Last month, the military offered a free marriage seminar at a resort in Garmisch, Germany.
Right, so. They had me at "free."
So, to
Bavaria we schlepped - traveling in the glamorous style afforded by sprayed juice boxes, littered goldfish and crumbly granola bars.
After
the 17th replay of the VBS soundtrack, we caved and
surrendered the portable DVD player to the back row. Seriously, Sony saves lives.
As the
mountainous theater of northern Italy demurred to the pastoral scenes of Austria
then Germany, we were stunned by the verdant, bucolic, landscape.
*Deep breath-
That's a lot of SAT words right there.*
Without
the garish blight of cell towers and power lines, the Hansel-Gretel charm is truly
enchanting. Fairy tales find their fantasy here. Those Brothers Grimm.
Fifteen
(feeling) hours later, we arrived at the sodden site of our government-issued seminar.
Real-time travel: five hours. The rain was relentless and we were woefully unprepared. Garmisch was dripping with
North-Face-clad Aryan specimens. These Germans are no joke. And not a stiletto
in sight (unless you count mine).
With our fashion-rain boots and cheery-hooded coats, we were best dressed for a Maui sun-shower. So, that was great.
With our fashion-rain boots and cheery-hooded coats, we were best dressed for a Maui sun-shower. So, that was great.
And
the lederhosen. Everywhere. People wear it -like in real life. Initially, I
thought I was surrounded by historical re-enactors. Nope. Just
bona fide, rural Germans- eating their schnitzel. Doing their Germanic thing.
Which
brings me to Munich. Specifically, Marienplatz. Haunting, compelling gothic
architecture shrouds New Town Hall, in Munich's main square.
Amid the tourist sea, we strained, with necks unnaturally angled, to watch the legendary Glockenspiel clock perform its towering cuckoo dance. And for the entire twelve minutes, in the drizzling cover of rain, we almost convinced our kids that this was bucket-list worthy. Almost.
But, we're not miracle workers.
Amid the tourist sea, we strained, with necks unnaturally angled, to watch the legendary Glockenspiel clock perform its towering cuckoo dance. And for the entire twelve minutes, in the drizzling cover of rain, we almost convinced our kids that this was bucket-list worthy. Almost.
But, we're not miracle workers.
Dining
at the iconic Hofbrauhaus redeemed the day for Jason who could subsist on
Bavarian cuisine for the rest of his days. Me, not so much. I am disgrace to my
Germanic heritage. I don't like my beer frothy, my bread-rye or my sausage
fried. Practically traitorous.
Later,
we concluded our rousing tour de Munich with a sobering visit to Dachau concentration
camp. Even just that sentence is a real
mood killer. Sorry. I want to say more about this- but I devoted a whole blog
entry to it. Stay tuned.
Our final trek was to
the legendary Neuschwanstein Castle of Disney fame, hailed as Walt's inspiration
for Cinderella's palace. With the
imposing grandeur that medieval design so effortlessly achieves, Neuschwanstein was clearly worthy of fairy tale commercialization.
Nothing tests the fiber of your marriage quite like driving through a foreign country. In the rain. With small, hangry (hungry + angry) children. You
see, if you look past the stinky sausage and dispassionate efficiency and the
whole Hitler thing, you might just find that Germans are romantics at heart.
So, what
better place for government-issued marital advice! Just that sentence makes
me swoon.
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| We just get really excited about medieval stain-glass windows |
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| famed Glockenspiel clock |
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| wet tourists |
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| Colson owns Jason |
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| Hofbrauhaus musicality |
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| Neuschwanstein Castle |
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| When you wish upon a star... |
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| Beautiful, bucolic Bavaria |
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