3-28-2016 DES MOINES, IA

A lot of people don’t think 460 miles is a long way to drive in a day.  Rob and I are not two of those.  We like to stop on a whim to look around and see interesting things.  Today was not such a day.  We took turns driving twice each.  (Fortunately, we have a hotspot on Rob’s phone so I was able to answer lots of letters and continue the fun of writing, editing and doing the photo work that the blog requires.)  The highways and byways pass many a farm equipped with several silos; rivers, small lakes and occasionally, big ones are scattered generously everywhere, thawed and rippling.  This area is no stranger to wind and windmills in the fields pump water into the stock tanks for the thirsty range animals.  I thought Nebraska was called, “The Cornhusker State,” but frequently, I see, “The Windmill State.”  Hmmm.  The wide open spaces are harvested and manicured awaiting the upcoming planting season.  Flocks of wild turkeys wander around the mowed fields.  Geese and ducks have made the flight back for the warm season and cruise around on the river banks.  Baby rodents are hiding from hawks and vultures soaring in the wind.  Broad leafed trees are sprouting buds.  Ranges are dotted with livestock and one hapless cow who had her head, ears and tag tangled in the fence.  Ah, Spring has sprung in the Heartland.

We two at Hessen Haus

We arrived in Des Moines late in the afternoon just in time for the cocktail hour.  We weren’t sure about finding an interesting place to eat but Rob surfed around and hit our version of a jackpot.  He found the Hessen Haus and we were off like a prom dress!  The Hessen Haus used to be a bus garage and it is, therefore, long and tall.  The finishings are beautiful rich wood, lights and glass.  My beloved filled his requirement for wienerschnitzel while I took the waitress’s recommendation of a pork chop smothered in mushrooms and white wine and cheese sauce.  The food was delicious and the German beer was ice cold and refreshing.  We really enjoyed the evening then fell fast asleep after a rather long day.

Lindy at Hessen Haus

The next leg of this trip will be spent with the Kraus clan.  More to come!

3-27-2016 OGALLALA, NE

The roads heading east from Rifle were clean and dry meandering through the rocky canyons.  How they engineered these roads is a mystery to me, if not a miracle. 

There was a slow stretch where there had been a rock slide, as we had been warned by my brother Larry who had traveled out this way last month.  It has been cleared away by this time and the slowing of traffic to 50 was precautionary as the construction crews repair the concrete barriers.  (You know, those things that keep you from catapulting off the edge down 10,000 ft. into a canyon full of other skeletons.)  When we hit the Rockies around Denver, it was a pretty ride through beautiful snowy peaks demarcated by the timberline and streaked with many chairlifts and ski runs. 

Cruising along with the Colorado River

This is how my mind manufactures a picture of Colorado, but in fact, east of the Rockies, the state flattens out into expansive flat grassy plains.

Those plains continue to stretch on and on for hours into Nebraska.  Often, people will remark that driving through the plains states is deathly boring.  “The fly-over states,” they call it.  Like the only two places that are important are NYC and LA and you just fly over everything else?  I think not.  Traveling the east to west highway, you pass miles of fields that grow our wheat and corn and, scattered everywhere, all the John Deere farm equipment that maintain and cultivate these.  Tens of thousands of silos are filled with grain to feed what will become the juicy rib eyes on America’s plates.  A million trucks travel along the main commerce artery through the center of the country carrying goods to and fro.  How can driving across the heartland’s thoroughfare, America’s bread basket, be boring?  There is so much to see!  I am never bored!  (If you don’t count the 5 years of marriage to my ex.)  Especially when I am driving and the wind tries to blow the BFT into another lane occupied by a couple of tri-trailer semis that seem to move along by fishtailing.  In this part of the world, signs warn motorists of gusty winds and windsocks are not just indicators at airports.  They are mounted above the many gusty wind warning signs on the median strips and they stick straight out.

