It's been a fun couple of weeks. Visits from foreign lands and a couple of musical treats worth recounting here.
The first a taste of luxury, the second a taste of Frankfurt's oft-overlooked alternative underbelly. Both tales, weirdly, take place in the entirely uninteresting little brother of Frankfurt, Darmstadt, a city known here for being utterly, and justifiably, unknown.
My piano teacher, being a professional concert pianist (!), had a concert a couple of weeks ago and told me that although the concert had been sold out for a couple of weeks she could get me a ticket if I was interested. The programme was a mostly uninteresting collection of super-light 'hits from the films' called, hilariously, "The Magic of Movie III". What could be more tempting? Needless to say, we were treated to the Star Wars theme and Moon River (Breakfast at Tiffany's) but the main event was Rhapsody in Blue (justified by its use in Woody Allen's 'Manhattan'). The feeling of sitting in the best seats in the house (middle-middle) in an unpaid-for seat watching my piano teacher playing a fun, inventive and totally wonderful version of one of my favourite pieces of music is not something I'll forget in a hurry. Marvellous. I was sitting next to another of her 'free tickets' who turned out to be an Austrian and also the chattiest person I've ever met. She was warm, crazy and as unlike Arnold Schwarznegger as it's possible to be. After the show she insisted on dragging me backstage for a private congratulation of the star (despite my very English protestations) and we all went out afterwards for a beer. Turns out that my piano teacher's German boyfriend is not the grump I first took him to be, but actually has a super-dry and unassuming humour. The kind of person who's eye-twinkle you can't believe you originally didn't notice, once you have.
My second trip to Darmstadt in as many weeks was the result of a spontaneous "right, I want to see live music right now. What's on right now!". A San Fransisco band were playing here, a crazy old Gothic mansion converted into a student arts centre, covered in hip posters and graffiti and entertaining the local kids. Such a thing could somehow just never be allowed in England. We prefer to leave our crumbling old buildings empty and unloved, out of respect. Spontaneous decision-making is great but it does tend to leave one a little short of time. The buses and trains we'd need to get to get there were all a bit awkwardly timed so we decided to take my car. Sounds like a great alternative right? The only problem with this car is that it had only been driven once in the last 3 months (and had since been covered in snow for a week on several occasions), it was massively falling apart on several fronts, and I was uninsured to drive it. So far so bad.
Things really came to a head though when we got off the Autobahn on the outskirts of Darmstadt. The brakes failed. I managed to stop us at the traffic lights using a combination of the handbrake, the automatic gear box and about 300 metres of happily empty road but things were not good. We were in the middle of nowhere in a car that had gone from old friend to total death trap in seconds. We decided to hobble on, driving slowly and using what brake capacity still functioned (I found that by pressing the brake pedal in a certain way I could, on one occasion out of two, slow the car down). We were lost. All was not well.
To cut a long and sweaty-palmed story short, we made it to the Gothic mansion and immediately checked out the bus/train solution that would get us home. The car was to remain in that old, forgotten car park outside the crumbling Gothic mansion forever. We travelled home in security and the car remains there to this today.
In the meantime, getting the train meant we had to miss the main act, but saw a brilliant support from Frankfurt Kinks/Beatles psychadelic four-piece BEES. They were as tight as Brian Wilson in a John Lennon costume and twice as tuneful. We will be seeing them again (somewhere closer to home!).
In other news, I've arrived in Dubai alive and well. It's hot and deserty here but we've already swum in the sea once, and had a cocktail on a hotel roof terrace. A long way from the icy ostend of Frankfurt...
Next time pictures of camels are guaranteed.
Rob
Thursday, March 25, 2010
Monday, March 01, 2010
Germany's most beautiful Youth Hostel
There can surely be no doubt about it. If there were a more beautifully located Youth Hostel in Germany it would have to be somewhere pretty special.
This weekend was looking pretty empty on Friday. With all 3 flatmates due to be in their relevant hometowns, I was looking at 48 hours without the easily accessible socialising I've come to expect from my home life.
So what to do?
I googled "best youth hostels in germany" and found a page called "The Best Youth Hostels in Germany Near Castles" (it's worth noting here that anyone who doesn't rejoice the entering of the internet into all of our lives and complains about the all-pervasive reach of information and the impersonality of modern communication just ain't usin' it right! For me at least, having Google permanently at my fingertips makes me feel like a mixture of Thomas Edison and Thomas Cook. A shining and brilliant mind, with a ready knowledge of all the hottest deals and beaches the world has to offer. Awesome).
One of the above-mentioned best hostels in Germany near castles was in Hessen (my adoptive home-state) and fulfilled its promise of being "near castles" in wonderfully flamboyant style. As we will see...
In a rare revival of Levy luck, the day I chose for my first real trip out of Frankfurt (and my first proper usage of the extremely generous State-wide semester train ticket that comes with being a student here) was easily the finest day weather-wise since October. The sky was bright, the temperature was double-figures and everything seemed well with the world.
After an hour on the train I was greeted by a sight as different from the Ostend of Frankfurt as one could imagine:
and after a very gentle 20-minute cycle ride felt truely in the middle of the German nowhere:
It was at this point that I realised that the magical castle perched on the hill that was just behind me when I took this photo was not merely near the Youth Hostel, as advertised, but actually was the youth hostel. Here's the hostel as viewed from outside the walls:
and here is the entrance to the reception area:
As I said earlier, it's pretty much impossible to imagine a better-located Youth Hostel. To top off the great weather, fun cycle ride, wonderful architecture and splendid view, I was delighted by a massive group of German school kids running amok in a wild, lightly supervised and entirely un-Teutonic fashion. Youngsters screaming and teenagers grumpily agreeing to join in the fun.
