[There are so many castles in this post, you will be completely overcome with castles by the end of it. You won't be able to take in a single other castle. But just imagine how WE felt, seeing them in real life! I've saved this post for last because it was my favorite part of our trip.]
A long time ago, right after I graduated from high school, my friend Rachael and I got to go on a trip to Germany with her grandpa (who is the Candy Bomber). I know, I'm always going on about it. But it was SO exciting. And such a formative experience for me. We were 18, we were best friends headed to the same college, we were taking this amazing trip together AND we got to be part of her famous Grandpa's entourage! It was just the best. That was back in the days when camera pictures had to be jealously meted out because you only had a couple rolls of film with you. And half the time, you'd get your pictures back from the developer and they'd all be blurry, or overexposed or something. So I really don't have a good pictoral record of that trip. But I have a record in my memory, and especially of a place called Rudesheim. I can remember riding there on the train, gazing out at the scenery and chattering excitedly with Rachael, with her grandma sitting there across from us, full of her typical serenity and reserve, probably wishing we wouldn't be quite so giggly. The trees across the river were emerald green, and every so often we would glimpse a perfect fairy-tale castle peeking up out of the trees. When we got to Rudesheim we rode an aerial tram above the vineyards overlooking the Rhine, and it was so quiet, and the sun was so warm. I remember Rachael and I clutched each others' arms in pure delight, overcome by the beauty and wonder of it all. I really think it was the most beautiful place I have ever been. We cried a little as the tram came to a stop, and we made a solemn promise to each other that someday, we would come back. "With our husbands!" we squealed, hopeful but hardly daring to believe that there would ever BE such a thing.
I've thought about that place so many times since. It almost seems like a place that exists outside time and space, waiting there unchanged and unchanging for us to come back someday. (And we WILL!) I knew it was somewhere near Frankfurt, but I had never even really looked for it on a map, because, as I said, it seemed too magical to be on a map!
Well…I still haven't gone back. But after we visited Drachenfels and loved it so much, that night I was looking online for something to do the next day that might be similar; maybe another castle we could visit. I ran into some information about the Rhine river cruises that floated through the Middle Rhine Valley, which people were describing as one of the most beautiful places on earth. And suddenly I saw Rudesheim on the map and realized it was in the same area as the river cruises I was looking at! It was about three hours away from us by train. Strangely, my first emotion upon realizing this was…I don't know…something like fear. I wanted to go to that place again. But I also didn't. I'm a different person now. I see with different eyes. And I was so afraid it wouldn't be what I remembered. I couldn't get past that feeling. And I didn't want to go without Rachael!
But of course, I also wanted Sam and Malachi to see this amazing area! So, I decided we would compromise by finding another, closer, spot along the river where we could get on one of the cruises. (And in a lucky coincidence, it happened to be the very last day these riverboats were running, before stopping for the winter!)
As we rode the ICE train down to Frankfurt, and then the regional train from Frankfurt toward the Rhine, it was drizzly and grey and cold. I was worried that we might not be able to even see anything from the boat! I was praying (apologetically) for just a little sun. Even just a little! I promised to try to appreciate and enjoy whatever weather there was. But I wished for just a clearing of the sky, so we could see the beautiful things around us.
When the train pulled into the station, it was still raining, and we had only minutes to find the boat dock, so I pulled the baby wrap over Ziggy's head and we RAN. We were so afraid we wouldn't make it. We had farther to go than it had seemed on the map. But finally we were racing breathlessly up to the ticket office, and hearing the ticket man yell to the boat to wait one more minute, and then boarding the boat in a flurry of apologies and coats and camera bags.
And just then…the sun came out! It lit up the hills and cleared away some of the fog, and warmed up the upper deck where we were settling ourselves. (There was an indoor lower deck with windows, but somehow looking at the scenery out of a window wasn't quite the same!) The deck was nearly deserted, except for a young couple enjoying a romantic outing together (we seemed to be forever disturbing romantic outings, on this trip), so we stood there exclaiming to each other, and taking pictures, and ducking under the canopy when it rained, and leaning over the side railings when it didn't. I couldn't quite believe we'd made it and we were actually doing this!
Sheep!
Almost immediately there began to be castles. Rising up out of the forest on both sides of the river, in every manifestation: bulky fortress walls, delicate turrets, graceful arched windows, crenellated walkways. Each time the river curved, it seemed, another one would come into sight. We didn't know which way to look! There was too much to take in. And it wasn't just the castles, it was the rows of yellow grapevines, and the rust-colored canopy of forest; the towering church spires and the colorful villages clustered in the valleys. It seemed like someone must have assembled all these picture-perfect elements here on purpose, nestling each little church, each castle, into the tableau for maximum dramatic effect.
The sun danced in and out of the clouds, too, shifting the scenes from peaceful and charming to atmospheric and foreboding, and back again.
There's another ship like the one we were on.
This is the "Lorelei rock," where the rhine maiden Lorelei sat and lured sailors to their deaths!
I loved the terraces cut into some of the hillsides.
Big church with a tiny church right above it :)
We got off in one of the little towns to walk around.
I loved the narrow alleyways and the jumble of colorful houses along them. It reminded me so much of Orvieto in Italy, and yet…there was something wholly German about this town; just a different character than the Italian town had. I'm not sure if it was the architectural style or the color of the light or what, but it was interesting to compare them.
Every time we sat down for a second, Malachi whipped out his book. Here we were waiting for a train to go by.
The little town cemetery.
One of the store owners offered us some of his homemade wine. When we declined, he peered narrowly at us and said, "…Mormons, right?" Just imagine what he would have thought if we'd had all our kids with us!
It started to get quite chilly again as we waited to catch the next ship. I nursed Baby Ziggy on a bench, and several passers-by murmured disapprovingly at him not being dressed more warmly. In my defense, I was about to put him back into the baby wrap, where he was quite toasty (and kept me toasty too!). But the wind was picking up, and we were all shivering a bit.
The clouds were thickening again, and it was getting dark as we boarded the ship and pulled away from the shore.
It was COLD on the outdoor deck of the ship. The lights glowed under the violet sky.
The last rays of sun caught on the hills, and soon we couldn't see much more than the lights of the villages sliding past us in the dark. And by the time we docked and found dinner at a tiny little kebab place—and got ourselves to the train station—and missed our train and caught a slower one—and walked back to the hotel in the rain and wind—it was midnight, and we were all chilled and tired. But even as we pulled off our wet coats and rubbed our sore feet, we were still shaking our heads and smiling at each other, saying, "Can you believe that? Can you believe what we saw today?" It felt like coming slowly out of a dream, or finishing a story. And we felt so lucky to have been in that world at all.
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