European Epic # 8: Franconia: Bacon Beer for Breakfast, Anyone?

On September 4 we found ourselves for the first of a few days in the region of Franconia, the northern part of the state of Bavaria.  In medieval times, this region was the heart of the eastern Frankish empire, and the people here maintain a lively sense of their own identity as distinct from the rest of Bavaria.

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Interlude:  Language Lesson  (for those not familiar with German)

Berg (pronounced "bairg") -- a mountain peak or other high point of land

Burg (pronounced "boorg") -- a fortress or castle.

It matters because every locality visited on this post is either a -berg or a -burg, 

and the last one, Miltenberg, is dominated by the Miltenburg.  You're welcome!

Now, back to business.

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Okay, I'm sure some of my readers are wondering if they really read the headline correctly.  Well, you "sort of" did.  Our first main sightseeing stop was in Bamberg, which we reached by motor coach from our overnight in Nürnberg (remember, our ship was still playing catch-up along the Main-Donau Canal).  Bamberg is the city where the Main-Donau canal ends as it merges into the Main River (which, by the way, is pronounced "Mine" in German).

Bamberg is definitely a city of breweries, but its most famous or notorious contribution to the world of beer is its "Rauchbier" (smoked beer), which develops its distinct smoky flavour from the beechwood fires used to roast the malted barley.

Back in the day when my old home town of Elliot Lake had a German pub (the Bismarck House), the Rauchbier was always available -- although not many people had the nerve to order it.  When the owners decided to shut down the business, they had a final night party where we cleaned out everything in the bar down to the point where only the Rauchbier was left.  That was my first encounter with this unique beverage.  The owner, Renate, always called it "bacon beer" and I had to agree that it tasted like well-smoked bacon.  Then our cruise director on this ship, Sabine, described it as tasting like "liquid bacon" and I knew Renate and I weren't the only ones.  

Having it for breakfast, though?  I don't really think that's a good idea.  But Rauchbier is definitely something everyone should try once, if only to say that you drank it and survived.  And who knows?  You might even like it!

So let's start the visit to Bamberg with the all-important shrine, the original Rauchbier brewery.  The pink building is the court baker; the brewery occupies the next two, the half timbered house and the brown building beyond it.

Actually, our walking tour began with strolling along the riverbank across from the area of the city known as Little Venice.  I confess that I can't quite see the connection, but these old houses -- some of them with sagging rooflines that could only result from centuries of weather -- make for a truly fascinating sight.

Next we walked up to the Old Town Hall, now a museum of porcelain, which was built on two bridges across the river when the Prince-Bishop refused permission to build it on his lands.  But rivers were under the authority of the King, and that included bridges, so...

The half-timbered part was built in the 1400s, the remainder somewhat later.  Both sides of the building have beautiful fresco paintings on the walls, and the artist made good and darn sure that everyone would notice the self-portrait he put in at the bottom of one of these frescoes, complete with hand indicating his signature.

We then walked up the hill to the cathedral (you have to visit one church a day on these tours, that's one of the running gags), and had a few minutes to look inside a very unusual church -- it has 2 high altars, and 2 choir sections at opposite ends, so strictly speaking there is neither a "back" nor a "front."  Kind of weird.

The highlight here is the magnificent tomb of Emperor Henry II and his wife, Cunegonde, who was canonized as St. Cunegonde.  It was carved in the workshop of (and perhaps by the hand of) the great Franconian sculptor Tilman Riemenschneider, over a period of many years, and completed in 1513.

Outside the church, and behind the Residenz of the Prince-Bishops, is a rose garden which offers not only beautiful views over the red-tiled roofs of the town, but also some real peace and quiet -- a lovely spot to just sit and commune with the view, the sun, the breeze, and the trees and flowers. 

After our tour of Bamberg we were taken by coach another 30 minutes to Eltmann, a small town where our ship was now docked.  It's the third docking spot we've hit so far that looks like it's miles away from anywhere -- or nowhere.

Froom Bamberg, we sailed westwards -- sort of.  The Main River follows a snaky course, winding through green, hilly countryside, so it's pretty obvious that you wouldn't take a boat unless you were in absolutely no hurry at all -- which is the whole point of river cruising, come to think of it.

As we cruised at a leisurely tempo down the Main, we noticed two things pretty quickly.  [1] there were a lot more locks, and [2] the locks were a lot narrower.  We were fitting into each one with about 5 cm or 2.5 inches to spare on each side.  And the captain rarely bumped against the walls.  The locks on the Danube were huge by comparison (understandably, since there's a much larger volume of commercial cargo shipping on the Danube).

September 5 found us arriving in Würzburg, another city ruled over for centuries by Prince-Bishops, who held both the secular and the religious power in the region.  The Prince-Bishop of Würzburg in the 1700s decided to highlight his power by building himself a palatial residence, modelled on the palace of the Sun King of France, Louis XIV -- Versailles.  Although the Residenz is nowhere near as large, it manages to outdo even the massive French palace due to the quality of the interior décor.  Alas, interior photography is again forbidden, due to the precious artworks which could be damaged by camera flashes.  So, internet pictures to the rescue once again!

