De-vine valley of the Rhine

Before I left for Germany, I knew that a visit to the Rhine valley was mandatory. The Rhine valley is the romantic, 70 kilometre stretch along the Rhine river, that blends together medieval towns, fortresses and historical castles among fields of vineyards. This was certainly a site worth seeing. When a friend showed me a picture of the castle ‘Burg Eltz’, not quite far from the Rhine, and added that I could trek to the castle, I decided to try and combine a trip that would encapsulate multiple interests.

I reached the city of Koblenz late one night, and spent a couple of hours getting to know my couchsurfing hosts. Koblenz is a touristic city (a description of which I shall save for a future post) where the Rhine meets its tributary, the Moselle river, and is a good place to base yourselves when touring the region. Early the next morning, I caught a train from Koblenz to Moselkern, a little town on the banks of the Moselle, the starting point for the 5 kilometre trek to Eltz. The short train journey to Moselkern follows the Moselle river, and the scenic little houses on the opposite bank, with a backdrop of rich, enticing vineyards, made for a very pretty picture.

View from the train

I managed to take a couple of pictures on the train, hoping to pocket some of the beauty as it passed me by. A lot of people say that if you're spending your time taking photographs, you’re losing out on the experience. Although I don't wholly disagree with that, I always like to ‘take a shot’ at salvaging an experience that would otherwise be quickly forgotten. Hopefully, years from now, photographs and travel notes will aid in reliving days worth remembering.

I got off at the empty station, and made my way through the narrow streets of Moselkern. It seemed to be a well traversed route; at frequent intervals, informative signboards (some of them provided the distance left, and the approximate time that it would take to reach the castle) guided me in the right direction. Before long, the route broke off tarred road, and I made my way through a muddy and gravelly path.

On my way to Eltz

For me, a large portion of reaching a destination has to do with the journey. Much like achieving orgasm. Sorry kids, but allow me to attempt cheap humour on the birds and the bees while your parents send across virtual glares. No matter how much you want to arrive at your destination, it’s the anticipation and excitement building up to it that make it worthwhile. This was exactly how I felt as I headed towards the castle. The setting quickly grew more wild, and I crossed little rivulets as the narrow, winding path got steeper.

I was soon greeted by the castle’s brown façade that merged well with its dark green surroundings. As I got closer, I was taken aback by its size. It was gigantic! The white towers and oriels stand out in stark contrast to the rest of its mild, yet alluring appearance. The entrance ticket came with a guided tour of the castle, which proved to be very informative and interesting. I learned that it was still in fantastic shape, even with an eventful history of war across the centuries, because of the political power of the Eltz family. The armoury and treasure chambers were certainly worth a visit. Extensive cabinets displayed the vast wealth of the owners. 

Burg Eltz

At the end of the guided tour, I was approached by another solo traveller who had come to Eltz with his car. Initially, my fuzzy plans involved trying to make my way to the Rhine valley after the Eltz visit. Since his plans were similar to mine, we agreed to continue our journey in his car. A final, panoramic view of Eltz awaited me at the parking lot. 

We decided to cut across from the Moselle to the little town of Bacharach that lay on the banks of the Rhine. We’d then make our way back to Koblenz, about 50 kilometres away, all the while driving along the Rhine. Only with an automobile would it have been possible to pass through such a large portion of the Rhine valley in a couple of hours. This was turning out to be my lucky day!


Bacharach turned out to be a charming little town, with a population of just over 2000. On either side of narrow, cobbled streets, lay timber-framed houses interspersed occasionally with the tall steeples of churches. Richly coloured flowers sprouted from much adorned balconies and flowerpots on the streets, lending the entire city a very decorated look. The town’s castle, which has been renovated into a hostel, stands atop a tall hill. After failing to climb the steep route to the castle, we decided to stop at a platform midway, to get a view of the Rhine below. With that, we headed back to roam around the little town.

Bacharach

As I walked through streets in different towns in Germany, one thing that struck me as common, was the mysterious chalk markings at the entrance to certain houses. 20 + C + M + B + 13. I came across this message in several places, and each time, I wondered what it stood for. I later read that it was a blessing to the homes that donated to charity events during the Catholic holiday of Epiphany (January 6^th, every year). While the letters C, M and B stand for the three wise men, the numbers on either side represent the year that the house would stay blessed. Interesting trivia! 