Ogallala (pronounced “oh-gah-LAH-lah”), Nebraska was our stop for this day.  Let’s say we did the hully gully to Ogallala (Say that three times fast!).  The word Ogallala is a rough derivation of Oglala, a band of Lakota Indians of the parent Sioux tribe that inhabited the area.  Ogallala was considered the end of the cattle-drive trail, where the cattle met their demise in one way or another.  We had a wonderful room here at the Stagecoach Inn.  I don’t know if the Wells Fargo stagecoach out front is the genuine article or not, it sorta looks like it. 

The room was amazingly down home with lace curtains and real furniture, a solid walnut dresser and a desk with brass handles on the drawers.  Hot waffles and biscuits and gravy for breakfast for my beloved made this a most pleasant stay indeed.

Off to Des Moines, Iowa.  A longish drive of 460 miles but we’ll switch off, make sandwiches and have fun!

Rob and the dirty BFT

3-26-2016 RIFLE, CO

The morning greeted us with three inches of snow piled up on the truck, roofs and ground!  And it was still coming down!  With more than 350 miles to drive this day, it seemed important to get packed up, loaded, grab a quick breakfast provided by the innkeepers and head for the highway.  I thought maybe we could outrun the unexpected snowy monster.  This was not to be!  When we left the hotel, it was 28F.  The intensity of the blizzard increased, the temp dropped to 24F, we climbed and my passenger gripped the “Help me handle” while I drove.  There were about three passes to navigate through the mountains of Fishlake National Forest, the blizzard reduced visibility to near zero and the only pavement to be seen were the two paths that tires make, at times.  It was safest to put the BFT’s tires in the tracks of a semi ahead and stay put, steady as she goes. 

About two hours into our trip patches of blue sky began to peek through the snow clouds and we knew we were through the worst of it.  Eventually, the skies were blue with white fluffy clouds here and there as we traveled through canyons flanked on either side by tall, red, stunning, rugged towers of rock. 

Each time we rounded a bend, another incredible vista caused a gasp, “Oh My God!”  And just when I thought that was the most beautiful I had seen, we’d round another bend and gasp even louder, “Oh My Holy Buckets God!”

The shocking in-your-face red canyons and towers of Utah gave way to wide open spaces and rolling hills where elk, range cattle, deer and the canteloupe play.  On the horizon to the south, more bright red canyons and sharp escarpments.  On the horizon ahead, snowcaps.  I believe we are facing the Rockies.  Oh mercy Percy.

From the hotel room where we are now established, the BFT sits in the parking lot looking very, very dirty!  Nothing like a dirty truck to mark time, date and experiences.  Rifle, Colorado is the current stop.  Everybody has a bucket list, right?  On mine (seriously) is, “Eat at Shooter’s Grill in Rifle, Colorado.”  One time while channel surfing we tuned into a show called, “Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives.”  The show featured Shooter’s Grill.  The theme at this diner centers around the Second Amendment:  We The People’s right to keep and bear arms. 

Lauren

The staff and waiters wear holstered and loaded pistols.  On the walls, a variety of rifles and pistols can be seen on display as well as a lot of funny posters.  Our waitress, Lauren, was sporting a 9mm. 

I decided on a green chili burger and Rob thought that sounded so good he seconded that motion.

The board says, "PLEASE No Smoking
within a 15 ft. radius of all business
entryways, thank you kindly.
("a 15 ft. radius..." Really?)

  No alcoholic adult beverages are served at this establishment, understandably.  So after having a lot of fun eating delicious food and socializing with the armed natives, we crossed an item off of my bucket list and stepped outside where the old brick buildings bathed in the red and orange of the setting sun frame the narrow streets.  We found a saloon, “The Big Kids Corner Bar.”  In the Kraus family, the sibs were divided into “the big kids” and “the three little kids (Lin, Marlene and Larry).”  Turns out The Big Kids Corner Bar in Rifle, CO is OK with the oldest of the Three Little Kids stopping in for a quick brew, putting the wraps on an exciting day.

ACROSS THE USA IN SPRINGTIME 2016 INTRO

Maybe driving across the Continental Divide in Springtime is not a good idea.  Snow and all that, don’tchaknow.  We live in Nevada:  We do not own a snow shovel.  Gulp.  We shall see!

