Category Archives: Germany

Return to Neuschwanstein Castle

Posted by dkrashb on

When we wake up, it’s raining steadily. The temperature makes the rain feel bitterly cold. Up in the surrounding mountains, it’s snowing. But we will not be going that high. I layer up with silk long underwear under my jeans and an extra warm Underarmour shirt under my sweater. I put on my thin leather jacket and then pull my rain jacket on–loose enough to fit over everything, it will keep me dry as well as help trap my body heat. I even dig out the thin pair of Windstopper gloves I shoved into my bag just in case. We all pile into the mini-van and we are off.

First stop is Neuschwanstein, the castle started by King Ludwig II of Bavaria intended to capture the opera The Rings in architecture. However, the castle was only 1/3 complete when Ludwig died mysteriously by drowning in a lake with his psychiatrist at the age of 40. He had been declared insane and removed from power only days before. We came to this castle years ago, but had taken the German tour. I’m happy that this time, we will take the tour in English. First, we must park. Then, we must walk part way up the mountain to buy tickets. Then, we must get ourselves from the ticket office to the castle, which is estimated to be a 40 minute walk up a very steep incline. There are three choices: walk in the rain, ride a bus, or take a horse drawn carriage. We head for the bus, but the line is so long to get a ticket that Dieter and I (at the head of the pack) think we must walk. But, a chorus of protest rises from behind us and we turn and go back to get a horse drawn carriage instead.

We start off in front of a couple walking arm in arm. Two average-sized horses pull the wagon loaded with 10 adults slowly up the steep road. The couple falls slightly behind, but when we are halfway, we pause to give the horses a short break and the couple nearly catches up with us while we wait. But then we are off again and either the horses are so revived that they move faster or the couple is so fatigued they move slower, but we leave them far behind.

When we arrive at the end of the wagon ride, we are told that the walk to the castle is 15 more minutes. But it is not too strenuous and we make it in less than 10. We are 15 minutes early for our tour. We stand under the arch of a giant gate leading to the courtyard, huddled together with about a hundred people from nearly as many different countries. When it is time for our tour, a lighted sign in the courtyard displays our tour number and we move back into the rain briefly to walk through the cattle gates with the rest of the English speakers on our tour. The girl who leads our tour speaks loudly and slowly, over enunciating each word, but in the first room, her voice bounces off the tiles and echoes so that it’s nearly impossible to understand what she says. The Germans in our group do not think she is German, as her accent sounds so strange. I ask her where she is from originally as we walk to the next room and she tells me she is from here originally; I assume Schwangau, the small village near the castle. That doesn’t explain her strange accent, though.

We learn a bit more about the crazy king who wanted his life to be a fairytale. We see rooms on two floors, starting in the servants quarters and ending in the concert hall. Unfortunately, there was an actual concert recently and the floor is completely covered to protect it. We did get to see the mosaic tile floor in the receiving room–we’re told that there are over 2 million tiles that were individually laid in the floor. The crazy pattern has a mixture of animals I can’t make sense of, but perhaps if I were an expert on Wagner operas, it would all become clear to me. Our tour guide offers no explanation for the decor choices and is too far away with nearly 50 people on the tour for me to ask. We are told that the tour is over and we should check out the kitchen on the way out.

A narrow spiral staircase takes us down four floors to where the king’s meals were prepared (with a detour through the gift shop, of course) and we wonder if he ever had a hot meal given that his dining room was at the top of the stairs. The kitchen is enormous and, apparently quite modern for the times. After looking at the signs, trying to figure out the layout, we return to the cold and rain outside.

Next, we walk back down to the drop off point to take a wagon back down. We are shoved into the back of the wagon with a strange man between me and Giesala who clearly doesn’t understand English or German. Then, three more people join. The four are all Asian, but the strange man is Japanese while the other three are Chinese. The strange Japanese man introduces himself to Giesala, but then keeps repeating her name. He won’t look up and remains in a hunched position, eyes on the floor. Then, when no one is talking to him, he starts muttering to himself. I don’t know lots of people from Japan, but I’ve never seen anyone act like this from any country that didn’t have some kind of problem going on. In any case, we are distracted by the group from China. They tell us they are from the Tsing Tao museum and the man produces many beer labels and gives them to Pat after Pat tells him that be likes Tsing Tao beer. We really aren’t sure if there is a museum or if they were from the brewery, but we laugh with them the whole way down the mountain. The man and Pat got into a beer belly contest with each of them pulling up their jackets and extending their bellies to show . . . well, I’m not sure what they’re trying to prove. Pat won in any case. Then, the man’s cell phone rings and his conversation has the two women he is with in stitches. One of them explains that the person on the other end of the phone had told the man to hurry up and he replied, “It’s not up to me, it’s up to a horse.” We all laugh, too. Pat asks if he can buy the man a beer since he’s given us so many labels, but he and his colleagues have to rush off.

