Our last entry was just a week ago, the morning after we’d
arrived in Schwangau, the heart of German Bavaria, a day in which we caught up
on chores and home school, and gave George and Charlie time for an afternoon
playing down by the lake – when Frances and I visited them to see what they
were up to, we discovered they had been hard at work building a shingle jetty
which stretched out into the lake. In the afternoon, we put the tent up for the
kids to give them a bit of a breather from us! We ate dinner in the cosy warmth
of the caravan, looking out over the mountains across the lake which turned a
magnificent shade of purple as the sun set.
Refreshed and re energised, we set off early on a cold,
crisp but beautiful Wednesday morning for our tour of Schloss Hohenschwangau
and Schloss Neuschwanstein. Both castles appeared straight out of fairy tales,
with their keeps, battlements and towers facing each other across the valley. Hohenschwangau
had been extensively re-developed by King Maximilian of Bavaria and his wife
Maria, who very sensibly had a second smaller castle built immediately next
door for the kids, Ludwig and Otto. The main castle was beautiful from the
outside, resplendent in yellow with blue and white striped window shades to
keep off the morning sun – and ornately decorated inside, although, in truth,
the many rooms were all a bit pokey (perhaps cosy would be kinder) and the art
was….well, let’s just charitably say that King Max was from the ‘more is more’
school of art appreciation! The castle is still owned by the descendants of the
important Wittelsbach family.
Max and Maria’s influence clearly rubbed off on son Ludwig,
who had Neuschwanstein built on the ruins of a former castle high up on a hill overlooking
Hohenschwangau, a decent walk away from his parents as we discovered. He wanted
to create a romanticised Romanesque homage
to Richard Wagner’s operatic works Lohengrin (the only guest who was permitted to
stay within the castle), and the castle he created certainly lives up to his
ambition. Sadly for Ludwig, he died
within a year of its completion (in fact, much of it was never completed) in
mysterious circumstances – found drowned in a lake – and so the castle was opened
to the public. What they would have discovered is much as we did – a real
fairtytale castle rising up from the cliffs, which when overlooked from the
high footbridge spanning a gorge and waterfalls below brings to mind images of
princesses in turrets and noble knights charging around on white stallions. In
other words, as described by critics of the era as I’ve just read on Wikipedia,
all a bit kitsch! Here’s what Ludwig said about his plans in a letter to his
pal, Wagner (source Wikipedia):
“It is my intention to
rebuild the old castle ruin of Hohenschwangau near the Pöllat Gorge in the
authentic style of the old German knights' castles, and I must confess to you
that I am looking forward very much to living there one day (in 3 years); there
will be several cosy, habitable guest rooms with a splendid view of the noble
Säuling, the mountains of Tyrol and far across the plain; you know the revered
guest I would like to accommodate there; the location is one of the most
beautiful to be found, holy and unapproachable, a worthy temple for the divine
friend who has brought salvation and true blessing to the world. It will also
remind you of "Tannhäuser" (Singers' Hall with a view of the castle
in the background), "Lohengrin'" (castle courtyard, open corridor, path
to the chapel); this castle will be in every way more beautiful and habitable
than Hohenschwangau further down, which is desecrated every year by the prose
of my mother; they will take revenge, the desecrated gods, and come to live
with Us on the lofty heights, breathing the air of heaven”.
Ludwig never married – he broke off his only engagement
after six months, again without explanation, although Frances has inferred a
theory about his devotion to Wagner!
Inside, the castle is ornately decorated in romantic style
again, full of romanticised images of daring knights and devout disciples.
Every conceivable surface has works of art – many painted directly on the wall
– and sadly, none of which (in this Campbell family’s humble opinion) are very
good! Notably absent by comparison to other great noble houses and palaces
we’ve visited around Europe, however, are any paintings by the great masters
or, for that matter, artists of any renown. On enquiry of our rather peculiar
tour guide, it transpired that Ludwig had hired a few art students from nearby
Munich to create all of the artworks – following in his father’s ‘more is more’
footsteps!
