Karlsruhe, Germany: Getting there

I’ve often written about E’s amazing navigational ability—he has great spatial concepts and intuition, can visualize the way things connect, and enjoys studying maps AND watching the weather channel. He’s a man that is in tune with global and local geography. He’s also someone who embodies the Boy Scout motto: Be prepared!

So it is no surprise to me that before our trip to Germany, he scoured the stores for the best possible gazetteer he could find. He supplemented this with a common road map and plugged in the address of our destination into an online mapping service to get written detailed directions. He not only had all his bases covered—they were highlighted and tabbed with Post-it notes. According to the Web, it would take 4.5 hours to get to Karlsruhe. We left home at 9 a.m.

The ride through Belgium was uneventful, except we took the long way around Liege. Things didn’t start to fall apart until we were in Germany with our stomachs growling, ready for lunch. E turned off the highway to head into a mid-sized town in search of a restaurant and a gas station. The town wasn’t immediately off the exit, as we thought it would be and we wandered down a road with no name for quite some time before hitting the “centrum.” No restaurants open this early on Sunday.

In the process of trying to get back on the highway and deal with detours and road construction, we got lost. Instead of landing back on the highway, we ended up on a two-lane road winding through the countryside. After figuring out what road we were on and checking the maps, we decided to stick with it and catch up with our “official” route farther down the road.

It had been 62 degrees and raining in Brussels; it was now 95 degrees and sunny in Germany. By taking “the road less traveled,” we were getting a glimpse of the beautiful German countryside, soft blue-hazed mountains and rolling hills that reminded us of Virginia’s horse country--except there weren’t any horses. Unlike England, where every hill and dale is dotted with sheep or cows, there wasn’t much in the way of livestock here.

We were amazed to see crops and gardens form a patchwork on the side of steep hills. I joked that a ripe tomato might fall off the vine and roll for miles. (Attack of the killer tomatoes!) We passed through dense forests and were amazed by the size and shape of the evergreens. The fir trees formed perfect conical points, as if they’d all been pruned by Edward Scissorhands.

This part of Germany shared the Belgian tradition of red tile roofs but the houses weren’t the ubiquitous brick we saw at home but were all stucco. While most were shades of white or cream, we were surprised to see quite a few that were colored—mustard yellow, pale green, pink.

What we didn’t see was a place to stop and eat. The kids were starving. I was kicking myself for not packing snacks or sandwiches. When we were finally out of the country and back on a highway we were tooling along when E said, “Look! A McDonald’s!” We couldn’t believe it. We gave up all hope of lunch in a native gasthaus and hailed the Golden Arches. I had my trusty German pharase book in hand, having spent part of the drive reading up on German customs and etiquette and the rest of it memorizing how to say hello, please, thank you, yes, no, and “Where are the toilets?”

We should have added “I’d like a Quarter Pounder with cheese” to the list of essential phrases. No one at McD’s spoke English so we had to point at pictures on the menu to order and keep reminding ourselves not to lapse into French, merci beaucoup.

Back on the road, we found ourselves becoming increasingly confused by the road signs and directions. The signs were directing us one way, the maps indicating another, and we kept getting turned around or stuck on the wrong road. It is the first time ever in our 24-year marriage that I’ve seen E make more than a single wrong turn on a trip. We stopped for directions multiple times, only to confirm what our experience at McDonald’s had foreshadowed: most Germans don’t speak any English.

Long story short: we expected to arrive at our hotel around 1:30 p.m. Instead we arrived at 4:30, hot, weary, and demoralized by how difficult the trip had been

The good news? The hotel is lovely (and air conditioned), our suite is spotless, comfortable and nicely furnished, the bathroom is luxurious, there are down comforters and pillows on the beds, and we’re in a penthouse suite on the 10^th floor with big windows and a terrific view on all sides. Who knew Best Western had four-star hotels? Impressive.

June 25, 2006

Thanks to Nollind at Squarespace for solving my access problem. The hotel has a single computer with Internet service, charged by the minute, and it´s so slow. I´m convinced I´ll end spending more money on checking my e-mail and posting to my blog than I will on food. Will post later today after composing on my laptop. The funky German keyboard is another hindrance. I´m proud to say I now know the German words for delete, cut, and paste.

Later,

V-Grrrl

Comments

[Mega Mom]

I was thinking about helping you with German, but it is so rusty that each time I think of something, I get it mixed with French or Spanish too!

In Frankfurt, EVERYONE spoke English, but outside of there, not so much. I'm glad you got to enjoy some beauty and look forward to hearing about the rest of the trip. Enjoy!

[Wingfields In Brussels]

Wow, what a trip! We, too, had the same problem of finding food on our way through France on a Sunday. We finally ended up eating at McDonald's and I have never loved it more. Where do the French people eat on Sundays when they are driving???

[wordgirl]

All of the idiots here who tell me that English is spoken everywhere are wrong. VERY WRONG!! That gives me some perverted measure of satisfaction, since most of those same folks use that assumption as a way NOT to learn a foreign language. I am a bit surprised that no one in the restaurant spoke French, however.

[V-Grrrl]

Wordgirl,

I´m forever amazed how easily Belgians segue from one language to another--Flemish, French, English. Before we left the U.S. I had tried to teach my children some French. Thez have picked up a few phrases of French and Flemish at school. I have four semesters of college French and remember enough of that to conduct business if not conversation.

E-Grrrl took Spanish lessons for a while in the U.S. I wish language classes were available at the elementary school level. My daughter especially would love to learn. Private lessons here are very expensive.