A couple of decades ago when my folks died, we ten Kraus kids dismantled the farm in Neenah, WI and took away what we could in trailers, trucks and boxes.  Some of the things I wanted could not be shipped to California and so, all these years later, they are still in my brother’s attic.  Rob and I talked it over and decided that it is time to “go home” and retrieve the precious childhood items I wanted so badly to salvage from the farm.  Maybe I will find that I was silly.  Maybe not.  I’m too old to worry about that.  Rob is helping me gather up a few treasures.

Thus, we are driving from Nevada to the Midwest over the next week in the BFT (Big….Truck)!  This will be so much fun!  While we are there, the Kraus Family Reunion, Wiedervereinigung, will take place and all my brothers and sisters will gather at Larry (brother) and Linda’s home in White Bear Lake, MN for the week end.  This reunion takes place every year at the same time, the week end after Easter.  Why?  Because our good Catholic parents would not let us drink and party during Lent.  Fine, we can wait another seven days.  We get together every year after Lent and Easter to sacrifice, go bowling, drink beer and wine, party, eat meat and left over Easter eggs!  We are a giving, humble, prayerful bunch.

First stop:  Beaver, Utah. Driving here was delightful.  Well, after we got through the “Spaghetti Bowl” in Vegas, where a car was on fire and there was an hour traffic delay as notified by our GPS.  Clever navigator that I am, I got us around that mess in less than half an hour!  The rest of the stretch took us through ranges dotted with cattle and their babies, foothills covered with cedars, scrub oaks and pines and, far on the horizon, white snowcaps against royal blue sky. 

I don’t know what the haps are in Beaver, Utah, and I may not be able to find out, with only one night to stay, but I’ll try.  The sun is setting behind the mountains.  The locals recommended Arshel’s Café where Mom cooks the food for you, just up the road ½ mile.  There we were seated at a table next to a nice Mormon family, Gramma, two Moms and ten (yup, count ‘em, ten) lovely Republican children, from a nursing infant to a 12 year old.  They were celebrating Gramma’s birthday and honoring her knack for storytelling.  Because of this claim to fame, she decided to tell a story about when she was a young girl.  (Sorry, I eavesdropped.)  She and her friends attended a church function and the boys invited them to share a piece of their cake.  The cake had a wonderful filling containing chunks of chocolate candy.  “Yummy!” the girls giggled.  They later learned, first-hand, that the chocolate was ExLax.  Gramma is still giggling.  Rob and I enjoyed our delicious hot clam chowder, fish, shrimp and chips and came home to the Butch Cassidy Inn.  Time to rest up for the road ahead.

12-15-2015 FRANKFURT, GERMANY

We were in a bit of a hurry to get to Frankfurt where our car was due to be dropped off by 3PM.  But not so much in a hurry that we couldn’t drive the squiggly back roads for a time.  On a map, this road looks like the convolutions of a brain and Rob was in Heaven driving it. 

Tiny road to Frankfurt

We passed through many tiny villages with very narrow roads sometimes not much wider than a driveway and in the fields, perfect and laid out with a t-square, the occasional shrine requesting God’s blessings and protection.  This is the pretty part of the trip, far more so than screaming along the autobahn at ~110 mph being passed by others screaming faster.

On the tiny winding road to Frankfurt

Upon arrival in Frankfurt, we found it to be a mix of antiquity and big, modern, windy city.  Our hotel was about ½ block from the Christmas market so we dropped the car off when we arrived and our feet were our final transportation for two days.  Maybe the cities and villages compete for first place in the spectacular department when it comes to the Christmas markets.  Frankfurt’s would certainly rank way up there.  First, there is a tree in the middle of the square that we estimate to be 150 feet tall and it is decorated with lights and ornaments all the way to the top.  Would it be fun to ride that cherry-picker or what?! 

Giant tree at the
Christmas Market

One last time, we spent some hours weaving in, out and around the beautifully-decorated booths in the cold and occasional rain. 

Mr. Tree

This time, we were lucky to find enclosed, warm booths that were set up like saloons with long tables and seats!  Rob had his first pizza in weeks but done German-style, “flammkuchen,” with a cracker thin crust, white sauce, special cheese and vegetables.  About the cheese:  we asked about it and Hanka described it as “Französches emantaler mix,” a secret private recipe that the chef would not divulge! 

