I ate and drank so many new foods in Germany, I already had to start describing some of it in previous posts, like the weisswurst mit brezn I had at Oktoberfest or the flammkuchen I had at the Rhein in Flammen. But there was so much more!
As a foodie on the road, I always want to try the foods unique to the place I am visiting. While German food is incredibly hearty and tasty, I’ve learned there is such a thing as too much of a good thing! I am fairly well known among friends and family for eating very healthy (when I’m at home). For breakfast, I typically eat a very light meal of yogurt and granola or cereal. On weekends I have egg and a small slice of toast. Germans, on the other hand, go wild with bread!
When I realized my trip to Germany was perfectly timed with the annual Oktoberfest, I knew I had to go. As a New Yorker, and specifically a former resident of Astoria known for its Bavarian beer gardens, I was already well aware of what Oktoberfest is all about: drinking beer. But my visit to Oktoberfest in Munich, the birthplace of the event, proved I was only partially correct. Although copious amounts of beer are consumed, Oktoberfest involves so much more than just the beer!
Oktoberfest, locally known as Wiesn, began over 200 years ago when Prince Ludwig (later King Ludwig I) and Princess Therese of Saxe-Hildburghausen were married. The celebration of their marriage took place on the same field as the festival in Munich today but with horse races as the main attraction. When they repeated the horse races the following year the event was dubbed Oktoberfest. Each year that followed, more shows, attractions, and carnival booths were added to the festival.
I took a while to post this time because this may very well be the most personal one I’ve written yet! The more personal, the more careful a writer I am—so that's a good thing! Although this post is personal, I do hope others will find the history described here interesting or even relevant to their own lives. People travel for all sorts of reasons. Tracing a family history is just one reason, and it only applies to why I chose Germany as one of the stops during my year of deviation. I hope this post resonates with those of you who maybe have traveled for this reason before or perhaps you are aspiring to do so one day as well!
Lots of people have grandparents in their lives for a large chunk of their childhood and sometimes even into adulthood. Some are less fortunate to ever have any in their lives at all. I was fortunate enough to have two grandparents on my father’s side, Arthur and Shirley, and my grandmother on my mother’s side, Josephine, for at least part of my childhood. They all died by the time I was 12.
While staying with family in the southeast part of Germany, I had the opportunity to visit local attractions and gain a bit of insight into Bavarian history. Aunt Wally, my grandfather’s sister who lives now in upstate New York, was responsible for contacting my family members in Germany and telling them to take me to these places around Bavaria, making these day trips extra special for me. Here are some of my favorites.
On a grey morning, my cousin Uli and I drove south toward the border of Austria. As we sped down the autobahn, the Alps grew from a faded outline to massive growths stretching blue against the horizon. We made it to Chiemsee, a huge lake with two islands. King Ludwig II’s infamous palace, the Herrenchiemsee, is located on one of these islands. The ferry boat, ironically named Josef (my grandfather’s name), took us on a short ride from the docks to the island called Herreninsel.
“Do you want to go camping this weekend?” my friend Steffi asked me. The message came a few days before my return to Frankfurt after a week-long visit with family split between the two German cities, Bielefeld and Cologne. By chance, Steffi had found out the last of five Rhein in Flammen events of the year would be taking place the weekend I would be staying with them. Rhein in Flammen is an annual event every year in the summer involving fireworks and wine festivals at different locations along the banks of the Rhine.
My cousin Frankziska and her husband Stephan and I were out for the day walking around Bielefeld, Germany’s 19th largest city known for its University. We had just visited Sparrenberg, a castle built before the 1250s and mostly destroyed in WWII. The castle had been rebuilt and you can still see parts of the original structure on the grounds and if you take a tour of the cellar. I enjoyed this castle mostly because the views of Bielefeld were beautiful, and also because of its very typical castle look & feel. Sparrenberg felt a little like a Camelot but maybe that’s because there were two men practicing sword play below near the castle walls. The nerd in me was thrilled to watch them.
