DAY 1

My mission to erase the remaining blank spots from my map of Germany continues. This time, I’ll be driving north from Frankfurt all the way to the Danish border, then east to the very end of the country and up to the sea, before returning home from Berlin. I haven’t come across any travel reports about these particular places (although I’m sure there must be some somewhere), so I hope my notes will be useful to someone planning a similar trip. I’m flying to Frankfurt with El Al and returning from Berlin with Blue Bird. I no longer remember exactly why I chose this combination — most likely to save money.

The flight departed on time, and we actually landed almost fifteen minutes ahead of schedule.

Having heard stories about delays and long lines for travelers entering Europe for the first time since the introduction of the new registration and biometric requirements, I booked my rental car for 8:30 p.m., two hours after landing, even though the rental company (Sixt) allows a one-hour grace period for delays.

During this check, they ask about the purpose of your visit, whether you have travel insurance (although they don’t ask to produce it), the place of your first night stay, ask to see your booking confirmation (I showed them the list of my hotels). Incidentally, the border officer who processed me said this would happen every time I entered Europe, even though we’d heard on TV that it would only be required once every three years. I hope she was wrong, but it seems that traveling to Europe without a hotel booked in advance and without travel insurance — as I did last year when I simply forgot to arrange it — is no longer an option. Gradually, I suppose, this will become routine everywhere.

I was lucky: there were only five people ahead of me, so I got through relatively quickly. Still, it took about an hour from landing to reach the baggage claim area — the distances in this airport are enormous! Then I spent another hour waiting for my luggage since apparently something had gone wrong.

Frankfurt Airport is privately operated, and perhaps that’s why the organization there leaves much room for improvement. I walked out with my suitcase only to discover that at that particular exit there were no signs at all and not a single employee around. After wandering back and forth for a while, I eventually came across a worker pushing luggage carts, who directed me to Arrivals Hall A. But what if I hadn’t spoken German? I have no idea how I would have found the rental car desks. Once I reached Hall A, there were finally signs. The distances between terminals and halls are huge.

At the rental desk, I was helped by a young man whom I initially thought to be an Arab. It turned out that he was originally from Georgia and spoke Russian. Then I learned that he was Yazidi, and I expressed my sympathy for what the Yazidi people had suffered at the hands of Islamist militants. Our conversation ended with him giving me a free upgrade to an absolutely fantastic automatic car equipped with all sorts of modern features. I finally drove out of the airport at 9:20 p.m., having spent a full three hours there.

Despite my best efforts to keep costs down, accommodation for a solo traveler is expensive, even in places where the same rooms would be quite reasonable — or even cheap — for two people. The least expensive accommodation on this trip costs me €45 a night, while some nights are as much as €70. By comparison, in recent years, when traveling as a couple, we’ve usually paid an average of €35–37 per person per night, mostly staying in apartments.

Waking up early in the little town of Burgschwalbach, I looked out of the window and saw a castle just a stone’s throw away. I’ve had some wonderful views from places I’ve stayed abroad before: the mountains of Austria, the Pyramids of Giza, and the Nile lapping against the side of my floating hotel in Egypt. But here, the castle was completely unexpected, which made the view all the more wonderful.

DAY 2

The day began in the town of Limburg an der Lahn, or simply Limburg. What makes it particularly appealing is how harmonious it feels: compact, peaceful, and remarkably consistent in its architectural style. The streets were deserted, and everything was quiet and calm. For a moment, I wondered whether it might be a public holiday, but around ten o’clock the shops began to open and people started appearing in the streets.

The town’s seven-towered cathedral, rising on a hill above Limburg, is a blend of late Romanesque and early Gothic architecture dating from the late 12th and early 13th centuries. It is a beautiful building, striking in red and white. The interior is less remarkable, although in a few places you can still see some poorly preserved medieval frescoes.