Delight, however, turned to horror when I realised that these excitable folk were my ONLY stablemates for the evening. Apart from the six-or-so adults who were there to ensure that wild fun didn't turn to all-out Lord-of-the-Flies action, I was the only adult staying in the Hostel that night. I was on the top of a mountain. The sky was beginning to darken. I was alone.
Always one to make the best of things I decided to have an early evening snooze, shower, and head down to the restaurant to take in some of the local mountain-top night life. It was only after the nap however that I realised that in my concern to pack enough oranges and chocolate to keep me going should I get lost in the forest, I forgot to bring either a towel or any clean underwear. Not entirely atypical, but disappointing nonetheless.
The restaurant did little to lift my spirits. The food was marvellous and incredibly plentiful (the Germans know how to make a schnitzel in a way that, somehow, Tesco has yet to master). But the restaurant was empty bar a group of friendly-seeming folk who kept making seemingly pointed references to the fact that they couldn't drink since they'd be driving down to civilisation after the meal. I read my book (in German!!), enjoyed my Bratkartoffel and indulged myself with two Pilsner.
I looked for signs of post-pubescent life after dinner but found none. Resigned, I decided to retire and read more of my book, followed by an early night.
The kiddies rose early to a breakfast which was a crazed shambles between 8 and 9am and completely done, dusted and tidied away by the time I arrived at 9:15 or so (I consider this early. Hostel owners would clearly consider this practically lunchtime). The friendly kitchen-woman agreeed to make a bespoke breakfast and did a fine job of making the echoing old dining hall look inviting, with a hot coffee and some cheese rolls but somehow it's just not how one imagines spending a weekend in the country:
My mood was lifted by the fabulous view but I was, nevertheless, ready to head back to the towers, trams and tramps of metropolis.
Glad to be back, I had a marvellous afternoon with Marcus and Anne (see previous post re. changing flatmates) involving a Seurat exhibition, coffee and cake and a 2-hour sauna (naked Germans, steam-room insanity that burned the eyes, terrifying plunge pool action of the is-this-invigorating-or-am-I-having-a-heart-attack style), a glass of wine out (out the house! woo!) followed by pizza and bed.
The moral of this particular tale:
better to be somewhere ugly with great people, than to be somewhere beautiful alone. Next time I go on a jouney, I'm going to ensure that at least one of the people there was born when I started Secondary School.
This weekend was looking pretty empty on Friday. With all 3 flatmates due to be in their relevant hometowns, I was looking at 48 hours without the easily accessible socialising I've come to expect from my home life.
So what to do?
I googled "best youth hostels in germany" and found a page called "The Best Youth Hostels in Germany Near Castles" (it's worth noting here that anyone who doesn't rejoice the entering of the internet into all of our lives and complains about the all-pervasive reach of information and the impersonality of modern communication just ain't usin' it right! For me at least, having Google permanently at my fingertips makes me feel like a mixture of Thomas Edison and Thomas Cook. A shining and brilliant mind, with a ready knowledge of all the hottest deals and beaches the world has to offer. Awesome).
One of the above-mentioned best hostels in Germany near castles was in Hessen (my adoptive home-state) and fulfilled its promise of being "near castles" in wonderfully flamboyant style. As we will see...
In a rare revival of Levy luck, the day I chose for my first real trip out of Frankfurt (and my first proper usage of the extremely generous State-wide semester train ticket that comes with being a student here) was easily the finest day weather-wise since October. The sky was bright, the temperature was double-figures and everything seemed well with the world.
Things got a lot more strenuous for a while but I was swiftly rewarded with the following impressively elevated-seeming view:
Delight, however, turned to horror when I realised that these excitable folk were my ONLY stablemates for the evening. Apart from the six-or-so adults who were there to ensure that wild fun didn't turn to all-out Lord-of-the-Flies action, I was the only adult staying in the Hostel that night. I was on the top of a mountain. The sky was beginning to darken. I was alone.
Always one to make the best of things I decided to have an early evening snooze, shower, and head down to the restaurant to take in some of the local mountain-top night life. It was only after the nap however that I realised that in my concern to pack enough oranges and chocolate to keep me going should I get lost in the forest, I forgot to bring either a towel or any clean underwear. Not entirely atypical, but disappointing nonetheless.
The restaurant did little to lift my spirits. The food was marvellous and incredibly plentiful (the Germans know how to make a schnitzel in a way that, somehow, Tesco has yet to master). But the restaurant was empty bar a group of friendly-seeming folk who kept making seemingly pointed references to the fact that they couldn't drink since they'd be driving down to civilisation after the meal. I read my book (in German!!), enjoyed my Bratkartoffel and indulged myself with two Pilsner.
I looked for signs of post-pubescent life after dinner but found none. Resigned, I decided to retire and read more of my book, followed by an early night.
The kiddies rose early to a breakfast which was a crazed shambles between 8 and 9am and completely done, dusted and tidied away by the time I arrived at 9:15 or so (I consider this early. Hostel owners would clearly consider this practically lunchtime). The friendly kitchen-woman agreeed to make a bespoke breakfast and did a fine job of making the echoing old dining hall look inviting, with a hot coffee and some cheese rolls but somehow it's just not how one imagines spending a weekend in the country:
The moral of this particular tale:
better to be somewhere ugly with great people, than to be somewhere beautiful alone. Next time I go on a jouney, I'm going to ensure that at least one of the people there was born when I started Secondary School.
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