I saw this on YouTube a few weeks back. This is Haydn's Emperor Hymn, which also is the German national anthem, with a slideshow of various sights of Germany to accompany it. A lovely reminder of a lovely country where I had a great time last year. Again, there is nothing like listening to this composition while driving a Mercedes-Benz, speeding away through the German countryside on an Autobahn.
I even rooted for the German squad during the FIFA World Cup that just ended - Germany has always been my favorite European soccer squad anyway. The Germans did a well-deserved third place.
Showing posts with label Germany. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Germany. Show all posts
13 July 2010
10 May 2010
Old European Photos
As part of moving my travel photos here from Facebook, I am going way back in time - to my 1990s European trips.
I had three European stints in the 1990s, as follows:
My first four trips to Europe (the fourth was in 2003) had me arrive at London's Heathrow Airport on United Airlines. And this second arrival, on Flight 2 from New York on the morning of March 14, 1998, was certainly the most memorable - it was the only one that actually gave me a lovely view of central London, as seen here.
Due to a technical delay back in New York, this flight is running 80 minutes late. And that's a bit of cause for concern, as I had to get to Waterloo Station (visible in this photo) and take a Eurostar train to my first destination of Brussels. As it turned out, I made it to the train right on time.
The lack of London Eye certainly dates this photo to the 20th Century, rather than the 21st. And the fact that United was running New York - London services, especially as part of an Around-the-World service, further adds to the dating; both services became victims of cost-cutting when the airline went bankrupt in 2002.
The next day is a cloudy one. In fact, my entire Belgian stay turned out to be cloudy.
I am touring Brussels, and I am finding myself in the north end of the city at Bruparck, in the neighborhood of Heysel/Heizel. That is the Atomium, built for the 1958 Expo and intended to be Brussels' answer to Paris' Eiffel Tower. The elevator takes me up to the top atom via the vertical shaft, and I walk down to the ground via the diagonal shafts.
With Belgium being a center for comic strips, some of the interior displays of the Atomium had exhibits dedicated to comic strips, some featuring the Atomium itself. But that was one thing about Belgium that I had not known until after the fact. Fact-gathering in the 1990s, when the World Wide Web was still in its infancy, was not easy - often I had to rely on a few cut-rate guidebooks that were obsolete the moment they were printed.
The following day was spent over in Brugge in Flemish Belgium (Bruges in French and English) as a day trip.
This is the main town square, and the Dutch architecture of the Flemish Region is very evident. Bruges also treated me to lovely canalside scenes, living up to its reputation as the Venice of the North. Bruges was once a major trading and industrial powerhouse, with sea access only a stone's throw away, before silting and more modern ports (such as Antwerp) took away the trade, reducing the city to a medieval time capsule and a modern-day tourist magnet.
Belgium is bilingual. The Flemish speak Dutch, while the southern Walloons speak French. Brussels is officially bilingual, though in reality, most residents speak French. The animosity between the two groups is considerable - so much so that the safest way to go is to speak a neutral language, like English. That works out fine for me, especially in the Flemish areas, since I speak some French but zero Dutch. Besides, European travel infrastructure accommodates foreigners with zero language proficiency quite well anyway.
After wrapping up what to this date remains my only visit to Belgium, I moved on to Paris for four nights. Paris had been a city on top of my wishlist since childhood, so it was priceless to actually get there for once.
It's March 20th, the last full day in Paris. Trying to get to the Bateaux-Mouches cruise along the Seine, I'm walking close to Place d'Alma - and I am noting some graffiti around this tunnel. It was the previous August 31st when Princess Diana had a fatal car crash in this very tunnel. And sure enough, some graffiti has renamed this area from Place d'Alma to "Place Diana." I even looked into the tunnel, and sure enough, the crash marks were still there.
Place d'Alma isn't too far from the Eiffel Tower; in fact, one of the legs is visible in this photo.
This wide-angle Advanced Photo Systems photo was something I used to pride myself on for a while.
After wrapping up Paris, I returned to London, where I did a two-day pre-arranged car rental. The Citroën Xantia LX 1.8 I ended up driving was quite memorable, just by virtue of being my first stickshift, my first right-hand-drive car, and my first European drive. The infamous Citroën self-leveling adjustable air suspension only added to the confusion. I did okay, even after finding that my South London hotel had never been confirmed. After spending my first London night partying overnight at a goth club near the Angel Tube station (thanks to a local goth friend I had met in Canterbury), I picked a pricey airport hotel for the second and final night, and immediately set out for Stonehenge.
The sight of Stonehenge was worth all the trouble. This will remain one of my favorite travel experiences for a long time to come. The crows flying around, the desolateness of the Salisbury Plains, my own all-black outfit, on Spring Equinox, it was just perfect. Too bad my car was green and French.
The only regret was that I had to return to New York and my studies the next day. Already I was returning a day late, but I really didn't want to go back. I did prolong my London experience by four more hours, by voluntarily getting myself bumped from the return flight. United Airlines gave me $600 in credits as compensation, and that went on to fund my next European trip.
December 2nd, 1999. By this time I was in the San Francisco Bay Area, trying to get my bite out of that dot-com pie, but the bubble was already hurting me badly. I knew that I was NOT going to be working for December 1999, so I decided to instead take a joyride to Amsterdam using the airline credit, and spend a week there.
United 930 is now taking me out of San Francisco, on a nonstop flight again to London Heathrow, where another United flight would complete my journey to Amsterdam.
As it turned out, however, Flight 930 was the ONLY part of the whole journey that went according to plan. My trip into the airport had been marred by a fire on my BART train - I had to change trains as a result. And once in London, Amsterdam's severe winds resulted in airport closure - and United canceled my connection, and handed me over to Air France, so that I could ride the delay out in Paris. Instead of arriving at 11 in the morning in Amsterdam, I got there at 5 in the afternoon, after dark - and I hated being greeted by Amsterdam's racist, sexist thugs (who themselves were Third World immigrants, interestingly). Door-to-door time from my apartment in the Bay Area to my hotel in Amsterdam was 27 very long hours.
December 4th, 1999, my first full day sightseeing in Amsterdam.
I beat the crowds and entered Anne Frank House, at 263 Prinsengracht, as soon as it opened at 9 in the morning - barely after sunrise thanks to the northerly latitudes. It would get dark again by 4.
This was a lovely, yet sad, sight. I could tour the storefront run by Anne's father Otto even during the Nazi occupation of the Netherlands, with video testimony provided by his secretary Miep Gies, who continued to live in Amsterdam until her 2009 death. I then opened the bookcase and climbed up to the Secret Annexe, which was surprisingly roomy, making for very comfortable accommodations for the eight people who hid there for two years. I could even see posters of movie stars and royalties that Anne admired - including a young Princess Elizabeth, who would become the Queen of England in 1952. The tour ended with the aftermath of the eight (only Otto survived), as well as translations of Anne's diary in various languages.
I ended up buying a copy of the diary at the house's bookstore - of course, the book came with an extra sticker to denote that it was indeed purchased at the house. I also signed the guestbook, noting the ongoing prejudice and hatred outside the house's walls, though this time coming from the Third World immigrant thugs I just mentioned. I had initially identified them as Surinamese, based on longtime Dutch colonial rule in Suriname, but a native Dutch friend of mine who lives in nearby IJmuiden tells me that those thugs, while a severe menace, are more likely to be from elsewhere, possibly Morocco.
Sunday, December 5th, 1999, was set aside as a day trip to Cologne, Germany, a 3-hour train ride away from Amsterdam. Bad idea to schedule a visit to Germany on a Sunday, thanks to Quiet Day Sunday laws in Germany.
My Cologne itinerary included a tour of Imhoff-Stollwerck chocolate factory, as well as a visit to Romano-German Museum and its Roman mosaic floor. But this streetside musician's performance, using cups filled with different levels of water for different notes, is what clings to my mind the most from this day. People like him kept the main shopping streets lively, even with all the stores closed.
But again, the rather primitive nature of the Internet during this timeframe meant that I had not learned much about Cologne beforehand, so there wasn't much I could do around here, except for a teaser into Germany. The one thing I noticed was the similarity between German and Dutch languages - entrance and exit were "ingang" and "uitgang" in Dutch, and "Eingang" and "Ausgang" in German.
I left after seven hours in Cologne, vowing to return to Germany sooner than later. Due to my worsening financial situation in the next few years, my next Germany visit would have to wait until October 2009.
Tuesday, December 7th, 1999. Another day trip away from the Amsterdam thugs. This time, I am in Den Haag (The Hague in English), served from Amsterdam by very frequent trains via the airport and Leiden.
The Hague is best known for Madurodam, a miniature village depicting a generic Dutch city but using real-life landmarks from throughout the country. Many of the miniatures, from cars to even the airplanes at the village's international airport, actually move.
It was a very miserable rainy, windy day - typical of Holland - but I nevertheless spent a lot of time walking around here, and walking through a large park toward a different part of the town. I visited some anthropology exhibits at the Museon, before returning to the train station and taking some tram joyrides out to Vreispalace (Peace Palace, UN International Court) and the Scheveningen Beach. Tiring and miserable, but staying in Amsterdam to take abuse from the thugs would've been even worse.
Wednesday, December 8th, 1999, last full day in the Netherlands. I am north of Amsterdam this time, having taken a city bus into Zaandam area.
My destination is Zaanse Schans, a folk village. December is not a good time to visit, as most of its live folk demonstrations are summer only, but I can still look at some old windmills that actually work. Zaanse Schans is a good approximation of a traditional Dutch industrial town powered by windmills, though the windmills are collected from elsewhere in the country rather than originally erected here.
It's always rainy and windy this time of the year in this part of the world. But that makes those windmills very valuable. But the misery, both from the climate and from the Amsterdam thugs, was really getting to me.
The next day - Thursday, December 9th - was a relief for that reason. I was so relieved to arrive at Schiphol Airport, clear the departure passport check, and see this United plane sit at the gate, waiting to take me out of the misery. Flight 947 will take me to Dulles Airport outside Washington, DC, where I will connect to a San Francisco-bound flight.
In any case, I am so sick and tired of all the racist, sexist, homophobic thugs in Amsterdam, that I am glad to be flying United, rather than one of the KLM planes in the background. Especially when I could count on a Melissa Etheridge-only audio channel as part of the United inflight programming for this millennial holiday season - LESBIAN POWER, BABY! Even to this day, the mere sight of a KLM plane is guaranteed to raise my blood pressure, and similarly sighting a United plane is guaranteed to leave me feeling some lesbian power.
Some people have been incensed that I am choosing to side with a large, evil American corporation rather than "tolerant, anything-goes" Netherlands. But when tolerance includes tolerance of ethnic thugs in the name of political correctness, I am having none of it - especially when similar thugs have ganged up to take my rights away in California as well.
For those reasons, this moment remains quite iconic even today. I think of this moment, whenever I board any United flight, whenever I send a letter of commendation (or complaint - "you were so awesome that day, why were you so awful today?") to United Airlines, whenever I listen to George Gershwin's Rhapsody in Blue (the official United Airlines theme music), or whenever I listen to Melissa Etheridge.
As for my travel patterns, I had trouble connecting with Europeans as a result of the abuse I took in Amsterdam. Even my return to London and Paris in 2003, to bring some of the good feelings back, didn't quite work out - partly due to London's own Jamaican thugs on the Southbank (though London as a whole remains a city I love). Only with the 2009 European trip would I completely lose the demons.
I had three European stints in the 1990s, as follows:
- March 1996, London and Southern England
- March 1998, Belgium, France, and England
- December 1999, Netherlands and Germany
My first four trips to Europe (the fourth was in 2003) had me arrive at London's Heathrow Airport on United Airlines. And this second arrival, on Flight 2 from New York on the morning of March 14, 1998, was certainly the most memorable - it was the only one that actually gave me a lovely view of central London, as seen here.
Due to a technical delay back in New York, this flight is running 80 minutes late. And that's a bit of cause for concern, as I had to get to Waterloo Station (visible in this photo) and take a Eurostar train to my first destination of Brussels. As it turned out, I made it to the train right on time.
The lack of London Eye certainly dates this photo to the 20th Century, rather than the 21st. And the fact that United was running New York - London services, especially as part of an Around-the-World service, further adds to the dating; both services became victims of cost-cutting when the airline went bankrupt in 2002.
The next day is a cloudy one. In fact, my entire Belgian stay turned out to be cloudy.
I am touring Brussels, and I am finding myself in the north end of the city at Bruparck, in the neighborhood of Heysel/Heizel. That is the Atomium, built for the 1958 Expo and intended to be Brussels' answer to Paris' Eiffel Tower. The elevator takes me up to the top atom via the vertical shaft, and I walk down to the ground via the diagonal shafts.
With Belgium being a center for comic strips, some of the interior displays of the Atomium had exhibits dedicated to comic strips, some featuring the Atomium itself. But that was one thing about Belgium that I had not known until after the fact. Fact-gathering in the 1990s, when the World Wide Web was still in its infancy, was not easy - often I had to rely on a few cut-rate guidebooks that were obsolete the moment they were printed.
The following day was spent over in Brugge in Flemish Belgium (Bruges in French and English) as a day trip.
This is the main town square, and the Dutch architecture of the Flemish Region is very evident. Bruges also treated me to lovely canalside scenes, living up to its reputation as the Venice of the North. Bruges was once a major trading and industrial powerhouse, with sea access only a stone's throw away, before silting and more modern ports (such as Antwerp) took away the trade, reducing the city to a medieval time capsule and a modern-day tourist magnet.
Belgium is bilingual. The Flemish speak Dutch, while the southern Walloons speak French. Brussels is officially bilingual, though in reality, most residents speak French. The animosity between the two groups is considerable - so much so that the safest way to go is to speak a neutral language, like English. That works out fine for me, especially in the Flemish areas, since I speak some French but zero Dutch. Besides, European travel infrastructure accommodates foreigners with zero language proficiency quite well anyway.
After wrapping up what to this date remains my only visit to Belgium, I moved on to Paris for four nights. Paris had been a city on top of my wishlist since childhood, so it was priceless to actually get there for once.
It's March 20th, the last full day in Paris. Trying to get to the Bateaux-Mouches cruise along the Seine, I'm walking close to Place d'Alma - and I am noting some graffiti around this tunnel. It was the previous August 31st when Princess Diana had a fatal car crash in this very tunnel. And sure enough, some graffiti has renamed this area from Place d'Alma to "Place Diana." I even looked into the tunnel, and sure enough, the crash marks were still there.
Place d'Alma isn't too far from the Eiffel Tower; in fact, one of the legs is visible in this photo.
This wide-angle Advanced Photo Systems photo was something I used to pride myself on for a while.
