Part 4
August 1st, Swiss National Day.
We noticed that they had put out all of the flags for us. We looked around Basle until 2.30, buying flat German -style sausages for lunch. I posted a greetings card to a friend in Edinburgh. Although I did not know it, she was actually in Geneva all the time!
Photo 90. Tower in Freiburg.
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Photo 91. The youth hostel at Freiburg-in-Bresgau.
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We crossed the border into Germany. After a lot of tiresome formality, the German frontier official gave us a blue card to hand in when we left Germany. We got the impression that if we could not produce our cards they would not let us out. The road was very rough, worse than an English 'B' road, yet it was Germany's road no 3. Motor-cycles were plentiful; Germany is sometimes called the land of motor-cyclists. We bought jam, eggs, banana ice-cream, etc., in a small village, and arrived at Freiburg at dusk. As we did not know where the Youth Hostel was, we went into a police station. We managed to ask: "Gute nacht, wo ist der Jugendherberge?" but we could not understand the answer! However, a policeman directed us in a mixture of English, French, German and sign language. We followed his directions but after a while we began to wonder whether we were still on the right road, so we stopped to ask an old lady. She spoke English! The youth Hostel is a long way out, about two miles into the Black Forest. There are two wooden buildings, on the slope of a fir-covered hill. The Nazis, as part of their Youth campaign originally built it. There is a fine kitchen, and excellent washing facilities. Although its capacity is 260, it was crowded and many had to sleep in tents. Fortunately we were given places in a dormitory. For supper we had a thick slab of cold luncheon meat, and plenty of roast potatoes.
After a good night's sleep, we had a Continental breakfast in the canteen. The ersatz coffee was almost undrinkable. Real coffee is very expensive in Germany, Nescafe being 10/- or 12/- a 2 oz tin. Gordon mended a puncture then we cycled back into the city, and visited the cathedral. There were stalls in the yard outside, selling fruit, postcards, souvenirs, "hot dogs", etc.
We continued on the road no 3. which did not improve. There were many cyclists. Each one, as he passed, called out the greeting "Servos!" and we returned it. By the time we left Germany we were utterly sick of the word. The scenery was monotonous, and there was a head-wind. We reached Baden-Baden at nightfall. As we cycled through the streets we were stopped by a policeman for having no lights. We asked him where the Youth Hostel was, and he tried to explain in terms we could understand. Whilst he was doing this, three German lads came cycling by, also without lights. He stopped them and discovered that they were also making for the Youth Hostel. Luckily they could speak very good English, and we discovered that the Hostel was too far to walk before it closed. Having been dismissed with a caution by the policeman, we all five tried to get one room in a small hotel, but the proprietor said he could only take us if we booked five rooms, and that would be 7/6 each without breakfast. That was far too expensive, so we decided to spend the night in the station waiting-room. When we got there we found that it was due to close at 11 p.m., but we learnt that the main-line station of Baden-Ooos, 3 miles away, was open all night as several trains, including the Orient Express, called there. So the five of us decided to go Baden-Oos. As it was so far, we cycled and again were stopped by a policeman. We said our party-piece "Ich verstehe nicht", our German friends whispered the magic word "Englisch", and we were allowed to continue on foot.
After a good night's sleep, we had a Continental breakfast in the canteen. The ersatz coffee was almost undrinkable. Real coffee is very expensive in Germany, Nescafe being 10/- or 12/- a 2 oz tin. Gordon mended a puncture then we cycled back into the city, and visited the cathedral. There were stalls in the yard outside, selling fruit, postcards, souvenirs, "hot dogs", etc.
We continued on the road no 3. which did not improve. There were many cyclists. Each one, as he passed, called out the greeting "Servos!" and we returned it. By the time we left Germany we were utterly sick of the word. The scenery was monotonous, and there was a head-wind. We reached Baden-Baden at nightfall. As we cycled through the streets we were stopped by a policeman for having no lights. We asked him where the Youth Hostel was, and he tried to explain in terms we could understand. Whilst he was doing this, three German lads came cycling by, also without lights. He stopped them and discovered that they were also making for the Youth Hostel. Luckily they could speak very good English, and we discovered that the Hostel was too far to walk before it closed. Having been dismissed with a caution by the policeman, we all five tried to get one room in a small hotel, but the proprietor said he could only take us if we booked five rooms, and that would be 7/6 each without breakfast. That was far too expensive, so we decided to spend the night in the station waiting-room. When we got there we found that it was due to close at 11 p.m., but we learnt that the main-line station of Baden-Ooos, 3 miles away, was open all night as several trains, including the Orient Express, called there. So the five of us decided to go Baden-Oos. As it was so far, we cycled and again were stopped by a policeman. We said our party-piece "Ich verstehe nicht", our German friends whispered the magic word "Englisch", and we were allowed to continue on foot.
