Behold – a beer bike! Why has German tourism not taken off in a bigger way?

Now that I’ve roped you in with that compelling piece of photojournalism, back to the main narrative thrust. When Mike last wrote we were about to leave Freiburg (which I notice he managed to spell in three different ways in the course of a single post) for Strasbourg.  I can’t quite remember why, when planning the trip, I thought it would be a good idea to swerve into France for a couple of days, but I’m sure I had my reasons. Still, when we stepped out of the station I thought we’d made a horrible mistake – after the relaxed, cosy, car-free and generally atmospheric Freiburg, Strasbourg seemed spralling and soulless. Our first impressions probably weren’t helped by the fact that, misunderstanding the geography of the city fairly comprehensively, I’d managed to book us a hotel approximately 900 miles from anywhere we might actually want to go.

As luck would have it, though (and luck, rather than forward-planning, has to take all the credit), we’d bowled up on the day of the Fête de la Musique, when for one night only the streets and plazas of cities all over Germany, France, Belgium and Switzerland are taken over by amateur and professional musicians. I have no idea how extensive the Fête is in other towns, but Strasbourg was transformed into a heaving labarynth of sound – every corner you turned took you into another band’s slipstream. Add in balmy Summer weather and good food and it was all pretty darned magical. Unfortunately I don’t have any pictures, because Mike had disappeared with the camera for yet another attempt at uploading photos to his post. See how dedicated and undaunted by inefficiency we are?

Unrelated token shot of Strasbourg

The next morning the musicians had (unsurprisingly) dispersed, the weather had broken, and Strasbourg had generally lost its charm. Clearly there was nothing to be done but drink copious quantities of tea, eat even more copious quantities of chocolate, and check out the wine cellar of the city’s civil hospital. The leaflet we were provided with didn’t cover such basic questions as why a hospital had an enormous wine cellar, but Strasbourg’s tourism site helpfully suggests that the cellar "represents a close relationship between the wine and health“, such as sadly has yet to be fully recognised and embraced by the NHS. One of the barrels contains wine which has been sitting there since 1472, and has apparently been drunk on only three occassions. Again, the leaflet was disappointingly silent on what 500+ year old wine tastes like.

The next morning it was off to Heidelberg (there were footrests on the train! And in second class at that. I was going to show you a photo, but that might be showing off). Prior to this trip the sum total of my knowledge about Heidelberg was that a) it’s home to a venerable university (Germany’s oldest, as it turns out), and b) it’s famed for its charm and beauty. What both this fairly elementary grounding and the guidebook failed to prepare me for was that the charming, beautiful, historical Heidelberg is a rather small chunk of the city, and an hour’s walk from the station. Drained by this ordeal, Mike felt the need to bolster himself with not one, but two exceptionally disgusting-looking confections:

I believe here he is explaining to me how the Schloßkugel’s compostítion makes it superior to the Champagne truffel Schneebällchen.

Having dosed Mike sufficinently with sugar, we set off up the Philosophenweg - Philosophers' Way - a trail which ofers impressive views over the old town. The guidebook described this as a "contemplative amble", which I feel doesn't fully convey the fact that the "amble" is at a gradient of 85%. Luckily Heidelberg is full of places to recuperate, and we sought out the KulturBrauerei, a microbrewery which, alongside three of its own beers, dishes up hearty portions of traditional German dishes, most of which revolve around very large slabs of pork. I'm not sure vegetarianism's made great inroads into Germany.

The following day we caught the cablecar up to a hill high above the town, and from there wound our way through the woods down to Heidelberger Schloß. Having learnt from our Schwarzwald experience, we were very slightly more appropriately dressed (I may even have had a jumper on. They'll make a Girl Scout of me yet). The Schloß was lovely - a glorious, partially ruined red pile basking in the afternoon sun - and home to the Great Vat, which is the world's largest wine cask. Having read that the cask was formed from 130 oak trees and had a capacity of over 220,000 litres, we were initially slightly underwhelmed.

...until we turned a coner and realised we'd been photographing the wrong cask.

Hint as to scale: that indistinct blob at the top is a person.

Next up was a quick stoppover in Frankfurt, intended to give a bit of contrast to the succession of olde worlde photogenic towns. Mike had picked a hotel which seemed to take its style inspiration from a Bond villain's lair: sinister, luxurious and slightly kitsch. Think chandeliers dripping molten-looking spikes, skull-and-crossbones cuckoo clocks and "wellness tubs" which to my untrained eye look distinctly coffin-like.

Frankfurt itself seemed very much form over function, the pretty but small old square apart. (This, indidentally, is where we saw the beer bike. All other cities will now seem slightly lacking to me.) We'd planed to meander over to the banking sector, but got sidetracked by a festival taking place in front of the old opera house. If you can picture a German Christmas market that's a pretty good starting point, but replace the stalls of handicrafts with stalls selling beer. And lots more food. And a stage for live music. Also, erm, multiple hen parties. Culturally atuned travellers that we are, we started off by sampling a local speciality, Apfelwein, which is rather like very, very dry cider (ie, not all that nice, although Mike seemed keener). Educational duty done, we then dilligntly worked our way through the various food options on offer, chiefly delicious variations on the theme of miscellaneous-parts-of-pig-served-with-cabbage-and-potatoes. Salads don't feature heavily at German food markets. Such was our dedication to the cause that we fully intended to return the next morning (that being yesterday) to complete the culinary circuit, but unfortunately were detained by an incident involving an ATM with a grudge.

We're now in Bacharach, a ridiculously picturesque village on the Rhein which Mike has become convinced is a wizarding community, possibly even Hogsmeade. But I'll leave that for his next post, providing we manage to actually find another internet cafe during our stay. I know, the tension is palpable. Bis später!