Three days, three adventures
1….
Waking up early on a Saturday morning is one of those unfortunate ideas that never seem to work out. It sounds so grandiose the night before: ah, yes, I shall sit upon my porch and watch the sun rise over the mist-clad Black Forest hills, but the reality the next morning is usually something more along the lines of Sweet mother of pearl why would I ever leave this warm and soft cocoon of bliss? This weekend, that unfortunate thought caused me to miss a hike that I’d been looking forward to all week. I was pretty bummed until I raised my metal shutter to see leaking gray clouds clinging to the hills outside my window, and realized that hiking along an exposed bluff for four hours was probably something better left for a later day accompanied by abundant sunshine. And so I lazed around for a few hours before being saved from the horrors of a boring Saturday by my new friend Laura, whom I’d met through a local couchsurfing group of foreigners in Freiburg.
Her suggestion, a medieval festival of sorts in Staufen, turned out to be almost – but not quite – entirely unlike the ones I’d visited as a child. It was instead a cavalcade of explosions, Germans in costumes from all eras, instruments I’d never even heard of, bratwurst, lots of rain, and deeply confusing skits involving doctors washing giggling womens’ feet. Living tent museums had popped up in parks and side alleys that had been abandoned a week before, with fur-clad people bustling about performing tasks from days gone by: hand-washing laundry, roasting meat on spits, and drinking from hollowed-out horns.
Human-powered carousel, with a fountain-turned-beer-tent behind (Note the “Auch fuer Erwachsene” sign (Also for adults))
Tinkling fountains that had been full of water and ringed with flower baskets just a week before were now dry as a bone, completely drained and acting as beer and wine stalls (because Germany). The jester, a lanky fellow in at least his 70s, bopped around with his cart-o-tricks and engaged all the small children, encouraging them to make noise as he balanced precariously on a two-foot wooden ball and juggled knives above his head. And to cap it all off, all of a sudden three camels inexplicably came waltzing down Main Street, adding to the mishmash of themes. To this day – four days later, to be exact – I am still not exactly sure what exactly I witnessed, but at least I have pictures to prove that it happened.
2…
The next morning I bounced out of bed. Many consecutive late nights chased by early mornings had left me feeling a little deflated, but it wasn’t enough to kill that kittens-and-butterflies-are-dancing-in-my-chest feeling that always sets in on the morning of a trip.
Our train crossed into Switzerland with absolutely no fanfare. After growing up with a father who insisted upon repeatedly honking our minivan’s horn every time we passed a ten-foot-tall “WELCOME TO [STATE]” sign, this silent transition was disturbing. The only inkling we got was a near-simultaneous chirp of ringtones, gentle reminders from our friendly German overlords that we had crossed into a new country and our roaming charges would now be astronomical.
Unfortunately, there’s not much to see in (or say about) Basel. Sunday in this part of the world is taken very seriously as a day of relaxation, so most shops and cafes were buttoned up when we visited (yes, this included all of the chocolate shops!). We took a short tour around the city and found a fantastic Harry Potter-esque courtyard attached to the Muenster (church). Basel wasn’t really what I was looking for in a first Switzerland experience, but if anything it’s just made me more determined to find the real glacier-capped chocolate-slathered Alpine perfection and bask in it.
‘3…
Monday morning dawned with a bluebird sky. My daily language class was scheduled to be interrupted by an advisor meeting anyways, so afterwards my friend Kirstin and I decided to blow off the rest of class to get lost in the woods. The hike I’d missed on Saturday was touted by many critics as a beautiful Black Forest experience, so we donned our well-worn hiking boots and boarded a train to nature-nerd paradise.
The first thing that you should know about German hiking trails (and Germans themselves, let’s be honest) is that they don’t mess around. They will take the most direct route possible, and apparently do not have the word “switchbacks” in their vocabulary. The Panoramaweg trail led directly uphill from the quaint town of St. Peter, winding just slightly through narrow streets lined by achingly cute Black Forest homes, dripping with pink flowers and dark wooden porches. Within ten minutes of starting up the 9-kilometer trail we’d found a bench overlooking the entirety of St Peter, nestled into a little pocket in the hills, and sat to eat our delicious freshly made sandwiches that had cost less than 2 Euro.
Up and up and up and up and UP and up and up this trail went, three (of the nine) kilometers entirely uphill, past cows and sheep munching nonchalantly on verdant pastures. We took plenty of breaks to rest our aching bodies take breathtaking photos of the ever-changing views. Meadow-frolicking was an absolute requirement, much to the amusement of a few locals (both human and bovine).
There were two tiny chapels tucked into the woods, literally smaller than many suburban American closets. The Vogesen Kapelle (left and below) only had seating room for four! I’ve been inside many European churches, cathedrals and chapels before, but these unique buildings were definitely some of my favorites.
Like true nature nerds, when we found this absurd-looking tree with low-slung branches just off the path, we had to drop everything and climb it. Apparently many other people had had the same idea, because when Kirstin climbed up about 15 feet, she found a coconut hanging from the trunk. We were quite baffled by its presence until she looked inside it and found a rolled-up list of names inside a film cannister – she’d accidentally stumbled upon a geocache! We hastened to add our names to the list of explorers (and I patriotically wrote a little USA next to my name – REPRESENT!).
Window Seat Odyssey 
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