We decide to wait to eat lunch until we got to the second castle on today’s itinerary–Linderhof. We walk back to the mini van and take off in the rain.

Self-Milking Cows and Wellness in Wald

Posted by dkrashb on

Having been collected by Pat’s parents and friends at the guest house we arrived at in Wald from Berlin, we now load our stuff into their vehicle for the short drive to where we’ll be staying.

Pat’s parents and friends have been traveling together for several days already. The friends, Dieter and Gisela, have traded their car with their daughter so they have a mini-van to fit us all in for this trip. The mini is a little more mini than a typical American mini-van, but we all fit perfectly. They take us to the “wellness resort” we will be staying at for the next 3 nights. This is an interesting concept in Germany. These are guest houses equipped with pools and hot tubs and various other amenities that help restore health and sanity. They typically are quite economical, although only available in pretty, country areas outside large cities, and are often free for Germans who are suffering from illness or stress that their doctor feels warrants a break from everyday life.

This one is located on a working farm. They make most of their own foods served in their restaurant from the butter and cheese to the beer. When we have dropped our bags in our room, our group reconvenes and takes little tour of the farm. We visit the horses and donkey in one barn, and the milk cows in another. We watch as a cow milks herself–the most fascinating thing I have ever seen. When a gate is opened, a cow with a full utter walks into a pen and lines herself up in the milking station, where grain releases into a bucket so she can happily munch while being milked. A robotic milking machine starts by washing each of her teats with rollers. Then, laser beams line up the suction cups on the milking machine with the teats until all four are properly captured in the milking machine. The milk is matched to the cow using an electronic chip on her ankle. If the cow has recently calved, her milk is rerouted to her calf in a barn next door. All the milk is automatically tested to make sure the cow doesn’t have any diseases and that there isn’t dangerous bacteria in the milk before it is pumped into the milk storage container. When a teat stops producing milk, the machine releases it until all of the teats have been milked dry. A gate opens, the cow walks out, and the next cow, when ready, enters. I wish I had thought to bring my camera down, but maybe I am the only one who gets excited about cows that milk themselves?

We visit many calves next. They are at various stages of growth. Some are in large plastic huts and they stick their heads out as us as we walk by. I reach out to one and let it suckle my fingers while I rub its head. I don’t think anyone else in the group has ever seen someone do this because they were all pretty surprised. The calf holds its tongue over its teeth so it doesn’t bite, but the force that calves suckle with is pretty amazing. My fingers are covered in slim when I extract them. I do my best not to touch anything. We wander over to the building where they make cheese and beer. Nothing is currently being made, but it’s still nice to see. Pat buys some Landjaeger (something between sausage and beef jerky) that is also home made. We then wander back to the main guest house to have dinner. I scrub my hands twice before sitting down to eat.

The restaurant serves four courses, with the only choice being which of three entrees you want. They bring us a soup to start with a meaty broth and a large noodle. It’s delicious and hot. Then we have a typical German salad with lettuce on top hiding an assortment of other types of salad underneath. I have the fish. Dieter describes the fish as a “salmon trout,” which is exactly what it’s like. Flaky trout meat that’s firmer and pinker than most trout. While it’s delicious, the filet they brought me was about the size of a flattened football and I couldn’t eat it all. The dessert was warm chocolate cake with chocolate sauce, whipped cream and fresh currants. Surprisingly, I find I have just enough room for the dessert.

We sit and drink beer and swap stories in German and English. Two of us do not speak German, two of us speak German and American English, and two speak German and formal English. It makes for interesting translations–it’s amazing how many words we use in everyday conversation that don’t make it into language classes. But, we have a good time anyway. Giesala has a warm and ready laugh that is infectious and Dieter has a quiet sense of humor that catches me by surprise, making his jokes even funnier. Both are patient with those of us who don’t speak English and make a tremendous effort to speak English whenever possible so we feel included.

