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.

From 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.

European Epic # 7: Bayern, Bier, und Bratwurst

Overnight between August 31 and September 1, we crossed the border from Austria into Germany and entered the state of Bavaria.  The latinized name of course stands in for the proud German Bayern, and as many readers will already know, this region is famous for its beer and its sausages (see title).  But first we had to get there.

To say that the night of August 31--September 1 was memorable would be an understatement.  For days, we'd all been concerned about the low water levels in the Danube River after a hot dry summer.  For the majority of the passengers, there was the fear that their 1-week cruise would be cut short if the ship couldn't pass through the shallow sections before and after Passau, at the border of Austria and Germany.  

For the 9 of us who booked a 3-week package, continuing on into the Danube-Main Canal, the Main River, the Rhine River, and finally the Moselle River to Luxembourg, there was the distinct possibility that our voyage would come to a grinding halt right here and the rest of the package would be offered as a coach tour -- according to the fine print.

At this point, I have to put this in: I simply cannot say enough about the excellence of the customer service at Avalon River Cruises, and in particular the hard work of our personable cruise director, Sabine.  They have been working as a team, madly calculating and recalculating water levels, booking and rebooking tours and hotels, shifting docking locations and tour times, to try to offer as much as possible of the original package under circumstances which made it difficult to keep offering anything at all.

When it looked like we might be stuck with the coach as an alternative to the cruise ship, this is what they were prepared to offer us:  the entire coach package, with deluxe 5-star hotel accommodations every night, and 3 meals a day, all for no charge.  You read that right.  They were prepared to refund every penny we paid in advance for those 8 nights of the cruise, while still giving us the entire experience as near as they could manage it, beds, meals, tours the whole nine yards -- all for free.  Or, as an alternative, they would simply allow us to end the tour with a full refund for the remaining portions.  Nothing in the terms of contract obliged them to go this far or offer either of those choices.  Now, that's what I call "Customer Service."

Just sign me "officially mind blown," and both ready and willing to sail with Avalon again!

But anyway, back to that memorable night.  There had been some rain, the river had come up somewhat, and even though there "officially" wasn't enough water, the company and captain together decided to give it a shot -- just in case the water levels started dropping again.  Result: we cruised through the night and the morning, travelling from Aschach to Straubing, a distance which got us through all the difficult shallow parts of the Danube River.  Of course, this posed certain hazards -- and as Sabine said last night before dinner, we had to be ready in particular for some noise as we would be "polishing the stones on the river bed" (her exact words) at many locations.  Here's what one stone-polishing area looked like -- broad, shallow, and we were moving very, very slowly as we sailed through here.

We certainly polished a lot of stones.  The noise was considerable, and sounded not unlike somebody scrubbing down the sides of the ship with a pressure washer, but -- WE GOT THROUGH!!!!  And so, the rest of the 15-night cruise is now a go.

During the night, we by-passed Passau -- and Passau is a place that no one travelling in this part of the world should ever by-pass.  So in the afternoon of September 1 we by-passed the by-pass by taking motor coaches back to Passau for our promised tour.  It was about an hour's drive.

Passau occupies a unique spot on the map -- the point at which two tributary rivers, one big, one small, enter the Danube simultaneously.  They are the Inn River, coming from Switzerland and Austria on the south side, and the Ilz River, flowing in from Bavaria on the north side.  In fact, the Inn River actually carries more water than the Danube at this point, but is much shorter -- which is why it's considered the tributary.  With the Inn (courtesy of the Swiss and Austrian Alps) also comes all of the sediment which colours the Danube to its characteristic grey-green hue for the rest of its journey to the Black Sea.

So one of the big sights in Passau is the Dreiflüsseeck, the park at the point of land where you can see all three rivers at once.  I didn't mind hiking down there, even if it was raining, but I was severely enraged when I found the view blocked by a cruise ship on the Danube side moored right at that spot, beside the point of land.  Grrr.  So, in lieu of my own efforts, an aerial internet view to show the three streams all meeting at one point.  If only it had been this sunny and clear when I was there.  Those striking colours in the water were invisible -- it all just looked grey.

http://passauerland.de

It's still a beautiful park right at the confluence, and the shade trees even kept off some of the rain.  I was able to get a couple of pictures once I walked upstream past that annoying cruise ship, of the upper and lower castles on the opposite bank of the Danube, and of the mouth of the Ilz River.

Also of interest -- the unique anchorage point of the suspension cables on the far end of the bridge across the Danube.

The town itself contains the usual assortment of houses, shops, churches, and the like dating from anywhere in the years since 1600.  Passau has a much great-than-usual budget of pedestrian walking areas and several attractive squares.  

We didn't go into St. Stephen's Cathedral (yup, another one!)...

...but we did detour into the bishop's palace where we saw on display the former console of the massive organ in the cathedral -- once rated as the largest church organ anywhere in the world (and now third-largest church organ).  

If anything could bring me back to Passau, it would be the chance to hear one of the regular recitals given on that extraordinary instrument with its 17,774 pipes.  Some day....

Well, that, and some sunny weather.  I have to admit that the rain, as badly as the rivers and farms need it, really took the edge off the day.

