North America, but forms a large part of German mythology. Physically, the Lorelei is a rocky promontory around which the Rhine curves not more than 50 or 60 degrees (there are far more abrupt curves, including at least one that goes through about 300 degrees). But, the river also narrows here, and becomes shallow (became, it has been dredged), and there are (were, because in the interest of navigation they have been blown up and removed) sharp rocks onto which ships could be driven while navigating the river. The legend is that a beautiful blonde (of course, this is German mythology) woman sat high up on the rock, singing to the navigators below, luring them onto the rocks (something like the sirens of Greek mythology). We stopped at the Panorama Restaurant Lorelei, sat on the balcony, enjoyed a fine lunch, and watched the passing parade of ships. Even with the improvements to the river, it seems this is still a difficult passage, especially for longer barges and cruise ships, as the channel of deep water is not that wide. There are control stations up and down river, that make sure that there are not two long vessels trying to navigate around the bend at the same time. But, no singing woman (blonde, or otherwise) appeared on the rocks opposite, either!

From the Lorelei it is a short drive up towards Koblenz, and a bridge across the river. The plan was to head towards the Autobahn A3, direction Frankfurt, and get off at Limburg an der Lahn for a visit to the very beautiful (genuine, 11th c.) Romanesque cathedral, which rather than stone, is of timbered construction. (Aside, St. Hildegard's Abbey is in the Diocese of Limburg.) However, this was Wednesday, late afternoon; the next day, Thursday, was Ascension Day, a legal holiday in Germany, and because Ascension Day always falls on a Thursday (40 days after Easter), Germany keeps the next Friday as a "floating" legal holiday. All of this means that upcoming was a 4 day weekend, and everyone in Germany was driving somewhere!

There was no problem driving along the Schnellstrasse (a B-class road, but four lanes and divided) from the Rhine bridge through some very beautiful countryside - forests, broad valleys - until we got onto the A3. Not long after, everything seized up. The GPS traffic receiver caught up with reality somewhat after we were in it - again a problem with this technology, most of the time it is too slow. Radio reports were of a single car accident, but very serious, blocking both lanes, with traffic being directed by on the shoulder. After about 30 minutes, the GPS directed us off onto a detour road, trying to still get us to Limburg. Unfortunately, everyone else was trying the same detour!. About 90 minutes later, we were within distant sight of Limburg, and decided this would not work. After a number of abortive attempts to get the GPS to route us towards our hotel, each of which resulted in it trying to direct us back to the A3 or blocked detour roads, I figured out that the only way out of this mess was to go towards a target about 90 degrees from the direction we actually wanted to go in (Hamburg should have taught me that!) and that is what we did. That brought us through some very pretty country, in a rainstorm, through forests, and eventually the town of Nassau, the seat of that royal family. From there, we were able to navigate towards Wiesbaden, and our hotel, without running into more than normal traffic

All of that leads me to reflect that, excellent as the German road system is, including the pre-planned detour system, it is very fragile. When it is operating at its limit, such as at the beginning of a long weekend, or in vacation season, an accident in one place can trigger massive congestion on every other road in the general area. GPS and traffic receivers are not much help, especially if everyone is using them, as then everyone is trying to detour on the same routes. Much more immediate feedback on traffic conditions on both primary and secondary roads, and more central intelligence is needed before the technology is actually useful. As it is, it still requires input from the driver, and some reasoning which might actually be counter-intuitive, such as navigating in a direction opposite one's destination.

In the event, we did not see Limburg, but we did get to the hotel in good time to get supper, fill up the car in preparation for its return, and pack for the morning, and the flight back home.

Day 20; Wiesbaden & the Rheingau (19 May 2009)

This was to be a day spent with family; my step-brother Karlheinz, his daughters Angela (her first name) or Dorothea (her middle name, as she now prefers to be called) and Sylvia, and their respective children, Elena and Felix.

We started out with a glitch; when visiting a German home, especially one with an adult woman, it is customary to bring flowers. Last year, Scott and I had discovered that directly across from our hotel was a flower shop, where we duly bought a lovely bouquet to give to Sylvia. I assumed the shop would still be there; German businesses tend to persist. Unfortunately, this year that shop had become an optician, and the very nice receptionist told me that the flower shop had moved several kilometres away, to an area that would seriously delay us.

So we went on to Sylvia's address, using the GPS to navigate; and again, unfortunately, road construction, traffic, one-way streets seriously delayed us. The electronic systems are beginning to be useful, but there needs to be much more "catch-up" happening - rather than map updates every few months, they need to happen "live" - and that technology already exists in the form of the traffic receivers, which supposedly get up-to-the-minute (probably more like 30 minutes) updates on traffic conditions - why not also update maps that way? (My guess is that the electronic map companies [there are only two serious players] are protecting their revenue.) But, that just needs a change in thinking; already Garmin makes available a life-time (of the GPS unit) update of maps, but requiring an Internet connection, and considerable time (think hours) for the download of an entire map for a continent. Why not an incremental download of only significant changes daily (new detours, construction, etc.) over the traffic receiver connection, or, if that is problematical, daily or weekly, over an Internet connection which automatically updates devices connected with the proper subscription (if they can do it with whole maps, they can do it with "micro" maps.) I suspect that the problem is not a technological one, but one of how to "monetize" this sort of incremental update. My suspicion is confirmed by the fact that Tom-Tom, the other major GPS Company, seems to be able to do just that.

Whatever! After a quick getting re-acquainted (June and Karlheinz) and getting acquainted (June and Sylvia), plus some cell phone consultation (Germans use cell phones to the point where land-line phones are almost irrelevant - assisted by airtime and data plans that are much more reasonable than those in Canada - for a start legally there can be no charge for incoming calls or text) with Dorothea and the grand-children about where we would meet for lunch we were off for a driving tour of Wiesbaden.

A deconstruction of the name; any German town with bad or baden in its name is usually a spa (bad means bath, baden means bathing - but generally these words mean places where there are healing mineral waters, either to be drunk or bathed in. Wies means meadow, thus Wiesbaden translates, roughly, as the spa in the meadow, except that the meadow has long vanished. Today, there is still the Kurbad (rough translation would be the source of the healing waters), where one can drink of the mineral spring, but also a casino, and the Kurgarten, the large formal grounds in which one can walk and relax. And also, lots and lots of really good shopping!

We drove up the Neroberg (Nero's mountain, or better, hill), a large elevated and forested hill within Wiesbaden. Near the top is the Russian Orthodox Church of St. Elizabeth (the mother of John the Baptist). This is the largest Russian Orthodox church in Europe, and is a reminder of the strong connections between European (especially German) royalty and nobility, and the Russian royal family (the Romanovs).

