Even though we were out late in Cologne, we awoke at a reasonable hour, 10 a.m., had breakfast and then set off for Andernach to meet with Heinz-Josef.
From there, we took a regional train along the Rhine and stopped at Marksburg Castle, one of the few castles along the river that is still completely intact.
The castle sits on a high hill overlooking the swiftly moving Rhine.
It’s easy to see why the castle was never damaged by battles in the Middle Ages. The slopes are steep on all sides of the castle and would be a nightmare for opposing to climb, let alone fight.
We took a tour of the castle — thankfully aided by English books since the tour guide only spoke German — then trekked back down the hill for a weisbier from Bavaria.
The pub we chose was erected in the 1500s, and didn’t look like it had changed much since it first opened.
The sheer history of Europe continues to amaze me.
The Germans living near Marksburg Castle think nothing of going to a bar built in the 1500s for an after work drink whereas in the United States, mention a building from the 1880s and the oohs and aahs last for minutes.
After the weisbier, we continued our ride down the Rhine and saw castle after castle along the way.
We probably saw 15 castles from the train during the whole trip.
Our destination that afternoon was Rudesheim, a small town that is the site of a monument commemorating a German victory over France.
The monument sits on a ridge overlooking the Rhine and is accessible by foot, car or chairlift that goes over vineyards.
We decided on the chairlift to get great views of the river and the grape fields, which are used to make Riesling.
But before we did we stopped into a little wine bar to sample some local Riesling. I’ve always liked Riesling, and the wine was excellent.
After touring the memorial we ate dinner at a restaurant to have some famous German white asparagus.
White asparagus, or spargel in German, is only available for a handful of weeks in the late spring.
It was delicious.
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
Sunday, June 13, 2010
Cologne
After taking an hour-long boat ride through the canals of Amsterdam, we boarded a train destined for Cologne.
The first thing you notice outside of the train station is the massive Cologne Cathedral, which towers over the city with its Gothic-styled twin towers.
The church is humongous.
Because it’s in the center of the city, we passed by it several times, and each time we found something new on the building that we hadn’t seen before.
Another thing we saw a lot of in Cologne is Kolsch-style beer, which is the specific beer brewed in Cologne that comes in 0.2 liter glasses.
In Cologne we met up with Paul’s German friends—Daniella, Bjorn and Heinz-Josef—that were in town to show a couple of Americans a good time in Germany.
Boy did they ever.
Heinz-Josef took us to a traditional German restaurant where we got our first taste of German food.
For starters, we ordered the following appetizers: blood sausage, liver pate, aged gouda cheese, a huge semi-sweet pickle and raw pork sausage topped with onions served on a halved roll.
What you’re thinking now is exactly what Sam and I were thinking when the raw, open-faced sausage sandwiches arrived.
Raw sausage for an appetizer? There’s no way we’re eating that.
But when three Germans tell you it’s OK and nothing bad will happen to you later, you have to try it.
The verdict: delicious.
I never thought I’d eat raw pork, but I’m glad I did in Cologne.
Our main course was even better though.
Because the plate was so big, Sam and I shared an oven roasted, 4-inch thick pork chop covered in sautéed onions with a huge helping of French fries.
That also was superb, though not a meal you’d want to eat while on a diet.
I’d shutter to think how many calories were in that main dish.
After dinner, we walked back to the main part of Cologne, and entered another couple of bars for some more Kolsch beer.
The night ended at about 2 a.m. back at our hotel, which doubled as a bar on the ground floor.
What a night.
The first thing you notice outside of the train station is the massive Cologne Cathedral, which towers over the city with its Gothic-styled twin towers.
The church is humongous.
Because it’s in the center of the city, we passed by it several times, and each time we found something new on the building that we hadn’t seen before.
Another thing we saw a lot of in Cologne is Kolsch-style beer, which is the specific beer brewed in Cologne that comes in 0.2 liter glasses.
In Cologne we met up with Paul’s German friends—Daniella, Bjorn and Heinz-Josef—that were in town to show a couple of Americans a good time in Germany.
Boy did they ever.
Heinz-Josef took us to a traditional German restaurant where we got our first taste of German food.
For starters, we ordered the following appetizers: blood sausage, liver pate, aged gouda cheese, a huge semi-sweet pickle and raw pork sausage topped with onions served on a halved roll.
What you’re thinking now is exactly what Sam and I were thinking when the raw, open-faced sausage sandwiches arrived.
Raw sausage for an appetizer? There’s no way we’re eating that.
But when three Germans tell you it’s OK and nothing bad will happen to you later, you have to try it.
The verdict: delicious.
I never thought I’d eat raw pork, but I’m glad I did in Cologne.
Our main course was even better though.
