Now, where was I? (Apologies for the break; I needed a short vacation from the vacation.) Immediately after the Prince 2014 tour, we experienced life in a little Franconian farm village. Or hamlet. (What’s smaller than a hamlet? This place was an omlet.)(yes, I KNOW that’s not how it’s spelled.) Here are scenes from the afternoon (I would have included at least one picture of the pig sty – a small, windowless, stone structure made warm and humid by, oh, LOTS and LOTS of pigs. I can still smell them in my hair. And on my camera. Which wouldn’t open. (Well, not in the millisecond I spent in the sty.)
The next morning, in a heavy drizzle, we visited Nuremberg. I made a few judgements about the place. The drizzle seemed appropriate because there was nothing joyful about most of the sites we visited. From the Nazi rallying grounds (did you know that it’s illegal to give the “Sieg Heil!” salute in Germany?) through the huge HQ of the party (now a museum) and ultimately to the courthouse of the famed trials, Nuremberg seemed hunkered down and grim. Maybe it was just the rain. You be the judge:
To escape the rain (and avoid eating more sausages) , I wandered into St. Sebaldus, a medieveal church in the center of Nuremberg. In the dimly lit interior I found my favorite memory of this city – an evocative meditation on war as I hope we never know it: (Please try to ignore the poor quality of the photos, but do try to read the text.)
On to happier shores tomorrow!