10-27

Day 4

Today was Jeff's birthday, and I don't think I ever wished him a good one.*

I asked him, years ago, if he had ever been to the Black Forest, and he said he hadn't, but his wife likes to go.  So, when we were compiling a list of things I'd like to do when I came over here, the Schwartzwald was on it.  It was going to be an all day thing, so we loaded onto a train that went to the main station, then onto another train that went out into the country.

The trains were so clean, it blew me away.  At the same time, because I was facing backward, I got motion sick.  Emily told me that I need to always face forward if I didn't want to be sick.  After we got off at the station and walked through a town with the ridiculous name of Bad Wildbad, I was feeling much better.

Jeff and me.

Apparently, they call it the Black Forest because the trees grow so closely together that it's dark around them, NOT because of the unspeakable presence of great evil within, or the atrocities that have been committed there over the years, or even that the bark of the trees is black.  

But still, it was enjoyable.  The most visually impressive thing about the forest was the green lichen that grows over the rocks and tree trunks.  I openly defiled the spirits of the woodland by taking pictures of the damn-ed Yo-Gabba-Gabba dolls that were unfortunately still at the bottom of my backpack.  But I have a sickness (many, I've been told).

I particularly liked the layers of orange/brown leaves all over the ground, that made a great contrast to the green of the trees and the moss.

There were not a lot of people out and about, so we had plenty of privacy.  You could feel like you were alone out there.  Every once in a while, there would be other hikers, or somebody on one of those electric bicycles, but all you'd have to do would be to walk off the path and into the woods, and never be seen again.

Jeff has foot problems, so he needed to stop and rest from time to time, but I quite enjoyed walking the trails and seeing the many, many, many options at crossroads and new trails (guess that's the difference between woods that have stood for a thousand years and ones only indians used a hundred fifty years ago).  There was also a raised platform up in the treetops where children could walk (and the occasional Ewok), complete with a slide down at the end of it.  We did not take that path, though.

There were some cool carvings for the kids at the end, but nothing creepy or morbid.  Unfortunately.

There were thousands of mushrooms, mostly white and gray, but this one was the coolest one I've ever seen.  Emily's picture turned out much better than mine, though.

Oh, I almost forgot.  This was the coolest vista we saw, with an open section that seemed like a special effect on a green screen.  I took two photos of it, but am posting the one that isn't hampered by including me in it.

I took many pictures, and the quality of the light was such that they all came out fairly well.  At the end of the trail was a restaurant and ski chalet, and nobody spoke English there, so I had to have Emily translate the menu for me.  Nothing sounded familiar to me (turns out they had German pancakes I could've eaten, but ah well), so I ended up getting potato salad and sauerkraut.  In a dozen years I wouldn't have guessed I'd enjoy such a thing, but I ate it all, and it tasted unusual, but fine.  Everybody was drinking beer, and Emily told me that the drinking age there is sixteen . . . if you're alone.  If you're with your family, you can chug all you want, even when small.

Eventually, we made our way down the trail, choosing a different path this time (many led to the same place, just with different distances on the signs), and the weather was great, neither cold nor hot.  We had ridden a tram-type thing to get up there, and had to wait for it to go down again, and by the time it came, there was a big group, and I guess I've been spoiled my whole life by not having strangers jammed up next to me every day.**

The countryside was pretty, but the train moves so fast, it's hard to get any pictures or look at any one thing.  Nobody has Pepsi here, so every place has Coke, but they also had Coke Zero Sugar, which I probably drank a hundred dollars' worth of.  In other words, four bottles and three cans.

I had started feeling sick during the day, but didn't want to complain, and hoped I could just tough it out for as long as it lasted.  Jeff wanted to see SEE HOW THEY RUN at his local movie theater, but the trains kept getting delayed (first ten minutes, then fifteen, and on and on until one hour, to the point that he was worried we'd miss it unless we took a cab).  When they finally got sorted, the train was very packed, but we made it to the station in time to take another one to where his theater, the Corso, is.

The movie was alright, not great, not bad, but the little movie theater was cool, and both the employees (one was the owner) spoke fluent English.  I wanted to ask the female employee if she had seen SMILE (it was playing after our film--they show four movies each day, but only one showing each, on two screens), but they were too busy.  The tickets were a bit cheaper than we'd pay in the States, but the concessions were considerably cheaper, the kind of prices I would actually pay in the U.S., instead of simply sneering at the folks that had forty dollars to spend on popcorn and a Coke.

Riding the bus in the States (even in places like Chicago and Salt Lake), you get the dregs of society (those who are particularly dirty, mentally ill, or out to make trouble), but here, everybody rides it, and they keep it much cleaner and well-maintained.  There's something kind of cool and comunal about that, but what do I know, I may have misspelled "communal."

We got home around eleven or so, which is insanely late for Jeff, but not so much for me.  Even so, I fell asleep rather early, which must mean jetlag has some truth to it.

Exercise: Yes (26)

*A good thing too, as his birthday is actually on the 29th.

**I know what you're saying: Of COURSE you've been spoiled your whole life.  But sometimes these are hard to see from the outside--like that little girl sitting near me here at the bus terminal who keeps whining about the cat ears her mother has provided her for her costume.  All of these old Europeans, Asian youths, and corpulent Americans are jealous of her, despite her complaints.