Because the plate was so big, Sam and I shared an oven roasted, 4-inch thick pork chop covered in sautéed onions with a huge helping of French fries.
That also was superb, though not a meal you’d want to eat while on a diet.
I’d shutter to think how many calories were in that main dish.
After dinner, we walked back to the main part of Cologne, and entered another couple of bars for some more Kolsch beer.
The night ended at about 2 a.m. back at our hotel, which doubled as a bar on the ground floor.
What a night.
Amsterdam
I didn’t quite believe the story about a Heineken tasting different in Amsterdam than anywhere else, but it’s definitely true.
When I had my first Heineken in the U.S., I decided not to have another because I really didn’t care for the taste.
Not so in Amsterdam.
After Sam, Paul and I arrived in the capital city, we took a cab to our hotel, dropped off our luggage and took a cab back to the main train station. Then we walked around for a bit to get a feel for the city and eventually stopped at one of the many canal-side cafés.
A tall glass of Heineken hit the spot.
We also indulged on some chicken satay, French fries and salad.
Paul said the chicken satay would be superb because of the long-standing Indonesian influence in Amsterdam, and it didn’t disappoint.
After we finished eating and had a couple more beers, we started walking along streets and canals of the central city.
The architecture is quaint and gives off a relaxed vibe, which is very similar to the mood of the people. In all likelihood a majority of them are walking around high anyway, so anything different would seem strange.
Amsterdam, of course, has a reputation as a sex and drug capital. The sex part isn’t readily apparent, but the marijuana part definitely is.
As soon as you step out of the train station and begin walking, the smell of dope is everywhere. The signs for “coffeeshops,” or places where you can buy weed, are all around, too.
The most notable aspect of Amsterdam, however, is the number of bicycles, both those parked along the canals and others moving swiftly up and down streets.
Our cab driver told us that in a city of about 750,000 people, there are more than 1 million bicycles. And about 80,000 of those bikes are stolen each year.
On the main roads close to the main train station and the café where we decided to eat for dinner, there is a flurry of activity, with people, cars, buses and bikes zooming along in several different directions.
So we decided to walk away from the busy thoroughfares and found peaceful, homely neighborhoods that would be a joy to live in.
We stopped at a bar for a couple more drinks, caught the last half of a World Cup warm up game for The Netherlands and then headed back to the busy streets.
During our walk we noticed the sex aspect of Amsterdam.
Some apartments used by prostitutes exist along the main roads on the outskirts of the red light district, identified by the trademark red light outside the door and a scantily clad woman sitting patiently in front of a basement window.
But if you look down a side street, you’ll see rows of red lights.
We took a walk down one of those streets and found that there’s not a whole lot to the entire red light district operation.
The women in the windows don’t show any nudity and don’t point or wave at you when you walk by. They just sit on a stool and look out the window, patiently waiting, it seems, for their next customer to walk in.
After the red light stroll it was about 11:30 p.m., so we headed into another bar for a last couple of beers.
You can’t visit Amsterdam and head home before midnight.
At that bar we met a local named David who was really into 70s rock music.
After talking for a few minutes and explaining to David how we were only going to be in Amsterdam for one night, he tried to come up with a few late night things to do.
But when he realized it was Tuesday night, here was his assessment of our prospects for the night: “You’re f*cked.”
Well then.
If a local says there’s nothing to do in Amsterdam on a Tuesday night, why argue, especially when you have a trip to Cologne, Germany scheduled for the next day?
So we finished our beers and went back to the hotel.
When I had my first Heineken in the U.S., I decided not to have another because I really didn’t care for the taste.
Not so in Amsterdam.
After Sam, Paul and I arrived in the capital city, we took a cab to our hotel, dropped off our luggage and took a cab back to the main train station. Then we walked around for a bit to get a feel for the city and eventually stopped at one of the many canal-side cafés.
A tall glass of Heineken hit the spot.
We also indulged on some chicken satay, French fries and salad.
Paul said the chicken satay would be superb because of the long-standing Indonesian influence in Amsterdam, and it didn’t disappoint.
After we finished eating and had a couple more beers, we started walking along streets and canals of the central city.
The architecture is quaint and gives off a relaxed vibe, which is very similar to the mood of the people. In all likelihood a majority of them are walking around high anyway, so anything different would seem strange.
Amsterdam, of course, has a reputation as a sex and drug capital. The sex part isn’t readily apparent, but the marijuana part definitely is.
As soon as you step out of the train station and begin walking, the smell of dope is everywhere. The signs for “coffeeshops,” or places where you can buy weed, are all around, too.
The most notable aspect of Amsterdam, however, is the number of bicycles, both those parked along the canals and others moving swiftly up and down streets.