St. Elizabeth's is the burial place of a Russian princess (named Elizabeth Mikhailovna Romanov, Grand Duchess of Russia and Duchess of Nassau) who was the wife of Duke Adolf of Nassau (Nassau being the principality); her father was the younger brother Michael of Tsar Alexander I and Tsar Nicholas. She died in childbirth at age 19, and her husband built St. Elizabeth church as a monument to her; both she and her infant child are buried in the crypt. The church is classical Russian orthodoxy; richly decorated with icons and very beautiful both inside and out. It still has a worshipping community of Russian Orthodox, remaining from what was in the 19th c. a large presence of Russian nobility (and of course servants) and intellectuals. In the nearby Russian cemetery many Russian nobles lie buried, as well as Orthodox clergy and bishops who served in Europe. Historically, the Orthodox churches in Germany and the rest of Europe, although dating from a time when Russian nobility and royalty spent as much time in Europe as in Russia (and when the language of the Russian court was French!), in modern times are credited with having done much to preserve Russian Orthodoxy during the Soviet rule of Russia.

Also from the Neroberg one gets great views of Wiesbaden, Mainz and Frankfurt to the East, and the Rhine valley to the West. There are several good viewing points, secured with walls, where one can look over Wiesbaden, with the nearby hillside covered with vineyards; a constant reminder of this very important "industry" in this area.

For lunch we drove some distance to the Domäne Mechtildshausen, which is a large organic farm, growing grains, beef and dairy cattle, market garden products, ornamental garden plants, and of course, wine. They operate several bakeries, producing bread and pastries, a dairy producing milk, cream, butter and cheese, and a butcher's shop producing sausages and other meats. On the very large property are two restaurants serving almost exclusively the products of the Domäne, and a market shop selling everything grown and produced there. Also of note, the Domäne, which is publically owned (more on that later), is currently leased and operated by a privately run social service agency for youth training and apprenticeships, in some cases for developmentally challenged youth, in what appears on short experience to be a very successful public-private (to use our terms) partnership.

Again, a brief excursus on history and the name of this place. Domäne translates into English as "domain" but perhaps in this context a better equivalent would be the medieval English "forest," meaning an area of land reserved for the use of the monarch, with its own laws and officials, even though it might include farms and even towns. The history of the Domäne goes back at least 1500 years, and in German is described as a Königssondergau (special royal district). At the time of the Holy Roman Empire, it was the site of an imperial court which could pronounce and execute death sentences. Its first appearance in documents is in the 12th c. and thereafter its ownership was often in dispute, moving at various times between the Archdiocese of Mainz, the Lords (Herren) of Epstein, and the Principalities (Fürstentümer) of Nassau and Hessen-Darmstadt. In 1945 the German Federal State of Hessen became the legal successor to these.

As for the name, it is problematical. The German suffix hausen has its root in the plural of haus - houses, but generally indicates a town or village. Mechtild is the name of at least two medieval German mystics of the 12th c., Mechtild of Magdeburg, and Mechtild of Hackeborn; the two are loosely associated as living at around the same time, and both being Benedictine nuns. However, they lived considerably east of Wiesbaden/Mainz, in what today is Saxony (Sachsen) and Saxony-Anhalt (Sachsen-Anhalt), and it is difficult to see how their name gets attached to the Domäne. It may be that the first mention in documents of the Domaine in 12 c., the time of these two mystics, and the "ownership" by the Archdiocese of Mainz may have affected the choice of name; or as Mechtild is not an uncommon name in early German, and as the history of the Domäne goes back to Merovingian times (5th to 8th c.), it may simply be a name of an important resident in its early history.

In any case, it is at the Domaine that we were joined by Dorothea (Angela) and her daughter Elena, and by Sylvia's son Felix. The last time I had seen both Elena and Felix was at my father's funeral in 2002; in the meantime both have grown up into teenagers, so it was good to see them again. We were seven for lunch, and initially there was no table available outside, thus we started inside, with a request to be moved outside when a table became available. That turned out to have consequences! The food was excellent (and presumably healthy as it was all the product of the Domaine) and the service was very good, until we moved outside. I mentioned above that the Domaine trains youth, and developmentally challenged youth. Our young waiter, although very competent in other ways, was not able to deal with a move of table, and thus some of our order (mostly drinks) never arrived, and some arrived twice! But it was nevertheless an excellent lunch, in a beautiful and charming setting, which serves a good cause. I highly recommend it, with one caveat; because this is a training establishment, one cannot assume that the wait staff understand English, and a little bit of "restaurant" German is needed. (Of course, that is true of any of the small restaurants in villages that I prefer when travelling in Germany.)

After lunch only Karlheinz continued with us as we travelled westward along the Rhine into the Rheingau, an area famed for its very good wines, almost exclusively Riesling wines for which the local soil is ideal. Geographically, the Rhine generally goes north-south after it leaves Lake Constance (Bodensee in German - again, why does English insist on naming geographic features with names that have nothing to do with what the locals call them?), except for a short stretch, about 25 km, between Wiesbaden and Bingen, for which it goes east-west. The north shore along this stretch, which is a gently rising hill from the river level to perhaps 200 m higher, gets full sun from the south, and thus is ideal for growing wine. This is the area called the Rheingau, and is home to some of the finest of German wines. (Schloss Johannisberg is a well-known wine producer; it is here that the Spätlese was discovered by accident. Spätlese [late pickings] is the wine that results from picking grapes late, when they are drying up and may even be beginning to rot, resulting in a wine that is especially flavourful, because of the concentration of sugars and flavours in the grape.) It is in the Rheingau that some of the best-know wine producers are concentrated; Johannisberg, Mumm, Müller, Henckel, etc. It is also the home to many (nearly 5000) small, family owned vineyards, which produce a few hundred to a few thousand cases of wine per year, sold locally, seldom shipped, and unless imported personally, never found in North America. In the past, I have gone to some of these small producers with Karlheinz; typically, one sits in the family living room while bottles are brought out to be sampled, at the end of which one can buy a few bottles, or a few cases, which they cheerfully load into your car, but if you want to ship them, that is your problem. Very much businesses that still rely on personal relationships!

As one drives along the north shore of the Rhine is this area, it is obvious that wine is king! Acres and acres of vineyards, and in the small towns the chief businesses are small wine bars and restaurants, most often with attached wine retail store, that populate the streets. Again, these serve and sell the wine of small producers, often those of the family of the owners.

After a drive-through the area, we went to Schloss Rheinhartshausen, only a few meters north of the Rhine shore, at one time (until the late 20th c.) one of the residences of the Prussian royal family, who, confusingly since the 1940s when the "pretender" to the Prussian throne found refuge in England, are British with the surname Mansfield, and associated through marriage with the Guiness family - such is the confusion of European nobility. Rheinhartshausen is also one of the great vineyards in the Rheingau, with some 200 acres in cultivation, and again, the Schloss is not only a residence, but also a wineshop of considerable fame Christie's, among others auctions the product of great years. Since the very late 20th c. it is a part of the Kempinski chain's "small hotels of note," rating 5 stars, with a restaurant rated with 1 Michelin star. (For the quality and location it is surprisingly reasonable; €165 for a quality room to about €500 for a multi-room suite, for two persons; at the low end that is less than twice what we were paying for much lesser-rated hotels.)

Aside from the location and the beautiful gardens, the reason for our visit was to be found in the Wintergarten restaurant, a large, glassed-in terrace overlooking the Rhine. Here we had coffee (excellent) and Rieslingtorte (undescribably good). The torte is a buttercream cake, made with Riesling wine, and containing Riesling grapes. The flavour is not really describable, except to say that it is worth the drive!