After wrapping up Paris, I returned to London, where I did a two-day pre-arranged car rental. The Citroën Xantia LX 1.8 I ended up driving was quite memorable, just by virtue of being my first stickshift, my first right-hand-drive car, and my first European drive. The infamous Citroën self-leveling adjustable air suspension only added to the confusion. I did okay, even after finding that my South London hotel had never been confirmed. After spending my first London night partying overnight at a goth club near the Angel Tube station (thanks to a local goth friend I had met in Canterbury), I picked a pricey airport hotel for the second and final night, and immediately set out for Stonehenge.
The sight of Stonehenge was worth all the trouble. This will remain one of my favorite travel experiences for a long time to come. The crows flying around, the desolateness of the Salisbury Plains, my own all-black outfit, on Spring Equinox, it was just perfect. Too bad my car was green and French.
The only regret was that I had to return to New York and my studies the next day. Already I was returning a day late, but I really didn't want to go back. I did prolong my London experience by four more hours, by voluntarily getting myself bumped from the return flight. United Airlines gave me $600 in credits as compensation, and that went on to fund my next European trip.
December 2nd, 1999. By this time I was in the San Francisco Bay Area, trying to get my bite out of that dot-com pie, but the bubble was already hurting me badly. I knew that I was NOT going to be working for December 1999, so I decided to instead take a joyride to Amsterdam using the airline credit, and spend a week there.
United 930 is now taking me out of San Francisco, on a nonstop flight again to London Heathrow, where another United flight would complete my journey to Amsterdam.
As it turned out, however, Flight 930 was the ONLY part of the whole journey that went according to plan. My trip into the airport had been marred by a fire on my BART train - I had to change trains as a result. And once in London, Amsterdam's severe winds resulted in airport closure - and United canceled my connection, and handed me over to Air France, so that I could ride the delay out in Paris. Instead of arriving at 11 in the morning in Amsterdam, I got there at 5 in the afternoon, after dark - and I hated being greeted by Amsterdam's racist, sexist thugs (who themselves were Third World immigrants, interestingly). Door-to-door time from my apartment in the Bay Area to my hotel in Amsterdam was 27 very long hours.
December 4th, 1999, my first full day sightseeing in Amsterdam.
I beat the crowds and entered Anne Frank House, at 263 Prinsengracht, as soon as it opened at 9 in the morning - barely after sunrise thanks to the northerly latitudes. It would get dark again by 4.
This was a lovely, yet sad, sight. I could tour the storefront run by Anne's father Otto even during the Nazi occupation of the Netherlands, with video testimony provided by his secretary Miep Gies, who continued to live in Amsterdam until her 2009 death. I then opened the bookcase and climbed up to the Secret Annexe, which was surprisingly roomy, making for very comfortable accommodations for the eight people who hid there for two years. I could even see posters of movie stars and royalties that Anne admired - including a young Princess Elizabeth, who would become the Queen of England in 1952. The tour ended with the aftermath of the eight (only Otto survived), as well as translations of Anne's diary in various languages.
I ended up buying a copy of the diary at the house's bookstore - of course, the book came with an extra sticker to denote that it was indeed purchased at the house. I also signed the guestbook, noting the ongoing prejudice and hatred outside the house's walls, though this time coming from the Third World immigrant thugs I just mentioned. I had initially identified them as Surinamese, based on longtime Dutch colonial rule in Suriname, but a native Dutch friend of mine who lives in nearby IJmuiden tells me that those thugs, while a severe menace, are more likely to be from elsewhere, possibly Morocco.
Sunday, December 5th, 1999, was set aside as a day trip to Cologne, Germany, a 3-hour train ride away from Amsterdam. Bad idea to schedule a visit to Germany on a Sunday, thanks to Quiet Day Sunday laws in Germany.
My Cologne itinerary included a tour of Imhoff-Stollwerck chocolate factory, as well as a visit to Romano-German Museum and its Roman mosaic floor. But this streetside musician's performance, using cups filled with different levels of water for different notes, is what clings to my mind the most from this day. People like him kept the main shopping streets lively, even with all the stores closed.
But again, the rather primitive nature of the Internet during this timeframe meant that I had not learned much about Cologne beforehand, so there wasn't much I could do around here, except for a teaser into Germany. The one thing I noticed was the similarity between German and Dutch languages - entrance and exit were "ingang" and "uitgang" in Dutch, and "Eingang" and "Ausgang" in German.
I left after seven hours in Cologne, vowing to return to Germany sooner than later. Due to my worsening financial situation in the next few years, my next Germany visit would have to wait until October 2009.
Tuesday, December 7th, 1999. Another day trip away from the Amsterdam thugs. This time, I am in Den Haag (The Hague in English), served from Amsterdam by very frequent trains via the airport and Leiden.
The Hague is best known for Madurodam, a miniature village depicting a generic Dutch city but using real-life landmarks from throughout the country. Many of the miniatures, from cars to even the airplanes at the village's international airport, actually move.
It was a very miserable rainy, windy day - typical of Holland - but I nevertheless spent a lot of time walking around here, and walking through a large park toward a different part of the town. I visited some anthropology exhibits at the Museon, before returning to the train station and taking some tram joyrides out to Vreispalace (Peace Palace, UN International Court) and the Scheveningen Beach. Tiring and miserable, but staying in Amsterdam to take abuse from the thugs would've been even worse.
Wednesday, December 8th, 1999, last full day in the Netherlands. I am north of Amsterdam this time, having taken a city bus into Zaandam area.
My destination is Zaanse Schans, a folk village. December is not a good time to visit, as most of its live folk demonstrations are summer only, but I can still look at some old windmills that actually work. Zaanse Schans is a good approximation of a traditional Dutch industrial town powered by windmills, though the windmills are collected from elsewhere in the country rather than originally erected here.
It's always rainy and windy this time of the year in this part of the world. But that makes those windmills very valuable. But the misery, both from the climate and from the Amsterdam thugs, was really getting to me.
The next day - Thursday, December 9th - was a relief for that reason. I was so relieved to arrive at Schiphol Airport, clear the departure passport check, and see this United plane sit at the gate, waiting to take me out of the misery. Flight 947 will take me to Dulles Airport outside Washington, DC, where I will connect to a San Francisco-bound flight.
In any case, I am so sick and tired of all the racist, sexist, homophobic thugs in Amsterdam, that I am glad to be flying United, rather than one of the KLM planes in the background. Especially when I could count on a Melissa Etheridge-only audio channel as part of the United inflight programming for this millennial holiday season - LESBIAN POWER, BABY! Even to this day, the mere sight of a KLM plane is guaranteed to raise my blood pressure, and similarly sighting a United plane is guaranteed to leave me feeling some lesbian power.
Some people have been incensed that I am choosing to side with a large, evil American corporation rather than "tolerant, anything-goes" Netherlands. But when tolerance includes tolerance of ethnic thugs in the name of political correctness, I am having none of it - especially when similar thugs have ganged up to take my rights away in California as well.
For those reasons, this moment remains quite iconic even today. I think of this moment, whenever I board any United flight, whenever I send a letter of commendation (or complaint - "you were so awesome that day, why were you so awful today?") to United Airlines, whenever I listen to George Gershwin's Rhapsody in Blue (the official United Airlines theme music), or whenever I listen to Melissa Etheridge.
As for my travel patterns, I had trouble connecting with Europeans as a result of the abuse I took in Amsterdam. Even my return to London and Paris in 2003, to bring some of the good feelings back, didn't quite work out - partly due to London's own Jamaican thugs on the Southbank (though London as a whole remains a city I love). Only with the 2009 European trip would I completely lose the demons.
21 April 2010
Europe recap, Day 11: Stuttgart to Paris
Only five photos from Wednesday, November 4th, 2009, as it was a long day heavy on driving and paperwork, with little downtime except for a few late afternoon hours in Stuttgart.
The morning began again at Goldswil just outside Interlaken, Switzerland, with a hearty hotel breakfast, before checking out. The cost for the two nights came out to about 200 Swiss francs - pretty nice, especially given tons of personality in that rustic cabin type building. After bidding the proprietors farewell, it was time to get moving again.
Driving back into Interlaken to check back on one particular souvenir store turned out to be tough luck; the owner probably was taking a lengthy holiday somewhere, and the store remained closed. I decided in the meantime, to pull into an unmanned Avia gas station to buy a bit extra gasoline, to ensure that I could make it to Stuttgart; unfortunately, the German-only instructions left me confounded, and the pump only issued a receipt saying that I deposited 20 francs without fueling - which indeed was the case! I decided I'd have to visit another Avia later on to redeem the credit.
My originally planned routing would have taken me from Bern toward Zurich, entering Germany on surface roads and shooting straight to Sindelfingen on Autobahn 81. But I had decided the previous night that I wanted to enjoy the Rhine and Black Forest scenery, by entering Germany from Basel and heading north on Autobahn 5. The first stretch to the Swiss capital, Bern, was the same as originally planned, heading west on Autobahn 8 and merging onto Autobahn 6 at Thun (motorway-grade roads all the way from here); from there on, I continued on Autobahn 1, which would indeed be the routing to Zurich, but upon meeting Autobahn 2 again, turned off onto it to head for Basel and connect to German Autobahn 5 there. As the high Alpine peaks faded away, the landscape was replaced by rolling hills, farms, picturesque houses, and pretty cityscapes - what little Bern I could see from the motorway, it was definitely nicer than many other cities around the world. My driving music for this stretch would've best been Swiss yodeling or classical, but actually I was rocking away to a 2-CD Michael Jackson compilation, still finding it hard to believe of his passing, followed by a Mariah Carey compilation CD that had done some heavy duty during my mad South Korean drive of 2008.
I had no luck finding an Avia gas station on the way, but just before Basel, I did pull into a rest area, to shop for extra Swiss souvenirs for my extended family. Besides, it looked like I would have enough fuel to continue well into Germany, so I drove on. I noted that Basel was forming a metropolitan area with the French city of Mulhouse and the German city of Freiburg, and that Basel's airport was actually sitting in Mulhouse.
At the German border, which was a bridge on the Rhine River, signs indicated that I still had to have my passport ready at this particular checkpoint. But just holding up a closed passport booklet was good enough for me to be waved through the checkpoint, and soon I was cruising the Rhine shore along Autobahn 5, though the trees were completely blocking my view of the river. It was rainy and wet, and a 120 km/h speed limit sign with an additional sign bei Nässe under it (with a skidding car diagram) indicated that I had to obey the limit while it was wet. Now that the Mercedes-Benz was fully broken in and I was back in Germany, I wanted to do some speeding before sending the car off to America, but the 120 wet speed limit remained on for about 30 minutes! At least I played the Haydn Emperor Hymn again - it may be a long time before I ever listen to the German national anthem while speeding on an Autobahn in a Mercedes-Benz again.
Just as I was starting to note that I was not too far from the French city of Strasbourg, and that German road signs were often insisting on the German-style spelling Straßburg to indicate that the city had once indeed been German (unusual in modern-day Europe, where the spelling locally used in the given city is always officially recognized), I could finally find an unlimited stretch, and seeing that the pavement was dry, started to speed. Previously, my mother had not thought too much of the analog speedometer readings, but now that I had told her that the analog needle was in MILES per hour, she started freaking out again as soon as she saw the needle go up toward the 90 mark. She was determined to not let me speed within Germany, but save it for a future stateside drive, but I was NOT happy about it, as the US not only has strict speed limits, but unpredictable cut-rate drivers too. And sure enough, I was enjoying the courteous, predictable German drivers, even though the best I could do this day - and the whole trip - was 147 km/h. Based on prevailing conditions, I judged that I could do 160-170 quite safely, so it was disappointing.
Before too long, I approached Karlsruhe, where I picked up Autobahn 8 heading back toward Stuttgart. The 8, again, is an older Autobahn, built early on under the Nazi rule, so many sections remain curvy and tight - so it was a bit more difficult to maintain speed, made worse by steep inclines that slowed trucks down. Sections remained wet - and as I drove on a particular empty wet section, I noted that among the three lanes, only the far right lane had dry tire tracks on it; this was proof that indeed, everyone is expected to drive as far right as possible except to pass. I also noted that with under 100 kilometers to Stuttgart, I would be making it in with fuel to spare - it's not fun shipping the car to America with a fairly full tank of overpriced European gasoline.
With only 20 kilometers remaining, however, I ran into a severe traffic jam, the worst I had seen anywhere in the world. I had no idea what was going on - had no way of getting the info short of radio traffic reports, and even then, I wouldn't be able to understand the face-paced German-language traffic updates. At this point, I had to remember the traffic jam rules on the Autobahn: make a gap between lanes 1 and 2 to allow emergency vehicles through, and I may also pass on the right assuming that I am going no faster than 60 km/h. With Leonberg and Stuttgart not too far away, I decided to ride the traffic jam out, especially since it was only after 1 in the afternoon, and the shipping company would remain open until 4. While stuck in traffic, I also noted a white US-market S-class cruising alongside me, with export plates expiring 3 days after mine.
But the traffic was so horrendous, it was well past 2 already, and I had to take an exit right after the northbound Autobahn 81 junction. My intention was to follow clearly posted official detour routes (indicated by the letter U followed by a number) toward the southbound Autobahn 81 turnoff. But just as I started driving on the official detour, I noticed a yellow sign pointing me off of it toward Sindelfingen - it was a shortcut I had not been aware of! I started driving on the shortcut, which indeed brought me into the older section of Sindelfingen, and back to the Mercedes-Benz assembly plant, in no time.
Not sure of my bearings, I made an almost full counterclockwise circle around the assembly plant. My mother noted that returning to Sindelfingen after a week on the road was kind of like coming back to an old hometown; I replied that for the car, it was indeed homecoming - a return to the birthplace it will never see again. After making the circle, I located the Kundencenter, where I had taken delivery of the vehicle - and made a further short drive, crossing the railroad tracks that take finished cars to ports in northern Germany for shipment worldwide, before ending up on an alley, flanked by a Muslim mosque on the left and an office of Simovic Car Service on the right. Simovic would be the agent for E. H. Harms, the company responsible for shipment of the car to North America.
Now I have arrived at Simovic. I am about to head into the office to start the paperwork for shipping the Mercedes-Benz.
And a nice sight of an old, yet charming, Citroën 2CV. It more than stands its ground in a lot full of North America-bound luxury cars.
Upon entering the office - adorned with, among other things, a map of the United States - the lady inside let me know that it was a 600-liter gasoline spill that had caused the massive backup on Autobahn 8. That explained everything! The paperwork proceeded. I had to fill out a US EPA form certifying that the vehicle fully meets applicable US emissions standards, sign a shipping contract that stated that the car is to be delivered to Mercedes-Benz's Vehicle Preparation Center in Long Beach, California with the cost prepaid, a US power of attorney authorizing E. H. Harms to customs-clear the car on my behalf, and an inspection form indicating that no damage to the car was done, aside from leaves stuck on the doors due to the rain, during the European drive. (That relieved my mother of her biggest worry.)