Our cab driver told us that in a city of about 750,000 people, there are more than 1 million bicycles. And about 80,000 of those bikes are stolen each year.
On the main roads close to the main train station and the café where we decided to eat for dinner, there is a flurry of activity, with people, cars, buses and bikes zooming along in several different directions.
So we decided to walk away from the busy thoroughfares and found peaceful, homely neighborhoods that would be a joy to live in.
We stopped at a bar for a couple more drinks, caught the last half of a World Cup warm up game for The Netherlands and then headed back to the busy streets.
During our walk we noticed the sex aspect of Amsterdam.
Some apartments used by prostitutes exist along the main roads on the outskirts of the red light district, identified by the trademark red light outside the door and a scantily clad woman sitting patiently in front of a basement window.
But if you look down a side street, you’ll see rows of red lights.
We took a walk down one of those streets and found that there’s not a whole lot to the entire red light district operation.
The women in the windows don’t show any nudity and don’t point or wave at you when you walk by. They just sit on a stool and look out the window, patiently waiting, it seems, for their next customer to walk in.
After the red light stroll it was about 11:30 p.m., so we headed into another bar for a last couple of beers.
You can’t visit Amsterdam and head home before midnight.
At that bar we met a local named David who was really into 70s rock music.
After talking for a few minutes and explaining to David how we were only going to be in Amsterdam for one night, he tried to come up with a few late night things to do.
But when he realized it was Tuesday night, here was his assessment of our prospects for the night: “You’re f*cked.”
Well then.
If a local says there’s nothing to do in Amsterdam on a Tuesday night, why argue, especially when you have a trip to Cologne, Germany scheduled for the next day?
So we finished our beers and went back to the hotel.
Thursday, June 10, 2010
We’re back online
We’ve been without the Internet so long it’s hard to know where to begin.
The hotel we stayed at in Amsterdam for one night charged for Internet access, as did the one in Cologne, so we planned on hitting a coffee shop or bar to update this blog.
We were so busy, though, that it didn’t happen.
Even though this blog has been stuck at a standstill for the past week and a half, we have been on the go each.
We’ve taken a stroll through Amsterdam’s red light district, experienced some classic German food and drink in Cologne, partied all night at a traditional German wedding reception, driven from western Germany to eastern Germany on the autobahn and wandered along the white sandy beaches of Usedom, or the King’s Island.
We’ve had an outstanding trip so far, and it’s hard to believe we’ve been out of the United States for a month.
With us back online, here are a couple of posts I did at the beginning of this month that I wasn’t able to get online.
I plan on getting up to date later…
The hotel we stayed at in Amsterdam for one night charged for Internet access, as did the one in Cologne, so we planned on hitting a coffee shop or bar to update this blog.
We were so busy, though, that it didn’t happen.
Even though this blog has been stuck at a standstill for the past week and a half, we have been on the go each.
We’ve taken a stroll through Amsterdam’s red light district, experienced some classic German food and drink in Cologne, partied all night at a traditional German wedding reception, driven from western Germany to eastern Germany on the autobahn and wandered along the white sandy beaches of Usedom, or the King’s Island.
We’ve had an outstanding trip so far, and it’s hard to believe we’ve been out of the United States for a month.
With us back online, here are a couple of posts I did at the beginning of this month that I wasn’t able to get online.
I plan on getting up to date later…
England impressions
Maybe it’s the similar language, the northern location or Sam’s wonderful family and friends, but you can’t say enough about how nice everyone is in England.
I say similar language because even though Americans and the English share the same language, the vocabulary is much different in Britain.
There are, of course, the easily understandable words like “mate,” but others like “nackered” and “mucked” take a bit of getting used to.
For example, nackered could mean extremely tired — “I’m nackered after that trip to York” — or destroyed — “I nackered that tire (or tyre in England) after running into the curb.”
Getting used to the language is just part of the fun and makes for a more enjoyable trip.
Another reason why our trip has been more than we could have hoped for so far is because the English love to laugh.
Whether it’s making jokes or poking fun at one another, the mood is usually relaxed and amiable.
Who wouldn’t love that?
The mood is a little less relaxed on England’s motorways. Not for the English drivers, but the Americans in the passenger seats.
It’s pretty disorienting with everyone driving on the left side of the road, especially coming around corners and approaching oncoming cars.
For the first few trips in a car, my first instinct was shock and a little fear as approaching cars look like, at least to me, to be driving on the wrong side of the road.
Speed probably has a lot to do with it.
The English drive fast.
I thought the fastest drivers were either Texans or Nebraskans driving as fast as they can out of Missouri.
But they have nothing on the English.