From Rheinhartshausen it is a short drive east to the town of Eltville am Rhein, the wine, sekt (German sparkling wine) and roses town. It has a lovely promenade along the river, with formal rows of plane trees (trimmed to excess), with several outdoor wine bars where one can sample the local product. Also along the river are the estates of some of the big wine producers, Mumm and Müller among them. A major attraction is a rose garden in the grounds of the town castle, with hundreds of varieties of roses, also rhododendrons, flourishing in formal beds and climbing walls. The town itself is worth a walk-through, with many timbered houses, large estates with associated small wineries, and the inevitable wine bars and restaurants, with associated wine shops. Also notable is that this town was the location of Johannes Gutenberg's printing shop, where he first began to experiment with printing with movable type. Although Gutenberg is usually associated with Mainz (not all that far away, and now the location of the Gutenberg museum) it is in fact Eltville where movable-type printing originated. Sadly, other than a plaque on the house where Gutenberg's shop was, nothing else remains of that major innovation.

After Eltville, we returned to Wiesbaden and Sylvia's home, for us to pick up our car which we had left parked there. Then back to our hotel, and light supper, and to bed, ready to rise early for our last day of travel.

Day 19; Augsburg & North to Hochheim am Main (18 May 2009)

This was going to be a long day; got up early, had breakfast, paid the hotel bill, loaded the car, said goodbye to the very competent and charming lady that ran the small hotel in Grainau, and got under way, direction Augsburg (well, direction Munich, as all roads north eventually converge on a tunnel, 2+ km long, cut through the mountain north of Garmisch-Partenkirchen for the Munich autobahn). Later, you get to diverge in other directions, including Augsburg. We chose to take the more scenic route, which took us past previously visited Ettal, Oberammergau, Unterammergau, etc. We could have take a faster route on the autobahn, but Scott and I came that way last year, and it is pretty soul-less. Rule of travel for reasonably short trips (2 hours or less) in Germany - unless you are in a total hurry, get off the Autobahn, but stick to Bundesstrassen (B roads); you'll see more and only take a little longer.

We got to Augsburg in about 90 minutes (going the fast route might have made that 75), and parked central to the centre of the city. Greater Augsburg is a sprawl, but the historically important and interesting old city is quite compact (which is a good thing, as we only had limited time before we got onto the rest of the lengthy drive this day). Almost everything of historical interest in Augsburg is concentrated along a central, very wide, avenue; the exception is the Fuggerei (no, that is not a bad word); a very early (16th c.) housing complex for "pensioners" in the city; pensioners in quotes because pensions really didn't exist - however Jacob Fugger, a very rich banker (rich from financing and then collecting on political offices), built this complex of row-houses for those who had no other means of support, the only requirement beyond a very modest rent of a few pennies a year being that they would daily pray for the soul of Jacob Fugger. Today the operation has been taken over by government social welfare, the rent is still minimal for very modern but modestly sized apartments, and no praying is required. Cynically, if several centuries worth of praying for the soul of Jacob Fugger didn't have a positive effect, it is unlikely that further praying would improve his situation.

But, I digress.

Other than the Fuggerei, everything is along a central axis, a very wide avenue. It wasn't always very wide! The aforementioned Jacob Fugger, deciding that Augsburg was important enough to deserve a wide central avenue (which incidentally would create a large open space in front of his own large and posh residence) had the houses between two streets along the route of the avenue razed; I have not been able to ascertain whether the owners of said razed houses were actually compensated.) Whatever; Jacob made it easy to see Augsburg.

At the northern end of Jacob's avenue is Augsburg Dom (cathedral), named Maria Heimsuchung (same as the church on top of the Zugspitze). Founded in 15 B.C.E., Augsburg goes back more than 2000 years as a city; it is named for the emperor Augustus, so we are dealing with a time around the birth/ministry/death and resurrection of Jesus Christ. Whatever; around the cathedral are examples of buildings with features that are (or might be?) baptismal fonts, decorated with early Christian symbols (fish), and there is other evidence of a very early (1st c.) Christian presence. And even ignoring all that, Augsburg cathedral is worth a visit; the present building dates from the late 1st to early 2nd millennium, with 14th and 15th c. gothic renovations. There is significant stained glass art, and the Romanesque bronze doors depict allegorical and biblical figures..

From the cathedral one can walk along the central avenue (the Maximillianstrasse for most of the way), reputed to be the most beautiful street in southern Germany, for about 1300 metres. One walks past the city hall, with a large open square in front of it and its Augustusbrunnen (a fountain with a large statue of the Emperor Augustus). Beside the city hall is the Perlachturm (Perlach's tower), which can be climbed (70 metres) to a viewing platform which shows all the city in panorama, the Alps to the south, and Munich to the north-east. Further along are the Fuggerhäuser, the city residence of the Fuggers; it is in this large city palace that Martin Luther met with Cardinal Cajetan (the pope's representative) and delivered the Augsburg Confession (Luther's statement of Lutheran belief) and stated his famous, "Here I stand, I can do no other!" The building is still owned by the Fugger family, and next to one small door a discreet sign announces the "Fürst von Fugger Privatbank" (Count Fugger Private Bank); some of the remainder of the building is a luxury hotel. Continuing the walk, one passes a number of impressive fountains and buildings, and at the end of the avenue to the churches of St. Ulrich and St. Afra (both of whom were local early Christians); these two separate worship buildings are build one on top of the other; the bottom is St. Ulrich, on top is (confusingly) St. Ulrich and St. Afra (the saints are buried in this building). Pre-Reformation, these were simply two separate worship spaces; after the Reformation, in a very sensible compromise the bottom became Lutheran, and the top remained Roman Catholic. Today, while separate, they operate a very significant joint ministry within the city of Augsburg.

We were only able to visit St. Ulrich, which is a very brightly lit but relatively low ceilinged church, reminiscent of New England churches (or maybe, given the time sequence, New England churches are reminiscent of St. Ulrich). The front of an almost all-around balcony is decorated with ooil paintings of biblical scenes, and the furnishings are mostly very simple pine (the pews under the balcony are very dark, the ones in the centre very light - these are quite new and in time will darken to match). The Roman Catholic St. Ulrich and St. Afra was closed for a complete interior restoration (and the signs announcing the closing also announced that the celebration of Mass would continue on a slightly reduced schedule in St. Ulrich, the Lutheran church - we can get along if needed!) Scott and I were able to visit St. U and St. A a year ago, when we happened to be there for Ascension day, and even late afternoon the haze and scent of incense permeated the space. It is in the gothic style, very high, and also very bright, and worth a visit (if it is open!).

After this, we walked back to the City Hall Square, and had lunch, outdoors, at one of the two restaurants that border the square. I love this part of German life; having lunch in a public square, good food, good beer and wine with no morality police worrying about some people having a drink in public, and being able to observe life going on all around - the elderly ladies who lunch, the business people stopping to relax on their way between meetings, the mother and daughter out for lunch together with mother asleep in her chair.