Rob gets a pizza fix
(flammkuchen) 

She offered me a bowl of the cubes marinating with, she turned the spoon a bit for me to see, a snail in it!  I wanted to try it but a whole bowl, maybe a pound, of cheese was a bit too much.  I pointed at my fluffy middle and Hanka cried, “Nein, nein, NEIN!  Not too much!  It’s Winter!  ACH!”  She walked away shaking her head.

We took a ride around town on the tour bus to learn a bit of the history.  When Charlemagne was engaged in battle and his troops were backed into a corner at river’s edge (the Main), he looked out to the water and saw a doe and her fawn crossing.  He then realized it was shallow enough to wade across and so his troops escaped capture, crossed the river and set up a “fort of the Franks,” which over time evolved into the city’s name, Frankfurt.  Closer to home, in 1938, a year when the Nazis were on a mission to destroy every Hebrew molecule on the planet, the synagogue here was destroyed by fire in similar fashion as in other cities we have visited.  Nevertheless, the synagogue was restored, the Jewish people returned and there is a community of roughly 7,000 now living in Frankfurt.  And also, maybe, in peace.  Even closer to home, moored at the river’s edge was the River Queen, the boat we sailed on 2009 from Amsterdam to Budapest! 

MS River Queen on the Main!

Wow, cool!  “Hey Rob, I can see our room from here!”

This morning, a taxi carried us to Frankfurt airport at 6:30 AM.  After many days of little sleep in strange beds and noisy rooms with sirens and boy racers on the streets, the chimes of the church bells every 15 minutes starting at 4AM, in and out of the suitcase, we are very tired.  Maybe when we arrive home we will sleep for 24 hours.  Then, it will be time to (wait for it) get into Christmas!  Das ist alles, für jetzt.  Frohe Weihnachten mit liebe!

Merry Christmas with love!

12-13-2015 ROTHENBURG OB DER TAUBER, GERMANY

Suzy-Q, the lady inside our GPS, took us directly, with just a little confusion on both her part and ours, through the farm country to our next little hotel.  Rob did a good job of navigating the tiny cobblestone lane, about a foot wider than the car on either side.  The Hotel Reichsküchenmeister is inside the wall near the center of town.  Not a single crabby Kraut is employed here.  The staff is beyond gracious.  What a view from our beautiful second floor room, through a double set of windows made up of small panes framed in wood. 

View from our window

Between them is our “refrigerator” for sundries such as wine and cheese.  Before long we were settled in and, after checking the documents and play money supply we routinely carry, it was time to go walk the glittery Christmas lanes.  (I keep my “pretend money” in a ziplock.  Classy, hey?)  There are decorations everywhere:  thousands of Christmas lights, trees, boughs, ribbons and ornaments as far as the eye can see. 

Rothenburg Christmas Market

Marketplace flanked by ancient buildings

Röthenburg (“Red Fortress”) is an ancient city dating back to the 11^th century and is still hugged by its original 3-foot thick walls. I am not sure from who the walls protected the burg, probably many different invading armies over the centuries.  One army that did not attack Röthenburg was the Allies during WWII.  The city was recognized as an ancient treasure and although everything outside the walls was obliterated, Röthenburg went unscathed, in like manner as other monuments such as the centuries-old Cologne Cathedral. 

Cologne Cathedral surrounded by rubble (note the bridge)

Lindy at the wall around
Rothenburg

Wall thickness measured in Rob-arms

In the center of town is the Church of St. Jakobus (St. James) and around it are beautiful half-timber buildings with tall gables and crooked shutters.  At the top of the Ratstrinkstube, the councilors’ tavern, animated figures depict a particular scenario from the 1600s.  In a confrontation with enemy forces led by General Tilly, Mayor Georg Nusch and he reached an agreement. 

Typical half-timber building.  This one is a pharmacy.