We walked back down the hill to the car in rapidly
descending temperatures as alpine fog rolled down the mountains towards us. As
we drove back to the caravan we stopped at the supermarket, and while Frances
shopped the heavens broke in a huge hailstorm – within a couple of minutes the
car and road were covered in a layer of ice. Back at the campsite, a small
sprinkling of snow had fallen and settled around the tent. In the evening,
Frances, George and Charlie went to the Krystal Therme spa, which, despite
George’s anxiety about there being nudey-rudies wandering about, proved to be
very pleasant and fun. Much to George’s relief there were no nudey-rudies but
there were wonderful outside hot thermal pools (heated to 36⁰)
full of healing salt water with fabulous views through the steam rising from
the lakes of both castles lit up in the night sky.
It rained hard overnight, and we woke on Thursday to
discover that there had been heavy snow in the mountains just a few feet above
the lake and campsite. The rain drops on the tent had frozen, and George and
Charlie emerged in the morning like arctic explorers in search of the cosy warmth
of the caravan.
We made an early start and headed off towards Munich
(Munchen) to Dachau, site of the infamous Nazi concentration camp. We’d just
missed the start of the English speaking tour, so scurried off in pursuit,
catching them up just as Steve, the guide completed his overview. He then took
us on an absorbing and sobering tour of the camp, brought to life by his
incredibly comprehensive and detailed knowledge. The camp was liberated by the
US army and preserved as a result of the efforts initially of survivors and
subsequently the authorities as a lasting reminder and lesson – all German
school children of a certain age must go on a tour of a concentration camp
during their schooling. As we passed through the intact gates, the sense of
foreboding was chilling. The camp was established in 1933 at the very start of
the Third Reich as one of the first initiatives of the new Nazi regime,
initially for dissidents and political prisoners. It was immediately a place of
torture and death, which rapidly developed on a highly organised and industrial
scale and was used as the model on which all the other camps were based – it
was here that on-site crematoria were first built to circumvent the need to
rely on external crematoria and the necessary awkward accompanying paperwork,
for example. And here were developed the Xyclon-B gas chambers for the
‘industrialisation’ of genocide, although there is some doubt as to whether
they were actually put into use at Dachau.
In the first years, the camp was orderly in extremis – the slightest
infraction (a bed not perfectly made, a blade of grass out of place) resulting
in torture or death for the perpetrator. But in the later part of the war, it
became the centre of a massive slave labour scheme, and it became clear that it
was more productive to work prisoners literally to death on farms or in
munitions factories than to have them worry about the state of order,
cleanliness or hygiene in the camps. Steve’s insight and knowledge, based on
clearly extensive research helped answer our many questions – were prisoners
ever released? (yes, but most were released as ashes in urns); did people know
they were going to their death? (perhaps not initially, especially in the west
– but in the east, in Poland, rumours were widespread); were their huts heated?
(yes, in the day-room, but not in the dormitories, where they were not allowed
to sleep in their meagre uniforms which had to be folded neatly away even if
wet, and where they would have to have slept naked on straw beds in freezing
temperatures). That any survived these terrible conditions is incredible, and
testament to the determination of the human spirit. The camp lives on as a
monument to those who suffered so much at the hands of tyranny – and as
permanent lesson about the importance of democracy and dissent, and against the
perils of blind consensus and cultism. In an era when people seem less
interested and prepared to actively engage in ideology and the pursuit of
progressive social change, where plurality is increasingly overwhelmed by
consensus and personality-led leadership, where the motivation of individuals
and society seems focussed on personal material gain rather than social
development, and where recent conflicts in the Balkans, the middle east and Africa
continue to expose tyranny and the darker side of human nature on both sides of
each conflict, these lessons seem more relevant than ever. It was a valuable and indelible lesson for us.
We made our way back to Brunnen in reflective mood.
We left Schwangau on Friday and headed west, winding our way
through Southern Germany and past the Bodensee, Lake Constance through
Fredrichshafen towards Freiburg in the Black Forest, arriving at a river-side
site in Staufen, a small historic town.
We were efficiently marshalled into our pitch by the site manager, and
headed straight for a swim in the gloriously warm water of the site’s own pool.
Our site fees included a free rail pass allowing us access to Freiburg and on
to Basel in Switzerland, so on Saturday morning we ambled into Staufen and
hopped on the train to Freiburg. We had a mooch around the old city and the
market which was packed with stalls selling beautiful fresh local produce and
thronging with locals doing their weekly shop. Entertainment was provided by a
number of buskers who, like those we’d seen in Dresden, were very talented and
seemed to be from Russia and Eastern Europe.