We discuss our plans for tomorrow and decide to make a change from the original plan. The cold and rainy weather is supposed to improve the following day, so we decide to switch days. We will all go to see some castles tomorrow and we will go to the Oktoberfest the following day. All in all, it’s been a good day.

From Berlin to Wald

Posted by dkrashb on

Having had our fill of Berlin, we depart the next morning for Wald. We are meeting Pat’s family and friends there. They were the impetus for this trip, inviting us to meet them for Oktoberfest. We get up early so we can catch a train before 9AM–it’s hard for me to believe that I was complaining about not being able to sleep past 4am a week ago and now I am complaining about having to get up before 6am. Pat wants to leave for the train station by 7:45, but breakfast doesn’t start until 7:30 on Sundays. We check out and leave our bags with the front desk before going up to eat.

We are surprised that two other guests have already arrived at breakfast before us. We fill our plates and pour coffee and tea and try to eat as quickly as possible. Pat surprises me by going back for seconds when we have only a few minutes left before his designated departure time. But, we eat up quickly and I head downstairs to order a cab while Pat stops in the restroom one last time.

The cab arrives quickly and we get to the train station 45 minutes before our train. We find the platform and wait patiently as we watch the platform fill. We hope that most of the passengers are on the train before ours, but only a few depart with that train. When ours comes, everyone dashes to get on board. There are only 2 first class cars and most of the seats are reserved. We keeping getting pushed back until we think we are going to end up in 2nd class. But then, Pat spots two “Schwerbehinderte” seats and we are saved by the lack of handicapped people traveling without a reservation.

I am nervous about our train route. Pat picked the fastest way to the Leuterschach train station, which I found using google maps–it’s only 4 KM from the country hotel we’re meeting his family at in Wald. But because it is out in the country, we have to take four different trains to get there and the time between arrival and departure is only 7 minutes for our first transfer, then only 5 minutes for our second transfer. The third transfer has 30 minutes between trains, so I am not worried about that one. Our first train takes us from Berlin to Augsburg in about 5 hours, but is several minutes late due to the rain. By the time we get close to Augsburg, I am getting anxious and I have Pat get our luggage down early so we can stand at the door and jump off the train as soon as it stops. He laughs at my nervousness and says there will be another train if we miss this one, but without the train schedule in front of me, I am unsure of whether the next train will make a connection to get us to Leuterschach. We arrive at the station just a couple of minutes before our next departure. We hop off the train, cross the platform and hop onto the next, which is still sitting there. We find seats and the train pulls out, leaving a couple minutes late. While I’m relieved that we made this train, if there are any delays, we will miss the next one.

Since we have 45 minutes before we arrive at the next station, Pat tries to call his Mother’s friends on their cell phones to let them know when we are arriving. Calling from his cell doesn’t work. I suggest calling like he’s in the US calling Germany since he is using his US cell phone. He reaches someone, but it’s not the right number. We decide we will have to take a taxi to the hotel.

We arrive a couple minutes late at the next station, but once again, our next train is waiting for us across the platform and we are seated on it before it departs, right on time. I am amazed that it’s possible to make a connection in under two minutes. In a half an hour, we arrive at the Kaufbeuren station, which is a small station with only two tracks. Since we have 30 minutes and it’s cold and raining, we go inside and have a beer while we wait. The pub in the station is dark and stinky. The people sitting in there look worn out–like they work hard every day. Once again, it’s like we’ve changed countries.

The beer tastes good since we are thirsty and purchasing it gives us access to the heated restrooms in the pub instead of having to go to the unheated public restroom outside. We don’t have time for food, however, so Pat purchases Laugenweck at the snack stand inside the station before we go out to get the train. Laugenweck are like pretzels in a roll form, split in a cross on top. We have found them in the US on occasion, but they are always hard and dry. Here, the outside it chewy and the inside fluffy and moist, with the kosher salt adding just the right flavor. German’s prefer them sliced and buttered, but they are deliciously still warm as we share them on the platform and we don’t miss the butter.