The grand staircase is covered by an enormous stone vault, on which is painted the largest fresco painting in the world: an allegory of the four continents (as they were known at the time) by Italian artist Giambattista Tiepolo.  This photo hardly conveys the vivid yet still light and airy colour palette of the actual painting.

The next room, the White Room, eschews colour in favour of elaborate stucco sculptures.

From there, you pass into the large and ornate Emperor's Hall.  Here, two more Tiepolo frescoes at either end illustrate the tale of how the Bishops of Würzburg also came to be Princes of the Holy Roman Empire.

You then walk through a chain of the royal apartments which culminates in the Mirror Cabinet.  This room goes one better than Versailles by including mirrors with pictures painted into the backing (the smaller framed areas arranged around the largest mirrors on the two far walls).

The outside of the palace continued the Versailles theme into the gardens (here we return to my own pictures again) and the flowers were a riot of vivid colour.

As we walked into these large and elaborate gardens, I overheard the following from a fellow passenger:  "I'm redoing my patio, so I'm looking for ideas."  Okayyyyy….

After lunch, we were taken on an hour-long coach ride south to the medieval town of Rothenburg ob der Tauber.  This community was bypassed by the progress of events after the 30 Years' War, and thus has preserved a fair bit of its medieval character.  In practice, this means more pretty old houses in half timber, and an endless assortment of cafés and shops.

The most iconic view of Rothenburg is this corner, with the tiny half-timbered house wedged in between two streets leading to two of the walled town's gates.  The spot is named "das Plönlein."  Of course, I had to ask the guide what that meant since I did not recognize the stem of "Plön--."  He told me that it derived from Latin planus, meaning a flat space -- and sure enough, there's a small level area in front of the house before the two roads diverge, one upwards, and one downwards.  So, "a small level area" = "Plönlein."  Learn something every day.

Rothenburg's great contribution to the world of German sweets was on display in a bakery window as I walked back up the hill to the square: the Schneeball ("Snowball")  Basically, you roll multiple strips of pastry into a solid, fist-sized ball, deep-fry it, and then roll it in sugar or whatever other coating you desire.

Our guide warned us that a snowball is very, very dry and needs to be consumed with some kind of beverage -- coffee, water, beer, or wine.  He also told us the great plus side of the snowball.  You can take it with you on the bus, on the ship, even on the plane home, and try it two weeks after that -- and (in his words) "...it will never get any drier."

My own personal highlight of Rothenburg came in the church, and it went to the top of the list for the day with the Tiepolo frescoes in the Residenz.  The Jacobskirche or St. James Church is a cool, austere Gothic structure with an uncommonly tall and narrow nave -- beautiful in its simplicity.

The great treasure of the church is located high up in the loft, behind the organ, in a semi-circular  chapel.  It's a carved wooden altarpiece by the great sculptor, Tilman Riemenschneider.  Unlike the imperial tomb in Bamberg, we know that this work came entirely from the hand of the master.

The light and airy angels above and below balance off the solidity of the side relief panels, showing scenes from the last week of the life of Christ.  The fully-carved central section depicts the moment at the Last Supper when Christ has told his twelve disciples that one of them will betray him.  All are reacting with shock to Jesus, who stands isolated in the centre of the composition. The betrayer, Judas Iscariot, hides his head in shame on the table.

 

Considering that this work was created in 1501-1504, the degree of characterization in the faces of the disciples is astounding.  No less remarkable is the 3-year time period to create this complex work.  It took over a decade for the coinciding imperial tomb at Bamberg to be finished, and I get the distinct impression that Tilman Riemenschneider didn't "feel" that work in his heart, turning it over to his associates because he was so deeply committed to this altarpiece sculpture.

After viewing these two great artistic treasures in one day, I was in a pretty reflective mood as we drove back to the ship.  Not so much so, though, that I didn't remember to catch a view of the steep vineyards lining so much of the Main River valley in this region, the wine heart of Franconia.

The next day we cruised slowly on down the Main River -- with more locks, more curves, more hills, and a general air of laziness around everyone on board.  We had a brief, 2-hour stop, at the riverside village of Miltenberg, and I went ashore for a walk on my own rather than the daily guided tour.

Miltenberg is the sort of place, 2 blocks wide and 2 kilometres long, that one often finds along the banks of mountain lakes or rivers in North America as much as in Europe.  Just a slight tweak to the lyrics of a familiar song says it all.

This is the town that does not end

Cause it goes on and on, my friend...

So I set off, striding briskly along the waterfront promenade, stopping to admire the flower gardens...

...and to consider the elegant lines of the old stone bridge across the river, built and faced with the red sandstone so characteristic of this region.

Miltenberg is all about quaintness -- being quaint, looking quaint, feeling quaint, you name it.  And what could possibly be more quaint than this picture-perfect town square just behind the church?

Just in front of the church, down by the river, Miltenberg demonstrates another great truth: not every town can be a great metropolis like Munich or Vienna, or -- say -- Brussels.  But you can always outdo Brussels in other ways if you really want to do so.

And notice the fountain's highly appropriate location in front of a public building of true general significance.