Sigmaringen to Munderkingen to Ulm to Gunsburg

In Ulm, the birthplace of Einstein, Scott is climbing the 768 steps to the top of the tallest church steeple in the world (161.6 meters). A farmers market with lots of apples, red carrots, and both green and white asparagus fills the square. A street musician plays French style waltzes on an accordion. It's sunny with a strong cold breeze. 

Last night in Ulm, we stayed with a music therapy nurse (Monica) and a software engineer (Michael) who strums the guitar and sings loudly for 15 minutes every morning to help alleviate his job stress. Monica served us hard boiled eggs, four cheeses, dark homemade bread, yogurt, muesli, mangos, coffee, and salmon for breakfast. The WarmShowers hospitality is humbling. We are treated like royalty for free. The only way around being mortified is to make sure we provide the same for bike tour folks this summer in MT, to thank hosts profusely, to send postcards further down the way, and finally, to provide a good cultural exchange and be engaging. There is apparently a German word that captures the mild discomfort of being an excellent guest, and I need to remember what that word is.

The son, Eric, aged 17, is made to sit and chat with us last night. His head slumps and he chases around his spaetzle with his fork, but soon he perks up when we ask him about his computer games and hobbies. Monica says later that he enjoyed our visit. He reminded us of Ben, not so long ago. Erik tells us he feels more himself in English rather than his native German.

Paradoxically, our hotel stays have been quite bleak and unfriendly. Two nights ago we stayed in Munderkingen at Cafe Knebel in a an orange room with old coffee cans labeled cat food and dog food glued to a corner, and old broadway tickets framed on the walls (see pic). Black ants crossed the floor on the way to the bathroom. The man of the house was mad when I asked about wifi, as promised in an ad. Only one finicky desktop was available, but it turned off at 9 pm and updated from 7-8 in the morning. Useless.

Trying to make future sleeping arrangements is very difficult without the internet, but the one night of "wild" camping has taught me to calm down a little about the uncertainty of not knowing where we will sleep.

The bell tower next door to Cafe Knebel marked the quarter hours throughout the night, and announced each hour in 2 sets of tones - a recipe for insomnia. At 6 am the bells tolled for 5 straight minutes as if they were announcing a new pope. This awareness of the passage of time made me feel a bit frantic throughout the night.

The day before that (Sunday, April 6, Elizabeth's 27th birthday) started off badly. After leaving the exorbitant hostel in Sigmaringen, we followed some nature trails to an overlook of the town, dominated by the Hohenzollern palace overlooking the Danube. A clean cut man lingered close by, taking pictures of some leaves. He pointed Scott down the path for a better view. Then he pointed to my watch. I showed him the time. He leaned in and kissed my right cheek then my left neck. Ha, ha, oh dear, this must be the local custom, I thought, as I tried to squelch my stiff Northeastern reserve. The man pointed in Scott's direction and put his two index fingers parallel, asking if we are married. Yes, yes! I said. Then he leaned in again, and did the kissing thing, only he was trying to stay down at my neck while I finally realized I have a creeper on my hands and am pulling away vigorously. For the rest of the day, I could smell his cloying cologne, and I felt the need to spit. Blick. Scott gave the man the WTF, mean ranger look as we passed him later on the trail and the man at least looked a little sheepish as he continued to pretend to be fascinated by the leaves of the trees. Awkward and yucky, but there is also the possibility of a cultural misunderstanding. Who knows?

I am going to jump around a bit because I can only write in little snippets. 

Some brief snapshots in time:

An elderly woman sitting by the river yells to us, schnell! Schnell! (Hurry! Hurry!)

Every time we stop to look at the maps, someone tries to help us, often leading is for some miles on their own bike.

Old folks zoom by us on very slick electric bikes. 

Backereis (bakeries) should never be passed without a quick stop for a pastry. Unlike Spain, German pastries and breads look AND taste fantastic. 

Scott befriends a dirty white barn cat, with a third of its tail missing. She gallops after him when he rides away and he mourns their parting for some hours afterward.

One night we pull into town at 5:45 pm and see that all the shops close at 6, and the only restaurant costs $18 a plate. Quick, divide and conquer. I run to the butcher shop and order dried spicy sausages, stuffed baby peppers, 2 hard boiled eggs, and 2 kinds of cheese. The women behind me hear that I have sent my husband to the bakery and they say, we need a husband who will go to the bakery! I feel like Cinderella as the church bells begin to toll 6 times, but here is Scott with his pastries and "biologic" bread (organic?). When I can't keep directions straight for how to find a bottle of beer, the butcher woman pretends to smack my head and says "your directions are bad like my English!"

My favorite travel meal from the Camino turns out to work well in Germany too. With daily farmers markets in all the town squares it's easy to find veges. A big carrot (20 cents), a leek (20 cents), a sausage (1 euro), a red pepper (50 cents), and a soup mix with pasta, and 12 pilfered broccoli raab leaves from the millions of plants growing in all the farm fields for lifestock feed, and voila! A nutritious cheap meal. *later revision - we have been told it is Raab or Rape seed fields, for oil, which the govt heavily subsidizes.

And finally to tonight in a campground, with a whole field, fireplace, picnic tables, and facilities with only us. A newspaper reporter saw us and followed us here in his car. He interviewed us and took pictures and says we will make the front page news tomorrow of Gunsberg Gazette. I guess 2 Americans who are the very first tourists this year on the Danube Trail is a big deal, plus he asked many questions about Antarctica. Article link to follow when he emails  it to us. 15 minutes of fame, baby! 

We are having loads of fun!