At this point, I had to empty everything that was NOT listed as part of the car's factory equipment - all personal belongings, the manuals, the registration papers, and even a sample CD provided with the car for testing the Harman-Kardon Logic7 sound system. I made sure to remove all the CDs from the CD changer as well. Copies of registration papers were made to indicate to the US Customs that this car was being imported as privately owned, while I got to keep the originals.
Soon, the white S-class came in as well. Turned out that it was driven by an elderly Cuban emigré couple sending the car to Miami. The gentleman who had been driving asked me how I beat him - and I told him about the shortcut I took, which he had not been aware of. He asked me where I was from, and when I said Los Angeles, we did an instant comparison between Miami's Little Havana and Los Angeles's Koreatown. Two very similar ethnic communities indeed, with the strongest common link being McCarthyism, though there was no need for me to disclose my severe displeasure toward Little Havana and Koreatown to him. The Cuban-American couple was about to miss the flight to Paris due to the traffic jam; on the other hand, my mother and I still had ample time left over for the train hop to Paris.
My final look at the car before shipment, surrounded by a number of other export Mercedes-Benz vehicles. There is also a BMW 7-series in the lot, though not pictured - E. H. Harms is the designated European Delivery shipper for all European automakers that offer the program to Americans.
As it would turn out, the car would be taken by train to Bremerhaven in northern Germany on Saturday the 7th, and put on an NYK Lines ship on the 14th. The ship would arrive in Long Beach on December 10th, and the car customs-cleared by the 16th, though due to the Christmas holidays, Vehicle Preparation Center wouldn't add the iPod connector and US-spec First Aid Kit and deliver the car to the dealership until January 5th. The dealership refueled, detailed, and re-delivered the car to me the following day.
The shipping office lady informed me that the car would be shipped to the US as is, complete with the toll stickers and German export plates. I did know that the car would have to be washed in the US for the USDA agricultural inspection, but expected the car to show up as is otherwise. But I was later told that the Vehicle Preparation Center removed all stickers (I didn't care for the toll stickers, but wanted to keep the emissions and German nationality stickers), and the car came to the dealership with only the German export plates, plus the window sticker that's normally given to new cars imported for sale but not to privately owned European Delivery cars like this. Bummer. The export plates were removed by the dealership, replaced with dealer insignia, but the saleswoman made sure to give the removed export plates to me as souvenirs - my mother still has them.
Now it was time to move on. I had the shipping office call a local cab company, so that my mother and I could head for the nearest S-Bahn station at Böblingen to get into Stuttgart. I was again finding it frustrating that my mother was leaving all logistics up to me, and not even bothering to know what an S-Bahn was, despite having spent days in Munich and Stuttgart at the beginning of this trip. At the station, we lucked out - the next train to Stuttgart was actually a nonstop Regio train, which I could still ride with the S-Bahn fare. As the train approached Stuttgart, I was glad to see the rolling hills with vineyards again, as well as charming residential neighborhoods. I also noted a blue French TGV bullet train in the yard as the Regio train approached the station - I knew that would be my ride to Paris.
Back in Stuttgart. I arrived around 3:50ish thanks to the fast nonstop Regio train. With the Paris train leaving at 6:52, I had three hours available. Just like back in Munich, all bags were put away in a station locker, and I am back on Königstraße one final time.
Glad to see the vibrancy from the people and in the air. Again, I was feeling that Stuttgart region was not merely the hometown of the Mercedes-Benz that I have just sent to America - it was becoming a hometown of sorts for me too.
Having an early, light dinner. My vantage point is the outdoors terrace of the sixth floor café at Karstadt department store. (Of course, I'm eating inside, it's too cold out here especially after the rain, I'm out only for photo ops.)
Looking north toward the train station. I definitely remember that old church clock tower from the previous week.
And looking east toward a newer clock tower, with the hills and an observation tower in the distance.
Karstadt turned out to be more than a meal stop. Shopping continued - though this time, my mother was shopping for Christmas ornaments for her new home, in the form of three porcelain angels with glitter wings. And in any case, window-shopping an upscale German department store is never a bad thing - especially when I am walking around in the toy section and finding that not all stuffed animals have to come from Chinese sweatshops.
I also made my own purchase - Mariah Carey's newest album, Memoirs of an Imperfect Angel, which features a lovely cover of a 1980s Foreigner hit, "I Want to Know What Love Is." I had been in Las Vegas in mid-September to see a special Mariah Carey concert and enjoy that particular song (though admittedly, this concert was a dud, and I had to make up for it with another, far superior, Mariah concert in Los Angeles in February). My original plan had been to buy the CD before starting the drive to listen while driving, but that didn't quite turn out - but better than never. This also meant that I was buying my Mariah Carey CDs from four different markets - US, UK, South Korea, and now Germany.
(But as it would turn out, I wouldn't open the CD packaging until arriving in the US - only to find that it had a manufacturing defect, packaging with no CD inside. Too late to ask for a refund without a lot of costly hassles.)
We returned to Hauptbahnhof about an hour before departure, saying our final farewells to Stuttgart, now an adopted hometown and certainly the most pleasant surprise during this trip. After grabbing some ice cream and retrieving our bags, we finally found the TGV boarding - though disappointed to see that our seats faced backward. I made sure to remind my mother of the previous year's train trip together - Seoul to Busan on South Korea's KTX bullet train - and also remind her that this train was exactly the same model, except for crummier passenger cabin and slightly newer locomotives.
The train departed with mostly German commuters on board, disembarking at the first stop of Karlsruhe. All announcements were in German, French, then English - and from Strasbourg on, French coming before German. The train crewmembers had both Deutsche Bahn and SNCF pins on their uniforms. As the train entered Strasbourg, I clearly saw the German phone signals fade away, and manually switched to French phone carriers and French-language dates and times. Dead tired by now, both of us slept soundly through the high-speed run, waking up barely in time for the arrival at Paris' Gare de l'Est around 10:30 at night. The hotel I booked, a Best Western "in the Marais district" - actually the very northern fringes of the Marais, not really Marais at all - was two longish blocks away, and the walk went through unexpectedly seedy neighborhoods. We were knocked out by the time we entered our corner double room, though glad that we wouldn't have to hop around hotels again, this Best Western being our final European hotel.
The morning began again at Goldswil just outside Interlaken, Switzerland, with a hearty hotel breakfast, before checking out. The cost for the two nights came out to about 200 Swiss francs - pretty nice, especially given tons of personality in that rustic cabin type building. After bidding the proprietors farewell, it was time to get moving again.
Driving back into Interlaken to check back on one particular souvenir store turned out to be tough luck; the owner probably was taking a lengthy holiday somewhere, and the store remained closed. I decided in the meantime, to pull into an unmanned Avia gas station to buy a bit extra gasoline, to ensure that I could make it to Stuttgart; unfortunately, the German-only instructions left me confounded, and the pump only issued a receipt saying that I deposited 20 francs without fueling - which indeed was the case! I decided I'd have to visit another Avia later on to redeem the credit.
My originally planned routing would have taken me from Bern toward Zurich, entering Germany on surface roads and shooting straight to Sindelfingen on Autobahn 81. But I had decided the previous night that I wanted to enjoy the Rhine and Black Forest scenery, by entering Germany from Basel and heading north on Autobahn 5. The first stretch to the Swiss capital, Bern, was the same as originally planned, heading west on Autobahn 8 and merging onto Autobahn 6 at Thun (motorway-grade roads all the way from here); from there on, I continued on Autobahn 1, which would indeed be the routing to Zurich, but upon meeting Autobahn 2 again, turned off onto it to head for Basel and connect to German Autobahn 5 there. As the high Alpine peaks faded away, the landscape was replaced by rolling hills, farms, picturesque houses, and pretty cityscapes - what little Bern I could see from the motorway, it was definitely nicer than many other cities around the world. My driving music for this stretch would've best been Swiss yodeling or classical, but actually I was rocking away to a 2-CD Michael Jackson compilation, still finding it hard to believe of his passing, followed by a Mariah Carey compilation CD that had done some heavy duty during my mad South Korean drive of 2008.
I had no luck finding an Avia gas station on the way, but just before Basel, I did pull into a rest area, to shop for extra Swiss souvenirs for my extended family. Besides, it looked like I would have enough fuel to continue well into Germany, so I drove on. I noted that Basel was forming a metropolitan area with the French city of Mulhouse and the German city of Freiburg, and that Basel's airport was actually sitting in Mulhouse.
At the German border, which was a bridge on the Rhine River, signs indicated that I still had to have my passport ready at this particular checkpoint. But just holding up a closed passport booklet was good enough for me to be waved through the checkpoint, and soon I was cruising the Rhine shore along Autobahn 5, though the trees were completely blocking my view of the river. It was rainy and wet, and a 120 km/h speed limit sign with an additional sign bei Nässe under it (with a skidding car diagram) indicated that I had to obey the limit while it was wet. Now that the Mercedes-Benz was fully broken in and I was back in Germany, I wanted to do some speeding before sending the car off to America, but the 120 wet speed limit remained on for about 30 minutes! At least I played the Haydn Emperor Hymn again - it may be a long time before I ever listen to the German national anthem while speeding on an Autobahn in a Mercedes-Benz again.
Just as I was starting to note that I was not too far from the French city of Strasbourg, and that German road signs were often insisting on the German-style spelling Straßburg to indicate that the city had once indeed been German (unusual in modern-day Europe, where the spelling locally used in the given city is always officially recognized), I could finally find an unlimited stretch, and seeing that the pavement was dry, started to speed. Previously, my mother had not thought too much of the analog speedometer readings, but now that I had told her that the analog needle was in MILES per hour, she started freaking out again as soon as she saw the needle go up toward the 90 mark. She was determined to not let me speed within Germany, but save it for a future stateside drive, but I was NOT happy about it, as the US not only has strict speed limits, but unpredictable cut-rate drivers too. And sure enough, I was enjoying the courteous, predictable German drivers, even though the best I could do this day - and the whole trip - was 147 km/h. Based on prevailing conditions, I judged that I could do 160-170 quite safely, so it was disappointing.
Before too long, I approached Karlsruhe, where I picked up Autobahn 8 heading back toward Stuttgart. The 8, again, is an older Autobahn, built early on under the Nazi rule, so many sections remain curvy and tight - so it was a bit more difficult to maintain speed, made worse by steep inclines that slowed trucks down. Sections remained wet - and as I drove on a particular empty wet section, I noted that among the three lanes, only the far right lane had dry tire tracks on it; this was proof that indeed, everyone is expected to drive as far right as possible except to pass. I also noted that with under 100 kilometers to Stuttgart, I would be making it in with fuel to spare - it's not fun shipping the car to America with a fairly full tank of overpriced European gasoline.
With only 20 kilometers remaining, however, I ran into a severe traffic jam, the worst I had seen anywhere in the world. I had no idea what was going on - had no way of getting the info short of radio traffic reports, and even then, I wouldn't be able to understand the face-paced German-language traffic updates. At this point, I had to remember the traffic jam rules on the Autobahn: make a gap between lanes 1 and 2 to allow emergency vehicles through, and I may also pass on the right assuming that I am going no faster than 60 km/h. With Leonberg and Stuttgart not too far away, I decided to ride the traffic jam out, especially since it was only after 1 in the afternoon, and the shipping company would remain open until 4. While stuck in traffic, I also noted a white US-market S-class cruising alongside me, with export plates expiring 3 days after mine.
But the traffic was so horrendous, it was well past 2 already, and I had to take an exit right after the northbound Autobahn 81 junction. My intention was to follow clearly posted official detour routes (indicated by the letter U followed by a number) toward the southbound Autobahn 81 turnoff. But just as I started driving on the official detour, I noticed a yellow sign pointing me off of it toward Sindelfingen - it was a shortcut I had not been aware of! I started driving on the shortcut, which indeed brought me into the older section of Sindelfingen, and back to the Mercedes-Benz assembly plant, in no time.
Not sure of my bearings, I made an almost full counterclockwise circle around the assembly plant. My mother noted that returning to Sindelfingen after a week on the road was kind of like coming back to an old hometown; I replied that for the car, it was indeed homecoming - a return to the birthplace it will never see again. After making the circle, I located the Kundencenter, where I had taken delivery of the vehicle - and made a further short drive, crossing the railroad tracks that take finished cars to ports in northern Germany for shipment worldwide, before ending up on an alley, flanked by a Muslim mosque on the left and an office of Simovic Car Service on the right. Simovic would be the agent for E. H. Harms, the company responsible for shipment of the car to North America.
Now I have arrived at Simovic. I am about to head into the office to start the paperwork for shipping the Mercedes-Benz.
And a nice sight of an old, yet charming, Citroën 2CV. It more than stands its ground in a lot full of North America-bound luxury cars.
Upon entering the office - adorned with, among other things, a map of the United States - the lady inside let me know that it was a 600-liter gasoline spill that had caused the massive backup on Autobahn 8. That explained everything! The paperwork proceeded. I had to fill out a US EPA form certifying that the vehicle fully meets applicable US emissions standards, sign a shipping contract that stated that the car is to be delivered to Mercedes-Benz's Vehicle Preparation Center in Long Beach, California with the cost prepaid, a US power of attorney authorizing E. H. Harms to customs-clear the car on my behalf, and an inspection form indicating that no damage to the car was done, aside from leaves stuck on the doors due to the rain, during the European drive. (That relieved my mother of her biggest worry.)
At this point, I had to empty everything that was NOT listed as part of the car's factory equipment - all personal belongings, the manuals, the registration papers, and even a sample CD provided with the car for testing the Harman-Kardon Logic7 sound system. I made sure to remove all the CDs from the CD changer as well. Copies of registration papers were made to indicate to the US Customs that this car was being imported as privately owned, while I got to keep the originals.
Soon, the white S-class came in as well. Turned out that it was driven by an elderly Cuban emigré couple sending the car to Miami. The gentleman who had been driving asked me how I beat him - and I told him about the shortcut I took, which he had not been aware of. He asked me where I was from, and when I said Los Angeles, we did an instant comparison between Miami's Little Havana and Los Angeles's Koreatown. Two very similar ethnic communities indeed, with the strongest common link being McCarthyism, though there was no need for me to disclose my severe displeasure toward Little Havana and Koreatown to him. The Cuban-American couple was about to miss the flight to Paris due to the traffic jam; on the other hand, my mother and I still had ample time left over for the train hop to Paris.
My final look at the car before shipment, surrounded by a number of other export Mercedes-Benz vehicles. There is also a BMW 7-series in the lot, though not pictured - E. H. Harms is the designated European Delivery shipper for all European automakers that offer the program to Americans.