The posted speed limited on regular roads is 60 mph and 70 mph on motorways or “dual carriageways.” It’s pretty common, though, to go 85 to 90 mph on the expressways and 75 mph on smaller, tighter roads.
Passing is pretty much allowed on any stretch of road, so you constantly have to look out for oncoming traffic all the time.
You get used to that after a while though.
I say similar language because even though Americans and the English share the same language, the vocabulary is much different in Britain.
There are, of course, the easily understandable words like “mate,” but others like “nackered” and “mucked” take a bit of getting used to.
For example, nackered could mean extremely tired — “I’m nackered after that trip to York” — or destroyed — “I nackered that tire (or tyre in England) after running into the curb.”
Getting used to the language is just part of the fun and makes for a more enjoyable trip.
Another reason why our trip has been more than we could have hoped for so far is because the English love to laugh.
Whether it’s making jokes or poking fun at one another, the mood is usually relaxed and amiable.
Who wouldn’t love that?
The mood is a little less relaxed on England’s motorways. Not for the English drivers, but the Americans in the passenger seats.
It’s pretty disorienting with everyone driving on the left side of the road, especially coming around corners and approaching oncoming cars.
For the first few trips in a car, my first instinct was shock and a little fear as approaching cars look like, at least to me, to be driving on the wrong side of the road.
Speed probably has a lot to do with it.
The English drive fast.
I thought the fastest drivers were either Texans or Nebraskans driving as fast as they can out of Missouri.
But they have nothing on the English.
The posted speed limited on regular roads is 60 mph and 70 mph on motorways or “dual carriageways.” It’s pretty common, though, to go 85 to 90 mph on the expressways and 75 mph on smaller, tighter roads.
Passing is pretty much allowed on any stretch of road, so you constantly have to look out for oncoming traffic all the time.
You get used to that after a while though.
We’re off
Tuesday, June 1 marked the second leg of our journey.
We drove from Paul’s house in Caistor to the Doncaster airport to board a plane bound for Amsterdam.
Amsterdam is the first stop of a nearly 20-city tour Sam and I are taking around Europe.
We’re going to Cologne, Frankfurt, Munster, Berlin, Prague, Vienna, Budapest, Salzburg, Venice, Florence, Rome, Cinque Terre in Italy, St. Raphael in France, Interlaken in Switzerland, Paris, Angers, Bruges and Antwerp.
It’s exciting and very surreal at the same time.
A year ago Sam and I were making the final preparations for our wedding. Little did we know a year later we’d be spending our first anniversary in Europe.
To get around, we purchased a train pass that’s called a Eurail Global Flexi Pass.
The pass allows us to travel during any 15 days within two months, all in the first class cabin. So, for example, when we take our first train to Cologne, we will have used up one day of our 15.
We could have spent a little more and purchased a two-month pass that would have allowed us to travel any day within a two-month period, but those passes are meant for people traveling everyday.
That’s not us.
We’ve scheduled our trip to take a train to a city, stay there at least two nights and then leave for the next one.
This strategy will allow us to spend more of our time in various cities and less time on trains.
That’s not to say that the trains in Europe aren’t nice.
They definitely are.
As I’m writing this blog post, I’m sitting on a German Intercity Express train in a nice leather chair with acres of leg room.
You can’t beat that, especially if you’re used to the cramped space that comes with coach air travel.
We drove from Paul’s house in Caistor to the Doncaster airport to board a plane bound for Amsterdam.
Amsterdam is the first stop of a nearly 20-city tour Sam and I are taking around Europe.
We’re going to Cologne, Frankfurt, Munster, Berlin, Prague, Vienna, Budapest, Salzburg, Venice, Florence, Rome, Cinque Terre in Italy, St. Raphael in France, Interlaken in Switzerland, Paris, Angers, Bruges and Antwerp.
It’s exciting and very surreal at the same time.
A year ago Sam and I were making the final preparations for our wedding. Little did we know a year later we’d be spending our first anniversary in Europe.
To get around, we purchased a train pass that’s called a Eurail Global Flexi Pass.
The pass allows us to travel during any 15 days within two months, all in the first class cabin. So, for example, when we take our first train to Cologne, we will have used up one day of our 15.
We could have spent a little more and purchased a two-month pass that would have allowed us to travel any day within a two-month period, but those passes are meant for people traveling everyday.
That’s not us.
We’ve scheduled our trip to take a train to a city, stay there at least two nights and then leave for the next one.
This strategy will allow us to spend more of our time in various cities and less time on trains.
That’s not to say that the trains in Europe aren’t nice.
They definitely are.
As I’m writing this blog post, I’m sitting on a German Intercity Express train in a nice leather chair with acres of leg room.
You can’t beat that, especially if you’re used to the cramped space that comes with coach air travel.
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