Which is really not as fun as it sounds.
On last Wednesday, the whole group of the Kompakt Course took a tour of the monastery in Blaubeuren.
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| The gorgeous triptych altar, painted in gold. |
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| Ceiling detail in the chapel |
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| German poet Hoelderlin made his mark on the chapel walls. I guess graffiti was popular in 1753 too. |
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| Gothic arches |
Now the Germans love to hike. Not like in the vague American way of saying: "I like to hike" which means "I'll hike from the parking lot over the dune to the beach" or "I don't mind walking from there to here since I don't have a car". It's a big weekend activity here. Everyone from your sweet little granny to a babbling four year old goes hiking. They are hardcore. Unless you like roughing it in the woods (which I do not), Americans have no perception of German hiking.
The German perceptions on hiking are simple:
1) Why take the car or the bus or train if you can walk there?!
2) Paths, what are paths?
3) Signposts and guardrails are for the weak.
So yes,
The Germans love, love, love to hike.
Now, I was a Girl Scout. I mean, yes, more of the let's-make-a-sit-upon-while eating-trail-mix-while-gossiping-about-people type than the lace-up-my-boots-and-climb-this-mountain-type, but still. I was a Girl Scout. I am no stranger to woods and forests and all the precious woodland creatures therein (except for spiders and snakes, they are evil. Pure evil). But I have never before climbed a mountain range rim with a broken foot in a walking cast.
Just a little fast fact - It's hard.
It wasn't bad to begin with. In fact, I thought, with a bright, cheery optimism, this might be so bad. Then the "path" (and by path I mean goat trail) got really, really steep very, very quickly. My boot although it was indeed made for walking, was not in the mood to walk over anyone or anything. Plus, dragging around the extra weight on my right foot made me extremely tired. So I fell behind.
Luckily, Zach and Rachel were there to keep me going. So we kept climbing and climbing and climbing. And I'm pretty sure I ran out of German expletives and had to switch to some English ones. Finally after many swears and sweat, and tears (no blood, thank goodness!) we reached -
A road. A windy road. A highway. With lots of cars.
Which leads to a little town. With a bus stop. With another little path leading to the ruins of the castle we were hiking toward.
REALLY?!
WOULDN'T IT HAVE BEEN EASIER TO TAKE THE BUS TO THIS LITTLE TOWN?!
Fuming, I shoved my anger down my throat and tried to smile at the tutors and teachers as I huffed and puffed up towards them.
We can order you a car to take you back, they said. The path isn't so great from here on out.
Oh. Really.
Unfortunately, I have a nasty streak of stubbornness (from which side of the family I received it from is unclear yet). I had climbed all this way up. I wasn't going back. So we kept going.
Good thing Zach and Rachel were there because on the path there were huge chunks of limestone sticking out of the rolly mountain rim. Imagine one of those Pepperidge Farm cookies with the chocolate chips in them. Just like that. Except not tasty and decidedly uncomfortable. Meanwhile, Emily joined us, inhaler in hand (poor thing!) and Jake sped on ahead, with little concern about our well being (thanks a lot). One of the tutors, Susanne (she is so nice!) stayed behind to make sure we didn't get lost or eaten by bears or fall off the edge of a cliff. So we practiced German while (almost) facing near death! Huzzah!
And eventually, we found the ruins! Wir haben es geschafft! Unser Ziel war erreicht! (Side note: I love the verb geschafft. It's fantastic sounding).
So we appropriately documented our victory.
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| The Very Helpful and Awesome Rachel and that Jake kid. |
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| Going down? |
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| Emily and Rachel celebrate their victory |
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| The boys were too cool to smile for my picture. |
And eventually we all got home, safe and sound.
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