My favorite store:  Kathe Wohlfahrt's
Christmas Market

If Mayor Nusch could drink 3 ½ liters of wine in one minute, he would save his town from being pillaged.  Well, being the hero that he is, he chugged all of it and saved his town.  What a giver.  (No one says how the Mayor felt the next morning.)

There is a museum here that features medieval torture implements.  Somehow, a tour through this place didn’t seem to fit the spirit of The Season.  One device I know of was a cage built of bars.  A person was locked in this cage and submerged in the river until near-death (if he was lucky, I guess).  An infraction that justified this torture, as an example, was if a bread maker sold a one-pound loaf of bread that didn’t quite weigh one pound or a dozen rolls that was below the prescribed weight.  It became common practice for him to throw an extra roll in the bag, just to be on the safe side.  Thus was born the expression, “a baker’s dozen,” thirteen. 

If Rob is on a quest to find the perfect wienerschnitzel, I am on one to find the perfect leberknödel.  Rob may achieve his dream but I probably will not, because I already know where the perfect leberknödel was:  my Mom’s kitchen.  Everybody else tries hard.  Fortunately, the recipe is still alive and well in the family recipe collection!

Could this be the
perfect wienerschnitzel?

Shall we discuss Yurrupean showers?  Oh forget it.  Suffice it to say that there is a drain in the middle of every bathroom floor for a reason.

Frohe Weihnachten vom
Rothenburg ob der Tauber!

12-11-2015 MUNCHEN, GERMANY PART III

The Marienplatz is the center of the Christmas markets and it spreads out on the streets from there like the spokes of a wheel.  The Marienplatz is a huge plaza bordered on one side by a colossal structure called the Neues Rathaus, that is the “New Town Hall.” 

Neues Rathaus (aka Congress)

It is so massive and ornate that, at first blush, you would think it were a cathedral, not a government building.  And if this is the “new” one, built in the 1500s, what in the world could the “old” one look like?  Rob and I thought it was fitting, though, to call a building where politicians work a “Rat House.”  This building houses a huge glockenspiel with larger-than-life figures that twirl and dance to the music and the bells.  It doesn’t function every hour because it is old and fragile but we were lucky to arrive on the platz just as it began to play.  Thousands of people were stopped in their tracks, staring up in awe at the tower.

The glockenspiel

The Christmas markets are amazing.  They are created of booths made of wood, detailed and decorated with garland, trees, ornaments and lights.  (Where do they store this stuff for the other 49 weeks/year?)  Mile after mile you can stroll and admire the arts and crafts, all made carefully by artisans here in Germany.  You will not find “Made in China” labels here.  The organ grinders play carols and the bells in the towers peal.  The one thing you cannot do under any circumstance is sit down.  When you go to the Christmas Market, order food, have a glüwein, whatever it is you wish to do, you do it standing up.  There is no place, NO WHERE, to sit down.  At the end of a cold day walking on the cobblestones, it becomes time to find a warm place to plop down.  Which is where the gasthaus comes in handy.  We came upon the Andechser am Dom and decided to have a little bite for lunch.  Some friendly Krauts invited us to join their table and we were really glad.  It was cozy and the folks were smiling and happy.  Christmas time does that to people!  One lady was eating tartar and I was intrigued so I asked her about it and we all began to chat.  She was the most outgoing of the group and when Rob asked about the walleye on the menu, she cried, “Eeeeeew!  Ach, NEIN!  No fisch!  Ugh!  This is a bräuhaus!” 

"Nein, no fisch!" she said!

They wretched and we laughed.  We came back here for dinner and Rob ate (wait for it) schnitzel while I savored the tartar.   The locals are usually right.

At the Andechser am Dom

The Andechser am Dom - Yes, they eat
outside!  They think it's Summer!

We wandered home after dinner in the evening and all the Christmas markets were ablaze with Christmas lights and buzzing with activity under the watchful eye of the beautiful Neues Rathaus.  It was a happy day for us.