The name Dachau typically conjures up horrible images among foreigners. Among Deutschland natives, the name brings up feelings of shame about Germany’s past. When I told others I was going to be visiting relatives in Dachau, they usually looked at me quizzically before asking, "Oh! So you’re going to visit the concentration camp?” Yes, Dachau is the name of one of the most infamous concentration camps in Germany. Yes, I did visit the camp during my stay. But Dachau is not only a concentration camp—it’s also a town populated by over 45,000 people. Two of those people are my cousin and her partner.
The both of them are well aware of what comes to mind whenever Dachau is named. They told me Dachau residentsdrive and park their cars around Germany and the rest of Europe at their own risk. With license plates sporting the name Dachau from local dealerships, resident’s vehicles have been known to be vandalized as a result of the strong emotional response tied to the town’s name. Declaring hometown pride for Dachau must be challenging for residents. I certainly can understand the difficulty seeing the name stamped on someone’s car, like a badge of hate. At the same time, it's important to realize the name also represents a small town along the River Amper in Bavaria. This is why I’ve decided to write about the concentration camp and the town in this post.
Whew! What a month!
Today marks one month since I left the United States to embark on my year of traveling the world. I made it to Iceland for a whirlwind journey around the whole country and then flew to Germany 10 days later where I am located at present. Suddenly, time has seemed to go by incredibly fast. In the same breath, I look back astonished at how much I have done in what is actually a very short time.
Here are just some of the things I have already written about doing.
I have seen and done so much in Germany since I arrived here nearly 3 weeks ago, it’s difficult to determine where to begin writing about my second country on the year of deviation tour. I’ve traveled from Bielefeld to Cologne to Frankfurt to Munich to Regensberg – and that’s just half of my time here so far!
Instead of going chronologically, I’ve decided to do some highlights starting with a list about things you must do in the city of Cologne (Köln). I spent 3 days staying with relatives in a small town about a 30-minute train ride into the city center. Cologne was mostly destroyed in WWII, but some historic gems remain, and many modern sights and cultural features together make Cologne a great introduction city to Germany.
After dropping off the rental car and checking into our hostel in Reykjavik, I had a few hours to spend before the backpackers from Akureyri would be back in town. I took the opportunity to wander and see more of the streets of Reykjavik. I wanted to get a better feel for the city and pick up a few small souvenirs to bring to my hosts in Germany from the shops along Laugavegur. Here are a few highlights.
Considered the “capitol of northern Iceland,” Akureyri sits at the Eyjafjörður fjord and is the second largest city with just under 18,000 people. We decided to make it our first and only two-night stopover after Mývatn’s flies ran us out of town the night before. Fabrice and I had no plans except to make new friends again since the group we met the night before had split up and left town—Canada and England were traveling south and France, Germany, and Wales were traveling to the northwest fjords. We had a great experience hanging out with them so we were craving more interactions just like it. Good times with new people can be rather addicting!
Having missed out on the hot springs in Mývatn, we decided to go to the Akureyri public pools. While these were not exactly natural hot springs, they were a welcomed alternative to dealing with the flies! On the way to the pool, we got to witness a bit of the charm of Akureyri. Small parks and cute shops lined the streets.
I watched Carolina trot away from the car toward the bus stop in Höfn. It was early in the morning and we had just said our goodbyes. I was excited to learn that one of her stops on her 10-month journey will be New Zealand—one of my main destinations. Perhaps we’ll see each other in a few months on the other side of the world.
Fabrice and I got back to Route 1 to continue our drive around the Ring Road. Today we would have to travel the most distance in one day: 360 km to Lake Mývatn. I had heard there were amazing natural hot springs there—less expensive and less touristy than the famous Blue Lagoon near Reykjavik.
On the dashboard, Earl was propped up next to Fabrice’s phone blaring music from The Nationals. My cheeks felt warm as I squinted out the front windshield at the dark fields spotted with greenish-yellow plants. In the distance we could see Vatnajökull, Iceland’s largest glacier at 8300 square kilometers, emerging from behind craggy mountains in the foreground. As we got closer, we saw many tour buses pulling off the Ring Road to the left. It looked like something to check out.