Our train comes on time and we find ourselves at the Leuterschach station in about a half an hour. It’s so small that there isn’t even a platform–just a flat spot of grass that is high enough to step off onto from the train. There is no building here, no phones, and certainly no taxis. The parking area is a large bike rack–there isn’t a car at the station. We drag our luggage across the street to a Guest House, the only building in sight. The Proprietors, seeing our luggage, ask if we have a reservation. Pat says, “Yes, but not here.” He explains our predicament and I wait, trying to guess how the rapid German conversation is going. Eventually, we are invited to come sit down and have a beer while they call our hotel for us. She calls the hotel and tells us that our family and friends were just checking in when she called and they will come to pick us up in a few minutes, but we still have time for that beer. Figuring we should at least have a beer since she has been so kind, we sit down and each have a, thankfully, small pilsner. The beer is even better than the one at the train station. As we finish up, our friends arrive and we feel very lucky that all has worked out so perfectly today.

American Tourists in Berlin

Posted by dkrashb on

We get up on our first full day in Berlin surprised at how well we slept. I am starting to feel like I might be ahead of the cold I’m holding at bay and we realize that the room was so quiet that we slept undisturbed. We go to the hotel breakfast before hitting the streets. An American woman complains loudly to her friends about not having any soap in her room–I wonder if she has failed to realize that there is liquid hand soap in a pump by the sink and a bottle of shower gel for the bath.

A small man sits at the table next to us. There is only 12 inches of space between the tables, so it is almost like he’s joined us. He looks like a troll transported through time and space from a Brothers Grimm fairy tale and stuffed into a too small button-up shirt and khakis. His face is covered with hair that looks just a little too much like fur and the girth of his torso exceeds its length. I keep waiting for one of the buttons on his shirt to give up its tenuous grip and fly across the table to hit me in the forehead. This fear is heightened by his constant coughing and snorting; he apparently is losing his battle against a cold. Each time he coughs, I can almost hear the threads ripping. He continually paws at his dripping nose, using the backs of his short, stubby arms as a tissue even though there is a paper napkin at hand and more on the buffet. I find his presence takes the edge off my appetite.

After breakfast, we head first to Checkpoint Charlie. After all, we have only today to see Berlin and we feel obligated to stick to the beaten path of the millions of tourists who have come before. Checkpoint Charlie is a bit of a let down. There are only small pieces of the wall displayed on the buildings that line the street, none of the wall itself is still standing here. Men dressed in American and German soldiers uniforms offer to pose for tourist pictures for a fee–none of then are actually in the military. We decide to skip the museum and head back towards the Fernsehturn tower again, this time with the intent of going to the top.

When we arrive at the tower, there is a long line to get tickets–another place where planning in advance would have paid off. We wait for nearly an hour and then have to wait 40 more minutes for our turn in the elevator. As we wait for the elevator, a second line forms of people with VIP passes and reservations in the rotating restaurant up in the tower. They get to ditch our line 2x before the Germans in the front put up a protest and get our line moving again.

When at last we get up into the tower, we find that half of the observation deck is closed for a private event, the restaurant is completely booked, and we cannot even go up into the restaurant to see the other half of the view because the bar is closed. I am a little disappointed that we spent 20 euros and, worse, 2 hours of our one day, for half a view, but in the end, decide it was worth it. The view really is spectacular.

After returning to earth, we head for a motorcycle museum Pat spotted from the tower. However, when we get there, it’s all East German bikes, which Pat isn’t interested in, so instead of going in, we stop to eat lunch at a near by restaurant. We sit outside again and order beer and sausages (is there anything else?) and relax while we decide where to go next. We had planned to take a boat tour, but feel like we’re running out of time. We decide to take a tram over to the zoo and check that out.

We get on a train that takes us two stops towards the zoo and then announces it’s the end of the line and everyone must get off. We get off, but then not quite believing it’s turning around, we get back on. It goes the opposite direction. We get off and catch another train, which returns us to where we got off. We pick up a third train and get two stops further before the same thing happens. We are befuddled. We make it to the zoo in 2 more trains, each going two stops further, but are unable to determine why they are each turning around after 2 stops.