Alas, after lunch it was drive, drive, drive. We headed roughly north out of Augsburg to the A8 autobahn, and from there it was east in the direction Stuttgart, then Mannheim, via a sequence of autobahns. From Mannheim it is roughly north, following the course of the Rhine, although we never actually saw the river. And while no part of Germany if ever totally ugly - there are always beautiful vistas even from the autobahn - this is no way to go up the Rhine valley - but we were short of time. And so we drove past Heidelberg, visible off to the right in the distance, but were not able to stop for even a short visit. (It was 1969 when I was last there, and I would dearly love to re-visit - perhaps another time.).

In late afternoon we arrived in the Frankfurt-Mainz-Wiesbaden area, and found our way to the Hotel Rebe in Hochheim am Main (note on rivers and cities; many German towns and cities are named by the river they are on to distinguish the from other, similarly named towns or cities - thus my late father's town was Höchstadt an der Aisch [Höchstadt on the Aisch river] to distinguish it from at least five other Höchstadts). So we were in Hochheim am Main (on the Main river - and non-German speakers are now scratching their heads and screaming "but I thought he said 'an der' means 'on the' - well, it has to do with the gender of German nouns [and rivers] and for reasons known only to German lexicographers the Aisch river is feminine and the Main river is masculine - and as far as I know, rivers are only masculine or feminie, never neuter, eg. the Rhine is masculine, the Danube is feminine - go figure!).

Moving right along - Hochheim is on the Main river, which not far from there flows into the Rhine. To get more confusing, further up the Main, back where my father lived, the banks of the Main have significant wine growing going on, and produce a speciality wine called Frankenwein (the wine of the Franks) which is usually bottled in very distinctively shaped bottles called Bocksbeutel, sort of elliptically shaped both vertically and sideways. (Sadly, very little of this wine finds its way to the LCBO, and when it does is of mediocre quality and overpriced - there is not a lot of it being produced, and the Germans are not stupid and keep the good stuff for themselves.) But again, I digress - Hochheim is in a wine growing area, surrounded by vineyards, but despite the river they are on, they are growing Rhein wine (Rhine wine), which tends to find its way into the LCBO listings as plonk called Black Tower or Blue Nun, but actually comes in almost infinite varieties and much better quality than they usually ship abroad.

After settling into the hotel, we wandered up the street to a little courtyard restaurant that Scott and I had discovered the previous year. There we had the usually excellent meal, with a bottle of the local wine (grown on the Main but Rhein) from a vineyard that had been granted the use of her name by Queen Victoria, as she had liked the wine when she had visited this town about 110 years ago. (It is easy to forget the connections between British and German royalty, but Victoria would be here visiting cousins both by blood, through the House of Nassau, and by marriage to Prince Albert of Saxe-Cobourg.).

And then to bed.

Day 18; The Zugspitze: Fine Food, Wine & Beer at 3000 metres (17 May 2009)

3rd day is the charm! Woke up, looked out from the balcony, and there, directly in front, was the entire Alpspitze, and to the right, the Zugspitze; sunshine over all! Off to breakfast, quickly, and then off to the nearest Zugspitzbahn (Zugspitze railway) station. This was one of the "stop on demand" stations, meaning if you stood on the platform, the train would stop. Tickets were purchased from a machine (not cheap, Euro 49.50 per person, round trip) and were validated by getting them stamped with date and time at a machine on the train itself, a very common system on German public transit, which works largely on an honour system with the occasional inspector checking tickets who can levy quite large fines, payable instantly, much like the Austrian toll system (yes I am still bitter)!!! In the event, there was a wrinkle in the system, which we didn't know about, but "which everyone knows" - details later.

The train arrived not too much later. These are very modern electrical carriages (they have been electrical from the beginning, in the early 1930s, when the first railways up the Zugspitze began to operate). Now, the very modern cars feature flat-screen TV displays, announcing the next station, as well as showing informational videos. If you are on the train and wish to get off at a "stop on demand" station, there are buttons to push, and almost immediately the screens show the asked for stop.

The entire track from the main station in Garmisch to the end station at the Zugspitzplatt is about 19 km. The altitude at the Garmisch station is 705 m, at Grainau it is about 750 m. At Grainau, 7.5 km from Garmisch, the propulsion mode changes from adhesion (steel wheels on steel rails) to rack and pinion (toothed cogs on the cars engaging a matching rack at the centre of the rails). The next 2.5 km to the Eibsee station climb about 250 m to just over 1000 m altitude. The next 3.5 km or so climb another roughly 630 m, at which point the track enters a tunnel cut through the mountain to the terminal station. The tunnel is about 5 km in length, with a climb of almost 1000 m. Apparently the maximum gradient for the rack and pinion system is 250% (250 m climb in 100 m horizontal travel!); the maximum for the adhesion system is 35%. Many of these facts are from the narrative videos shown while the cars are in the tunnel, others are available on the website of the Bayrische Zugspitzbahn.

The terminal station is on the Zugspitzplatt, a plateau on the south side of the mountain, at almost 2600 m (roughly 1900 m above Garmisch), about 400 m below the summit. The facility has both indoor and outdoor restaurants, as well as the cable car station for the remaining 400 m to the summit. The outdoor eating area has spectacular mountain views in all directions.

The cable car to the summit is the size of a small bus, and depending on traffic, can operate in each direction about every 15 minutes. On the summit there are a few restaurants, Europe’s highest beer garden (not operating yet when we were there), a mountaineers’ hut with rough accommodation and a restaurant serving hearty fare, and an open platform from which, on a clear day you can see into Germany, Austria, Switzerland, Italy, and France. The platform is bi-national; in a few places there is effectively a line, one side of which is Austria, the other Germany. From here one can see a remnant of pre-Schengen agreement Europe, a customs hut on the ridge which forms the Austrian-German border, where skiers and mountain climbers were expected to check in if they crossed from one side to the other.

Off the platform is a locked gate and a small catwalk to the mountain itself. If one is properly equipped, and a holder of the appropriate skill-level mountain climber ID card, one can go out and climb the remaining few meters to the actual Zugspitze summit. As that is a slim spire, with sheer drops as much as 1000 m on all sides, no thank you..

The restaurants at the summit were all full, so we returned to the plateau where the capacity is much higher for lunch. But first we explored a bit, walking a few hundred metres up to the highest church in Germany, "Maria Heimsuchung" church (Mary’s Home Seeking – it makes more sense in German; also the "name" of the cathedral in Augsburg). This modest sized (seats perhaps 50)church is a memorial to several dozen guests at a former hotel above the Zugspitzplatt (it is now a research station) who were swept to their deaths from the large veranda of the hotel by an avalanche. Every Sunday a priest comes up on the train from Garmish and celebrates Mass, and while we were there, the bell began to ring, calling visitors, climbers and skiers to worship.

Also all around this area there are ski-lifts of various kinds, and dozens of snow-grooming machines were parked. During the ski season (and we were just beyond it) skiers take the train up (for a skier’s fare, higher than just visitors), and then can take various lifts higher and ski back down, or ski down, and take lifts back up, and then at the end of the day take the train back down, all for one price of admission. We’re not skiers, but just looking at the possibilities, this has to be as near to heaven as skiing gets.