The Old Town is very compact and easy to explore on foot. One after another, you come across the Fish Market (Fischmarkt), the Grain Market (Kornmarkt), and the narrow streets of Fahrgasse and Brückengasse. Kleine Rütsche is especially narrow, with the houses on either side almost touch each other.

On Plötze Square stands a fountain with a statue of the local hero Ritter Hattstein, a robber baron who later became the town’s leader and protector and was also known for his fondness for drinking. He is depicted sitting astride a dog and pouring a drink into his mouth from a barrel held above his head. (Ritter, incidentally, is not a name but the German word for “knight” — literally, “rider,” much like the French chevalier.)

The house at Römer 2–4–6 is not only one of the town’s most striking buildings, but it also is believed to be the oldest surviving freestanding half-timbered house in Germany, dating back to 1289. For a time, it belonged to a Jewish family who built a ritual bath (mikveh) in the cellar. All in all, Limburg is a charming little town. It would be nice to sit for a while, watching the lazy waters of the Lahn flow by and enjoying a beer — but the road is calling.

After Limburg, I headed to Braunfels Castle, which towers above the town of the same name. The castle is huge and impressive, and — which is rather unusual for me — I actually wanted to go inside, especially since its collection includes numerous works by Dutch painters, including Van Eyck. However, it can only be visited on a guided tour, which runs once an hour. I arrived right between, and with no time to spare, I had to move on.

Next came Wetzlar, once a Free Imperial City and home to the Imperial Chamber Court, one of the highest courts of the Holy Roman Empire. Its compact Old Town has preserved around 50 interesting historic buildings, most of them half-timbered, although other architectural styles are represented as well. On Cathedral Square (Domplatz), for example, stands a beautiful late Neoclassical building dating from 1861, formerly the Main Guardhouse (Hauptwache).

Wetzlar Cathedral was built in the Gothic style around the remains of an earlier Romanesque church whose Romanesque bell tower, made of somber gray stone, peeks out from behind the newer brick-red structures like a prisoner.

Exploring the town was somewhat difficult because streets seemed to be dug up everywhere and there were construction fences all around. Apparently, Wetzlar had recently elected a particularly enthusiastic new mayor.

The university town of Marburg, my next stop, is larger than the previous towns and has a more substantial feel to it. St. Elizabeth’s Church (Elisabethkirche) is considered one of the finest examples of pure early Gothic architecture in the German-speaking world. It left me rather indifferent: everything is perfectly proportioned, Gothic par excellence, but somehow lacking in soul. I suppose my taste has shifted toward more expressive styles: Flamboyant Gothic, Art Nouveau and, strangely enough, Rococo. And in the other direction, back toward Romanesque architecture — as simple as it gets, yet tuching me more than almost any other style. Except Art Nouveau, of course, which I’m just obsessed with.

From the church, the long Steingasse, or Stone Street, rising on three levels, leads up into the upper part of the town. The most interesting buildings are concentrated along this street and around the Markt (both square and street). Here, half-timbered houses are interspersed with newer buildings, all richly decorated, some with gilded details, and everything looks as though it had been finished only yesterday. On the Market Square stands a fountain depicting St. George slaying the dragon, as well as a beautiful Town Hall. Marburg is one of those towns where you want to stay overnight and wander around to your heart’s content.

For admirers of Boris Pasternak, Marburg holds a special place: it was here that the future poet experienced a romantic drama that had a profound influence on the course of his life.

As I approached the town, I noticed the intriguing silhouette of a castle high above it and thought about driving up there. But a rather funny — and slightly sad — mishap prevented me from doing so, costing me a great deal of time and showing just what sort of person I sometimes have to deal with: myself. I couldn’t find my car in the parking garage and was already considering going to the police when I finally discovered it on a level where I hadn’t even thought of looking, absolutely convinced that it couldn’t possibly be there. Then, on the way out, I had to ran into a lengthy detour, and as a result I didn’t reach my accommodation until after eight in the evening. A long day, an interesting one, and not without a lesson.