As it would turn out, the car would be taken by train to Bremerhaven in northern Germany on Saturday the 7th, and put on an NYK Lines ship on the 14th. The ship would arrive in Long Beach on December 10th, and the car customs-cleared by the 16th, though due to the Christmas holidays, Vehicle Preparation Center wouldn't add the iPod connector and US-spec First Aid Kit and deliver the car to the dealership until January 5th. The dealership refueled, detailed, and re-delivered the car to me the following day.
The shipping office lady informed me that the car would be shipped to the US as is, complete with the toll stickers and German export plates. I did know that the car would have to be washed in the US for the USDA agricultural inspection, but expected the car to show up as is otherwise. But I was later told that the Vehicle Preparation Center removed all stickers (I didn't care for the toll stickers, but wanted to keep the emissions and German nationality stickers), and the car came to the dealership with only the German export plates, plus the window sticker that's normally given to new cars imported for sale but not to privately owned European Delivery cars like this. Bummer. The export plates were removed by the dealership, replaced with dealer insignia, but the saleswoman made sure to give the removed export plates to me as souvenirs - my mother still has them.
Now it was time to move on. I had the shipping office call a local cab company, so that my mother and I could head for the nearest S-Bahn station at Böblingen to get into Stuttgart. I was again finding it frustrating that my mother was leaving all logistics up to me, and not even bothering to know what an S-Bahn was, despite having spent days in Munich and Stuttgart at the beginning of this trip. At the station, we lucked out - the next train to Stuttgart was actually a nonstop Regio train, which I could still ride with the S-Bahn fare. As the train approached Stuttgart, I was glad to see the rolling hills with vineyards again, as well as charming residential neighborhoods. I also noted a blue French TGV bullet train in the yard as the Regio train approached the station - I knew that would be my ride to Paris.
Back in Stuttgart. I arrived around 3:50ish thanks to the fast nonstop Regio train. With the Paris train leaving at 6:52, I had three hours available. Just like back in Munich, all bags were put away in a station locker, and I am back on Königstraße one final time.
Glad to see the vibrancy from the people and in the air. Again, I was feeling that Stuttgart region was not merely the hometown of the Mercedes-Benz that I have just sent to America - it was becoming a hometown of sorts for me too.
Having an early, light dinner. My vantage point is the outdoors terrace of the sixth floor café at Karstadt department store. (Of course, I'm eating inside, it's too cold out here especially after the rain, I'm out only for photo ops.)
Looking north toward the train station. I definitely remember that old church clock tower from the previous week.
And looking east toward a newer clock tower, with the hills and an observation tower in the distance.
Karstadt turned out to be more than a meal stop. Shopping continued - though this time, my mother was shopping for Christmas ornaments for her new home, in the form of three porcelain angels with glitter wings. And in any case, window-shopping an upscale German department store is never a bad thing - especially when I am walking around in the toy section and finding that not all stuffed animals have to come from Chinese sweatshops.
I also made my own purchase - Mariah Carey's newest album, Memoirs of an Imperfect Angel, which features a lovely cover of a 1980s Foreigner hit, "I Want to Know What Love Is." I had been in Las Vegas in mid-September to see a special Mariah Carey concert and enjoy that particular song (though admittedly, this concert was a dud, and I had to make up for it with another, far superior, Mariah concert in Los Angeles in February). My original plan had been to buy the CD before starting the drive to listen while driving, but that didn't quite turn out - but better than never. This also meant that I was buying my Mariah Carey CDs from four different markets - US, UK, South Korea, and now Germany.
(But as it would turn out, I wouldn't open the CD packaging until arriving in the US - only to find that it had a manufacturing defect, packaging with no CD inside. Too late to ask for a refund without a lot of costly hassles.)
We returned to Hauptbahnhof about an hour before departure, saying our final farewells to Stuttgart, now an adopted hometown and certainly the most pleasant surprise during this trip. After grabbing some ice cream and retrieving our bags, we finally found the TGV boarding - though disappointed to see that our seats faced backward. I made sure to remind my mother of the previous year's train trip together - Seoul to Busan on South Korea's KTX bullet train - and also remind her that this train was exactly the same model, except for crummier passenger cabin and slightly newer locomotives.
The train departed with mostly German commuters on board, disembarking at the first stop of Karlsruhe. All announcements were in German, French, then English - and from Strasbourg on, French coming before German. The train crewmembers had both Deutsche Bahn and SNCF pins on their uniforms. As the train entered Strasbourg, I clearly saw the German phone signals fade away, and manually switched to French phone carriers and French-language dates and times. Dead tired by now, both of us slept soundly through the high-speed run, waking up barely in time for the arrival at Paris' Gare de l'Est around 10:30 at night. The hotel I booked, a Best Western "in the Marais district" - actually the very northern fringes of the Marais, not really Marais at all - was two longish blocks away, and the walk went through unexpectedly seedy neighborhoods. We were knocked out by the time we entered our corner double room, though glad that we wouldn't have to hop around hotels again, this Best Western being our final European hotel.
23 March 2010
Europe Recap: Day 5, Fantasy Castles
It's already Thursday, October 29th - about a third of the way into the trip already, even though it felt like I was just getting started. Already, the previous night in the town of Hohenschwangau was going to be my last of five nights in German territory; at the end of the day, I was going into Austria.
Again, jet lag has gotten the better of me. It's about 4 in the morning, and sleepless again, I am out and about in the hotel parking area, where the temperatures are barely above freezing. Sure, sheltering myself in the car helps a bit, since I need to continue to fiddle with its settings to get to know them better. At least the factory had made sure to provide me with the North American English manuals for the car itself, and for the COMAND navigation system, so that I wouldn't be left in the dark regarding the car's features. (I would get another set of the manuals upon redelivery in the US.)
At least I am enjoying this stunning view of floodlit Hohenschwangau Castle. Hohenschwangau remains lit all night, while Neuschwanstein's floodlights are turned off at 1:30 in the morning, according to the hotel night clerk. Though it's gonna still be a long wait before morning comes, the castles open for visit, and I take my turn visiting each.
It's morning, and I have just purchased tickets for the combined Royal Tour, covering both castles in order. However, since it will be a while before my English-language tour starts, so I'm walking around the town.
This is Alpsee. In German, a placename ending with "-see" can be any body of water, often a lake. This lake is usually framed as the stunning backdrop on posters depicting an aerial view of Neuschwanstein. It's still chilly this morning, but feels extremely fresh here at the base of the Alps, and I'm loving it. And for the record, this is my first time experiencing rugged terrain in Europe.
Nearby trails indicate that a short walk along the lake's shores and beyond will take me into Austria's Tirol province.
Now checked out of the Lisl, and I am looking back at this pricey but very charming hotel.
As it turned out, breakfast was not part of my rate, and it cost me another €20 for two buffet breakfasts. Final cost for the night was €140 or so with the breakfasts - just over USD $200 as shown on my credit card statement, certainly NOT cheap for just a night. If I were traveling alone that'd be prohibitively expensive, but for two, this was a nice splurge.
The Lisl was the only hotel in my itinerary that had been booked for only one night. All other hotels involved at least two nights (though plans would eventually change...).
Now it's time for the first castle tour - Hohenschwangau. I have now climbed up to the courtyard of the castle, waiting for my tour.
The two castles feature many custom frescoes on the interior walls, and due to copyright issues over them, all interior photographs are prohibited. That means I have very few photos to share for this particular day. The only sure way to fully experience these castles is simply to visit in person.
Hohenschwangau's architecture resembles that of traditional medieval castles, but it's really a 19th Century Romantic reinterpretation of medieval themes, a motif that had been popular at the time. The interior frescoes are Romanticized motifs of knights and chivalry; while there are many battle scenes, there is no bloodshed, for example. The room that was used by Ludwig II has images of frolicking nude maidens - and I liked that.
In this photo, I can see the window shades, and they feature the Bavarian color scheme again. Between BMWs, the logo of the famous FC Bayern soccer club of the Bundesliga, and all the blatant displays of Bavarian nationalism, it's impossible to miss the Blau mit Weiß. Even now, every sight of a BMW automobile immediately reminds me of my Bavarian moments, and a BMW with color-altered roundels (red/white and black/silver are two common examples), common in Los Angeles but NEVER seen within Bavaria, makes me cringe. (But then, I now cringe at all BMWs anyway thanks to its involvement with the Pope.)
There is this nice patio garden at the courtyard level, but as it's cold today, I am not seeing much life. On a summer day this place would be much nicer. But then, maybe the tourist mob may NOT be such a good idea. These castles are notorious for long lines and sold-out tours, but since my visit is at the tail end of October, I am spared from that insanity.
Here is a detail of a courtyard fountain, showing a Catholic motif of Madonna and Child. After all, Bavaria's Catholicism is to be duly noted again and again. The gold-leafed halo is, again, a medieval inspiration. Also love the balance of the Bavarian blue/white on the left with the red swan knight imagery on the right.
Neuschwanstein is visible in the distance. When the sun rises, the sun rays strike Neuschwanstein first - it's quite a sight. It had been the site of two previous medieval castles, and for the same reasons, King Ludwig II placed the castle there in the 1880s.
Ludwig II ruled at a time when Bavaria ended up losing its sovereignty. He simply refused to deal with the political headaches, and simply withdrew himself to his longtime fantasy, castle-building, which had been inspired by his father. He bankrupted the national treasury and his own family fortune building a number of fantasy castles throughout Bavaria; the largest of them, at Herrechiemsee (on a huge lake on the way to Salzburg), was to feature a huge Hall of Mirrors even grander than the famous one at Versailles in France. Eventually, he was declared mentally unfit to rule (hence the "Mad King" title), and two days later, he was found dead; suicide or murder, the cause of death was never conclusively proven. The castles eventually opened to the public for tours within weeks.
Done with Hohenschwangau, now I have arrived at Neuschwanstein, after a mile-long hike from the town. The climb can also be done with horse-pulled carriages or a bus, though at a price. A nice waterfall at Marienbrücke (St. Mary's Bridge), on a back trail, was a stunning sight that I did not get to experience up close, though I could constantly hear the waterfall roar while waiting for this castle's tours and afterwards.
While the castle's architecture is very medieval Gothic, again, it dates only from the 1880s. And the walls are so clean and stain-free that from this point, the castle looks even newer.
The interior features a stunning Byzantine throne room, but otherwise is disappointing. The castle had been designed with five levels, but only the top two were ever completed, and one of the uncompleted levels served as a souvenir shop. The living level, to fulfill Ludwig's fantasies, even had a miniature cavern, which I walked through.
Neuschwanstein affords an excellent view of the town of Füssen as well. Those red tiled roofs are quite a sight - and a very common motif throughout Bavaria.
The body of water seen here, Forggensee, is an artificial reservoir dating back only to 1959. That means my view is even better than the view that Mad King Ludwig himself had ever had.
And here is a truly magnificent view of Alpsee from Neuschwanstein, as I wrap up my tour. Because of the fall foliage, October is considered by many to be the best time to visit the castles, and I am glad that this is indeed my timeframe.
It is early afternoon, and aside from the two castles, there are no other sights of interest in the immediate area. Time to start driving again. I headed back into Füssen first, to buy some gasoline as well as the Austrian toll sticker. While a supermarket sold me premium 95-octane (91-octane by US methods, German regular is 91 European/87 US) gasoline at about €1.38 or so per liter, it could not sell me a toll sticker, so I had to go to a retail gas station down the street. Unfortunately, when I asked the elderly lady cashier there "Sprechen-Sie Englisch?" the answer was a flat-out "Nein," and that simply became an opportunity for me to put the scraps of German I had picked up to good use. She and I strung together the words "Österreich vignette zehn Tagen" (Austrian toll sticker, ten days validity), and I walked away with a properly validated ten-day toll sticker for €7.70.
I returned to Autobahn 7, where the onramp indeed indicated "Austrian toll sticker required beyond this point" - and the Autobahn immediately entered a tunnel, and there was a European Union sign with the letter A in the middle. Yes, it was the Austrian border - and the border crossing was as much of a non-event as crossing US state lines. Austria became my sixth European country with this entry, and the first new European country I entered since entering Germany from Amsterdam for a day trip in December 1999.
My routing started on Austrian Highway 179, the natural extension of Autobahn 7, proceeding through a very scenic Alpine country straight out of postcards. A turn-off onto Highway 187 would take me back to Germany, right under the slopes of the Zugspitze and into Garmisch-Partenkirchen. I loved the Austrian scenery, but did not care for Garmisch too much; on a future visit, I would love to return to Garmisch, if only to ride the Zugspitzebahn up to Germany's highest point, but on this trip, where Jungfrau is on the agenda, it was better to push ahead.
Back in Germany, I picked up Autobahn 95 out of Garmisch, which returned me to Munich - in fact, within a few blocks of the neighborhood I had stayed in a few days earlier. After some surface street driving to navigate the ring road, I finally picked up the eastbound Autobahn 8 for the hourlong drive to Salzburg.
Just outside Munich, I pulled into a rest area, where I decided to eat a Burger King meal (my mother's suggestion, I would've chosen something more local). The young lady at the cash register, presumably an Eastern European immigrant, spoke no English; again, time to string together a few German words to place my order. As I ate, I was able to watch a family-friendly television program; but this being Europe rather than puritan US, even a family-friendly television program could easily involve nudity - in this case, a woman trying on new bras after a reconstructive surgery. And no, no need to pixelate the nipples either; this was nonsexual nudity and necessary to tell the positive story of self-image, so it would actually be a subversion of the message to pixelate anything. I love this European no-nonsense approach to nudity and body image, vastly preferable to the US BS where a mere sight of an exposed nipple is supposed to scar a child for life.
Back on the road, a bit of traffic build-up around Autobahn 93 junction (the turn-off for Innsbruck and Italy) tested my patience a bit. I slipped into my bad California habits and almost passed a fast-lane slowpoke on the right, before pulling back at the last minute; my mother protested, and when I explained the no-passing-on-right rule, she refused to believe it, at least until I showed other motorists obeying the same rule. Eventually the slowpoke moved right and traffic resumed at a normal speed, but Autobahn 8 was an old, curvy road, and while there was no hard speed limit, even the "recommended speed limit" (blue rectangle, rather than red-bordered white circle used for hard limits) was a mere 110 km/h rather than the standard 130, so I had to keep my speed down and be careful. There were plenty of rest stops on the way offering more Austrian toll stickers, and I could buy toll stickers all the way to the border itself, so there was no excuse for not having one.