But, it was lunch time, so we went to the ordering station for the outdoor restaurants, placed our order, told the waiter roughly where we would be seated, and waited. The orders are taken at a high-tech bar and serving station, which has a kind of Toronto Skydome retractable roof, and the orders go electronically to the kitchen inside the station building. After not too long, the complete meal arrives via conveyor belt back at the ordering station, and is carried the remaining metres by the server who took the order. Since there are no numbers issued, or any other way of identifying who ordered what and where they are, these waiters obviously have highly trained memories. Our food arrived hot, the beer cold, and given that we were eating at at 2600 m and every molecule we were consuming had been transported up by train (and cooking times at this altitude are very much longer than at sea level) this meal was as good as anything that we had at much lower levels. (But, Germans simply don’t put up with bad food – except, inexplicably, McDonalds and Burger King have taken hold!)

There is something to be said for a delicious outdoor meal in bright sunshine, cool, near-freezing air temperature and yet being too warm in just a shirt, the most spectacular mountain scenery in all directions, all this and your tan is getting darker by the minute.
Back up to the summit station for sight-seeing. The visibility this day was below the maximum (about 250 km), we were at 140 km, so one could barely make out Munich to the north, but a clear view of the Inn valley and Innsbruck to the south. Particularly amusing at 3000 m is a colony of crows who have taken up residence here, and mooch for food from the tourists. They are quite unafraid, and will hover at your elbow, eyeing your plate of food, looking for opportunities. Also remarkable are butterflies which live up here (and I have to assume, this being late May, have overwintered as pupae and just hatched). There are a few mountain flowers beginning to show on the nearby crags, but other than that, I have no idea what the butterflies are doing up here.

Another culinary adventure; afternoon coffee and pastry at 3000 m. There is a very lovely indoor cafe, serving pastry (I think baked in its own bakery) and very good coffee. This early in the tourist season (and late in the skiing season), it is quite uncrowded, so we take our time enjoying the view, and the snack. Also of interest, at various points on the windows (which cover almost 360 degrees all around) are etched vertical lines, with cross-lines labelled with destinations and distances (ie. what is in that direction), a very handy way of identifying directions and what one might see in the distance..

There are two ways back down to Garmisch-Partenkirchen from the Zugspitze summit. One is the cable car back to the Zugspitzplatt station, and the cog railway. The other is a cable car directly from the summit to the Eibsee station, 2000 m below. This was the one we took, and where we discovered the “gotcha” in the ticket system. Had we taken the cog train back down, no problem. But the cable car (and as we discovered the transfer to the cog train at Eibsee) requires a different (magnetically coded) ticket, which “everyone knows" you get by exchanging your ticket at a guest services desk – except we were not everybody. Fortunately, there was a real human at the cable car top station who explained this, and helpfully mentioned that the guest services desk was now closed and that the cable car now departing was the last one so we had better just duck under the gate while he was not looking.

That got us down the mountain in a very spectacular ride – think 2000 m elevator down, with nothing on any side to impede your view. From the bottom of the cable car it is a short walk to the Eibsee cog railway station, where you run into the 2nd part of the ticket “gotcha” – you can’t get onto the platform with your (cog railway) ticket because if you arrived here you should have the cable car ticket that you picked up at the guest services desk up the mountain. There is also no official human around; all looks automated. There is another Canadian couple who are also victims of the ticket system, so we share experiences – theirs are a lot more hilarious, because they speak no German, and thus had stayed on a train that had gone off to the overnight train parking area, etc. Finally, one of us noted that the access to the platform was blocked not just by an automated gate, but this was backed up by a very substantial (and physical) chain and padlock, meaning that a human would have to show up sometime – and indeed did, and after some grumbling punched codes into a terminal, and produced a couple of magnetically coded tickets, which got us onto the train, and back to Grainau.

There we had another lovely supper on a totally empty outdoor patio at a restaurant (with the distinct impression that we were holding up the staff from going home – we were between high seasons, and there wasn’t a lot of action in a town which lives off tourists) and then back to our hotel, to pack up, ready to depart for our next, and final, destination in the morning.

Day 17; Mittenwald & Innsbruck (A), and “My Fair Lady" in Tirolean and German (16 May 2009)

Got up, looked out; same as yesterday, a white wall of fog. This was not going to be the Zugspitze day either. At breakfast there were rumours from other guests that the next day might be better! Our previous day's travel had pretty well taken care of two day's worth of sightseeing that I had planned, except for Linderhof, and while just that one castle could have taken up most of a day, with a bit of extra sightseeing added, we didn't really want to do that. So we moved onto my Plan C, Mittenwald and Innsbruck, with the added possibility of going to the Tiroler Landestheater in Innsbruck for "My Fair Lady" - in German!

Mittenwald is about 15 km east and a bit south of Garmisch-Partenkirchen, perhaps 20 km by road, just inside Germany. However, the GPS traffic receiver (which worked in Germany) picked up a road closure that sent us on a 70 km detour north, east, and then back south, adding more than an hour to the trip, as at least half the route was along narrow roads, climbing mountains in steep hairpins, and more of the same down mountains. (Later I discovered that there would have been a more direct route, except it would have involved a U-turn, as we were beyond the turn-off when the traffic warning arrived - and I had programmed U-turn avoidance, as usually they are just a nuisance; you win, you lose! - see later discussion of gemuetlich). In compensation, the route took us through some countryside we would not have seen otherwise, including a couple of very pretty mountain lakes, one large enough that it was a sailing destination - we realized that because we had followed a car towing a sailboat for what seemed like hours along the aforementioned hairpins (German drivers might have passed, I am not that suicidal!).

Mittenwald, in the Isar valley, a river that goes on to run through Munich into the Danube, is a worthwhile destination, a mountain village of probably less than 6000 inhabitants whose chief significance is that it is on an old trading route from Italy (Lombardy) over the Brenner pass, to Augsburg, the banking city. It is therefore relatively prosperous, although these days its chief commercial activity is tourism (as the gateway to some very good skiing in Winter, and hiking and mountain climbing in Summer) and the building (for a couple of centuries) of stringed instruments (one institution is a school for luthiers - builders of violins, violas, cellos and basses, also guitars). There is also a violin-building museum.

Mittenwald is a very pretty town, with buildings decorated by paintings as is customary in southern Bavaria and northern Austria. A feature is that most streets have channels with water running in them on both sides, only a foot or two wide, with frequent "bridges." These are not sewers - the water is clear and clean enough to probably be drinkable - but the result of a town in a valley with high snow-covered mountains all around; they are channelled brooks and a part of flood prevention. A prominent feature in the town is the parish church of Sts. Peter and Paul, inside is in the usual rococo style. We were there in time for a wedding to emerge, with all the ladies in the local "dirndl" dresses with lace aprons, and the men in lederhosen or leather knee-breeches, green or gray loden jackets decorated with horn buttons, and hats with mountain goat "beards" or long feathers.

From Mittenwald the drive to Innsbruck is about 40 km, on good roads (and no detours). The city of about 120,000, in the Inn river valley (the Inn is a tributary of the Danube, which it enters at Passau in Germany, and for some considerable distance is the border between Austria and Germany) is almost totally surrounded by high mountain ranges and is a major centre on the route from Italy, through the Brenner Pass, into Germany. It was the centre of the 1964 and 1976 Winter Olympic Games, and is hosting the 2012 1st Youth Winter Olympics - all of which tells you that this is a major winter sports centre. It is the capitol of the Austrian state of Tirol (Tyrol in English - Question: why does English insist on changing the spelling of local names from how the locals spell it, even when the pronunciation is totally the same?).