Marienplatz, Neues Rathaus
and Christkindlmarkt

Marienplatz Christkindlmarkt

The next morning, we arose and packed up.  Our next stop is Röthenburg and we took the back roads through the countryside to get there.  In a small town, Höchstädt an der Donau,

Hochstadt Palace in Hochstadt an der Donau

just around the bend a huge castle suddenly appeared.  It was built by Count Philipp Ludwig in 1574 for his new bride, Anna, the Duke’s daughter.  Thirteen years later, she was widowed and lived in the castle alone for 17 more years.  Now, the courtyard inside the castle is used for concerts, events and as a café/biergarten.  Continuing along the road, in Nördlingen, the locals sent us to the Red Ochsen Gasthof.  It is a tiny little room where an old fellow and his wife are the cooks and today’s fare is written on a blackboard.  We sat down at the old wooden table with a pretty little tablecloth in the middle and pillows on the chairs.  Rob chose rind goulash with spätzle and gravy and my lunch was a big bowl of suppe containing vegetables, many kinds of meat cut in tiny pieces and maultaschen (little raviolis containing meat and vegetables).  Like everything else we’ve had the pleasure to eat, the food prepared here was delicious.

I don’t know about the Krauts.  They’re petty gruff and impatient.  If the shortest distance between points A and B is where you are standing, you’ll be run over as if you are invisible.  We stepped into an antique shop in München and a crabby old Kraut asked for what we were looking.  We explained that we were just looking around.  He waved his arms and yelled, “This isn’t a museum!  I have to pay rent for this store in this building!  Do you want to buy something or not?!”  OK, auf wiedersehn, Herr Scheisskopf!  I’d like to find a wine glass like my Mom’s favorite glass but one thing is for certain:  if that crabby old bastard did have one in his store, he still does.

12-11-2015 MUNCHEN, GERMANY PART II

Our first whole day in München was ridiculous.  It was cold enough to freeze the nuts off a plow and raining.  I’m not a big fan of being cold.  Am I going to go out in this and wander around on the streets to look at strings of Christmas tree lights?  Already struggling with a cold?  I think not.  The least it could do is snow!

Rob suggested that we spend the day indoors.  Good idea.  We rode the sightseeing hop-on-hop-off bus to get an overview of the city.  It was so cold that the windows, covered with raindrops, fogged up and we couldn’t see a thing.  The guide spoke German and a bit of English so we didn’t learn a whole lot.  The bus stopped at the Nymphenburg Palace and we were invited to get off and tour the grounds and buildings.  “We’ll pick you up later, another bus will be by.”  I don’t think so.  The Palace does have some interesting history, though, and on a better day, it would have been a spectacular sight with vast expanses of lawn and fountains all surrounded by palace buildings.  There were a lot of Ludwigs, Maximillians, Ferdinands and Marias involved in the history and they were all by rights blood lines of this and that making them very, very important.  The one thing I did get from the broken English on this tour is that this chick from Spain, Maria, married this guy from here and they kept trying to have a son so she promised God she would build a church if she could get pregnant.  (Apparently she thought getting pregnant involved a church.  Maybe because everybody yells, “Oh God!  Oh God!”)  I guess she figured it out because she got pregnant and gave birth to Maximillian who turned out to be one of the greatest Bavarian rulers ever.  His statue is all over town.  Maximillian Street.   Maximillian Square.  Maximillian stew.  Maximillian E-I-E-I-O!  We dig Max to the max!  And that’s all I know about that.

Rob at the Bimmer Museum

Magnesium chassis

As I mentioned, it was cold and rainy, so a museum made sense.  We continued on the bus to the BMW Museum, led there by Rob’s built-in GPS system that runs on petrol.  Interestingly, the company started out in 1917 with an airplane engine that they marketed to the Prussians during WWI.  It was a big success and the company name was changed to Bayerische Motoren Werke.  It wasn’t till the 1930s that they created motorcycle and auto engines and later, race cars.  One of the chassis on display is made of magnesium, very light-weight but hard to weld because it’s flammable.  The entire chassis weighs about 75 pounds.  (And bursts into flame on impact?  They don’t talk about that.)   The museum is state-of-the-art modern and sparkling clean and the exhibits are polished with q-tips until they glitter.  Quite impressive.