As it started to darken, I found myself again in mountainous territory, and speed limits dropped significantly as I neared the customs checkpoints at the German-Austrian border. Sure, a passenger car can breeze right through - there are no checkpoints anymore in the main lanes - but trucks were still expected to pull over for an inspection, as well as cars that still needed to get a toll sticker. I also noted the "default speed limit" signs that are found at every European national border - the only reminders of a given country's speed limits, which I am expected to remember and obey in the absence of any other limits. (That'd be 90 km/h surface and 130 km/h motorway for Austria, and 50 km/h urban, 100 km/h rural, and "recommended 130 km/h but can be legally exceeded" motorway for Germany.)
In Austria, the 8 immediately split into two - Autobahn 1 toward Vienna, and Autobahn 10 toward Graz. I took the 1 for a few kilometers, and picking out a route I had previously studied, exited the motorway to proceed slowly into the heart of Salzburg. I ended up at a nice Best Western, located between the train station and the old city core, for a two-night stay, while the car, not necessary within town, would be parked at a dedicated outdoors lot, for the duration of my stay, for free as a paying guest of the hotel.
The Salzburg walking tour, covering sights related to Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, The Sound of Music, and more, would make up the next day, and will be the next post.
Again, jet lag has gotten the better of me. It's about 4 in the morning, and sleepless again, I am out and about in the hotel parking area, where the temperatures are barely above freezing. Sure, sheltering myself in the car helps a bit, since I need to continue to fiddle with its settings to get to know them better. At least the factory had made sure to provide me with the North American English manuals for the car itself, and for the COMAND navigation system, so that I wouldn't be left in the dark regarding the car's features. (I would get another set of the manuals upon redelivery in the US.)
At least I am enjoying this stunning view of floodlit Hohenschwangau Castle. Hohenschwangau remains lit all night, while Neuschwanstein's floodlights are turned off at 1:30 in the morning, according to the hotel night clerk. Though it's gonna still be a long wait before morning comes, the castles open for visit, and I take my turn visiting each.
It's morning, and I have just purchased tickets for the combined Royal Tour, covering both castles in order. However, since it will be a while before my English-language tour starts, so I'm walking around the town.
This is Alpsee. In German, a placename ending with "-see" can be any body of water, often a lake. This lake is usually framed as the stunning backdrop on posters depicting an aerial view of Neuschwanstein. It's still chilly this morning, but feels extremely fresh here at the base of the Alps, and I'm loving it. And for the record, this is my first time experiencing rugged terrain in Europe.
Nearby trails indicate that a short walk along the lake's shores and beyond will take me into Austria's Tirol province.
Now checked out of the Lisl, and I am looking back at this pricey but very charming hotel.
As it turned out, breakfast was not part of my rate, and it cost me another €20 for two buffet breakfasts. Final cost for the night was €140 or so with the breakfasts - just over USD $200 as shown on my credit card statement, certainly NOT cheap for just a night. If I were traveling alone that'd be prohibitively expensive, but for two, this was a nice splurge.
The Lisl was the only hotel in my itinerary that had been booked for only one night. All other hotels involved at least two nights (though plans would eventually change...).
Now it's time for the first castle tour - Hohenschwangau. I have now climbed up to the courtyard of the castle, waiting for my tour.
The two castles feature many custom frescoes on the interior walls, and due to copyright issues over them, all interior photographs are prohibited. That means I have very few photos to share for this particular day. The only sure way to fully experience these castles is simply to visit in person.
Hohenschwangau's architecture resembles that of traditional medieval castles, but it's really a 19th Century Romantic reinterpretation of medieval themes, a motif that had been popular at the time. The interior frescoes are Romanticized motifs of knights and chivalry; while there are many battle scenes, there is no bloodshed, for example. The room that was used by Ludwig II has images of frolicking nude maidens - and I liked that.
In this photo, I can see the window shades, and they feature the Bavarian color scheme again. Between BMWs, the logo of the famous FC Bayern soccer club of the Bundesliga, and all the blatant displays of Bavarian nationalism, it's impossible to miss the Blau mit Weiß. Even now, every sight of a BMW automobile immediately reminds me of my Bavarian moments, and a BMW with color-altered roundels (red/white and black/silver are two common examples), common in Los Angeles but NEVER seen within Bavaria, makes me cringe. (But then, I now cringe at all BMWs anyway thanks to its involvement with the Pope.)
There is this nice patio garden at the courtyard level, but as it's cold today, I am not seeing much life. On a summer day this place would be much nicer. But then, maybe the tourist mob may NOT be such a good idea. These castles are notorious for long lines and sold-out tours, but since my visit is at the tail end of October, I am spared from that insanity.
Here is a detail of a courtyard fountain, showing a Catholic motif of Madonna and Child. After all, Bavaria's Catholicism is to be duly noted again and again. The gold-leafed halo is, again, a medieval inspiration. Also love the balance of the Bavarian blue/white on the left with the red swan knight imagery on the right.
Neuschwanstein is visible in the distance. When the sun rises, the sun rays strike Neuschwanstein first - it's quite a sight. It had been the site of two previous medieval castles, and for the same reasons, King Ludwig II placed the castle there in the 1880s.
Ludwig II ruled at a time when Bavaria ended up losing its sovereignty. He simply refused to deal with the political headaches, and simply withdrew himself to his longtime fantasy, castle-building, which had been inspired by his father. He bankrupted the national treasury and his own family fortune building a number of fantasy castles throughout Bavaria; the largest of them, at Herrechiemsee (on a huge lake on the way to Salzburg), was to feature a huge Hall of Mirrors even grander than the famous one at Versailles in France. Eventually, he was declared mentally unfit to rule (hence the "Mad King" title), and two days later, he was found dead; suicide or murder, the cause of death was never conclusively proven. The castles eventually opened to the public for tours within weeks.
Done with Hohenschwangau, now I have arrived at Neuschwanstein, after a mile-long hike from the town. The climb can also be done with horse-pulled carriages or a bus, though at a price. A nice waterfall at Marienbrücke (St. Mary's Bridge), on a back trail, was a stunning sight that I did not get to experience up close, though I could constantly hear the waterfall roar while waiting for this castle's tours and afterwards.
While the castle's architecture is very medieval Gothic, again, it dates only from the 1880s. And the walls are so clean and stain-free that from this point, the castle looks even newer.
The interior features a stunning Byzantine throne room, but otherwise is disappointing. The castle had been designed with five levels, but only the top two were ever completed, and one of the uncompleted levels served as a souvenir shop. The living level, to fulfill Ludwig's fantasies, even had a miniature cavern, which I walked through.
Neuschwanstein affords an excellent view of the town of Füssen as well. Those red tiled roofs are quite a sight - and a very common motif throughout Bavaria.
The body of water seen here, Forggensee, is an artificial reservoir dating back only to 1959. That means my view is even better than the view that Mad King Ludwig himself had ever had.
And here is a truly magnificent view of Alpsee from Neuschwanstein, as I wrap up my tour. Because of the fall foliage, October is considered by many to be the best time to visit the castles, and I am glad that this is indeed my timeframe.
It is early afternoon, and aside from the two castles, there are no other sights of interest in the immediate area. Time to start driving again. I headed back into Füssen first, to buy some gasoline as well as the Austrian toll sticker. While a supermarket sold me premium 95-octane (91-octane by US methods, German regular is 91 European/87 US) gasoline at about €1.38 or so per liter, it could not sell me a toll sticker, so I had to go to a retail gas station down the street. Unfortunately, when I asked the elderly lady cashier there "Sprechen-Sie Englisch?" the answer was a flat-out "Nein," and that simply became an opportunity for me to put the scraps of German I had picked up to good use. She and I strung together the words "Österreich vignette zehn Tagen" (Austrian toll sticker, ten days validity), and I walked away with a properly validated ten-day toll sticker for €7.70.
I returned to Autobahn 7, where the onramp indeed indicated "Austrian toll sticker required beyond this point" - and the Autobahn immediately entered a tunnel, and there was a European Union sign with the letter A in the middle. Yes, it was the Austrian border - and the border crossing was as much of a non-event as crossing US state lines. Austria became my sixth European country with this entry, and the first new European country I entered since entering Germany from Amsterdam for a day trip in December 1999.
My routing started on Austrian Highway 179, the natural extension of Autobahn 7, proceeding through a very scenic Alpine country straight out of postcards. A turn-off onto Highway 187 would take me back to Germany, right under the slopes of the Zugspitze and into Garmisch-Partenkirchen. I loved the Austrian scenery, but did not care for Garmisch too much; on a future visit, I would love to return to Garmisch, if only to ride the Zugspitzebahn up to Germany's highest point, but on this trip, where Jungfrau is on the agenda, it was better to push ahead.
Back in Germany, I picked up Autobahn 95 out of Garmisch, which returned me to Munich - in fact, within a few blocks of the neighborhood I had stayed in a few days earlier. After some surface street driving to navigate the ring road, I finally picked up the eastbound Autobahn 8 for the hourlong drive to Salzburg.
Just outside Munich, I pulled into a rest area, where I decided to eat a Burger King meal (my mother's suggestion, I would've chosen something more local). The young lady at the cash register, presumably an Eastern European immigrant, spoke no English; again, time to string together a few German words to place my order. As I ate, I was able to watch a family-friendly television program; but this being Europe rather than puritan US, even a family-friendly television program could easily involve nudity - in this case, a woman trying on new bras after a reconstructive surgery. And no, no need to pixelate the nipples either; this was nonsexual nudity and necessary to tell the positive story of self-image, so it would actually be a subversion of the message to pixelate anything. I love this European no-nonsense approach to nudity and body image, vastly preferable to the US BS where a mere sight of an exposed nipple is supposed to scar a child for life.
Back on the road, a bit of traffic build-up around Autobahn 93 junction (the turn-off for Innsbruck and Italy) tested my patience a bit. I slipped into my bad California habits and almost passed a fast-lane slowpoke on the right, before pulling back at the last minute; my mother protested, and when I explained the no-passing-on-right rule, she refused to believe it, at least until I showed other motorists obeying the same rule. Eventually the slowpoke moved right and traffic resumed at a normal speed, but Autobahn 8 was an old, curvy road, and while there was no hard speed limit, even the "recommended speed limit" (blue rectangle, rather than red-bordered white circle used for hard limits) was a mere 110 km/h rather than the standard 130, so I had to keep my speed down and be careful. There were plenty of rest stops on the way offering more Austrian toll stickers, and I could buy toll stickers all the way to the border itself, so there was no excuse for not having one.
As it started to darken, I found myself again in mountainous territory, and speed limits dropped significantly as I neared the customs checkpoints at the German-Austrian border. Sure, a passenger car can breeze right through - there are no checkpoints anymore in the main lanes - but trucks were still expected to pull over for an inspection, as well as cars that still needed to get a toll sticker. I also noted the "default speed limit" signs that are found at every European national border - the only reminders of a given country's speed limits, which I am expected to remember and obey in the absence of any other limits. (That'd be 90 km/h surface and 130 km/h motorway for Austria, and 50 km/h urban, 100 km/h rural, and "recommended 130 km/h but can be legally exceeded" motorway for Germany.)
In Austria, the 8 immediately split into two - Autobahn 1 toward Vienna, and Autobahn 10 toward Graz. I took the 1 for a few kilometers, and picking out a route I had previously studied, exited the motorway to proceed slowly into the heart of Salzburg. I ended up at a nice Best Western, located between the train station and the old city core, for a two-night stay, while the car, not necessary within town, would be parked at a dedicated outdoors lot, for the duration of my stay, for free as a paying guest of the hotel.
The Salzburg walking tour, covering sights related to Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, The Sound of Music, and more, would make up the next day, and will be the next post.
21 March 2010
Europe recap: Day 4, Rothenburg/Füssen
Wednesday, October 28, 2009. Finally time to hit the open road, now that the Mercedes-Benz is in my possession and I have sort of gotten acquainted with it. I made sure to drink a lot of coffee at the hotel breakfast buffet, just to make sure that I wouldn't fall asleep at the wheel while speeding on the Autobahn; granted, the 2010 E-class has standard "Attention Assist" drowsiness monitor, but I didn't want to take the chance.
Now I am checked out of the hotel, but still in the underground garage. And here is an interesting sight - a Chrysler that's not found back in the US. This is the wagon version of that gangsta rapster favorite, the 300. Back in the US, this vehicle (minus some luxury appointments) is sold as the Dodge Magnum. But for the European market, where the Dodge brand is reserved for the Viper and trucks, the Magnum is turned into the wagon version of the 300.
I would end up finding a fair number of Chryslers on European highways over the next week - even cut-rate models like the Caliber and the Nitro.
Getting out of the garage was a struggle in itself. The narrow, tight spiral ramp meant that I scraped the left rear tire sidewall again. My mother was getting ever more hysterical, and I had to repeatedly assure her that urban acrobatics, like the previous day's drive through Stuttgart traffic, would not be on the agenda again. The route I picked to leave Stuttgart - Bundesbahns 27 and 10 - at least had 2-3 lanes to choose from, plus each lane was clearly marked with the route number.
Those two Bundesbahns eventually led me to northbound Autobahn 81, and it would be about two hours to Rothenburg ob der Tauber, my first destination, nearly all of my drive on the Autobahn system. I was ecstatic that for the first time, I was experiencing something most car buffs can only dream of - a drive on the famed German Autobahn system. For the first five minutes or so, frequent speed limit signs reminded me that I was limited to 120 km/h, but once the all-clear sign showed up, it was basically a free-for-all, with many cars driving in excess of 160. I decided to drive just above the recommended limit, 130 km/h, in the interest of proper break-in; since the analog speedometer was only in miles per hour for this US-market vehicle, I relied on a supplementary digital display to get my speed in kilometers per hour.
The routing to Rothenburg involved northbound Autobahn 81, then eastbound Autobahn 6 to northbound Autobahn 7. Autobahns show their directions not by cardinal directions as US interstates do, but by major cities (i.e. "Nürnberg" for eastbound Autobahn 6). I loved the drive, thanks to very smooth pavement as well as very predictable drivers; I had already known that I had to drive in the farthest right lane possible except to pass, and that I could not pass on the right, and it was lovely to know that all other drivers obeyed the exact same rules. No wonder speeding is very safe on the Autobahn; similar acts of speeding would indeed be a sure bloodbath if done with the moronic drivers back in California.
I decided to savor the moment. In the COMAND system CD player, I played a Haydn composition - Emperor's Hymn, written for the Habsburg emperor in 1797. Since this composition is now the German national anthem, there is no better way to listen to it than in a speeding Mercedes-Benz on the Autobahn. It is as befitting as, say, listening to George Gershwin's Rhapsody in Blue while traveling even faster, at 600 mph, in a United Airlines jumbo jet, given that Rhapsody is the official theme music of that airline.
It didn't take too long to get to Rothenburg ob der Tauber, even though I did not really speed.