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We settled down as comfortably as it is possible on a wooden seat, and dozed off. At about 2.15am we were rudely awakened by the grumpy old ticket collector, and as we had no tickets, evicted. Gordon and I found a trolley-bus shelter outside the station and we slept on the seat until the buses started at 5 a.m. We made an early start, at 6.15, without breakfast. Stopping in a little village just off the main road, we bought cheese, bread, and milk. There was still a strong head-wind, and we did only 64 miles in 10 hours cycling. We passed Karlsruge, which was badly damaged by bombs. The autobahn (special motor-road) began here, but it is not open to cyclists. A network of autobahnen covers Germany, and they are built to enable traffic to keep up a steady speed of 60 miles an hour for hundreds of miles. Cars may enter and leave the autobahn only at certain points (Auffahrten), which may be up to 20 miles apart! Owing to the autobahn, the road we had to use was in a very poor condition. We had lunch in a restaurant near Bruchsal station. It was more like an English meal than a French one. We tried to buy macaroni in a village shop. The woman showed us dozens of different wiggly shapes, but she had no straight pieces! We reached Heidelberg at 7 p.m.
Here is a translation of the poem by Scheffel Old Heidelberg, dear city, with honours crowned and rare, O'er Rhein and Neckar rising, none can with thee compare |
Photo 92. Freiburg cathedral.
Photo 93. Heidelberg. The alte brucke over the river Neckar.
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Photo 94. In Heidelberg.
The Youth Hostel, which holds 390, was full. We wanted to visit an Exeter boy, Keith Walling, a student of King's College, London, who was spending a term at Heidelberg University as part of his German course. After being nearly pushed off the road by a tram with a loudly clanging bell, and after Gordon had fallen off his bike due to some other tramlines, we called at Keith's lodgings, Bei Hammer. However, we found that he had moved into the students' Hostel. We found this, a fine three-storied building, but as we had no idea which room was his, it looked as though we might not find him. Fortunately, the first student to pass us could speak English, and even more fortunate, he knew Keith. So we had a little gathering of Exonians-in-exile. We were lucky to find him in, as he was planning to go to Switzerland the next day! We stayed talking until late, and listened to the BBC. Only then did we realise that it was August Bank Holiday at home. We visited one of the wood-panelled student inns by the river, which are over 500 years old, and it was midnight when we left. Keith was able to arrange for us to sleep in his room. The next day we woke at 9 a.m. after a very good night's rest. We had a refreshing wash in the fine bathroom. For breakfast we had tasty brown bread (misch-brot), jam, and excellent margarine (mit Nuss- nut flavoured) which was almost as good as butter. Keith showed us around the city, which entirely escaped bombing in the last war. It is now in the American Zone of Occupation, and the streets are lined with big cars owned by the G.I.s. There is even a Woolworths store, pronounced by the Germans a s Voolvort, of course. One shop offered twenty different ice-cream flavours. Fancy cakes are cheaper in Germany than in Switzerland, and cheaper there than in France. In delicacy, however, the order is reversed. We bought little shortcakes called Americanos.
Photo 95. Part of Heidelberg Castle.
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The University of Heidelberg is the oldest in Germany, and was founded in 1386. Thus it is not as old as that of Oxford, England.
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The weather was sunny, with a heat-haze. Keith took us up to the castle. This was founded in 1214, and destroyed by the French in 1693. It commands an extensive view, from the lovely wooded hills bordering the River Neckar, across the flat Rhine valley to the smoking chimneys of Mannheim. In the castle is the "Great Tun", a monster cask of 49,000 gallons, built in 1751 to hold the annual tithe of wine. Descending again to the city, we had lunch in the University Dining Hall, and then sat beside the river. In the evening, as we did not want to inconvenience Keith any more, we slept out in a camping ground beside the river, about 3 miles upstream. There were cars of all nationalities (except British) there, French F, Swiss CCH, Dutch NL, Belgian B, Italian I, Danish DK, Swedish S, and of course German D. The next day we woke at 6 am, and had mushroom soup, bread, butter, and jam. We would have had a sausage too, but a dog ran off with it. We gave chase, but without a hope. We started cycling on the last leg of our long journey. There was a strong head-wind and the roads were very poor. Although the country was mostly flat, we only did 40 miles in 8 hours. We stopped at Mannheim and interchanged seat-tubes as Gordon's was breaking. Mannheim, and its neighbour across the Rheine, Ludwigshafen, were heavily bombed. Rebuilding is quite considerable, but there are still many blitzed areas. We saw the largest wine-cask in the world at Bad Durkheim, It is fitted out as a three-storied wine restaurant, with room for 500 guests! The roads were very bad and we often cycled on the pavement. The only- half buried drainpipes running from each house to the kerb were better than the bone-shaking stone pave in the road! In the evening we came to a hill, with a long climb up. Just over the top we decided to camp for the night near a village named Frankenstein, We got some water at a house with a notice "Hunde bissige" (biting dog) we prepared to camp in a field near the stream. Then we heard the warning wheeeee of mosquitoes, and if it is true that "Once bitten, twice shy" we were about sixty times shy! So we took our bikes and bags up a steep path through the wood, and that seemed to do the trick. We cooked macaroni for supper, and were eating it when rain began to fall. It soon came down in torrents, dripping through the trees, and we heard a thunderstorm approaching. Everywhere was wet by now, and so were we, so we did not know where to sleep. Fortunately Gordon remembered seeing a potting shed in the garden of a house near the road. Wearing our cycling capes we trudged down the long steep path and back towards the road, our shoes oozing in the mud.
