We went to the shoe maker’s festival in Pirmasens which is about 40 minutes south of us. There were not a lot of shoes, but Pirmasens is really cool, very art deco. We made a tiny friend whom we gave a bit of beer. The fest food was fantastic as usual, we had burgers, potatoes, garlic bread, and kuchen 🍰.
As Spring brings odd but good weather, and the plants bloom furiously making everyone in the house sneeze a lot, there was a middle ages themed festival at the bergruine Nanstein in Landstuhl.
Craig is philosophically against the idea of castles, so he stayed home while Jessica and I took the train over to check out the festivities.
The walk across the town and hike up to the castle was picturesque. The weather app having lied about the rain again, the sun shone through the forest lighting our way diffusely and even. It was strange but very cool.
We got to the entrance of the fest marked with a large wooden sword and paid our entry fees. The vendors were all correctly themed and we fairly swiftly found the tavern and got some weinschorle (wine with carbonated water in it). A magician did some cute magic for the kids and we clapped for him, as his illusions were good.
There were live demonstrations of life, including swordplay, folks lounging at tables in medieval costume, birds of prey, weapons to take photos with…
After our first round of schorle we got a second, and made our way to the top of the castle for the best vantage point. We listened to various music wafting up and watched as people flowed through the event.
After buying local mead, honey beer, and some beeswax candles, we made our way back to the train and home. Later in the afternoon the weather app took its revenge on our doubtingness and there was a random, strong thunderstorm that rolled through. We were happy we went earlier when the weather was nice!
(*photos from this adventure all taken by Jessica*)
I am in the process of buying a used car from a German dealership, which involves a ton of running around and paperwork. On our way home from the test drive we took on Friday, we saw a billboard announcing a street food fest in Kaiserslautern being held in the stadium, and we took a mental note to maybe go check it out, since we also recently got Deutschland tickets for the train, so we were going to debut them at the same time.
When we looked up the fest on Saturday, it turned out that dogs were not welcome, and it was such a nice day that we wanted to bring Freyja along. Plus, she really loves the train. So we spent some time trying to find a fest to do. Not having found one, we decided to just head to Homburg and see what happened.
We ended up heading to the Stadtpark, which also opens up into a wetlands preserve. It was a beautiful walk, and we spent some time in the grass letting Freyja enjoy life. Craig brought his longboard so he would skate off for a bit and come back while Jessica and I meandered. Freyja was super offended every time he left her with us, she also really likes running while he boards.
After some time in the park, we decided it would be a nice day for a beer on a terrace. We walked past the Karlsberg beer factory in Homburg on the way to the Cafe Bar, so I figured Karlsberg on tap would be rather fresh here. We sat at the outdoor table in the middle of Homburg and discovered that the beer was indeed fresh, and it just so happened there was some sort of market going on as well, with the street shut down for vendors.
Craig tried to order a Guinness but the bar had none, so we got some normal beers. After the first round the barkeep told us she had a ‘Dunkel Karlsberg’ on tap that we should try. She was right, it was SO GOOD. That is the first time I ever actually tasted the supposed caramel notes in a beer. Probably my new favorite beer.
Afterwards we wandered around the market, which was a ceramics market full of hand-thrown colorful wares. There were some gorgeous art pieces that I felt like it would have been some form of theft to photograph.
Finally, we caught the train home, another very successful adventure in Homburg!
Rhineland-Pfalz is wine country, and nestled in that wine country is an area with almond trees planted. Similarly to cherry trees almonds bloom in the spring, pink and fragrant and full of life.
Every year a committee of people in Gimmeldingen village watch the almond trees for the peak of their bloom, and schedule the almond blossom festival. I’ve been checking every week since February to catch the right weekends for the festival, and this year it just so happens to be March 22nd and 23rd, along with next weekend as well. This was excellent timing as our anniversary happens to be March 22nd.
We all loaded up in the train around 10am and took the hour long ride to the village. It was neat to wind our way up the medieval streets, following a crowd of other folks going to roughly the same place. We took a right onto a slightly less travelled path and got our first glimpse of the almond trees. They were beautiful, but we weren’t totally sure it lives up to the hype.
We continued on the path until we encountered a truck booth proffering wine. Things started looking up as we got our first glass of schorle style wine, where sparkling mineral water is added to the wine to make it sparkly.
As we walked up the hill further, drinking our wine and enjoying the sunny weather (a pleasant surprise, it was supposed to rain according to our apps) we started seeing a bigger picture of the festival, and everything started making sense.