Rothenburg's claim to fame is the preservation of its medieval character. It had once been a boom town, located at the intersection of key trading routes. Then the Hundred Years' War devastated the town; Rothenburg paid dearly for being a Protestant town in a Catholic region. Yes, Rothenburg is in Bavaria - barely. The town never recovered, until the 19th Century, when the Romantic travelers rediscovered it. Today it is a key sight along the famed Romantic Road.
I parked the car outside the town walls in the newer town, and walked into the historic walled town. While the orange service vehicles detract from the medieval feel, the cobblestoned streets, and this tourist horse carriage, make up for that.
Today's Rothenburg feels like a tourist trap. Most of the businesses within the town walls cater to tourists, and some have prominent Japanese signs. In fact, it even seemed I would do better by speaking Japanese, than by speaking German.
I am inside a teddy bear store. Here are some nice teddy bears - many of them made by the famous German toy maker, Bund. Still made in Germany (as opposed to Chinese sweatshop teddy bears I normally find stateside), and extremely pricey, but worth every penny.
Some of the teddy bears in this store, of course, are for tourist consumption, wearing an "I love Germany" T-shirt, for example.
I bought a few teddy bears here myself as gifts.
As the full name of the town, Rothenburg ob der Tauber, indicates, the town overlooks the Tauber River. In fact, it is located on top of a high cliff. The cliff location aids with defense, while the river is handy for commerce; both would be very important considerations in a medieval town.
This is a lovely sight indeed. Rolling hills and lush landscape! Not an easy sight to get hold of if I am traveling with public transportation, as was the case for my previous trip; having a car is definitely a good thing. Though already, I am painfully aware that a Mercedes-Benz E-class is just too big, a complete overkill, and that the only reason I tolerate it is because it will head for America at the end of the trip.
Some lovely gnomes under a tree overlooking the Tauber River. Lovely sight again, and things like these are even more endearing that spotting a famous, over-photographed landmark.
I am continuing to walk around the town. Here is the main town square - a familiar sight from some of those Rick Steves travelogues on PBS.
Historically, this would've been the upper class section of town. The poor masses lived downhill, toward the southern gate (well behind me). But in modern times, the real residents are found outside the walls, and these upper-class homes serve as hotels and restaurants.
In the middle, there is a cart - cooking yams and other food items on the spot. It's kind of chilly out here - temperatures barely above 10 degrees Centigrade - so it's a nice idea, though I didn't bother to grab a bite.
I'm already getting a bit bored. Many tour guides describe Rothenburg as a medieval time capsule, but honestly I felt this place was too much of a tourist trap, between all the Japanese signs and the souvenir shops.
I am inside another toy store, with more teddy bears for sale. These are limited-edition examples with serial numbers - definitely outside my budget!
The black-robed nightwatchman is a symbol of Rothenburg.
If I came on a summer evening, it would be possible to take a nighttime sentry tour of the town, with a nightwatchman-costumed tour guide explaining/narrating various sights. That would also be a sure way to lose that "tourist trap" feeling. But today it's too cold for an evening walking tour - besides, I have more driving to do later in the day.
A better look at the town hall facing the town square.
The facade includes a 24-hour clock. Just like that Munich city hall clock, this is a Glockenspiel with complicated movements. Here in Rothenburg, the movements show a retired mayor, who offers to save the town from the Catholic invaders by drinking a jug of wine in one gulp; the legend says that he did succeed, and saved the town's population for the time being.
Unfortunately, the Glockenspiel is under renovation on this particular day.
Now it's time to move on. I am now walking away from the walled town - but not before looking back for a glimpse of this southeastern gate, complete with a watchtower.
Sure, this was a LOVELY medieval town, but I had seen other European medieval towns that were more to my liking, and had less touristy feel. The town of Brugge (Bruges in French and English) in Belgium, which I had visited back in 1998, was one such town.
My game plan at this point was to start driving south on the scenic Romantic Road, following it to the next major town of Dinkelsbühl - described in my Fodors guidebook as "Rothenburg minus the touristy atmosphere." While the Romantic Road, clearly signposted in German and Japanese, followed many numbered Bundesbahns, I was finding that some sections actually did NOT even have two full lanes, forcing me to slow down and watch for oncoming traffic! And when I missed one "Umleitung" (detour) because I did NOT know what an "Umleitung" was, I ended up running into a section that was completely ripped up for reconstruction. Frustrated, I backtracked all the way to Rothenburg before deciding to stick to Autobahn 7 all the way to Füssen, the last exit before entering Austria.
This was another lovely drive. I drove a bit faster - up to 143 km/h before my mother reminded me to slow down. The well-behaved German drivers made driving a pleasure. I also made sure to obey any posted speed limits very seriously - since the mere presence of an actual limit, rather than no limits, had to be for good reasons. (Other drivers strictly obeyed them too.) I also loved the rest areas, well-stocked with convenience stores and food concessions; while the toilets required me to pay 50 cents, the toilet turnstile gave me a refund in the form of a coupon, which I could use toward buying anything in the concession area. As I continued to drive south past Autobahn 8, I could see the Alps rise toward the horizon; that was one sight that I may not forget for a LONG time. And while my Microsoft AutoRoute had shown Autobahn 7 ending several kilometers before Füssen, the final stretch to the Austrian border was now complete and opened to make my life easier; the completion was only a month prior, if I remember correctly.
I am now done driving for the day. I have arrived in Hohenschwangau, just outside Füssen, where I am spending the night.
By this point, I was finding out that the rental Garmin GPS's suction cup wasn't working too well - the GPS would fall off after an hour or two of driving. Not so good when speeding on the Autobahn. I put it away in the trunk for good, and relied on prior planning via Microsoft AutoRoute on my laptop from this point on. Fortunately, clear, logical signage throughout Europe made my navigating much easier.
Hohenschwangau is best known for two very famous castles belonging to the Bavarian royal family, the Wittelsbachs.
This is Hohenschwangau, from which the town draws its name. It was the summer vacation residence of the Wittelsbachs - and the most famous Bavarian king, Ludwig II ("Mad King Ludwig"), grew up here.
As the name gives away, swan (schwan) is a major motif in this area. Swans were well associated with the medieval knights who had been based in this area.
In the distance is the other castle, Neuschwanstein, the fantasy project of Ludwig II. Its fantasy architecture was duplicated in many places - including the Sleeping Beauty Castle at Disneyland, as well as the Magic Castle at Seoul's Lotte World where I had hung out in December 2008.
My very reason for overnighting here at Hohenschwangau is to tour those two castles. And it looks like most of the hotels, as well as the ticket office in town, are controlled by one owner. The hotel in front, the Lisl, is one of them; I am staying there for the night. I had known of the Lisl due to it being one of the hotels available for complimentary stay for Mercedes-Benz customers; I am paying out-of-pocket, however, due to having spent my free nights back in Stuttgart. There is no Internet access here, as nobody comes to Hohenschwangau for business, but my room's bathroom had pink wallpaper, old-fashioned standalone bath, and French plumbing fixtures (yes, "C" is chaude, NOT cold) - positively the most memorable hotel bathroom ever.
As it was morning back at my office in Los Angeles, I decided to give a call to check for anything I may need to be aware of. As it turned out, I did not have any usable signals inside my room, and I had to walk out onto the main town thoroughfare to get any signal. Even then, O2 was the only carrier available. I did manage to successfully call my office and talk to my assistant for three minutes.
In order to properly dial, I had set my iPhone to German regional settings, meaning that holding the 0 button (for the "+" international access code symbol) would make the phone dial 00, rather than 011 it would dial stateside. While the phone continued to display menus in English (since I did NOT change the language setting to German), it was displaying date and time using the German format and with German month/day of the week names. I made sure to note that this was one rare case where the German obsession with logic and consistency breaks down; Wednesday does NOT end in "-tag" as all other days of the week do, but is merely "Mittwoch" - midweek.
Now I am checked out of the hotel, but still in the underground garage. And here is an interesting sight - a Chrysler that's not found back in the US. This is the wagon version of that gangsta rapster favorite, the 300. Back in the US, this vehicle (minus some luxury appointments) is sold as the Dodge Magnum. But for the European market, where the Dodge brand is reserved for the Viper and trucks, the Magnum is turned into the wagon version of the 300.
I would end up finding a fair number of Chryslers on European highways over the next week - even cut-rate models like the Caliber and the Nitro.
Getting out of the garage was a struggle in itself. The narrow, tight spiral ramp meant that I scraped the left rear tire sidewall again. My mother was getting ever more hysterical, and I had to repeatedly assure her that urban acrobatics, like the previous day's drive through Stuttgart traffic, would not be on the agenda again. The route I picked to leave Stuttgart - Bundesbahns 27 and 10 - at least had 2-3 lanes to choose from, plus each lane was clearly marked with the route number.
Those two Bundesbahns eventually led me to northbound Autobahn 81, and it would be about two hours to Rothenburg ob der Tauber, my first destination, nearly all of my drive on the Autobahn system. I was ecstatic that for the first time, I was experiencing something most car buffs can only dream of - a drive on the famed German Autobahn system. For the first five minutes or so, frequent speed limit signs reminded me that I was limited to 120 km/h, but once the all-clear sign showed up, it was basically a free-for-all, with many cars driving in excess of 160. I decided to drive just above the recommended limit, 130 km/h, in the interest of proper break-in; since the analog speedometer was only in miles per hour for this US-market vehicle, I relied on a supplementary digital display to get my speed in kilometers per hour.
The routing to Rothenburg involved northbound Autobahn 81, then eastbound Autobahn 6 to northbound Autobahn 7. Autobahns show their directions not by cardinal directions as US interstates do, but by major cities (i.e. "Nürnberg" for eastbound Autobahn 6). I loved the drive, thanks to very smooth pavement as well as very predictable drivers; I had already known that I had to drive in the farthest right lane possible except to pass, and that I could not pass on the right, and it was lovely to know that all other drivers obeyed the exact same rules. No wonder speeding is very safe on the Autobahn; similar acts of speeding would indeed be a sure bloodbath if done with the moronic drivers back in California.
I decided to savor the moment. In the COMAND system CD player, I played a Haydn composition - Emperor's Hymn, written for the Habsburg emperor in 1797. Since this composition is now the German national anthem, there is no better way to listen to it than in a speeding Mercedes-Benz on the Autobahn. It is as befitting as, say, listening to George Gershwin's Rhapsody in Blue while traveling even faster, at 600 mph, in a United Airlines jumbo jet, given that Rhapsody is the official theme music of that airline.
It didn't take too long to get to Rothenburg ob der Tauber, even though I did not really speed.
Rothenburg's claim to fame is the preservation of its medieval character. It had once been a boom town, located at the intersection of key trading routes. Then the Hundred Years' War devastated the town; Rothenburg paid dearly for being a Protestant town in a Catholic region. Yes, Rothenburg is in Bavaria - barely. The town never recovered, until the 19th Century, when the Romantic travelers rediscovered it. Today it is a key sight along the famed Romantic Road.
I parked the car outside the town walls in the newer town, and walked into the historic walled town. While the orange service vehicles detract from the medieval feel, the cobblestoned streets, and this tourist horse carriage, make up for that.
Today's Rothenburg feels like a tourist trap. Most of the businesses within the town walls cater to tourists, and some have prominent Japanese signs. In fact, it even seemed I would do better by speaking Japanese, than by speaking German.
I am inside a teddy bear store. Here are some nice teddy bears - many of them made by the famous German toy maker, Bund. Still made in Germany (as opposed to Chinese sweatshop teddy bears I normally find stateside), and extremely pricey, but worth every penny.
Some of the teddy bears in this store, of course, are for tourist consumption, wearing an "I love Germany" T-shirt, for example.
I bought a few teddy bears here myself as gifts.
As the full name of the town, Rothenburg ob der Tauber, indicates, the town overlooks the Tauber River. In fact, it is located on top of a high cliff. The cliff location aids with defense, while the river is handy for commerce; both would be very important considerations in a medieval town.
This is a lovely sight indeed. Rolling hills and lush landscape! Not an easy sight to get hold of if I am traveling with public transportation, as was the case for my previous trip; having a car is definitely a good thing. Though already, I am painfully aware that a Mercedes-Benz E-class is just too big, a complete overkill, and that the only reason I tolerate it is because it will head for America at the end of the trip.
Some lovely gnomes under a tree overlooking the Tauber River. Lovely sight again, and things like these are even more endearing that spotting a famous, over-photographed landmark.
I am continuing to walk around the town. Here is the main town square - a familiar sight from some of those Rick Steves travelogues on PBS.
Historically, this would've been the upper class section of town. The poor masses lived downhill, toward the southern gate (well behind me). But in modern times, the real residents are found outside the walls, and these upper-class homes serve as hotels and restaurants.
In the middle, there is a cart - cooking yams and other food items on the spot. It's kind of chilly out here - temperatures barely above 10 degrees Centigrade - so it's a nice idea, though I didn't bother to grab a bite.
I'm already getting a bit bored. Many tour guides describe Rothenburg as a medieval time capsule, but honestly I felt this place was too much of a tourist trap, between all the Japanese signs and the souvenir shops.
I am inside another toy store, with more teddy bears for sale. These are limited-edition examples with serial numbers - definitely outside my budget!
The black-robed nightwatchman is a symbol of Rothenburg.
If I came on a summer evening, it would be possible to take a nighttime sentry tour of the town, with a nightwatchman-costumed tour guide explaining/narrating various sights. That would also be a sure way to lose that "tourist trap" feeling. But today it's too cold for an evening walking tour - besides, I have more driving to do later in the day.
A better look at the town hall facing the town square.
The facade includes a 24-hour clock. Just like that Munich city hall clock, this is a Glockenspiel with complicated movements. Here in Rothenburg, the movements show a retired mayor, who offers to save the town from the Catholic invaders by drinking a jug of wine in one gulp; the legend says that he did succeed, and saved the town's population for the time being.
Unfortunately, the Glockenspiel is under renovation on this particular day.
Now it's time to move on. I am now walking away from the walled town - but not before looking back for a glimpse of this southeastern gate, complete with a watchtower.
Sure, this was a LOVELY medieval town, but I had seen other European medieval towns that were more to my liking, and had less touristy feel. The town of Brugge (Bruges in French and English) in Belgium, which I had visited back in 1998, was one such town.
My game plan at this point was to start driving south on the scenic Romantic Road, following it to the next major town of Dinkelsbühl - described in my Fodors guidebook as "Rothenburg minus the touristy atmosphere." While the Romantic Road, clearly signposted in German and Japanese, followed many numbered Bundesbahns, I was finding that some sections actually did NOT even have two full lanes, forcing me to slow down and watch for oncoming traffic! And when I missed one "Umleitung" (detour) because I did NOT know what an "Umleitung" was, I ended up running into a section that was completely ripped up for reconstruction. Frustrated, I backtracked all the way to Rothenburg before deciding to stick to Autobahn 7 all the way to Füssen, the last exit before entering Austria.
