17. August, 2014 In Germany, everyone goes walking on Sunday afternoons. Here on the farm, even the animals come–two dogs, two donkeys. We walked through the woods, up to a high field where we could see the whole windswept valley, corn and wheat fields and rows of wind turbines in the distance.
Autumn came all at once last week to Kulmbach–two days of pouring, freezing rain, and now bright sunshine and cold wind. You can tell it’s autumn in Bavaria, we learn one morning at breakfast, when the plums in the garden are no longer warm to the touch. Herr: es ist Zeit. Der Sommer war sehr groß…
When we come out into the field above the farm, there’s a tiny red-roofed dorf on the left, and the local castle, the Plassenburg, on the right. A castle. This constant proximity to 1200-year-old fortresses will never cease to astound me. In Würzburg, the Marienberg was visible from almost any point in the city–no small wonder, to take the bus to the Innenstadt every morning with a castle on the horizon. “Yes, marvelous, but think about everything behind it!” the professor says. “Suppression of the lower classes, cruel feudalism, some prince or other lording it over the masses in the stinking city and hauling up the occasional girl for his enjoyment….” “Sometimes you can think too much,” I say.
In the end, it’s amazing how fast I am falling in love with Bavaria. And not the sort of touristy, there-and-gone in a weekend sort of love, but the sort of love I have for Vermont–deep-seated, rooted in the people, the land, the way of life. I’m almost sorry to be studying in Mainz, all the way over in Rheinland-Pfalz. Still, I am here to learn and see as much as I can, and not to put down roots. In the end, it’s all good.