The main almond-lined panorama view of the village was lined with booths full of food, confections, wine, and various craft goods, similar to the Christmas markets. There were tables and benches in open seating areas and the yard of a building that let us know from a carving it was built in 1772. We were unable to pass by the artisanal French sausage cart, the candied almond cart, or the Netherlands cheese cart without buying the wares. One booth offered braised salmon sandwiches, also not passed up. We found half meter spicy sausages on brotchen, pommes, and almond cookies, along with a refill of our wine.
We wandered up onto the panorama way to look out over the Rhine wine valley, vineyards and almond trees making a tapestry of the land. Industry distant in Mannheim, and I think I was able to distinguish Heidelberg far away as well.
On the way back to the train, we tipped a busker playing accordion for passersby, and observed as the festival began to fill up with more people.
We stopped into one of the wineries in Gimmeldingen proper to buy a bottle of the wine from the schorle. “€6.50” stated the nice wine attendant as she placed the large bottle on the counter. “€6.50?? Can we have 2 please”. Good wine doesn’t have to be expensive, especially here.
We took the trains back home with only a little worry for the connection, but everything went off without a hitch. 4 bottles of wine, 5 sausages, 2 cheeses, a bunch of sweets and 3 very content people later, we were very pleased with discovering the Mandelblütenfest. Just so happens, this year is also Gimmeldingen’ 750 year anniversary. Happy anniversary!
Freyja is a shelter dog, but we got her at 13 weeks old. She’s 2 years old now, but her whole life has been in the desert suburbs of Albuquerque. So safe to say she’s never been on public transportation before.
This Saturday we decided to try to take the S-Bahn somewhere, just to work the system. I suggested Homburg since it’s close by in the neighboring state of Saarland, and the train goes right to it.
I checked that Freyja could ride with us, but she would need a ticket since she’s larger than a cat. After some debate on whether to actually take her this time or not, her sad puppy eyes convinced us, and we set out for the train station with Freyja in tow.
The station itself was a bit weird for her, and she was very alert to everything. We boarded the train without issue, and she actually settled in pretty ok. A man heading by us asked to pet her and asked how old she was, and she loved the attention.
This is my “give me hamburger” face
After the short train ride we disembarked in Homburg and proceeded to explore for a couple hours, stopping at an ice cream shop (Freyja got no ice cream), and had lunch at a burger place (Freyja got water, a fry, and a bit of prosciutto; the burgers were so good we forgot to give her some).
Both we and Freyja had enough after lunch, so we headed back home on the train, adventure a great success! Freyja slept the rest of the day, she was worn out!
I wake up sprawled across my bed—though, technically, my human sleeps here too. She stirs when I stretch, my paws pressing into her ribs. Morning! Time to start the day!
The air here is different. Back home in New Mexico, it smelled dry and sharp, like sunbaked dirt and sagebrush. Here, it’s wet and full of green things—grass, trees, earth that feels soft instead of dusty. I don’t understand it, but I like it.
My human does her usual boring human things before leaving, and I flop by the window to watch her go. Dramatically. Just in case she forgets how much she means to me. But I know she’ll come back. We were apart for a long time, but now she always comes back.
And when she does? Adventure time.
I barely let her get the leash on before I’m spinning, bouncing, whining—let’s go let’s go let’s GO.
We head into the woods, where the ground is covered in leaves that crunch under my paws. I gallop through them, tail flying like a flag. The trees here are so tall—bigger than anything I’ve ever seen. The smells? Incredible. Mushrooms, damp bark, mystery creatures.
And then—I hear it.
Water.
Not a bowl. Not a bucket like the ones I used to splash in and dump over back home. No—this is real water. Running water.
I take off, my paws thundering on the trail, and then—SPLASH!
Wait.
Why is it still moving?
I stand frozen, legs soaked up to my belly, watching in confusion. Why isn’t it stopping? The water keeps running over my paws, bubbling and swirling, as if it has no end.
My human is just standing there. Why is she not freaking out? This is incredible.
I do the only logical thing—I start stomping. Hard. Splish! Splash! Ha! It moves when I move! But when I stop—it keeps going. This is better than any bucket.
Then I remember—I can drink this.
I dunk my whole snout in and slurp.
Oh.
Oh, this is amazing. It’s cold and crisp and infinite. I take another big gulp, then another, eyes wide with excitement. It just keeps coming! I can drink forever and it’ll never run out!
I splash. I drink. I splash while I drink. I stomp and pounce and roll and—
Okay. Maybe I am freaking out a little.
