Day 10: Fairytale Rothenburg

Rothenburg is distinguished from our other visits by being located well-inland, on a nice high point that was easier to defend. It was also distinguished because it was never bombed during WWII, sparing the historic buildings—they have not been meticulously recreated, as we saw in so many places, but beautifully preserved.

We traveled to Rothenburg via bus. (The bus driver is always the same. He travels from location to location with the bus, and I bet he beats us every time.) We traveled along what is called the Romantic Highway through lush pastoral land. We saw fields of sugar beets, cow corn (hard feed corn that they use for ethanol), wheat, mustard, and many crops I couldn’t identify.

A wheat filed along the Romantic Highway. The clouds here are gorgeous.

We wound our way through tiny villages until we came at last to the ramparts of Rothenburg, which completely enclose the town, as they did in Medieval times and earlier.

The Medieval ramparts of Rothenburg. The ramparts have a roof and 6ou can walk all around the town under it. Tom and I didn’t do that part of the tour.

Rothenburg is extremely quaint and charming, with elaborate half-timbered houses, an old cathedral, many town wells, and narrow, cobbled streets. It is also a tourist attraction, and not just for foreign visitors. The language I heard spoken most frequently by the visitors walking by was German.

Town gate, looking toward the town from the site of the original castle.

Our guide, Harry, also added to my understanding of the stumblestones. He emphasized they are not only to commemorate the Jews, but anyone who was murdered by the Nazis, including Romany (Gypsies), the mentally retarded, people with disabilities, gays, and anyone else the Nazis deemed unworthy to live. Lesson taken. Odd that they are called stumblestones, as they are actually brass plaques that are far flatter and less likely to cause a stumble than the cobbles surrounding them.

There are storks nesting on the rooftops here—the first I have seen! Just like in the fairytales.

A real, live stork. Sadly, I only got this shot of his or her butt as he or she bent to feed the babies.

He took us by the Museum of Crime, which is evidently the largest museum anywhere dedicated to the subject of crime and punishment. It is also called the torture museum. Nuh-uh.

It is probably extremely expensive to live in Rothenburg. There are very strict laws regarding the appearance of the buildings. All the roofs are required to be covered with red clay “beaver tail” tiles. All the windows must have wooden frames. Skylights are verboten. However, I did notice glass tiles the same shape and size as the ceramic beavertail tiles on several buildings, obviously letting light through to the upper stories. So people, as always, find workarounds.

A gorgeous house in Rothenburg. You can see the beavertail tiles.

The first castle/fortification in Rothenberg was built around 1100 C.E. on a spur of rock that projects above the surrounding lush valley of the Tauber River. Little remains of the original structure but a small chapel. The former castle is now a pretty garden that command views of the Tauber River valley and orchards below. Mature trees provide much-appreciated shade, and there is a lavender garden, a small fountain, flowers, and stone benches where you can sit and admire the spectacular view. We saw a pair of storks flying overhead, but by the time I got my camera phone out, they had flown away.

A fountain in the garden that now reigns over the site of the original castle. Very peaceful, and the goldfish in the picture seemed suspended motionless in time.
One of the many spectacular views from the garden.

We actually had free time in Rothenburg to wander around guideless, shop, and sample the local cuisine. Tom and I stopped at a bakery for water, and I purchased a “snowball,” which is a large sphere of what appears to be curls of cookie dough held together by various things in different flavors. I selected a dark chocolate snowball—I guess the snow was dirty. It was absolutely delicious, with a crisp, light texture and not too sweet. We devoured it. We visited the castle-turned-garden next, then wandered back to the marktplatz in the town center. The Rathaus, or city hall, in the center has a tall clock tower. When the clock rings the hour, two windows open to either side and automated figures appear, drink beer from steins while the bells chime, then retire behind the windows again.

The clock tower. Everyone pauses on the hour to watch the automatons drink their beer.

We met up with our friends in the marktplatz and decided to try to find a restaurant for lunch that Harry the guide suggested. We did not find it, but we did happen upon a sandwich restaurant that served Mexican Jarritos, Cubano sandwiches, and other exotic fare of the New World. It was not what we were looking for, but we needed to stop for lunch and several men outside the establishment assured us the sandwiches were good. They were VERY good! We ate outside on the cobbles under umbrellas as children dashed in and out of the restaurant. It was a family establishment. The chef was from Puerto Rico, and his wife, a German, handled the front of the restaurant. I think the family lived in the same building, and their kids played on the sidewalk.

I broke away from the group to do some gift shopping and found things for four on my list. This was a godsend—there is usually no time to shop. Being a tourist Mecca, there were many unusual shops and interesting merchandise. And the famous Christmas store was in Rothenburg—as well as every other town we have visited. Linda caved in and bought a large bag full of Christmas cheer.

You just can’t get away from the famous Christmas store.

On the way back, the bus took the super highway instead of the Romantic Highway. In addition to the fields full of growing things, we also saw large fields of solar panels. Germany also uses wind power, but they shut down all their nuclear reactors after Fukushima—a move that with the Russian invasion of Ukraine and subsequent sanctions, proved to be a mistake.

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