Heidelberg

Here I am in Heidelberg.  Not for any particular reason.  It was a reasonable stopping point between Brussels and Vienna (where I need to be on 19 Dec, in order to meet Lindsey).  I think I picked it for the anthropologically romantic notion of seeing Homo heidelbergensis.  But of course, only a replica is on display.  However, the Old Town is a lovely place, and the Christmas markets are in full swing here.  I expect to be spending quality time in them until the Advent.  One enormous boost being that they make it socially acceptable to both eat and drink while standing and walking (not always acceptable in Europe), making for cheaper meals and social interaction.  Plus, free gingerbread tastings at every corner!

I did climb the hill to see the Schloss this morning.  It was interesting enough and brought to mind the notion that castle builders must have been rather good with hydro engineering.  What with the rain, snowmelt, and random springs, building good gutters and drainage is a must.  The Schloss is a good example of what can go wrong if your powder is stored inappropriately.  Illustration of destroyed tower below:

And as you can see, I am getting better at the selfie (aka longarm per Claire’s lingo).  The problem has arisen that every time I try to practice, some very friendly fellow tourist offers with gestures to take my camera and snap me.  I wouldn’t precisely call it frustrating, but it is amusing.  I keep waiting for someone, anyone, to be rude, nasty, impatient, or otherwise unpleasant.  Hasn’t happened.

Bizarrely, I was getting quite good at French while in Brussels, and even managed decently in Flemish.  I am quite lost in German.  However, I’ve got at least another 12 days to work up to a semblance of understanding.  I expect to be lost again once I switch the Czech, and then there is Greek and Turkish….  Really, there was never any point in trying to pick up a language before beginning this jaunt.  I continue to do well with my menu linguistics – I’m polishing off a nice prawn and arugula pasta with a glass of wine, followed by tiramisu.  One cannot live on wurst alone.

In the interests of education and amusement, I am reading Mark Twain’s Innocents Abroad.  It seems most apt.  Tho’ I will admit to reading Nancy Mitford’s Christmas Pudding while staying in Brussels, borrowed from my hosts.  It should have been Christmassy, but her brand of character assassination isn’t precisely Christian, is it?  She’s like a viperous P.G. Wodehouse, in the best possible way.