Sad To Leave

Just riding out of Wurzberg. The vineyards cloaking the hills on the right have been there for centuries. This is also where the tunnels begin. Sara is counting them; I remember there are somewhere around twenty-three tunnels, she remembers there are sixty-three. I’ll give you the count later (later... 63 tunnels total).

We had such a wonderful time in Erlangen. Our visits are usually just over a long weekend and are therefore crowded with brunches, lunches, dinners, and other things in between. This is the first time, since leaving the city eighteen years ago, that I’ve just been able to luxuriate in the day-to-day going ons of my friends’ lives. What a delight.

Neither Sara nor I wanted to leave Erlangen this morning. Isn’t the best measure of a trip is being torn away from it all?

We went to Bamberg yesterday. A city built on seven hilltops, like Rome. Undoubtedly the city is muchmuch smaller than Rome. I wonder whether the seven hilltops are higher or lower than in Rome.


I’ve figured out the difference between people from Schlieswig-Holstein (northern Germany, traditionally sailors, flat landscape) and those from Frankenland (part of Bavaria, mountain climbers and hikers). The folks from Frankenland look at a hill or mountain and seem to experience a reverse pull of gravity: upwards. It is like they don’t even have to have a reason to climb, they instinctively know if they stand on the peak they will feel complete.

Now, those of us from the north, when looking at a mountain only approach it if there is something reallyreally important to be done on the other side. And before we set out, we first do a quick calculation as to whether or not it is possible to circumvent the mountain rather than climb up or down. We believe that the only good mountain is a flat mountain, which, yes, others refer to as hills, but there you go.