It had already been a long day, and fatigue, always undesired at such times, was inevitably creeping up on me. After spending an hour or so in Bacharach, we decided to head back to Koblenz, while pausing at towns or castles that caught our fancy.

This was the best part of my day, and the hardest to describe. As we drove through winding roads that struggled to keep up with the meandering river, we were presented with one picturesque panorama after another. On our right, the Rhine seemed to flow headlong through seemingly untouched regions that fell prey to its powerful currents, only to create lush, beautiful valleys that thrived in its presence. As we swept past medieval villages on our left, hilltop fortresses and castles that adorned rustic cliffs loomed on a horizon much above us. I loved how the verticality of discontinuous vineyards on untamed, green hills created the backdrop of every panorama. You’re saying that for the sixth time this hour, he said. Only then I realized that, immersed in a trance-like state, I was caught muttering - So beautiful. Although I didn't want to pause, I wished that the continuously altering landscape, constantly emerging afresh, would go on forever.

         
               


                  

The whole while, I felt like I wanted more time. More time to just absorb it all, knowing only too well that I would never be able to. We were driving through the best part of the Rhine, through a cultural wealth so rich, it was bursting at its seams. Undoubtedly the most picturesque landscape in the region, the stretch justified its status as a world heritage site. We made a final stop at Rhens, a pretty town very close to Koblenz, but didn’t spend too long there. As we arrived at Koblenz, at the end of a wonderful day, I felt like I had been on a magical trip. An experience that I couldn’t seem to hold on to, that seemed more dream-like and unreal with every passing minute. 

View from Rhens

I was fortunate to spend the day as I did. Now I am left with photographs that do no justice to the beauty of the Rhine valley. To everyone reading this, I’d urge that someday, you try and pay it a visit. Whether it is with a bike, or on a river cruise, or on a walking tour, tourists can choose from several options to discover and enjoy it on their own terms. I can assure you it will be well worth your time, and most likely, like me, you’ll be left longing for more.

   

The couchsurfing experience

I recently spent two weeks travelling in Germany, and managed to add the couchsurfer tag under my belt. For the uninitiated, couchsurfing is a platform that provides travellers (called ‘surfers’) with a chance to stay with a host, usually someone who’s local to the city they’re visiting. On the flip side, people who have extra room at their homes lend their ‘couch’ for travellers to spend a couple of nights. At the end of the stay, references are written, so that future surfers/hosts know what to expect from the next hosts/surfers. It is evident that the basis of such trysts is trust.  

While I travel, at least 50% of my dough is spent on accommodation. The longer the trip, the more relevant the synonyms for ‘spent’. Consumed, exhausted, or quickly depleted. You get the picture. I must admit it, selfish as it may sound (who isn't?), that I joined the couchsurfing website some time back with the sole intention of being hosted for free, and thus saving myself the money I’d spend on hostels. To get started, I needed some references, and to get references, I needed to host people. The idea of hosting people seemed like a means to an end.

I left on this impromptu trip to Germany with a couple of references on my page (from some kind friends). Since I was making on-the-spur-of-the-moment decisions of where to head to, I decided to try my luck with couchsurfing, and didn’t book any early hostel accommodations. I really enjoy travelling alone, and the unpredictability of an unplanned trip certainly adds to thrill. I turned out to be extremely fortunate, I was hosted thrice in the same week.

My curiosity got the better of me on these surfing trips. Each time, I made it a point to ask my hosts their reasons behind opening their doors to strangers. What was in it for them? Their responses fell in the ‘We like meeting new people from different cultures’ category. Not one said that they’d like some positive references so that it would be easier for them to travel. Was I the only one with this selfish thought? Was that not at least one of the reasons? If so, how come people weren’t stating it, at least as an afterthought? Is the notion of coming off as selfish something we fear, even amidst complete strangers?

What struck me as extremely kind was that some hosts don’t just provide you with a place to spend the night. They also cook for you, provide a drink or two, and show you around their city if they have the time. If hosts were doing this in the long run (I came across some gracious people who hosted at least 2 surfers a week), it occurred to me that they’re actually paying for one more person to live at their homes. Monetarily, isn’t that running a loss? So again, what was the point of being so kind?

At the end of the week, I was really thankful. Not just because I was saved some money, although I won’t deny that that is also one of the reasons. But, most of all, I was thankful because of the experience. The couchsurfing affair was different.