After our time in Passau, we returned to the ship which then sailed on to Regensburg.  I awoke to more cloudy skies and cool temperatures, but no rain.  That made me want to get out and walk, and after a quick look over a map, I shot across the gangplank, bent on a good brisk walk.  The Danube here actually splits into four channels, and we were moored in the one closest to the old town.  All I had to do was follow the cobbled walkway along the stone quay until I came to the Gothic-era Stone Bridge.  Built between 1135 and 1146, this bridge had the same effect on Regensburg as the Charles Bridge had on Prague: it turned the community into a major trade centre, a focal point of merchants travelling south to Italy or north to northern Europe, and the local merchants prospered exceedingly.

There'd be no chance for any ships today to squeeze in between those massive piers.  Fortunately, the fourth or northernmost arm of the river is actually a canal with a lock.  It's at the far end of the street in the photo above.  I walked across the entire length of the bridge, enjoying views of old houses (now a hotel) spanning the second arm of the river...

… or the third arm dreaming beneath the overhanging trees.

After crossing the full length of the bridge, I came back over again, this time photographing the gatehouse tower at the city end.

I then walked a short distance up into the old town to the majestic Gothic cathedral or Dom towering over everything else.  

In musical circles, this church is famous for the Regensburger Domspatzen (literally, "Regensburg Cathedral Sparrows"), the choir of boys and young men which is the oldest continuing choir in the world.  It was founded in 975 by the then-bishop, has made numerous recordings, and has toured in many parts of the world.

The best part of going out for a morning walk?  By the time the rain starts later in the day, you've had your exercise, seen the sights, and can crawl into bed for a nap with a clear conscience.

By the next morning we had sailed up the river, and entered the Main-Donau canal, which connects the Danube and the Main-Rhine river systems across the hilly height of land between them.  Our ship docked at the small town of Dietfurt, and everyone left.   The terminating passengers took coaches to be driven to Prague for a 3-day add-on package there, while our brave little group of 9 went south to Munich, the chief city of Bavaria, for a day visit.  

Booting south along the autobahn reminded me of two truths.  [1]  It's not always true that the autobahn has no speed limits.  Areas with risky curves, and heavily built-up areas are speed limited and the drivers respect those limits.  Even when the limit is lifted for cars, it still applies to trucks and buses.  [2]  It works because everyone, and I do mean everyone, knows not to drive in the fast lane unless actually passing, and no one passes on the right like the insane lane dodgers in Canada.  Amazing how well a highway works when all drivers, fast or slow, respect the rules and the other drivers.

Although I have been several times to Munich, I was looking forward to seeing it again.  Unfortunately, I had a bit of a run-in with something that didn't agree with my digestion, so that kind of killed any idea of sampling beer and sausages.  Pity.  But I still had a good time, with a mixed driving-walking tour that hit some of the highlights of the city.  

On the way into town we passed the 1972 Olympic Park and saw parts of the roof of the Olympic Stadium peeking over the hills along the road.  The similarity of the design to the German pavilion at Montreal's Expo '67 five years earlier was unmistakable.

We then drove through a richie-rich suburban area to Schloss Nymphenburg, the former summer palace of the Bavarian monarchy.  Like other ruling families across Europe, these royals didn't go on holiday to get away from it all; they brought it all with them.  This picture shows only the central 25% of the huge, sprawling complex.

We then drove on into the centre of the city, and got out for our walking tour.  One of our first sights was the world-famous Hofbräuhaus.  Originally a royal brewery, this huge beer hall is now city-owned.  Historic plaque should really be on the wall: I consumed my first mass (litre stein) of Bavarian beer on this site in 1979.

We then walked on into the Marienplatz (St. Mary's Square), the heart of Munich's historic and shopping district.  Our guide timed things to perfection; we arrived at 2 minutes to noon, just in time to watch the famous Glockenspiel in the tower of the New Town Hall do its thing.

No, that is not a misprint.  This really is the New Town Hall.  It was built in the tail-end of the 1890s, in the then-fashionable neo-Gothic fantasy style.

The Glockenspiel is similarly misleading.  It was built specially for this tower, and inaugurated in 1899.  So the "medieval" look is just more romantic fantasy -- but it's fun to watch as the pages and knights circle past each other, and the dancers twirl around.

At the east end of the square, the 1400s-vintage Old Town Hall manages to look surprisingly modern by comparison.

The Marienplatz is definitely another one of those "people places" that European cities do so well, and the best proof of that is the presence of street entertainers -- such as this mime.

He was posing like a statue, but a statue that often winked at passers-by, tapped them on the shoulder with his cane, stuck out his tongue, waved coyly at little children, often successfully catching people by surprise and making them jump or shriek.

He was also posing for photographs with anyone who wanted one.

A split second after the camera took the picture he tried to tickle my chin, but I was expecting something of the kind after watching him doing his thing for 3/4 of an hour.  Best street show I've seen in a long time!

On the way back to the bus, we detoured to the city palace of the Bavarian royal family, the Residenz, and the adjacent Munich Opera House.  Like much of the city centre, this building was reduced to smoking ruins during the saturation bombings of German cities in World War Two, and then lovingly rebuilt after the war.

All the time this was going on, our ship was sailing north without us through the Main-Donau canal, trying to get caught up on all the time we lost earlier.  We were taken by coach to Nurnberg for a hotel night, and then the next day we drove on north to Bamberg at the north end of the canal.

By the way, the cruise company did promise us each a refund for the unexpected one night in the hotel instead of on the ship.