May 23 - Trier

We spent last night in a hotel called the NH Trier. We were too tired when we checked in to ask what the "NH" stood for. (New Hotel? This isn't a small German guesthouse; it's a larger hotel that looks like it's been built in the last twenty years or so.)

The NH Trier is next to the Mosel River. It's also next to a main highway, and the traffic went on and on all night long. We slept fine, but I did wake up from time to time, and I could see the headlights from the cars decorating the walls of our room. As usual, we're up early, had breakfast in the hotel, and off we went to explore Trier, one of the oldest towns in Germany.

Our first stop is the Porta Nigra, a ninety-foot-high stone wall and gate that was built around the town during the Roman Empire. Twenty centuries later, my husband and I are walking through the gate, climbing the stairs into the towers of the walls, and looking out into the town. We can see for miles. We learn that the town of Trier was founded by the Roman Emperor Augustus in 15 B.C. Once again, we think we should be pinching ourselves, to be looking at such history.

The central marketplace in Trier, surrounded by the Porta Nigra, is just beautiful. Some of the most intricate, most wonderful buildings and shops and cafes are here in the center of town. Trier is a cobblestone heaven of Roman history and present-day German hospitality. We go to the Trier Dom, the cathedral. A castle-like church of magnificient proportions. Once again, a beautiful organ (this one is silent), and an ornate ceiling (this one is intricately engraved and carved, stark white on gray stone). In this cathedral, in a heavy clear glass casket, there is a brown robe which is said to be the robe of Christ. The robe is dark brown, a plain fabric which looks to be thick material, rather than light cotton. Is it really the robe of Christ? I have no idea, but I wouldn't dare to voice that opinion in this church which has designated a large gilded altar to that robe.

We have done so much driving, seen so many castles and palaces, churches and museums, that our senses are overwhelmed and bogged down with details. My husband says that this vacation is a cross between The Amazing Race (listening to Greta, our GPS guide in the car) and House Hunters (walking around castles and palaces, deciding which one is our favorite). As we drive, we see a brown UPS truck... same logo as the UPS trucks here in the states, but the truck there was smaller, to accommodate the narrow winding German streets. Seeing the UPS truck makes us think of home.

Interesting thing about the town of Trier: within that ancient wall surrounding the inner city and the marketplace, the town is old and quaint, perfectly clean, picture-postcard perfect. On the other side of that 90-foot-high wall, Trier looks old and depressed, sad instead of quaint, dingy instead of sparkling, with too-close-together apartments and houses. I told my husband that the best part of Trier is inside the Roman gates.

We drive along the Mosel River, and we see vineyards for miles and miles, for as far as our eyes can see. It is early in the growing season, and the plants are filling with these teeny tiny green infant grapes. The grapes are planted close to the road, and then go straight up the mountain in a vertical path. How do they plant the grapes on such a steep mountain? How do they pick the grapes without falling down into the roadways? At the tops of most of the vineyards, we see large crosses made of wood, and even very tiny chapels that could hold a dozen or less people. Before coming to Germany, I had no idea that the Germans were so devoutly religious.

We continue driving along the Mosel River. We are getting hungry for lunch, so we keep watching along the drive, looking for interesting restaurants. And what do we find? A Greek restaurant, in a tiny town called Bernkastel. The name of the restaurant is Poseidon. The owners speak Greek and German, hardly any English. But we manage to order spanikopita for me, gyros for my husband. The food is delicious, the spinach pie better than most that we've had, the gyro meat tender and moist. The Greek salad has a scattering of sweet cabbage hiding in the lettuce leaves. Throughout the meal, we cannot believe that we have found a Greek restaurant in the middle of Germany.

We find a small guesthouse for the night, after more driving along the Mosel and stopping to see what's left of some mountaintop castles. From the mountain tops, we can see most of the town, and much of the Mosel. From this bird's eye view, the towns are bigger than we thought. The Einig-Zenzen Guesthouse is run by an older woman, who has inherited this small hotel from her parents. The rooms are tidy and neat, with pristine linens and large pillows. Once again, the bathroom is tiny, but there's an outlet for my hair dryer, so it's perfect. This guesthouse overlooks the Mosel on one side, and a mountainside filled with vineyards on the other. We cannot believe how many acres of grapes we have seen since leaving Trier, and we wish that we could appreciate the taste of German wines.

After checking into our room at the guesthouse, we walk up and down the main street of this town called Valwig. Eventually, after a day of walking up and down pathways to the castles, and walking up and down the Mosel, we're ready for dinner and find a restaurant close to the guesthouse. Once again, we point to the menu. In the smaller towns, finding someone who speaks English is very rare. I point to a vegetable dinner on the menu, my husband orders a plate of German noodles in sauce. And then we walk again, finding streets behind the restaurant, behind the guesthouse, which give us a vertical view of the mountainsides filled with grapes.

We sit by the Mosel for a while, watching the ducks floating along with the current. We decide to walk again-- it doesn't get dark till nearly ten o'clock and there's a lot of daylight left. As we walk along the river bank, we see a small plastic picnic table set up with two chairs. We get closer and we see two children enjoying an evening picnic. There is a tablecloth on the plastic table, along with cloth napkins, china plates and cups, spoons, forks, a small teapot. All the accessories are porcelain, all of the food is imagined. The children are so absorbed in their picnic that they don't even notice us as we pass by. A picnic for children, complete with an embroidered tablecloth. Their elaborate picnic makes me think of my grandmother's house, where nothing was simple, and everything was special.

My husband and I love this little town of Valwig. We are pinching ourselves once again, and we know we're lucky to be here. My notebook is filling up with scribbled entries of each day; my stack of postcards grows so thick and so heavy that I take them out of my suitcase and leave them in a travel bag in the car. I have two piles of postcards... one stack for me to keep, one stack to mail to family and friends when we get home.