DAY 3
After leaving my accommodation, I found myself in the heart of Alsfeld’s Old Town within five minutes. It’s a charming place, and I’m glad I managed, with some difficulty, to squeeze it into my itinerary.
All of the town’s most interesting buildings are located on or around the former market square. First and foremost it is the somewhat unusual-looking Old Town Hall from the early 16th century, along with the imposing Weinhaus, or Wine House (wine once accounted for as much as 40% of the town’s income), and St. Walpurgis Church. In the churchyard, a late Gothic chapel known as the Beinhaus, or Bone House, has survived. Skeletons from the neighboring cemetery were transferred there since land was scarce and burial plots were effectively “rented” for only ten years before being passed on to the next occupants. The Weinhaus also retains an iron pillory (Pranger), where lawbreakers were restrained and put on public display as punishment. There are also several interesting sculptures around the square.
In the town of Homberg, which came after Alsfeld, the Old Town is surrounded by a double ring of fortified walls with tall towers. One of them is enormous, resembling the keep of a castle, and is among the tallest in the country. The Old Town Hall has an unusual curved shape. And once again, there are half-timbered houses of every imaginable kind, each more beautiful than the last.
I came to Bad Wildungen not for its half-timbered houses (although there are plenty of those here too), but because the town has many fountains, which I love. I managed to find almost all of them, although, to be fair, only some were worth spending so much time searching for. The most memorable is the Kurschatten fountain, whose name roughly translates as “Spa Romance,” with figures of unclothed spa-goers in various poses (though the figures themselves seem to have little connection with the fountain’s name). Along the town’s main street, Brunnenallee (“Fountain Avenue”), I also came across several nice Art Nouveau buildings.
Next came Frankenberg an der Eder, with its own share of beautiful half-timbered buildings, most notably the Old Town Hall with its ten towers, one for each of the town’s guilds.
After that, things became much more “interesting” — a real adventure story. I headed for Waldeck Castle, although something (mainly the time) was telling me I probably shouldn’t. But an itinerary is an itinerary! Just before the turnoff to the castle, I found the road closed. With persistence that might have been better applied elsewhere, I found a detour and eventually made it to the castle, which now houses a hotel. Unfortunately, it stands high on a cliff, making it impossible to get a good view of the castle from below. So I had to settle for the beautiful view of the lake from the foot of the castle.
It was beginning to get dark, so I headed for my accommodation. More road closures. The navigation system sent me deep into a maze of villages, only to find that every road leading in the direction I needed was closed. Distracted by thoughts of how to get out of this situation, I drove faster than the 50 km/h speed limit and was rewarded with two flashes from a speed camera. If I hadn’t gone to Waldeck, perhaps none of this would have happened. But as the saying goes, a leopard can’t change its spots…
I called the hotel, hoping they might know another way to reach them. Instead, I got through to the chain’s nationwide call center, where they couldn’t help me at all. By now it was completely dark, and there was hardly anyone around. At an empty gas station, three guys were drinking beer. I asked them for help, and together they figured out a detour that would get me where I needed to go. How lucky I was that I hadn’t completyely forgotten my German. And finally — hooray! — I reached the right town. Was that the end of it? Not at all: the hotel was somewhere outside town. I drove on. The turn toward the hotel — road closed. I returned to town with the faint hope of finding another human being who might be able to help. Then it occurred to me to try my trusty Israeli Waze programm. Waze found a way out and proudly announced that there would be no road closures, leading me across some field along a tiny track. A roe deer darted across the road. And then I lost the signal. I switched to the car’s built-in navigation system, which picked up where Waze had left off and eventually brought me to a gas station, announcing that I had arrived at my destination. There was no hotel in sight. I asked the guy at the gas station for help. After tapping around on his phone, he pointed toward something that looked like two or three shipping containers joined together and said, “There it is! They only built it recently. Park over there and go in. If you have any trouble, call me and I’ll help.”
“It” turned out to be a new type of hotel made up of individual modules — not quite the Japanese-style sleeping pods where guests are slotted into something resembling a burial niche, but definitely a step in that direction. To get inside, you have to check in remotely in advance and then unlock the door with your phone. So if you’ve booked a single room with a company called Roatel, you’ve probably booked yourself one of these little cubicles.