This was another lovely drive. I drove a bit faster - up to 143 km/h before my mother reminded me to slow down. The well-behaved German drivers made driving a pleasure. I also made sure to obey any posted speed limits very seriously - since the mere presence of an actual limit, rather than no limits, had to be for good reasons. (Other drivers strictly obeyed them too.) I also loved the rest areas, well-stocked with convenience stores and food concessions; while the toilets required me to pay 50 cents, the toilet turnstile gave me a refund in the form of a coupon, which I could use toward buying anything in the concession area. As I continued to drive south past Autobahn 8, I could see the Alps rise toward the horizon; that was one sight that I may not forget for a LONG time. And while my Microsoft AutoRoute had shown Autobahn 7 ending several kilometers before Füssen, the final stretch to the Austrian border was now complete and opened to make my life easier; the completion was only a month prior, if I remember correctly.
I am now done driving for the day. I have arrived in Hohenschwangau, just outside Füssen, where I am spending the night.
By this point, I was finding out that the rental Garmin GPS's suction cup wasn't working too well - the GPS would fall off after an hour or two of driving. Not so good when speeding on the Autobahn. I put it away in the trunk for good, and relied on prior planning via Microsoft AutoRoute on my laptop from this point on. Fortunately, clear, logical signage throughout Europe made my navigating much easier.
Hohenschwangau is best known for two very famous castles belonging to the Bavarian royal family, the Wittelsbachs.
This is Hohenschwangau, from which the town draws its name. It was the summer vacation residence of the Wittelsbachs - and the most famous Bavarian king, Ludwig II ("Mad King Ludwig"), grew up here.
As the name gives away, swan (schwan) is a major motif in this area. Swans were well associated with the medieval knights who had been based in this area.
In the distance is the other castle, Neuschwanstein, the fantasy project of Ludwig II. Its fantasy architecture was duplicated in many places - including the Sleeping Beauty Castle at Disneyland, as well as the Magic Castle at Seoul's Lotte World where I had hung out in December 2008.
My very reason for overnighting here at Hohenschwangau is to tour those two castles. And it looks like most of the hotels, as well as the ticket office in town, are controlled by one owner. The hotel in front, the Lisl, is one of them; I am staying there for the night. I had known of the Lisl due to it being one of the hotels available for complimentary stay for Mercedes-Benz customers; I am paying out-of-pocket, however, due to having spent my free nights back in Stuttgart. There is no Internet access here, as nobody comes to Hohenschwangau for business, but my room's bathroom had pink wallpaper, old-fashioned standalone bath, and French plumbing fixtures (yes, "C" is chaude, NOT cold) - positively the most memorable hotel bathroom ever.
As it was morning back at my office in Los Angeles, I decided to give a call to check for anything I may need to be aware of. As it turned out, I did not have any usable signals inside my room, and I had to walk out onto the main town thoroughfare to get any signal. Even then, O2 was the only carrier available. I did manage to successfully call my office and talk to my assistant for three minutes.
In order to properly dial, I had set my iPhone to German regional settings, meaning that holding the 0 button (for the "+" international access code symbol) would make the phone dial 00, rather than 011 it would dial stateside. While the phone continued to display menus in English (since I did NOT change the language setting to German), it was displaying date and time using the German format and with German month/day of the week names. I made sure to note that this was one rare case where the German obsession with logic and consistency breaks down; Wednesday does NOT end in "-tag" as all other days of the week do, but is merely "Mittwoch" - midweek.
16 March 2010
Europe recap: Day 3, Sindelfingen/Stuttgart
Updates halted again as I spent some time here and there, including back in Tucson for the first real time since I was forced to leave in my poverty days. But for now, I want to continue my European travelogue.
This post goes back to the big day - Tuesday, October 27th, the day I took delivery of the Mercedes-Benz. Although Mercedes-Benz USA advises a three-month lead time for European Delivery orders, I was able to secure a delivery date with only a 2-month notice, thanks to ordering the most common color - silver. And this was going to be a LONG day that would really involve anything/everything Mercedes-Benz. This may be the one post on this blog that will come the closest to being a Mercedes-Benz commercial.
The Customer Center ("Kundencenter" in German) is located at the main Mercedes-Benz factory in Sindelfingen, about a 30-minute taxi ride away. I had to take a cab ride, paid for with a Mercedes-Benz voucher. Interestingly enough, the cab itself was a previous E-class, with cheaper interior and a diesel engine. The cab ride, had I paid out of my pocket, would've been €45 plus tips - NOT cheap. The ride took me on Bundesbahn 14, proceeding through city streets and through a LONG tunnel (complete with an intersection in the middle) before taking me on to Autobahn 831 and 81; although 831 and 81 were Autobahnen, they were hopelessly congested construction zones, and speed limit was set at 100 km/h anyway.
My Kundencenter arrival time was around 8:30 AM, and after check-in, I had to wait for a while due to extra paperwork required for a US-market car.
The delivery bay is a very pleasant place, as I am finding out while having a continental breakfast on an upper-level terrace. Factory delivery is a popular option for European owners of Mercedes-Benz vehicles; they show up, take delivery, and take the leisurely drive home. But occasionally, North American market models show up here as well, for Americans and Canadians who want to come to the factory for the car, then use the car for some European sightseeing. North Americans, for obvious reasons, are not allowed to take delivery of models that are built only in North America, such as the M-class and the R-class.
This huge space has cars coming in and leaving constantly. Despite the exhaust, I am not feeling anything - the ventilation system here is robust. And despite all the amount of airflow required, I am not feeling even a hint of a breeze inside. I do airflow for a living, so I had to take note of this.
I am loving this place. It has all the feel of a nursery for newborn babies, complete with brightly colored banners. The "babies" here are brand-new cars waiting to meet their owners for the first time, of course. All the cars have been built to order, so they were spoken for before they were ever scheduled for production. This place is really designed to bring out the maternal instinct in the owner - there is a reason why according to my saleswoman, women love European Delivery more than men do.
I'm still waiting, walking around a merchandise store and other displays introducing various Mercedes-Benz products and programs.
This display showcases the Young Classics program, which restores, sells, and services vintage Mercedes-Benz models. The 1982 model in the back is a good example of cars available under this program. The front display has various OEM parts for 1970s models - and they are all still available via the Young Classics program.
If it turns out that the relationship my mother and I start on this day with the E-class end up stretching for a LONG time, it looks like I won't have trouble getting parts and service. After all, Young Classics has a US showroom too - in Irvine, California.
I'm still waiting to do the paperwork, but I am seeing this silver E-class come in. The front side amber reflectors indicate that this is a North American model. I also noticed the red-striped export plates as the car came in. It may as well be the car that I am here to pick up.
Sure enough, I was summoned by an English-speaking rep in a minute, to start the paperwork, confirming my initial order for the vehicle. I had to sign and verify a number of forms, including German and international registration cards, German and international ("Green Card") insurance booklets, a waiver from the State of Baden-Württemberg allowing registration of a US-market car, and acknowledgment of the terms and conditions of the tourist registration.
I was also given two telephone hotlines: one for roadside assistance, and one for AXA insurance adjusters in the unlikely case of a claim. I was instructed that as this is a US-market car, European service and roadside assistance will need to use the chassis VIN rather than the VIN for the fully completed vehicle.
A few more minutes of wait, and an English-speaking gentleman introduced me to the features of the vehicle. His break-in recommendation was to stay under 90 MPH and 4,000 RPM. Yes, as this is a US-market car, speedometer is in miles per hour only, and I had to turn on a setting to enable the digital speedometer in kilometers per hour, and to use metric units for the trip computer. I also took possession of a free rental Garmin GPS unit, as the COMAND unit built into the car was specific to North America and couldn't take European maps.
Odometer reading: 7 miles or 11 kilometers, totally brand-new except for a standard test run within the factory. I drove out the delivery bay door, and parked at a lot just outside, to further review the car's features while waiting for a complimentary factory tour.
And it's waiting time for now. I am at last in possession of a Mercedes-Benz! This one is an E550, with a big honking V8; while I had insisted that the V6-powered E350 was more than adequate, my folks put in the order as the E550, just for a larger number on the trunk. After all, Mercedes-Benz used to use numbers, rather than lettered series, to identify models until 1993.
The export plate was issued at the town of Böblingen, on the other side of Autobahn 81, as indicated by the "BB" label. The three numbers on the red stripe - 10 11 09 - indicate that the plates expire on November 10th, 2009; while the basic registration tax covers up to 3 months, the standard insurance that came with the car lasts only two weeks (more than enough for me), and the plates are set to expire with the insurance. If I wanted longer insurance, I could've prepaid the extra amount, but would have had to do so about a week prior to enable proper processing of registration and insurance.
Because the export plate does not have a nationality indicator, I have to indicate the registration nationality the old-fashion way - with an oval decal. D, of course, indicates Germany. Without this oval, I cannot leave Germany.
Also, the front windshield has had an emissions level sticker added as well. This car's emissions level is 4, the most stringent, applicable to any gasoline-powered car built in 1996 and later; without it, I am banned from entering many German metropolitan areas, otherwise I will need to pay a fine. And I need to enter Stuttgart later in the day, just to park at the hotel.
I am also finding out, as a rude awakening, that the rear turn signals blink red, unlike the amber that's standard within Europe and in the rest of the world. I consider red turn signals to be a uniquely American annoyance, like libertarianism and some aspects of the gun culture, and I'm appalled that more and more German cars are using red blinkers on US-market models.
After a while, I joined an English-language tour of the Sindelfingen factory. It is home to the C-class, the E-class (including this example), the S-class, and the CLS-class. The tour banned all photographs, but I still remember all the burning metal smell from the stamping and welding shops. Quite an amazing sight. It is one thing to build a solid car, but another to design a solid car that is easy to weld and assemble; I am glad to have seen the process at work. The stamping and welding shops I toured were for the E-class (yes, the very stamping molds and welding robots that built this car), while the final assembly line, still primarily done with manual labor, was for the S-class; every car in the final assembly had a paper slip attached, listing the destination market of the car and the list of options to be installed, and I noted that the vast majority of cars being built this day were going to China. I thoroughly enjoyed the tour - my first-ever for a car factory.
I wrapped up with a lunch (paid for by Mercedes-Benz) at the Kundencenter restaurant. Nice lunch, but not THAT great, in my opinion. It was early afternoon already, and my first drive in the E550 would take me back to Stuttgart, and to Mercedes-Benz's outstanding museum in the eastern part of the city.
Getting here turned out to be a bit troublesome. I had some trouble navigating the narrow surface streets of Stuttgart. And when I arrived at the museum and was parking in the garage (located below a Bundesbahn-grade freeway between the museum and the Mercedes-Benz engine plant next door), the narrow entryways meant that I ended up scraping the left rear tire sidewall against the curb. All of this was driving up my mother's hysteria level; she was convinced that I was going to permanently damage a $63K luxury car on its first day out of the factory.
At least the museum was a good place to calm down. This is a very lovely museum with all sorts of cars, including this one: the 1886 Benz Patent-Wagen. This three-wheeled contraption was powered by a single-cylinder engine and could run at 10 miles per hour; it was the first car built by Karl Benz. While only one genuine example exists, a few hundred replicas have also been built in recent years; I can have one for myself for about USD $60,000.
This is a 1902 Mercedes-Simplex 40 PS, a touring car with a 6.8-liter 4-cylinder engine producing 40 horsepower and doing 50 MPH.
In the beginning, Gottlieb Daimler and Karl Benz operated separately. Benz was more of a master of gasoline engines while Daimler tried to use steam and other propulsion methods in his vehicles. One of the Daimler brand names was Mercedes, named after the daughter of a prominent customer. The post-World War I Germany's difficult economy forced Daimler and Benz to merge forces; in 1924, the two combined into a company named Daimler-Benz, and the product line took the current name Mercedes-Benz. The full Mercedes-Benz symbol incorporates the Daimler three-pointed star, surrounded by the Benz laurel. Most Americans simply reduce the name to Mercedes, while most Asians reduce the name to Benz (with some great meanings if written in Chinese characters), but the only truthful way to refer to the post-1924 product line is to use the full Mercedes-Benz name, reserving the Mercedes and Benz names only for cars before then.
This is a 1955 180. It is better known by its nickname, the Ponton. After World War II devastated Germany, Mercedes-Benz had to build a rugged, reliable model to reassert its place in the marketplace, and this was it. All Mercedes-Benz sedans ever since can trace their ancestry back to the Ponton - including the 2010 E550 that I just picked up earlier in the day.
Mercedes-Benz also made some sleeker, less practical models at the same time. The 300SL was a very desirable sports car in its day (it still is now), available in either a cabriolet (background) or a gullwing coupe (foreground).
Some exhibits at this museum are dedicated to certain themes. This section has vehicles that had seen use in some prominent fashion - including the unthinkable, Britain's Princess Diana driving a 1991 SL. The star attraction in this photo is the yellow bus, which was the official transportation for the West German soccer squad in the 1974 FIFA World Cup, indeed hosted in and won by West Germany.
This particular model of motorcoach was one of the models licensed by a budding South Korean upstart named Hyundai; while Hyundai had gotten its first passenger cars from Ford, it indeed got its first bus from Mercedes-Benz. Today, Hyundai, alongside Ford, has won a place in my heart as a manufacturer of cars that play a key role in my travels; those two companies had done something even the almighty Bavarians at BMW had failed to do. Various Hyundai and Ford vehicles have made my heart race with anticipation for that next great trip - joined by other travel vehicles like TGV trains and Boeing 777 airliners; now, can Mercedes-Benz, with the brand-spanking-new E550, match that feat? I'm about to find out over the next week or so.
More interesting exhibits continue. This exhibit hall is dedicated to the expansion of Mercedes-Benz into worldwide markets as a purveyor of fine luxury cars. And this particular car is a 1995 S600, sold new to actor Arnold Schwarzenegger. It served with Schwarzenegger until 2003, the year he became California's governor. Now, the car has returned to Stuttgart to become a museum exhibit.
In fact, it still carries California license plates - though the plate number (5CVF609) was certainly issued at the time Schwarzenegger had sold the car, rather than when he had the car. It is the only car in the museum with US license plates.
I guess from now on, "goodbye" in German is not "Auf Wiedersehen," but rather, "Hasta la Vista, Baby."
And while I'm obsessing with the cars, I also happen to get a nice glimpse of the outside world. This is Stuttgart landscape in a nutshell - a hilly city, with many of the hills occupied by wineries. Again, this is the first hilly locale in Europe that I am visiting, and I certainly had expected Stuttgart to be an industrial powerhouse (thanks to Mercedes-Benz and Porsche) rather than a pleasant, scenic city full of wineries. The beauty of Stuttgart is very mesmerizing; it more than makes up for the lack of major sights there.
