Mannheim

Following my jaunt in Frankfort, I took the short train ride to see my friends Klaus, Lutz, and Petra in Mannheim. They are the folks who rent an apartment here in Sciacca year round, and I can usually count on seeing at least one of them almost every month for about a week. While I truly do enjoy the serenity of having this 72 apartment complex to myself during the winter months (when I am smart enough to be home) Klaus, Lutz and Petra are the kind of neighbors I want if I am to have neighbors.

I do not want to suggest that I was not well fed by my friends in Frankfort, as indeed I was very well fed. However, the folks in Mannheim seem to know special places to eat, and always steer me in the right direction when I ask what I should get. I think they like the idea that I really do want to eat German food when I am in Germany, as they have seen far too many tourists from Italy heading for Pizzerias, and far too many tourists from America headed for that chain of stores that begins with either a Mc.... or a Bu....

My first day there, Klaus took me with him as he went to a small town in the Rhinepfalz area, and I enjoyed riding in the car, looking at all the vinyards, passing wiengut after wiengut (winery). Klaus told me that the woods that started at the east of the valley were the beginning of the Pfalzwald, the largest uninterrupted forest in western Europe, and the woods extended on into France. Little did I know that in a few days I would be walking through a part of the woods as I participated in a volksmarch with other friends. But then, I am getting ahead of myself.

That night, Klaus, Lutz, Klaus's son Stefan and I went to Moehlenbach to a country restuarant that I had eaten in the last time I was in the area. It is here that I get my favorite meal, done perfectly. It is not just pork hocks (schwienhochsen?), but it is schwienhochsen Sigfried. If you have had pork hocks in the US, forget what you know about them. These are long and meaty and cooked on a rotisserie, and are, simply put, wonderful. They are a meal in an of themselves. If I were a younger man, I think I would start travelling the fair circuit in the US, because I am sure once someone tried them, they would love them. Of course, then the US would end up with a lot of pigs with no legs, but then again, there is a market for ground pork.

Sorry about that.

The next day, I went in to Mannheim from where my friends live in Viernheim. I got to see the local museum, which had an exhibit of police photos from the forties and fifties, which were very interesting, as well as a display of old German wooden hand crafted furniture and gowns. The furniture almost knocked me out. There was a wonderful docent on this floor of the museum, and although I speak next to no German, and she spoke next to no English, she made sure that I saw the entire exhibit, including drawers that were filled with antique clocks and watches, and all sorts of other interesting things.

In front of the museum, was the last great exhibit of note, at least as far as I am concerned. At first I thought it was just a bike parking lot, and that for some reason the good citizens of Mannheim liked pink bicycles. However, closer inspection showed me that the bikes were probably not usable, even if you took the one best part from each of them trying to built a single bike, so I realized it was a rather neat bit of conceptual art. Bravo.

And across the street from the museum was what should be the most famous building in all of Mannheim, far more important than the Mannheim water tower (which is a neat building in and of itself, with a beautiful garden around it), and indeed, more breathtaking than the Cathedral, which was bombed during the war, and has been lovingly restored. The building I am talking about is, of course, the building that my friend Klaus attended high school in, and which was designed by the same architect who designed the art museum. And I should hasten to add that the design was not done using the computer aided design software that my three friends sell and support.

When I finished wandering around Mannheim, I decided to take a trolley back to Viernhiem. I read the map carefully, bought my ticket from the machine, asked the trolley conductor if it was the right trolley for Viernheim, and off I went. It was the right trolley, but only in a round about way. First, it took me to Heidelberg, and then started to return on the other side of the Neckar river, and then I had to change trains. When I finally got to where I was going, Lutz had called twice to make sure I was alright, and he met me at the stop for the next bit of adventure.

First we crossed the Rhine from Mannheim to its sister city Ludwigshafen. The owner of BASF had grown up in Mannheim, and had wanted to build his plant there. However, the town fathers in their wisdom said that it might cause too much pollution and congestion, so instead he built the plant in Ludwigshafen. Now Ludwigshafen gets all of the development, but due to the prevailing winds, Mannheim gets all the air pollution. Oh my, sometimes one gets the elevator, other times one gets the shaft.

Anyway, we came back across the river on a little ferry boat, and headed toward Schwetzingen, where Lutz and I wandered on the grounds of a huge summer palace (there is a picture of part of it at the top of this entry. Another view appears just above. What a place, and what beautiful gardens. Nadja had explained to me the difference between French (formal) gardens and English (natural) gardens, but I did not expect to see extensive examples of both tucked away in this small town. I also very much appreciated Lutz's sensibility, as he kept saying that as this palace was built for the summer enjoyment of the royalty, the townspeople starved.

Then we were off to Neckarsteinach, just beyond Heidelberg, where there are four wonderful castles on the hillside overlooking the Neckar river.

For dinner, we returned to Heidelberg. Frankly, Heidelberg is not my favorite town. Yes, the castle is over the top gorgeous. It is also, like Taormina in my beloved Sicily, and like Florence and Venice to the north, a tourist town done right. However, I am not really fond of tourist towns. However Lutz reminded me of something Fran used to say. Trust local knowledge. On a little side street, Lutz knew where there used to be an old biergarten, and it has been renovated, and is now a new biergarten. The same great beer, and wonderful food, and the old walls and paintings are still there to be seen. Also, there were not too many Americans there having dinner, so I really did enjoy myself.

The next day I moved on across the river to visit my friends Gene and Nancy Mehlenbacher in Lamperthiem. Thank you Lutz, Klaus, and Petra, for a wonderful stay near Mannheim.