I always have mixed feelings about going to zoos. Besides feeling bad for the animals (although they seem to have a pretty good life and often help preserve endangered species), most zoos are similar enough to one another that you don’t really feel like you’ve visited a unique city by going there. However, entering the Berlin zoo felt like stepping out of the frenetic energy of the city and into a sudden state of relaxation. The zoo is literally called an animal park here, and that’s exactly how it felt–like a park with animals. Although the display style is not so unique from, say, the Columbus zoo, they have an amazing collection of animals that includes a giant panda, African lions, polar bears, bizarre warthogs, birds I’ve never even heard of, and hippos. When we walk into the cat house (resisting making a joke here), we start looking at some of the small cats that look suspiciously like house cats when the African lions at the other side of the building start roaring at each other. I’ve never heard anything like it–the roaring of lions reverberates off every surface of the building, making us feel like we’re surrounded by an entire pride. We move quickly towards the source of the sound, wanting to see what all the commotion is about. As we pass displays of small prey animals, I realize this must be a frequent occurrence because none of the smaller critters appear the least bit perturbed. As we arrive at the lion pens, they fall silent. We can’t tell what exactly happened, but there are two males in side-by-side pens, each with a single female. It looks as if they have recently been fed. I have to wonder if the two males smelling each other are frustrated by not being able to claim adequate territory. We watch these huge beasts pace and pant for several minutes. They are so beautiful. The might of their muscles rippling under their fur is awe inspiring. I imagine them chasing down an antelope and wonder if perhaps their protest was that someone had already killed their food?

We return to browsing the other displays in the building, but we don’t get very far before the roaring starts up again. We move back towards the lions and see that each male roars almost continually, still pacing, while the females appear to be providing harmony with smaller roars panted between the longer, rolling roars of the males. Perhaps they are not upset at all–maybe they are a quartet?

We walk outside for a while, glad of the fresh air after the intense smells of the cat collection. We pass by a collection of birds hanging out by several ponds. A huge hawk flies up from one of the ponds and lands in a tree, her shift apparently over for the day. The number of local birds just enjoying the free lunch vs the birds who are part of the collection is difficult to say. Dozens of herons hang out here, flying in in low circles looking for the best place for a snack. I’m pretty sure not one of them is a resident. The ducks get a little more confusing–there are many more types of ducks than listed on the signs. It reminds me of the Calgary zoo where wild turkeys perched on the fences of their outdoor deer display–whatever grain they were feeding the deer was apparently quite a treat for the local turkeys.

We head towards the hippo display, finally finding it almost by accident. When we do, I am so glad we came. The display is a huge pond with a glass wall that lets us see almost the full depth of the water from the side. There are fake rocks and ledges that lead to a land area for the hippos as well, but right now, the hippos are taking a swim. They circle around the pool, looming through the green water and suddenly appearing clearly up against the glass, floating by with unimaginable grace. Watching these huge, awkward animals fly through the water like ballerinas makes me laugh out loud. I have a vague recollection of a children’s story about hippos in tutus and wonder if this is where the author got the idea. I could have sat there until we were kicked out, I was so fascinated by this hippo dance, but, conscious that it is getting late, we move on.

The wart hogs (or whatever variety of pigs these are) make us laugh with their funny faces and the birds fascinate us with their fancy plumes. We walk by to se the polar bears before departing, but they seem to be frozen in a stand off, one in the water and one on the shore glaring at the one below. We head on out the gate and decide to walk a ways and try to find a taxi. Pat guesses we’ve walked 10 miles; I guess it’s something closer to 5, but we’re tired and both our backs are aching.

We end up stopping at a restaurant recommended by a woman at a small grocery store where we stopped to buy water. I have a really good snitzel. The restaurant owner calls a cab for us and we ride back to the hotel grateful for the ride.

Going to Berlin

Posted by dkrashb on

We awake to The sound of frogs chirping at 6:00AM. I am momentarily confused and then remember that we’ve set the alarm on Pat’s phone because we are catching an morning train to Berlin today. I get up and find the phone and kill the frogs. Pat has an uncanny ability to remain untroubled by alarms–I’ve accidentally set mine on snooze from time to time and found him sleeping soundly with his head under a pillow for as long as a hour after the alarm started going off. I have an irresistible compulsion to get up when an alarm sounds–I figure it’s a good thing one of us does.

After breakfast, we take our luggage outside to wait for the cab we’ve ordered. When we step outside, a cab pulls up and a man walks up to it and gets in. It’s a few minutes early, but Pat says, I bet that’s our cab and then stands there staring. Visions of us standing there for 10 more minutes waiting for a cab that never shows and then having to wait 10 more for another on to arrive prompt me to suggest he go ask before the cab drives away. Sure enough, it is our cab. But, we are all going to the train station, so we will share.

We make it to the station with 45 minutes to spare. We sit on a bench on the track and wait for our train. I decide to use the restroom while we’re waiting. When I get there, I discover that the train station has pay toilets. They’ve upgraded from change operated door handles to a turnstile entry to the restrooms, but now they charge a euro to get in. Having no cash on me, I return to the platform and decide just to wait since the restrooms on the train are free.