After parking in an underground garage in the centre of the city, and emerging above ground, the first thing that strikes you is the beauty of the location. Looking in any direction, the horizon is high mountains. Further exploration brings you to the Inn river, and looking in either direction of its valley you see more high mountains, because the Inn valley curves on each side of the city. Thus, the city is in a "bowl" surrounded by beautiful mountains.

Our first order of business, after gasping at the beauty of the scenery, was the box office of the Tiroler Landestheater (land = state in this context, hence the Tirol state theatre). A large official sign announced that tonight's performance of "My Fair Lady" was sold out, but large official signs are not usually up to date, tickets are returned, and so we enquired. Indeed, there were a few tickets left for sale, and the very helpful salesperson told us that the best seats were actually not as good as some less expensive ones in the balcony, except that the balcony seats were single seats, with one sold seat in between - but we could ask the person separating the two seats to move either way, and as Austrians were very polite they would probably do so (as, in the event, they did). Having purchased the tickets, we proceeded to explore the town. Despite its age (the area has been settled since the Stone Age, it was a Roman city, and its coat-of-arms is dated back to at least 1267) the city consists of mainly modern (last few centuries) buildings, the result of heavy damage during WW II, and rebuilding to a common (Austrian) style. Nevertheless, there is lots to see, including some very beautiful churches and the cathedral, and a large central park, with the usual features, including a restaurant/pub.

This being a Saturday, there was lots going on. In the "old"city, which is a rabbits' warren of streets, in the central square, a Dutch brass band of perhaps 30 musicians was playing calssical music and show tunes. (We had seen their bus, and people wheeling cases of drums and tympani down cobble-stone lanes.) There were outdoor restaurants and cafes all around, and those dining, or sipping, had a great concert. Little side streets had interesting shops, including the usual tacky souvenir type; at one of which we saw signs and carrier bags decorated with Austrian humour - the international traffic sign of "No" in this case a silhouette of a kangaroo with a red bar through it, and just in case you didn't get it, the explanation "There are no kangaroos in Austria." Presumably someone, or more than someone, from an unnamed nation, had come and asked for the kangaroos!

We had a late lunch/early supper at one of the outdoor restaurants, and then went for a walk along the Inn river, following promenades on both sides, crossing at frequent bridges, both pedestrian only. While we didn't take one, also available in the parks along the river were horse-drawn carriages, which in the local dialect are called fiakers. A one time, before automobiles, these were the taxies for hire; today they are mainly a tourist attraction. But, an interesting linguistic/religious sidetrip: the "fiaker" taxi sounds like the Irish monk St. Fiacre, who is generally known as the patron saint of gardeners, but because of the similarity of the names, is also the patron of taxi drivers! (The connection arose from the fact that the Hotel de Saint Fiacre in Paris rented carriages. People who had no idea who Fiacre was referred to the small coaches as "fiacres.")

From there, after the usual quick transformation in the parking garage from casual tourists into well-dressed theatre-goers (June puts on a fancy jacket, I throw on a tie and a blazer) it is off to "My Fair Lady." Indeed, after the usual ordering of wine for intermission, and the casual southern-German/northern Austrian casual pointing at where we would find our drinks (and yes, they were there) we proceeded to our seats, and did persuade the gentleman sitting between us that he would be happy to sit on the aisle so that we could sit together.

Actually, it was not that simple - it seems that this particular theatre, and maybe all Austrian theatres, is/are quite casual about section/row/seat numbering on the tickets. Our first attempt got us to seats already occupied, and the occupying people were very helpful in pointing us to another section, with the same number, etc. We consulted an usher, who didn't know, and didn't seem to be all that concerned; just sit where you want to, which didn't seem all that helpful, given the house was supposed to be sold out! We did eventually get to the right seats; at least we think so, no one else challenged us. I used to think that the people in Munich had the monopoly on "gemuetlich," the un-translatable German concept of "I'm comfortable, don't bug me, we're alright, don't sweat the small stuff, be happy, it will be ok"; but these Austrian have that all beat.

"My Fair Lady" in German!

An interesting concept! The plot was exactly the same as the English version. So was the location, London; and the period costumes, and the names of characters. The music was the same, except that the words had been translated. Except for the language lessons, which obviously would not have made sense in German. Instead, they were common mis-pronunciations of "lower class" German vs. those of "high" German; and thus Eliza was tutored in the distinction between the "ue" diphthong sound in German, and the "u" sound drifting off towards "e" that "lower class" speakers use(d). Also, the "d" and "t" distinction was part of the plot. To be fair, most Germans now speak a homogenized version promoted by radio and television, although that does not seem to have happened in Austria, where the dialect is still very noticeable, and was used in this production. Certainly, the plot and the music were close enough to the English version that June had no trouble following, although I probably got more out of it because I speak German, and could appreciated the "dialect" jokes.

The singing and acting was quite good, excellent even; certainly up to the usual operatic quality one finds in Europe. Of note also was (again) the very clever use of a rotating stage, which allowed rapid scene changes and avoidance of the usual delays associated with those. (Why are there so few rotating stages on the North American opera/theatre scene; the only one I know of is at Lincoln Centre?)

And, a note on the "better seats" in the balcony rather than the more expensive seats that the box office person had promised. They had great sight-lines, if you leaned sharply forward, otherwise there was a railing directly across your view. At intermission the couple a few seats over clued us in to the secret - instead of sitting on your seat in its normal "down" position you left it up and sat on its top; not all that uncomfortable, and with perfect sight lines. As I said, "gemuetlich."

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Getting out of Innsbruck was interesting. Given the rather hairy (as in hairpin turns) route there, I was worried about the route back. But the problem began much earlier, as we emerged from the underground parking garage, having punched our hotel in Grainau as our destination into the GPS. (Yes, this is another GPS limitation lament!) We are in a deep valley between high mountains in all directions; the GPS is trying to lock onto enough satellites to get a fix on us, as we are moving. When it does (seemingly!) it begins to give me directions that make no sense - turn left, when there is no left turn available, etc. Finally, I realize that the GPS has me located on the wrong side of the river Inn, and I use my own common sense to get me to the side that the d+%@# machine thinks I'm on. After that, it gets me out of town, and high enough up that the satellites cease to have problems being "seen.".

Now, we are left with just the rest of my driving home to Garmisch-Partenkirchen nightmare. The way down, in daylight, was very hairy! What would it be like at night? As it turned out, hairy enough, but not totally so. The detour that we had taken down was avoidable on the way back. Still, we needed to travel over several mountain ranges, on two-lane roads, in absolute darkness except for my car lights. Not a problem, you just drive at a speed that works for you, normally! Except for German drivers (yes, we are in Austria, but, as much as I can tell, all the cars that eventually pass me have Munich registrations, heading home after the musical). Their motto is "If I am on a road with the speed limit 100 km/hr, I must drive 100 km/hr!" - except I wanted to drive 50! So it was a constant procession of several cars behind me, right on my tail, impatiently waiting for even the slightest opportunity to pass me, and me knowing only that on my right was a vertical cliff up, and on my left was a drop of unknown depth down! And, as they roared by me, I suspect I got the finger; charitably I thought they probably knew the road better than me, except as noted most of them did not have local licence plates.