I got to meet people with backgrounds a far cry from my own, that the short time I spent with them, exchanging stories, turned out to be an enriching experience. To listen to a musician's opinion on appreciating music, that I would like to think I empathized with after it evoked a ten-year-old memory. To engage in conversation with someone who’s undertaken an obstacle course that I’d never even dream of registering for; whose elaborate description, made with such perspicuity, left me feeling like it was better than any race report I had ever read. To be so inspired  by someone's work choices, that it left me feeling guilty for a couple of days, like my life suddenly seemed so shallow. Contrarily, it’s nice to know that even with such disparate lives, you’re similar in so many ways. To find that somebody who grew up in a totally different environment shares a fondness for the same genre of music as you do; or to discover that a stranger has the same idiosyncrasy as you do (You HAVE to completely wet both hands with water before brushing your teeth? Me too! ). 

All this, I must emphasize, with strangers, who I will probably never meet again, unless fate plays a part. 

In retrospect, I may have relevant answers to the questions that plagued me earlier. I think, sometimes, with acts of kindness, it isn’t about the act per se, it’s about the feeling it leaves you with. Maybe, it isn’t about being told that doing nice things for others will make you feel good, it’s about having been at the receiving end of those nice things, and knowing what it feels like. Realising that, maybe, it isn’t about returning the favour, because who knows when you will meet the same people again? Maybe, it’s about passing it on, to be able to experience that feeling once more.

I don’t know if I will be as lucky the next time around, to come across such gracious and wonderful hosts. But I do know that I would certainly like to experience couchsurfing again. Two years ago, if I was asked to host a stranger in my home, I would’ve found the idea ridiculous. Today, I certainly would, and not just because of the possibility of a good reference.

Lübeck beckons

The first time I heard of Luebeck was when I was hurriedly booking a flight ticket from Germany to Portugal. Low-cost airlines occasionally take off from unheard of places, some of them extremely hard to get to. I was taught a lesson last year, when I booked the cheapest ticket from France to Porto. The St. Etienne airport turned out to be so far away from civilisation, we spent more money getting there, than on our flight tickets! Since then, I quickly look up the airport in question, to see if it’s easily accessible. This was when I came across a post about the ‘Hanseatic city of Lübeck’ being declared a world heritage site by UNESCO. I bought the ticket without further ado. I’d worry about getting to the airport later. There’s something about world heritage sites that thoroughly excites me.

Luebeck is about 60 kilometres from Hamburg, in the north of Germany. The river Trave surrounds the old town of the city, creating a moated island locked in medieval charm. The town’s biggest attraction is the Holstentor, the most significant of the four town gates into the island. While the front view (from inside the city) of the Holstentor is a continuous, richly decorated facade, the view from the outside presents three separate structures, two columns and a central block. The gate is now home to the museum of municipal history.

Holstentor, from the outside, along with the towers of St.Peter's and St.Martin's churches

Once inside the city, I headed towards the tallest of the churches. St. Peter’s provides a panorama of the entire city from its 50 metre high viewing platform. Though it didn’t occur to me as intensely breathtaking, the view gives you a gist of the city’s appearance. Apart from the six other towers that dominate the Luebeck skyline, what drew my attention was that the entire town is built in brick. I learned later that this sort of architecture, called brick-Gothic style, is a trait of regions around the Baltic Sea. This lent the city a very ancient, yet authentic feel.  

I walked into the oldest part of the city, the Marktplatz, where flea markets are in progress during the day. The town hall, called Rathaus, lies on one side of the Marktplatz, and is a magnificent structure. I’ve not seen anything quite like it before. An ornate facade rests atop an arched walkway. With a number of little spires and seemingly unnecessary holes in the structure, the Rathaus exuded a bewitching charm. The darkness of the brick added to its appeal.

Rathaus

Luebeck also has a reputation for its marzipan, a sweet made from almond and sugar. Right outside the Marktplatz lies a store of the most famous of marzipan brands, called Niederegger. I was advised to try some. Being a sweet toothed person, that turned out to be sage advice; the marzipan was delicious!

I spent the rest of the day walking along the narrow streets of the little town, always fully aware of the amount of brick around me. I was also struck by the sheer size of the churches. Compacted in tiny lanes, the towering structures gave me a crick in the neck, and made for distorted photographs. But I have no complaints. The more I absorbed the brick ambience of pretty Luebeck, the more it appealed to me, and the longer I wanted to linger.

View while crossing one of the bridges into Luebeck

Fortunately, getting to the airport was a ten minute bus journey from the Marktplatz! I couldn't have asked for more.