If I had to pick a hometown in Germany, Stuttgart would easily be at the top of the list, not because it's flashy, but because it's pleasant.
Mercedes-Benz's race cars are well known by the legendary Silver Arrow name. Here is a fleet of Silver Arrows from over the decades. What a sight!
The museum includes a gift shop as well as a full-fledged new car dealership and a Young Classics showroom. That's quite an impressive fleet of 1980s vintage vehicles, at prices around €10,000 or so.
Getting back to the hotel was in itself quite dicey, due to the Stuttgart street layout, confusing instructions from the Garmin GPS, and the cramped parking garage under the hotel. By this point, my mother was begging me to reconsider my driving plans; she hadn't even considered that European driving conditions are more Asian cramped than American spacious! She was absolutely convinced, again, that if I insist on sticking to my schedule, I was guaranteed to do some damage to a brand-new $63K luxury car. We ended up winding down with a stroll on Königstraße (this time together, rather than by myself as was the case the previous night) to further take in the lovely Stuttgart atmosphere, before retiring early for the night to ensure proper rest for the long drive the next day.
Though as it would turn out, I'd end up waking up way too early, and spending three hours or so of the pre-dawn hours camping out in the car to further figure out its functions. I activated the COMAND navigation system anyway - and programmed my folks' address into it; it wanted to take a long swim to Baltimore, then take the US interstate system to California, to make the 9,500-kilometer trip. At least it had a rudimentary map of Europe with terrain data, but no road data. I also made sure to load six CDs into the CD changer to prepare for the drive, then back in the room just before dawn, pulled out my laptop, found that Microsoft AutoRoute (European version of Streets & Trips) had been installed after all, and used it to plot my route out of Stuttgart and toward the day's destinations.
This post goes back to the big day - Tuesday, October 27th, the day I took delivery of the Mercedes-Benz. Although Mercedes-Benz USA advises a three-month lead time for European Delivery orders, I was able to secure a delivery date with only a 2-month notice, thanks to ordering the most common color - silver. And this was going to be a LONG day that would really involve anything/everything Mercedes-Benz. This may be the one post on this blog that will come the closest to being a Mercedes-Benz commercial.
The Customer Center ("Kundencenter" in German) is located at the main Mercedes-Benz factory in Sindelfingen, about a 30-minute taxi ride away. I had to take a cab ride, paid for with a Mercedes-Benz voucher. Interestingly enough, the cab itself was a previous E-class, with cheaper interior and a diesel engine. The cab ride, had I paid out of my pocket, would've been €45 plus tips - NOT cheap. The ride took me on Bundesbahn 14, proceeding through city streets and through a LONG tunnel (complete with an intersection in the middle) before taking me on to Autobahn 831 and 81; although 831 and 81 were Autobahnen, they were hopelessly congested construction zones, and speed limit was set at 100 km/h anyway.
My Kundencenter arrival time was around 8:30 AM, and after check-in, I had to wait for a while due to extra paperwork required for a US-market car.
The delivery bay is a very pleasant place, as I am finding out while having a continental breakfast on an upper-level terrace. Factory delivery is a popular option for European owners of Mercedes-Benz vehicles; they show up, take delivery, and take the leisurely drive home. But occasionally, North American market models show up here as well, for Americans and Canadians who want to come to the factory for the car, then use the car for some European sightseeing. North Americans, for obvious reasons, are not allowed to take delivery of models that are built only in North America, such as the M-class and the R-class.
This huge space has cars coming in and leaving constantly. Despite the exhaust, I am not feeling anything - the ventilation system here is robust. And despite all the amount of airflow required, I am not feeling even a hint of a breeze inside. I do airflow for a living, so I had to take note of this.
I am loving this place. It has all the feel of a nursery for newborn babies, complete with brightly colored banners. The "babies" here are brand-new cars waiting to meet their owners for the first time, of course. All the cars have been built to order, so they were spoken for before they were ever scheduled for production. This place is really designed to bring out the maternal instinct in the owner - there is a reason why according to my saleswoman, women love European Delivery more than men do.
I'm still waiting, walking around a merchandise store and other displays introducing various Mercedes-Benz products and programs.
This display showcases the Young Classics program, which restores, sells, and services vintage Mercedes-Benz models. The 1982 model in the back is a good example of cars available under this program. The front display has various OEM parts for 1970s models - and they are all still available via the Young Classics program.
If it turns out that the relationship my mother and I start on this day with the E-class end up stretching for a LONG time, it looks like I won't have trouble getting parts and service. After all, Young Classics has a US showroom too - in Irvine, California.
I'm still waiting to do the paperwork, but I am seeing this silver E-class come in. The front side amber reflectors indicate that this is a North American model. I also noticed the red-striped export plates as the car came in. It may as well be the car that I am here to pick up.
Sure enough, I was summoned by an English-speaking rep in a minute, to start the paperwork, confirming my initial order for the vehicle. I had to sign and verify a number of forms, including German and international registration cards, German and international ("Green Card") insurance booklets, a waiver from the State of Baden-Württemberg allowing registration of a US-market car, and acknowledgment of the terms and conditions of the tourist registration.
I was also given two telephone hotlines: one for roadside assistance, and one for AXA insurance adjusters in the unlikely case of a claim. I was instructed that as this is a US-market car, European service and roadside assistance will need to use the chassis VIN rather than the VIN for the fully completed vehicle.
A few more minutes of wait, and an English-speaking gentleman introduced me to the features of the vehicle. His break-in recommendation was to stay under 90 MPH and 4,000 RPM. Yes, as this is a US-market car, speedometer is in miles per hour only, and I had to turn on a setting to enable the digital speedometer in kilometers per hour, and to use metric units for the trip computer. I also took possession of a free rental Garmin GPS unit, as the COMAND unit built into the car was specific to North America and couldn't take European maps.
Odometer reading: 7 miles or 11 kilometers, totally brand-new except for a standard test run within the factory. I drove out the delivery bay door, and parked at a lot just outside, to further review the car's features while waiting for a complimentary factory tour.
And it's waiting time for now. I am at last in possession of a Mercedes-Benz! This one is an E550, with a big honking V8; while I had insisted that the V6-powered E350 was more than adequate, my folks put in the order as the E550, just for a larger number on the trunk. After all, Mercedes-Benz used to use numbers, rather than lettered series, to identify models until 1993.
The export plate was issued at the town of Böblingen, on the other side of Autobahn 81, as indicated by the "BB" label. The three numbers on the red stripe - 10 11 09 - indicate that the plates expire on November 10th, 2009; while the basic registration tax covers up to 3 months, the standard insurance that came with the car lasts only two weeks (more than enough for me), and the plates are set to expire with the insurance. If I wanted longer insurance, I could've prepaid the extra amount, but would have had to do so about a week prior to enable proper processing of registration and insurance.
Because the export plate does not have a nationality indicator, I have to indicate the registration nationality the old-fashion way - with an oval decal. D, of course, indicates Germany. Without this oval, I cannot leave Germany.
Also, the front windshield has had an emissions level sticker added as well. This car's emissions level is 4, the most stringent, applicable to any gasoline-powered car built in 1996 and later; without it, I am banned from entering many German metropolitan areas, otherwise I will need to pay a fine. And I need to enter Stuttgart later in the day, just to park at the hotel.
I am also finding out, as a rude awakening, that the rear turn signals blink red, unlike the amber that's standard within Europe and in the rest of the world. I consider red turn signals to be a uniquely American annoyance, like libertarianism and some aspects of the gun culture, and I'm appalled that more and more German cars are using red blinkers on US-market models.
After a while, I joined an English-language tour of the Sindelfingen factory. It is home to the C-class, the E-class (including this example), the S-class, and the CLS-class. The tour banned all photographs, but I still remember all the burning metal smell from the stamping and welding shops. Quite an amazing sight. It is one thing to build a solid car, but another to design a solid car that is easy to weld and assemble; I am glad to have seen the process at work. The stamping and welding shops I toured were for the E-class (yes, the very stamping molds and welding robots that built this car), while the final assembly line, still primarily done with manual labor, was for the S-class; every car in the final assembly had a paper slip attached, listing the destination market of the car and the list of options to be installed, and I noted that the vast majority of cars being built this day were going to China. I thoroughly enjoyed the tour - my first-ever for a car factory.
I wrapped up with a lunch (paid for by Mercedes-Benz) at the Kundencenter restaurant. Nice lunch, but not THAT great, in my opinion. It was early afternoon already, and my first drive in the E550 would take me back to Stuttgart, and to Mercedes-Benz's outstanding museum in the eastern part of the city.
Getting here turned out to be a bit troublesome. I had some trouble navigating the narrow surface streets of Stuttgart. And when I arrived at the museum and was parking in the garage (located below a Bundesbahn-grade freeway between the museum and the Mercedes-Benz engine plant next door), the narrow entryways meant that I ended up scraping the left rear tire sidewall against the curb. All of this was driving up my mother's hysteria level; she was convinced that I was going to permanently damage a $63K luxury car on its first day out of the factory.
At least the museum was a good place to calm down. This is a very lovely museum with all sorts of cars, including this one: the 1886 Benz Patent-Wagen. This three-wheeled contraption was powered by a single-cylinder engine and could run at 10 miles per hour; it was the first car built by Karl Benz. While only one genuine example exists, a few hundred replicas have also been built in recent years; I can have one for myself for about USD $60,000.
This is a 1902 Mercedes-Simplex 40 PS, a touring car with a 6.8-liter 4-cylinder engine producing 40 horsepower and doing 50 MPH.
In the beginning, Gottlieb Daimler and Karl Benz operated separately. Benz was more of a master of gasoline engines while Daimler tried to use steam and other propulsion methods in his vehicles. One of the Daimler brand names was Mercedes, named after the daughter of a prominent customer. The post-World War I Germany's difficult economy forced Daimler and Benz to merge forces; in 1924, the two combined into a company named Daimler-Benz, and the product line took the current name Mercedes-Benz. The full Mercedes-Benz symbol incorporates the Daimler three-pointed star, surrounded by the Benz laurel. Most Americans simply reduce the name to Mercedes, while most Asians reduce the name to Benz (with some great meanings if written in Chinese characters), but the only truthful way to refer to the post-1924 product line is to use the full Mercedes-Benz name, reserving the Mercedes and Benz names only for cars before then.
This is a 1955 180. It is better known by its nickname, the Ponton. After World War II devastated Germany, Mercedes-Benz had to build a rugged, reliable model to reassert its place in the marketplace, and this was it. All Mercedes-Benz sedans ever since can trace their ancestry back to the Ponton - including the 2010 E550 that I just picked up earlier in the day.
Mercedes-Benz also made some sleeker, less practical models at the same time. The 300SL was a very desirable sports car in its day (it still is now), available in either a cabriolet (background) or a gullwing coupe (foreground).
Some exhibits at this museum are dedicated to certain themes. This section has vehicles that had seen use in some prominent fashion - including the unthinkable, Britain's Princess Diana driving a 1991 SL. The star attraction in this photo is the yellow bus, which was the official transportation for the West German soccer squad in the 1974 FIFA World Cup, indeed hosted in and won by West Germany.
This particular model of motorcoach was one of the models licensed by a budding South Korean upstart named Hyundai; while Hyundai had gotten its first passenger cars from Ford, it indeed got its first bus from Mercedes-Benz. Today, Hyundai, alongside Ford, has won a place in my heart as a manufacturer of cars that play a key role in my travels; those two companies had done something even the almighty Bavarians at BMW had failed to do. Various Hyundai and Ford vehicles have made my heart race with anticipation for that next great trip - joined by other travel vehicles like TGV trains and Boeing 777 airliners; now, can Mercedes-Benz, with the brand-spanking-new E550, match that feat? I'm about to find out over the next week or so.
More interesting exhibits continue. This exhibit hall is dedicated to the expansion of Mercedes-Benz into worldwide markets as a purveyor of fine luxury cars. And this particular car is a 1995 S600, sold new to actor Arnold Schwarzenegger. It served with Schwarzenegger until 2003, the year he became California's governor. Now, the car has returned to Stuttgart to become a museum exhibit.
In fact, it still carries California license plates - though the plate number (5CVF609) was certainly issued at the time Schwarzenegger had sold the car, rather than when he had the car. It is the only car in the museum with US license plates.
I guess from now on, "goodbye" in German is not "Auf Wiedersehen," but rather, "Hasta la Vista, Baby."
And while I'm obsessing with the cars, I also happen to get a nice glimpse of the outside world. This is Stuttgart landscape in a nutshell - a hilly city, with many of the hills occupied by wineries. Again, this is the first hilly locale in Europe that I am visiting, and I certainly had expected Stuttgart to be an industrial powerhouse (thanks to Mercedes-Benz and Porsche) rather than a pleasant, scenic city full of wineries. The beauty of Stuttgart is very mesmerizing; it more than makes up for the lack of major sights there.
If I had to pick a hometown in Germany, Stuttgart would easily be at the top of the list, not because it's flashy, but because it's pleasant.
Mercedes-Benz's race cars are well known by the legendary Silver Arrow name. Here is a fleet of Silver Arrows from over the decades. What a sight!
The museum includes a gift shop as well as a full-fledged new car dealership and a Young Classics showroom. That's quite an impressive fleet of 1980s vintage vehicles, at prices around €10,000 or so.
Getting back to the hotel was in itself quite dicey, due to the Stuttgart street layout, confusing instructions from the Garmin GPS, and the cramped parking garage under the hotel. By this point, my mother was begging me to reconsider my driving plans; she hadn't even considered that European driving conditions are more Asian cramped than American spacious! She was absolutely convinced, again, that if I insist on sticking to my schedule, I was guaranteed to do some damage to a brand-new $63K luxury car. We ended up winding down with a stroll on Königstraße (this time together, rather than by myself as was the case the previous night) to further take in the lovely Stuttgart atmosphere, before retiring early for the night to ensure proper rest for the long drive the next day.
Though as it would turn out, I'd end up waking up way too early, and spending three hours or so of the pre-dawn hours camping out in the car to further figure out its functions. I activated the COMAND navigation system anyway - and programmed my folks' address into it; it wanted to take a long swim to Baltimore, then take the US interstate system to California, to make the 9,500-kilometer trip. At least it had a rudimentary map of Europe with terrain data, but no road data. I also made sure to load six CDs into the CD changer to prepare for the drive, then back in the room just before dawn, pulled out my laptop, found that Microsoft AutoRoute (European version of Streets & Trips) had been installed after all, and used it to plot my route out of Stuttgart and toward the day's destinations.
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