At Skaftafell, tourists can purchase guided tours of the Vatnajökull glacier and surrounding park area. Many locals told us that walking on the glacier on your own during or surrounding the summer months is never something Icelanders risk—only tourists who do not know the dangers of falling through the ice, never to be seen again. Guides are absolutely necessary and increase your safety significantly, but instead we opted to do an off-glacier, self-guided hike along the Gönguleiðer trails. Up the mountain 30-45 minutes would take us to see another waterfall—Svartifoss. A morning hike sounded good to us all even though we had already seen spectacular falls the day before. Grabbing water and a few snacks, we headed in the direction of the trailhead.
As a foodie I love to try new foods. I also love to learn about a culture by opening myself up to what they eat even if it means deviating from my own dietary norm. Rejecting food from others in a cultural exchange or missing an opportunity to experience a food significant to that culture due to my own choice would, for me, be an injustice. Therefore, I am putting nearly 20 years of eating habits aside for the whole year of deviation trip. I will try anything—even if presented with food I would never consider eating while back in the U.S. My first norm-deviating food experience occurred while in Iceland.
Not much has changed in the diet of Icelanders since the Viking age. The majority of the Icelandic diet comes from what surrounds the country—the sea. Einar, my host in Reykjavik, told me if I wanted to try a snack that locals commonly munch on, then I should try Hvammsfiskur (ravine fish), a type of fish jerky. Not crunchy or soft, this somewhat tough, dried fish reminded me of tilapia but slightly duller in flavor. If I had the opportunity to eat more I probably would as I enjoy the taste of fish and it’s a very healthy snack.
I laid in my top bunk under a hand-woven blanket watching the sunlight trickle in through the far window. I smiled to myself as I heard the light ba-ah-ah-ing of sheep in the distance mixed with the faint breathing of my two new friends laying in the bunks next to me. We had all stayed together in the same room the night before even though we could have each had our own room in the place. I had chosen the room on the east side strategically so the sunlight would warm me up in the morning. What I did not anticipate was the emotional warmth I would feel when Carolina and Fabrice decided to stay in the room with me. We were becoming fast friends, and now it was like we were children away at camp together.
The day before we began our Ring Road trip by detouring around the Golden Circle. Today we planned to get back on Route 1 to see some waterfalls before reaching Vik for the night. Today was also the day that I was to learn how to drive manual—finally! I had always wanted to learn. Most cars for rent (especially the less expensive ones) are manual in Iceland. So with Fabrice and Carolina as my teachers and nobody around on these country back roads, this was my opportunity.
On Thursday, September 4, I met Fabrice (Quebec) at the Egilsborg guesthouse. We were handed over the keys to a white Toyota Aygo for just $60 a day. We picked up Carolina (northern Sweden) from Einar's place in Breiðholt and set out on Route 1 to go counterclockwise around the Ring Road (Route 1). We decided to take an initial detour along the Golden Circle first. This path would take us to many special sites and wonders despite having to go slightly out of the way of Route 1.
Every kilometer there was something new and beautiful to look upon. Thew constant spectacular views made the decision to stop and take a picture of what and when very difficult. What a dilemma, right? The first time we stopped the car to take pictures was when we first emerged from Rekjavik. Outside the city, the land suddenly stretched out to reach mountains surrounding us. Fields were dotted with cute homes, churches, farm houses, and animals (sheep, horses, etc.). We were instantly awe struck and had to stop the car by a little bridge just to stand outside the car and take it all in. Little did we know, this was only the beginning of what we were about to see over the following days.
I squinted into the morning sun and watched puffy clouds float by outside the plane window. My insides leapt as the clouds parted revealing Iceland: a treeless green mass jutting into the sparkling sea. The pilot switched from speaking Norwegian to English announcing our descent into Keflavik International Airport in Reykjavik.
After landing, I fastened my backpack buckles around my waist and raised my chin ready for whatever adventures laid ahead. I grabbed a local SIM card at the airport Duty Free, bought a bus ticket, and headed outside to the bus stop. A young Icelandic Excursions bus driver wearing reflective aviators took my bag and told me he could drop me at the Mjódd station. We shared an exchange over our matching sunglasses as I boarded. I said, “Nice sunglasses!” He laughed, “You, too!”