We got back to the hotel, alive to tell the tale. I was tense enough to hit the honour system bar and get a small bottle of wine, just to get to sleep!

Day 16; The Ettal Monastery, Oberammergau, Wieskirche, and the Koenigsschloesser (15 May 2009)

We woke up this morning and checked the view from our balcony. Nothing, except a white wall of fog, and a gentle drizzle. After breakfast (very good by the way at this hotel) we checked the print-out of the local weather forecast provided by our host - fog and drizzle at our altitude; 2000 m higher, at the summit of the Zugspitze the visibility was good, but who wants to look at 150 km of cloud in every direction, with a few of the higher peaks sticking through. Obviously, this was not a day to go up to the mountaintop!

In the planning of this trip, I had anticipated this, and so every day's itinerary (of the three days/four nights we were based in Garmisch-Partenkirchen) could be switched with any other. Working on the principle that when in mountains, and the weather is not what you like, go across a range to another valley, and it will probably be different, we decided to go northward, across the foothills range, and visit some of the Bavarian royal castles and other attractions that are just on the edge of the Alps. There the weather, while not spectacular, was dry without much sun.

Our first stop, about an hour's drive from Garmisch-Partenkirchen, was at the Benedictine monastery in Ettal. While Benedictines have been settled in the Et valley (the meaning of Ettal) for nearly a thousand years, the present basilica and monastery buildings are fairly recent. The basilica is an impressive, octagonal building, decorated in the highly overdone rococo style, yet, somehow it works. Inside the church, there are memorials to previous abbots, each with a small biographical sketch, and also memorial to some clergy who sought refuge there during the 3rd Reich who were martyred in various concentration camps. A reminder that German monasticism, Benedictines particularly, did what it could to offer shelter to the opposition to Naziism.

The remainder of the village of Ettal is the usual Bavarian village, except for the very large hotel named "Ludwig der Bayer" (Ludwig [Louis] the Bavarian, born late 13th c.), reminding that Bayern (Bavaria) is an ancient kingdom, which only entered the German federation in the late 19th century, and had its own monarchy until the end of the 1st World War. Even today, as one enters Bavaria from other states of the Federal Republic of Germany, the signs announce that one is entering Freistaat Bayern (the Free State of Bavaria) and there are those in Bavaria who would like to make that Koenigsreich Bayern (Kingdom of Bavaria).

Nearby is the royal residence of Linderhof, the copy of the Petit Trianon in Versailles, built by King Ludwig II of Bavaria in the later 19th c. - apparently at a cost of more than 8 million gold marks, an unimaginable sum even in those days. It was the only one of Ludwig's construction projects that he actually saw completed in his lifetime. Both June and I had visited Linderhof (me just last year) so we gave it a pass, and instead drove on to nearby Oberammergau (which will once again host the every 10 years Passion play next year - 2010). When not overrun by tourists there for the play, it is a pleasant and pretty little village, with many beautifully decorated houses - and perhaps a few too many shops selling wood carvings , the major occupation of the village for 9 out of 10 years. Some of the items for sale are unique works of art, and very expensive; anything affordable is trite, or a mass reproduction. Rather than a carving, we found an Italian ice cream shop, and treated ourselves to a sundae lunch. These sundaes are "adult" sundaes, very elaborately constructed, with many flavours of ice cream, and finished off with very definitely alcoholic liqueurs. If there was any doubt about the freshness of the ice-cream, it was dispelled by steady stream of tubs full of freshly churned ice cream arriving from the back of the shop.

Leaving Oberammergau, we thought we would take a look at what a real (non-tourist attraction) village looked like in this area. We drove down the Ammer valley, to Unterammergau (Oberammergau means upper Ammer valley or area, Unterammergau means lower Ammer valley or area) The houses here are also decorated with paintings and sayings, but it is obvious that most of them are farm houses or small businesses as well as residences. We stopped at a bank to get some cash from their instant teller; no more than 10 m behind the bank entrance was a working farm, complete with dung heap and wood pile.

From there, it was about a 45 minute drive, mostly west-ward, to the Wieskirche (the church in the meadow). This very beautiful rococo (high baroque) style church is literally in a meadow, far from any town (the nearest is Steingaden). The backstory is that some hundreds of years ago a local farmer bought a statue of the scourged Jesus and placed it in the fields, where it deteriorated. Rumours of tears being seen on the face of the Saviour began to circulate, and the place became a pilgrimage destination, and a small chapel was built to house the statue. Very quickly it became apparent that this was too small to house the numbers of pilgrims, and the monks of nearby Steingaden Abbey commissioned the building of the present elaborate church in the late 1740s to house the statue, even though the old chapel remains. There are reports of miraculous healings from prayers before the statue.

The church was declared a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 1983. It is still in the meadow, the only nearby buildings are a recently built restaurant and gift shop, offering washroom facilities (at 50 Euro cents per entry, but very welcome nevertheless), and a large parking area for buses, as most visitors no longer walk in the 3 or 4 km from the nearest main road. The other change from my last visit, decades ago, is a very new wide access road from the main highway, replacing a narrow winding path.

Onward from there to the twin royal palaces of Hohenschwangau and Neuschwanstein. Schwangau is the nearby town (the name means swan district or swan valley) and the prefix "hohen" can be take to mean "heights of." Hohenschwangau is the royal hunting lodge, built by Maximilian II of Bavaria on the ruins of an old castle, Schwanstein, located high above the town. Ludwig II, the son of Maximilian, lived there during his youth. Apparently, even as a boy he wanted to improve the view by building a romantic castle across a valley on a high promontory, and as king he did so, Neuschwanstein being the result (the new Schwanstein - actually, during Ludwig's life it was called Neu [new] Hohenschwangau; the name change was made after his death). Its model, in the king's mind, was the castle of Lohengrin, the swan knight of Richard Wagner's opera of the same name.

It is of course a very familiar building; Disney's Cinderella castle was inspired by it. While some of its facilities are in fact usable, chiefly the state rooms, other rooms are too low in ceiling or too small to be practical, as rooms were fitted into the inside of a building designed to be "romantic" rather than usable. Ludwig never saw its completion (in fact, it was never finished, a planned "keep" in the upper middle courtyard remains unbuilt). Ludwig's palace building projects (the renovations to Nymphenburg and to the Residenz in Munich, Herrenchiemsee - a full-scale reproduction of Versailles on an island in the Chiemsee, Linderhof, and Neuschwanstein, and another half-dozen or so projects that never got beyond the planning stage) had effectively bankrupted Bavaria and was threatening the private fortune of the Wittelsbachs (Bavaria's royal family). He was declared insane without any medical evidence and deposed. The next day he and one of the physicians who had declared him insane were killed in a mysterious accident in very shallow water despite both being strong swimmers. Ludwig's death was declared a suicide, despite no water being found in his lungs, and the physician's death was never explained satisfactorily, all of which has excited conspiracy theorists ever since.