Bimmer Museum

Rob and the 3.0 CSL

We waited in the rain and, finally, frozen and wet, we boarded the bus for the rest of the city tour.  It took us past many a fountain, monument and arch but all I was thinking about was drying out and getting warm so I must confess that I don’t have much to tell you about the city highlights.  I know that I dreaded the walk back to the hotel. Luckily, the Hofbräuhaus stood in the way,

Ein Hofbrauhaus!

holding a table, keeping the food warm and the beer cold.  To my surprise, Rob had something other than schnitzel!  He ordered roulade of wild boar!  I ordered  Bavarian deer stew.  Because we could.  Both were very good, the warm food felt good inside and the music cheered our weary souls.  Next stop:  hotel room.  Which reminds me:  why do people like down pillows?  You lay your head on them and poof!  They collapse into nothing.

Band at the Hofbraushaus!
Ein, zwei, g'suffa!

12-9-2015 MUNCHEN, GERMANY

The drive to Munich from Ulm is short and frightfully fast on the autobahn so instead we decided to take the little back roads through the farm land and small villages.  The broad leaf trees are bare this time of year, huge clumps of mistletoe cling to the branches and the fields are either plowed under or covered with green velvet.  There were blinds scattered here and there, maybe for ducks or venison on the hoof?  Little villages of white houses with red roofs dot the landscape, always a kirche (church) as the centerpiece. 

Curiously, every now and then, there was what looked like a cemetery headstone with a cross on it out in the middle of a field.  I had to know what this is and so we stopped.  On this particular stone were the words, “Gott segne u schutze die Fluren Kreigsjahr 1940.”  I couldn’t find the words in my book and the hotelier here in Munich told me this is Old German.  It says, “God bless and protect our fields.  War Year 1940.” 

A quiet, thoughtful prayer engraved on this stone.  Did the farmers in the back country, without TV or internet, even know what the war was all about?  Maybe not.  Only that their fields might be bombed and they and their families would be left destroyed, hungry and in despair.  If this little monument could but talk.

We didn’t really know where we were in the little town of Krumbach but we came upon the Munding Gasthof and it was open.  It is a lovely white building with green shutters, family-owned for generations.  The small restaurant has wooden tables and benches where you are seated with others. 

Munding Gasthof, Krumbach, Germany

The benches have simple quilted pillows on them for a little added comfort.  Ladies in pretty dirndls serve food and I hit the jackpot!  Leberknödel soup was on the menu!  It tasted delicious, similar to Mom’s but with a lot more liver.  I’ll have to remember that.  Once again, Rob ate schnitzel with fries, what else?  As we were leaving, we encountered an Advent wreath.  I haven’t seen one since I was a child.  Four candles stand amid the boughs of the wreath to symbolize four weeks until Christmas and the arrival of the Christ child.  Each week, one more candle is lit and so on this day, there were two weeks left until Christmas.  In grade school, we all assembled for the lighting of the advent wreath each week as we sang “Oh Come, Emmanuel,” and it was sweet agony for us little kids.  “Three more weeks to wait, I can’t stand it.”  In the Munding Gasthof, how pretty and peaceful this wreath was and it brought back a flood of memories.  (Some good.  Some bad if the good Sisters of the Holy Family of Nazareth were having a pissy day.)

Advent wreath at Munding Gasthof

After lunch, we pressed on through the farm country to Schwabmünchen and soon we hit the autobahn for the Platzl Hotel in München.  This hotel is luxurious in the extreme with tuxedo-clad doormen, everybody calling me “Madame” and piles of down-doobie-do-down-down on the bed.  It is no accident, either, that it was chosen by us months ago based upon its location about ½ block from the Hofbräuhaus, the happiest oompah saloon in the world.  We got settled into our digs and, well, we had to go somewhere for dinner, didn’t we?  Around the corner to the Hofbräuhaus!  Stephan, Gottlieb and Karl invited us to join their long wooden table to laugh and sing.  Food and big steins of beer were ordered.  My dinner was schweinhaxe, a rotisserie-roasted pig hock about the size of a football, and a potato dumpling with gravy.  Rob had… wait for it… schnitzel with hot potato salad.  Prosit!  Ah, lots more time to spend in München!

PROSIT!