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Photo 96. The castle, from beneath.
Photo 97
Photo 97. This picture illustrates an old German custom. When a house which is being built reaches the rafters the owner throws a party to which the builders are invited. A small fir tree is decorated with coloured paper, rather like one of our Christmas trees, and fixed to the roof to bring good luck. We even saw these decorated trees on six-storey city office-blocks.
Photo 98. The youth hostel at Saarbrucken.
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We climbed over a wall, and found that luckily the padlock on the door had not been closed. We went back up the hill again and fetched our baggage but left the bikes under the trees. Our torch gave out, and we had to find our way along the muddy path by touch. We dumped our possessions in the hut and lit a candle. Gordon had laughed when I packed it, with several other things which did turn out to be useless. We took off our wet clothes and made ourselves as comfortable as possible. We slept well in spite of the rain lashing on the roof. We woke early and cleared out of the shed as soon as possible, as we could not have explained in German! We fried egg and chips in the lane, and fetched down our bikes, which had kept surprisingly dry. We continued to Kaiserslautern, where there is a large American depot, complete with trolleybuses, traffic lights, baseball fields, large cars, and signs everywhere.
TRINK COCA-COLA EIS KALT
We bought an apfelsaft (unfermented apple juice), with our remaining German coins, and then crossed the frontier into the Saar.
This is a mining and industrial area, and is not at all pleasant. We noticed the effect of the international Agreements in which the Saar and its people have been a pawn passed forward and back between Germany and France. The people of the Saar are Germans, now forced to use French coinage and manufactured goods. They seem embittered, and refuse to speak or answer to the French language. We discovered a type of large cooked sausage which was excellent when spread on bread. We stayed at the Youth Hostel in Saarbrucken. One man was kind enough to direct us there in French. The hostel was very up-to-date. Several English cyclists were there. We gathered from the Warden, who could (or would) only speak German, that the kitchen was "Kaput" so we cooked macaroni and eggs on our stove in the garden. There was a fine view over Saarbrucken from the dormitory window. We slept well on good beds. The next day we crossed the frontier into France. At the Customs post we spoke to a motor-cyclist from Leicester, who told us of several cheap restaurants in Paris.
TRINK COCA-COLA EIS KALT
We bought an apfelsaft (unfermented apple juice), with our remaining German coins, and then crossed the frontier into the Saar.
This is a mining and industrial area, and is not at all pleasant. We noticed the effect of the international Agreements in which the Saar and its people have been a pawn passed forward and back between Germany and France. The people of the Saar are Germans, now forced to use French coinage and manufactured goods. They seem embittered, and refuse to speak or answer to the French language. We discovered a type of large cooked sausage which was excellent when spread on bread. We stayed at the Youth Hostel in Saarbrucken. One man was kind enough to direct us there in French. The hostel was very up-to-date. Several English cyclists were there. We gathered from the Warden, who could (or would) only speak German, that the kitchen was "Kaput" so we cooked macaroni and eggs on our stove in the garden. There was a fine view over Saarbrucken from the dormitory window. We slept well on good beds. The next day we crossed the frontier into France. At the Customs post we spoke to a motor-cyclist from Leicester, who told us of several cheap restaurants in Paris.
Photo 99. Le Porte des Allemando, Metz
We were now passing within about 30 miles of Luxembourg. During the day, two long detours, owing to road repairs, slowed us up. We reached a point just outside Metz and called at a farm, hoping to be able to sleep on the hay as we had done when we were last in France. However, they were not very helpful, and we pressed on. Very soon we came to a sign which told us that there was a Youth Hostel in Metz which was not mentioned in our Handbook. As we found out later, it was one of the hostels belonging to the Communist Youth Organisation, although this was not obvious at the time, We saw Metz cathedral, and asked a policeman how to get to the Place Coislin, where the Hostel was situated, He said he didn't know, as he belonged to another beat! The hostel consisted of several wooden huts in a square in a poorer part of the town. Bikes and motor-bikes were kept in an extension of the bedroom. We cooked our meal on a Calor-gas stove which seemed to be suffering from asthma! Even music-while-you-sleep was provided.