Seeing both castles is a walking project! We parked in the village of Schwangau, and then walked first up to Hohenschwangau, an easy walk on well-kept roads with good views of the nearby Alpsee (a lake on which wild swans nest, which gives the district its name.) From the castle itself the view across the valley towards Neuschwanstein is spectacular, and indeed without the castle would not be nearly as romantic. While one can tour some of the interior of the castle, we chose not to, as it is dominated by its hunting lodge past, with an endless collection of mounted stag heads, a hunting weapon collection, and period furniture. There are lovely formal gardens fitted into the mountain crag on which the building is located, and westward the Alpsee provides a spectacular mountain lake view. There is also a newly restored royal chapel, with a very modern interior. As an aside, Hohenschwangau is still owned by the head of the Wittelsbach family, currently, Franz, Archduke of Bavaria. Neuschwanstein, on the other hand, is owned by the State of Bavaria.

The descent back into the valley is down some staircases and winding paths; quite steep but easy in the downward directions. From the valley the climb up to Neuschwanstein is several kilometres, on good roads and paths, but a good climb. At this point we were glad that the temperature was not too warm, and that there was not much sun. The alternate transportation up (and down) are horse-drawn wagons with seats, which we did no use. At various places along the climb up alternate paths are offered, most shorter but steeper; we chose to continue on the well-paved roads that were longer but with more gently gradients. Near the castle is also a "Gaststaette" - a pub with outdoor seating, if rest and refreshment is needed.

The Neuschwanstein castle, once one reaches it, is actually less spectacular than from a distance, as it is so massive that is cannot be seen as a whole. Again, one can tour the inside, we chose not to do so. Instead, we continued the walk for perhaps another km to the Marienbruecke (St. Mary's bridge) which spans the Pollat gorge which forms the other side of the promontory on which Neuschwanstein is built. From there the castle is again in full view, on the side not facing Hohenschwangau. Unfortunately, as parts of most public buildings in Germany are, that was the side being restored this year, so much of the view was covered by scaffolding. The bridge itself is spectacular, bridging a deep gorge with a mountain stream with several waterfalls and deep pools. The walk to and from the bridge also gives several good views of Neuschwanstein, Hohenschwangau, the Alpsee, and the entire valley to the north.

There are several routes back down to the village and car park. One is simply to retrace the way up, but now some of the shorter, steeper routes become attractive, as they are a lot easier down than up. In any case, the return trip to the valley takes a lot less time than the climb up! We were glad to get back to the car, and settle in for the short trip (~20 km) to the village of Eisenberg and the Pfeffermuehle (Peppermill) restaurant. Having g had nothing but ice cream for lunch, and done a lot of walking and climbing hills, we were ready for a good supper!

Scott and I had found the Pfeffermuehle the previous year by the simple expedient of getting lost trying to locate the Wieskirche. Ending up miles away (we never did go there) and with the prospect of more than 150 km driving back to our hotel, we decided to stop at the first place that looked good for supper, and this was it. The meal we had then was outstanding, and worth another visit.

As the year before, Spring lamb was on the menu, and so June and I, after the usual German salad to start, ordered lamb chops. One rather odd "appetizer" also arrived, the usual almost black German farm bread, accompanied by a spread which turned out to be roast goose drippings. It took me back to my childhood, when this was considered a delicacy, and I quite enjoyed it; June passed. The lamb chops were as good as I remembered them, and the quantity was more than adequate, a rack of six chops each! We agreed that this might have been the best lamb we had ever eaten.

Last year I had asked where the restaurant got its lamb, and the somewhat puzzled reply (sort of, how stupid are you to ask) was that it was local, from the local butcher, and that everything else, other than the beer and wine, was local too. That points out one of the features of eating in family-operated restaurants and small family-run hotels in Germany; many of the customers are local, and if the food is not good, they don't come back. And, as many of the customers are local merchants and farmers, the raw materials are also purchased locally, and if they are no good, the restaurants find another supplier. This virtually guarantees the excellence of meals. Another illustration of this; for dessert we had ordered fresh strawberries with icecream and whipped cream, and after some time our waitress came back and told us she couldn't really recommend having the strawberries, as it was near the end of the season, and the ones they had were beyond their prime.

After supper we returned to Grainau and our hotel by a route that was almost all through Austria, and thus we got at least a taste of the northern Tirol region, although we didn't stop, and thus got back to our starting point just as the light was failing. The route we took was south of the one that Scott and I had taken from Linderhof to the royal castles area, much of it through the Loisach river valley; spectacular mountain scenery and very pretty villages and countryside, which would have been worth a much more lingering trip, for which we unfortunately didn't have time.

Day 15; Drive to Garmisch-Partenkirchen (Grainau), via Ruhpolding, Rauschberg, along the Alpenstrasse (14 May 2009)

Up early, breakfast (same comments about the quality at Hotel Koenigssee as yesterday)and then off eastward along B470 (the Deutsche Alpenstrasse - the German Alps Road). It's a spectacular drive, through varied alpine landscapes, with many opportunities to stop for views and pictures.

Our first stop was at Ruhpolding, a small village that I have stayed at many times before, and that my son Scott and I spent 3 days in last year. It is a very pretty alpine village, worth a visit in its own right, but we visited only the parish church (despite it being totally visible on a high hill above the town it is not easy to get to) because they have a Madonna from the 11th or 12th c. that is a masterwork of the times. Also, surrounding the church is the cemetery, which is a history in miniature of the life of the town, Many graves note that the deceased was killed mountain climbing; and most of the graves are inaccessible, except by mountain climbers carrying a casket.

We then backtracked a few kilometres to the Rauschbergbahn, the cable car to the top of the Rauschberg; a 900+ metre, almost vertical trip up a mountain with only one intermediate tower almost at the top. We went up in almost perfectly clear weather, and did a walk about at the summit, which has a spectacular view. A year ago when Scott and I were here, there were a dozen or so hang-glider flyers waiting their turn for take-off, this time there were none. We wondered why. Eventually, we came back to the summit restaurant for lunch, and found out why no one was flying. Within minutes a fog/cloud closed in that limited visibility to a few metres, and dropped the temperature to the mid-teens. We continued lunch (what else could we do) and within another 20 to 30 minutes, the visibility went back to near normal. In time, we took the cable car back down, just in time to get into our car and avoid a major downpour.

That was the theme for the rest of the day, as we drove along the German-Austrian border (with an occasional incursion into Austria - not a problem as long as we had the toll sticker!) towards Garmisch-Partenkirchen. Of particular note is the destination town of Reit-im-Winkl, which on a drive-through qualifies as exceptionally pretty, and worth more of a visit in the future.

Our stay in the Garmisch-Partenkirche area was booked at the Hotel Bergland, in Grainau, at the foot of the Alpspitze/Zugspitze mountain range. This turned out to be a very congenial, pretty, and well-run family hotel. We had a balcony room, with a great view of the mountains (when it wasn't fogged in - more later.) We settled in, and prepared to be flexible with our sight-seeing plans, waiting out the weather.