Rock and Roll ob der Tauber

Where are we? A weird sports complex/motel on the German side of the Swiss German border.

And where were we? Right, Belgium.

Little Pepper Pilkington once again did us right and deposited us safe and sound in Koblenz, DE (with a lovely albeit rainy lunch stop in the beautiful medieval Dutch town of Maastricht).

Maastricht lunch spot, with old city walls.  We are just outside of the 11th century Hellport (Hell's Gate.)

Marya in front of the Red Keep at Kings Landing.  Wait, I mean in front of some church in Maastricht.

Lots of good artists at the Koblenz festival, but not a lot of opportunity to perform because of nearly constant rain. We did run into Joe Dieffenbacher, the new head honcho of the SF Clown Conservatory. His street show was scheduled immediately after ours!

Marya and I were sitting in the doorway of a closed business with our show, staying out of the endless rain, when our buddy Ronaldo (a clown from Argentina, now living in Spain) reminded us “This is a unique opportunity. For all of us to have a beer.” We immediately went to the beer tent (complementary for performers) and stayed to close the place. I mean literally, we helped them close the place. We got a lot of practice speaking Spanish, German, Spanglish, Alemañol, and other languages of the globe-trotting elite. Our shows in Koblenz were only mediocre, but the company was fine (that's international English for good.)

After a touching Skype reunion with our old street performing pals and adopted Austrian family, Witiwati und Rosa, we decided to visit them again in Waidhofen an der Ybbs, their small hometown. First, though, we planned to explore some sights along the Romantic Road, a winding country lane through some of southern Germany's most beautiful medieval towns. It was created after WWII to boost Germany's economy, and originally frequented by American tourists visiting their US Army husbands.

In true romantic fashion, Marya fell ill with a fever so we spent a day recouping in Wurzberg, the first stop on the Road. We checked into a nice little hotel where she immediately fell asleep, and I wandered the city seeking vegetarian soup (the recommended treatment). Despite having only the most abstract idea of how to say “soup” or “vegetarian” and absolutely no idea how to attempt “take-out,” my mission was a success. We holed up with some delicious Thai soup and our remaining Belgian beers, and found some time the next day to scope out the local castle before we continued down the Romantic Road.

Old fortress/castle above Wurzburg.

The 32ft tall wooden Altar of Mary, carved by famous German artist Tilman Riemenschneider in the late 1400s. 

Close-up.

Marya walks the ramparts at Winterfell. Roman's house pictured at left. Oh all right, she's walking the old city walls of Rothenburg ob der Tauber. Its old town is still completely encircled by them.

By the way, if you ever want to visit the Romantic Road, I highly recommend this super bizarre mid-90s era website. We mostly stuck to the Red Frogs but if you get lost, you can always click on the animated wizard GIF. Also Every Word On The Site Is Capitalized, Which Just Rules. Check it out. http://www.romanticroad.com

When Marya and I reached the end of the Romantic Road (only the literal one, don't worry) we found ourselves within spitting distance of Waidhofen. Earlier that day, Witiwati und Rosa had invited us to meet them at a Rock Climbing Garden (at least we think that's what Klettern Garten means) in some tiny neighboring town. They gave us an address and wished us luck. “It might be a bit hard to find,” they warned us.

Several hours later, lost and without a phone, we followed our questionable google maps directions up winding, unlabeled mountain roads through Austrian farmland. We finally dead ended at a farm house. Deciding that this couldn’t possibly be our destination, we turned around and drove back to the nearest little town. But wait! At that moment of despair we received the following text message * from Petra (aka Rosa, aka Mom) :

Its quite hard to find. Continue on hintsteingraben. At the end of the street there is a farmer house you see our car. Afterwards its 15 min walk first on a path on the back of the house with stones then follow the way with the red stripes through high grass. Then you find our stuff at a hole. Good luck.

On the road to the farmer's house. We're only halfway up there at this point.

So we drove back up to the farmer house, ready to attempt a rendezvous. When we arrived this time though, we encountered an older woman who lived in the house. She spoke no English, and I speak no German. But she grabbed the nearby 10 year old boy who studied Anglish in schule, and Marya took full advantage of her Pimsleur German education. With a healthy dose of internationally understood hand signs, we reached a tentative understanding. We had arrived too late at night for the rock climbing garden, if we wanted to sleep (hands folded under head) we could put up our (hand sign for tent.) But if we went to the rocks, then (hand sign of a shotgun) So we should instead come back (10 year old translational triumph) “next day.” With that warning, we decided it might be better just to meet our friends in Waidhofen.

(In case you're worrying about Austrian farm women running us down with shotguns, don't. After successfully reuniting with Philip and Petra much later at their house, they told us that hunters sometimes use the land around the rock walls. It can be dangerous after dark.)

We survived the Klettern Garten ordeal and arrived without further event in Waidhofen an der Ybbs. Our adventures in Waidhofen were many and varied, but that is a tale for another day, in another hotel room with another dodgy wireless connection.

Till then.

Ciao,

Marco

* - Yeah, OK, so we have a phone, it just doesn't work for anything except receiving text messages.