Germany

Last weekend, myself and three friends ventured into region of Baden-Württemberg in Germany, staying at three different towns. Because I have some German heritage, I had resolved to visit this country before I left Europe, and I also thought the culture would be a great contrast to Italy. Was it ever!

The outskirts of Baden-Baden was populated with little Tudor style stucco houses surrounded by delicate flower gardens. The houses were all neat, orderly, and cheerful, and even the junk in the backyards was sorted into neat little piles, stacked by height or width. My soul rejoiced in those “junk” piles. There were blossoms everywhere, and the air was fragrant and clean. “Now this is civilization!” I thought. The German people were kind too, but not over friendly, like some peoples. We stayed in a small motel near the autobahn, which we thought would probably be loud at night, but it wasn’t at all, especially compared with Rome. On Friday morning we wandered the resort town of Baden-Baden, with its old style buildings, blossoming trees, idyllic parks, flowing streams, sparkling fountains and delicate flowers. We also sampled German pastries, which are excellent, much better than Italian ones, in my opinion. Around lunch time we took the train to Heidelberg, which is North of Baden-Baden. There we checked into our hotel, and then took a tram into the Old Town. This town was a little more touristy, but still fun to wander in, especially to look in the shops and see all the beautiful hand carved cuckoo clocks and other such local works of art. That evening we ate a real German meal, with meat, sausage, sauerkraut, and apple fritters; it was delicious. I also had my first beer, called “Hell Beer,” and it was excellent. I had tried tiny sips of beer before and never liked it, but this, apparently, was the real stuff. The next morning to climbed up the hill at the end of the town and explored the castle for a little while. Then we split our group into two, and Sarah and I took the trains to Ortenberg to check into our room there.

On the train we decided to pray the rosary, and as we were praying, an older German couple sat in front of us. When they saw that we were saying the rosary, they got their rosaries out and started praying it in German. Afterwards they asked, in German, if we were Catholic, and they seemed so delighted to have met some young Catholics from America. The lady gave us each a medal and we did our best to communicate, even though neither of us spoke the other’s language at all. Once in Ortenberg, Sarah and I checked us into our hostel, which was actually inside an old historic castle. We had to climb a switchback road to get to the top, but it was worth it for the view and sheer fun of actually living in a castle for a night. We met up with our other two traveling companions that night, and we headed down the hill for dinner at Quo Vadis, one of the two open restaurants in the town. Although it was Italian, none of the waiters spoke Italian, so our linguistic knowledge was no help to us there. The pizza, however, was fantastic, probably better than both American and Italian pizza. On our way back up at about 9:30 p.m., two of the girls decided to stay behind for a little and look at the stars since the night was still, warm, and clear. Sarah and I wanted to get up to our room before it got too much later, but I felt uncomfortable about separating because of the location (i.e. the middle of nowhere) and the hour. Sarah reassured me, however, that this place felt quite safe, and we continued on. Soon I heard an abrupt male “hello!” from the house on my left. Having lived in Rome for the past two months, my instinct was to ignore strange male voices and to continue confidently on my way. My companion was less sure of how to respond, but I marshaled her along quickly, as we heard the voices call after us, “Can we ask you something?,” “Are you sixteen? Are you shy?” It appeared to me that one of the figures might have left the porch to come after us, so I walked at my briskest pace, hoping to discourage them. I had remembered seeing two young German guys ride up to that house on bikes when we had come down to dinner. We made it safely up to our room, but were worried about our friends down below. I hadn’t wanted to turn back for them because that might have made things worse; instead, I trusted that they would not respond. Maybe twenty minutes later, both girls came running into the courtyard and burst into the building. Sarah and I rushed them into the room and closed the door after them, and asked, “What happened?” Apparently, the same guys had accosted them, and, after speaking with them for some time, invited them into the house. At this point, they realized something was up and said they needed to leave. Long story short, they ended up being chased by one of the guys in a car, and as they were telling us about it, we could hear the guy beeping at us from his car out in the courtyard. I must say that we didn’t have such a peaceful night after that.

The next morning we went to Mass in the little church of St. Bartholomew. Sarah and I had checked it out the day before, and it appeared to be a Catholic church, with a First Communion Mass on the schedule for Sunday. I had also seen the three kings’ initials and the date on almost all the town’s doorposts, a Catholic tradition which my family has observed for as long as I can remember. Anyway, outside the church on Sunday morning the first communicants were waiting in their lovely outfits with tall white candles, while a German band in traditional costume played outside. The entrance procession was accompanied by pipe organ and a choir. However, during the first half of the Mass, my two friends sitting next to me kept asking if I was sure this was a Catholic Church. The priest was in vestments but no collar, and it seemed as though they had skipped the first readings and the creed, though the language barrier made it difficult to tell. Instead, this time was taken up with the First Communicants singing and the priest saying things. I did recognize the Gospel, however, which was the one for that Sunday, and the rest of the Mass was recognizable and seemed to be what it should be. The Church also had Stations of the Cross, Mary and Joseph, a tabernacle with a red lamp, and other signs of a Catholic Church. I still think it was Catholic, but my friends’ doubts about this made me uneasy. I think it was probably just a liberal Catholic church in Germany, rather like many of the ones found in the US today. After Mass we went back to Baden-Baden for an hour or two before flying back to Rome.

Overall, Germany was a great experience, and I would love to go back there some day for a more thorough exploration, particularly of Barvaria and Catholic Germany.

Those who know me know what the "B" stands for.

Lovely building and blossoming tree by the stream, in Baden-Baden

Blossoms in Baden-Baden

The stream in the park

The streets of Heidelberg

View of Heidelberg from the castle

Heidelberg

Castle Ruins

Castle and the hills behind