The train pulls into the station 3 minutes before our departure time. We get on and find seats. We sit side-by-side with no seats across from us. We sit back and relax, me taking out my iPad and getting caught up on my blog while Pat stares out the window and points interesting sights out to me.

When we get to the next stop, we are displaced. A man has a reserved seat that I am currently occupying. I am somewhat irritated as there are plenty of open seats and I don’t quite understand why he doesn’t take one of them, but when we are displaced again at the next stop, I begin to understand the problem. Pat asks a woman how to tell if a seat is reserved and she explains that the lighted sign above each seat displays the names of the departure and arrival stations between which a seat is reserved. We quickly discover there aren’t two seats together with no reservation (since we have none). Pat spots two seats labeled “Schwerbehinderte” that face each other with a table in between. He explains that these are “handicapped” seats and that we can sit there unless someone who needs them gets on. We settle back down for the third time.

Pat looks around and notices that there are a half dozen “Schwerbehinderte” seats around us. He says, “wouldn’t it be our luck that an entire handicapped tour gets on the train at the next stop?” I almost laugh, but feel like he has just jinxed us and seriously contemplate the likelihood of that happening instead. But, we are not displaced again and we make it to Berlin around 3PM.
We take a taxi to our hotel where we are informed that they have upgraded our room for us. We don’t know why, but we’re not complaining. It’s an interesting hotel, the Gendarmes Nouveau, with hyper-modern decor and lighting throughout the lobby. When we get to the room, it’s a combination of mauve and gray, only still in the hyper-modern theme. I’ve never seen modern done in mauve and gray before–it feels vaguely middle eastern to us, but I don’t know why. Maybe just because our taxi driver was telling us about his flight from Iran on the way to the hotel and so the region is fresh in our minds. In any case, the room is quite nice, very quiet, and we can live with gray and mauve decor for two nights.

After freshening up, we head out. Pat wants to walk to Alexander Plaza, which is supposed to be the center of Berlin. We wander down the streets struck by the contrast with Freiburg. We feel like we’re in a different country. Here the streets are wide and asphalt with regular car traffic, although bikes are certainly prevalent as well. So much so that, on the way over, I noticed our taxi driver stopped on right turns to look up the sidewalk for approaching bikes before making turns. While I have been told before that Berlin is surprisingly new for a European capital and I know from history that it’s really more surprising that anything old is left standing than that most of the buildings are new, I’m unprepared for the architecture of the 60’s and 70’s. There are few buildings of interest and most of them are ancient survivors (or perhaps restored). The bleak and boring industrial look takes up the majority of the city skyline.

We walk past a museum that sparkles with gold leaf in the setting sun, a couple of old churches, and several parks with interesting sculptures that make the walk worthwhile. We go past the Fernsehturn tower, deciding to wait to go up it until the next day, and on to Alexander Plaza. We are both disappointed to find that the only thing interesting here is a fountain and the street performers. We are passed by a man dressed as a half-man, half-goat mythological creature, using stilts covered in fur to simulate goat legs. An electric rock band has found power somewhere and set up and started playing. Unfortunately, they are not so good. They compete with another band around the corner, all acoustic. In the middle of the square, a man plays the sax and, I swear, he sounds much like one would expect a new student of the sax to sound after about two weeks of lessons.

As much as we are tempted to hang out for a while and people watch, Pat notices that teenagers keep gawking at my camera and feels like we’re at risk of getting mugged. We decide to head towards the hotel and find a place for dinner. We approach a fine looking restaurant that advertises it’s been there for 100 years, but when we look through the windows, the men are all wearing jackets and no one is wearing jeans. We decide we’ll try it for lunch the next day instead. We find a more casual place a block later, but they have no indoor seats available. We opt to sit outside, although I am shivering before our entrees are served.

The food is good and hot (although not for long in the cold wind). We eat quickly, racing against heat transfer. We finish up and pay quickly when we are done eating–my lips have turned blue and I can’t stop shaking. It’s not really that cold, but I get cold easily and I am fighting a bug, which can’t help. We walk quickly to the hotel, taking the stairs to the fifth (or fourth if, you’re European) floor just to warm up. Inside, I get ready for bed quickly and snuggle under my personal comforter, but have to sneak under Pat’s to press my cold feet up against his legs to get warm. As soon as my feet thaw, I drift off into a deep sleep.