These included a quartet in Russian army uniforms playing traditional
instruments and singing well known Russian songs, and an accordion player who,
with one’s eyes closed could easily have convinced that he was a full
orchestra. In the afternoon, we headed back to Staufen and sat in the beautiful
historic market square eating Shwarzwalder Kirschtorte and admiring the beautiful
old buildings, although noticing with some anxiety that several of these had
large cracks in them. Back in the campsite, this was explained by a neighbour
in faltering English to be caused by some kind of mining – he advised I look up
the Staufen town website. It transpires that the refurbishment of the Rathaus
(town hall) in 2006 included the installation of a thermal ground water heating
system, involving the drilling of bores to a depth of 450m to access the
naturally occurring hot water. As a result, this water has leaked into a layer
of plaster-like rock which has caused it to set and expand, causing the land
above to rise by up to 1cm per month, with devastating effects on the listed
buildings in the old town.
On the advice of Jed and his wife, a retired English couple
we met on the site who have sold-up in the UK and taken up residence in their
caravan on the site for the winter before they buy a house in Staufen, we took
further advantage of the free and brilliant train services and headed into Basel
on Sunday. Roger Paisley, Charlie’s godfather and our great friend from Sydney
living now in Hong Kong, gave us a number of Basel top-tips by text as we
travelled on the train. Basel was so quiet on Sunday morning you could hear a
pin drop – but rest assured, the rattle of the kids’ scooters on cobbles (an
ever present cacophony on this trip) shattered the peace as we made our way
across the Rhine into the old city. We visited the cathedral and marvelled at
the hugely powerful organ as the organist rehearsed for an evening performance;
we wandered through the town and saw the ornate Rathaus with its very beautiful
courtyard paintings; we window shopped past the fortunately-closed shops with
their displays of fabulously expensive and luxurious watches; we inspected the
menu of a typical and traditional Swiss café….and beat a hasty retreat! And we
found and boarded the small ferry plying across the Rhine on a fixed line like
a zip wire suspended across the river, propelled across by nothing more than
the current of the river. It was fascinating – and unlike the café, very
inexpensive. And that was it for Basel – we headed back on the train to Staufen
for a delicious, tasty and inexpensive late afternoon lunch in an old
restaurant in the market square. This left
time for us all to visit the Vita Classica spa in Bad Krozingen – another large
scale multi-pooled thermal baths which, to the kid’s great relief, was
clothing-mandatory for the pools. Frances and I left George and Charlie to the
pools and headed for the sauna, returning somewhat redder in the face (it was
hot in the saunas!) to find them completing an hour’s non-stop lap swimming!
On a foggy Monday morning we rather reluctantly packed up
and headed off to leave Germany for the second and last time on this trip. We
like Germany – the orderliness, the efficiency, the warm welcome of the people,
the emphasis on tradition – and the wurst und beer! We hit the autobahn heading
west towards Strasbourg and drove on, the fog enveloping us to create the
sensation of driving through a tunnel. Without fanfare we slipped into France,
the only tell-tales being the slight change in road signs. In the afternoon the
fog lifted, the sun shone, and we headed off the autoroute onto the N roads to
wind our way through rural eastern France through rolling hills and woodland
bursting with beautiful autumn colour and across the tree and hedge-less
farmland, towards Reims in Champagne. We passed through many rather
unattractive villages and towns, past Metz, all of which recalled Western
Poland more than they did the beautiful towns and villages of Brittany and
Normandy. We didn’t have a site booked, and were increasingly concerned as the
afternoon wore on. So a last minute call to the Chalons-en-Champagne tourist
information office pointed us in the direction of the municipal site in
Chalons. We couldn’t reach them by phone, so keeping our fingers crossed, we
followed the many clear signposts to the site and rolled in to a very nice,
orderly, spacious, well equipped and leafy site – most unexpected! It had been
a long drive – about 550kms, so we were tired and glad to set up quickly and
head to bed early.
This morning, Tuesday, rain stopped play. We decided to
spend the morning in the caravan catching up, and will head off this afternoon
for a tour of the champagne wineries. Tomorrow we’ll head to Paris for the last
leg of our trip. We have brought forward our return to the UK by a week so that
we can head up to Lawn Cottage on Monday for Dad’s funeral later in the week on
Thursday.
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