You might think that was it — victory at last. But no. The signal disappeared, making my phone useless, and the door wouldn’t open. I called the company again, and the operator remotely unlocked it for me. And so, at 11 p.m., I finally stepped into my little cube. It had everything you’d expect in a normal hotel room, including air conditioning and a hair dryer, except that the free floor space measured roughly one meter by one and a half. Well, perhaps a little more. There were earplugs waiting inside — presumably a hint that opening the window wasn’t a great idea. For one person, it was perfectly tolerable. If only it had cost €25–30 instead of €54. But the important thing was that this “fun-filled” day was finally over. What a day! My consolation was the raspberries and blueberries I’d wisely bought earlier — and they were incredibly delicious.
DAY 4
Once again, I got a late start today: writing up my travel notes takes a lot of time. Before setting off, I filled up the car and couldn’t help noticing how much easier it is to pay at gas stations and parking lots in Germany than in Italy, where I’d traveled in April. That’s especially true if you don’t speak the language. Italian gas stations can feel like puzzles, and if you don’t understand the instructions, those puzzles can end up costing you money, and a lot.
After setting off, I headed for Bergpark Wilhelmshöhe, a vast landscaped park in the hills near the city of Kassel. The natural setting is exceptionally beautiful, and Kassel is perhaps the greenest and most attractive city in Germany when it comes to its surroundings. On Wednesdays, Sundays and public holidays, you can travel around the park by bus for two euros; it is also possible to get here from Kassel by train.
At the end of the 18th century, an enormous palace in the Classical style was built in the park. I’m fairly indifferent to this style of architecture, so at first I wondered whether I’d come here for nothing. Still, I made my way up to the palace. Part of the building, which was badly damaged during World War II, now houses an art museum with works by Old Masters from the Dutch, Flemish, Italian and German schools. I had plenty of time, so I went inside — and thoroughly enjoyed works by Rembrandt, Frans Hals, Van Eyck, Rubens, Jordaens and other artists whom I wouldn’t hesitate to call giants. The second floor was supposed to feature Italian and German masters, but instead there was an exhibition devoted to Rembrandt. Photography was allowed; the only restriction was that visitors couldn’t get too close to the paintings.
Directly above the palace, at the top of the hill, towers an enormous structure. This is the Hercules Monument: an eight-meter copper statue of the Greek demigod standing atop a pyramid, which in turn rests on a massive octagon resembling something between a fortress and artificial ancient ruins. The entire complex was built between 1702 and 1717. It’s enormous, absurd, pretentious and tasteless. It’s also rather gloomy, and you almost expect Wagner to start playing at any moment. Cascades descend from the monument toward the palace, but the water only runs on Wednesdays, Sundays and public holidays, so I was out of luck. It would have looked much more beautiful with the water flowing. The view from the top, however, is certainly impressive (you can also drive up there by taking a long route).
The second and final stop today was the small town of Hannoverish Münden, or simply Münden (Hannowerish Münden, Han. Münden). Its old town, consisting of just a few streets, is very beautiful. It doesn’t have any outstanding buildings, but the ensemble is magnificent. And the Town Hall is a real toy. What’s not on its colorful façade! There’s a carillon, figures, statues, masks, and all sorts of other trinkets. A bit over the top, but still beautiful.
Then the adventures began again. Before leaving Münden and heading to my accommodation for the night, I called ahead to ask whether I could arrive earlier than the agreed time. The owner told me that my reservation had been canceled and that there was no room for me. Without giving it much thought, I immediately booked another place and drove there. The key words here are “without giving it much thought,” because I had completely forgotten that I really had canceled one reservation there — and then made a new one. Meanwhile, I received a message from someone else saying that they were waiting for me.
And Booking.com had already charged me. And I was already at the new place. At this point, the chances of getting my money back from Booking.com seem close to zero. So, the lesson is: laziness has its price. I should have driven there and sorted everything out, especially since I could see that Booking.com had charged me. My only weak excuse is that I was exhausted after all the walking in the park, especially in the heat that had suddenly arrived. I’m taking such things surprisingly calmly these days: mishaps happen, whereas in the past I would have been furious in a situation like this. Apparently, wisdom has finally arrived. It certainly took its time. Let’s just say I booked myself an expensive hotel room for €120. And let’s hope this is the end of the misunderstandings and mishaps — there have already been far too many for just four days of traveling. Definitely over the limit.