This place is wild. The trees never end, the ground is covered in endless crunchy leaves, and the water never runs out. I don’t know how far this new world stretches, but I know one thing—
Last weekend Craig and Jessica finally joined me in lovely lush Germany. With them came two loud, complaining cats and one very confused dog. Freyja had definitely missed me, and especially missed sleeping in my bed at night.
Everyone took the week to settle in and start soaking in the sights, sounds, smells and feels of the new place. After the jetlag started wearing off, we got to the weekend once more.
We decided to go tour the Nanstein castle ruins in Landstuhl. Unlike on Thanksgiving when I went on my first hike in the area, the ruins themselves were actually open. 6 Euros each and we were free to roam the interior of the structure. The castle was first there about the year 1100 or so, but it was extensively remodeled in the 1500s and 1600s for warfare with artillery and guns.
It was neat to go through the castle with a couple of first-timers, watching the curiosity and emotion of seeing something so old that has been there so long. The castle has a great vantage of the town and the surrounding areas, and we were able to go all the way up to the very top to see all the way out.
The natural limestone that the castle is built on is this gorgeous red color. It’s built out of a lot of that limestone, but they also pulled in stones from other sources. In the basement of the large artillery round there is a relief of the god Mercury that was repurposed from a 4th century shrine either on the castle grounds or brought in from somewhere else.
Also in the artillery area, there was a cannon with some speakers and lights hooked up to it so that you could experience a bit of what it would be like to be at war in the castle. It was also really interesting to experience the closed feeling of being in the cellar areas of the castle, where the wet stone dripped onto the floor, and the drops made little holes in the limestone mirroring the grid of the hewn stone of the ceiling.
After touring the castle we walked back to the car through the forest in a very light rain. We had the intention to hike further but didn’t want to get caught in the rain. Another successful adventure!
I’ve been living in Germany for about three months now, and I’ve spent much of that time sampling the incredible variety of restaurants in the area. The food here is fantastic—fresh, flavorful, and often surprising. I started out with the traditional German places. As expected, there were schnitzel options galore, along with pasta, pizza, and hamburgers. Classic stuff. Nothing too shocking.
But what really caught my attention was the sheer number of ethnic restaurants, each more exciting than the last. I set out on a grand culinary adventure, ready to experience the world’s flavors right here in Rhineland-Pfalz. My first stop: a Korean restaurant. I ordered some of the best bulgogi I’ve ever had, accompanied by an assortment of traditional pickled vegetables and a perfectly crispy dumpling. The menu featured bibimbap, kimchi stew, and—nestled right in the middle of all this delicious Korean food—schnitzel.
I thought, Well, that’s a little odd, but okay. It’s Germany. Maybe it’s just a backup option for those who panic at the sight of kimchi.
Then I went to a Spanish tapas place, which felt like a slice of Madrid had dropped right into Rhineland-Pfalz. They had divine patatas bravas and papas arrugadas con mojo, which were crispy, salty, and drizzled with a heavenly sauce. The octopus was tender and cooked to perfection. There were paellas, a robust wine list… and schnitzel. Just sitting there on the menu between the tapas platter and the seafood paella like it belonged.
This couldn’t be a coincidence.
I moved on to an Asian fusion spot, hoping for some clarity. The menu offered a promising selection: sushi, duck curry, ramen, pho. Everything looked fantastic. I was just about to order when my eyes drifted toward the bottom of the page. There it was again. Schnitzel.
Next, I tried an Italian restaurant, eager for a little taste of Italy. They did not disappoint. The fish was beautifully cooked, the handmade pasta was silky and fresh, and the tiramisu was rich and perfectly balanced—not too sweet, with just the right hint of espresso. For a moment, I was transported to a trattoria in Rome. Then I saw it. Schnitzel. Tucked onto the menu right after the pasta and risotto, bold as anything.
At this point, I was starting to sweat. Was schnitzel… following me?
After I moved to my village, I continued my quest, determined to find one, just one, ethnic restaurant that didn’t serve schnitzel. I started with the Döner kebab place down the street. Their döner was top-notch, and the pizza was surprisingly good. I scanned the menu. Döner. Salads. Pizza. And… schnitzel.
By now, I’d accepted that schnitzel was lurking on every menu in Germany, but I still held out hope for the Indian restaurant in the next village. Surely there, of all places, I’d be safe. The samosas were fresh and perfectly spiced, the curries rich and warm, and the naan wonderfully soft and garlicky. I felt a glimmer of hope—until I turned the page of the menu and saw it. Schnitzel.
At that moment, I knew: There is no escape from schnitzel.
And it’s not even ethnic schnitzel. There’s no curry schnitzel at the Indian restaurant, no panko-crusted schnitzel at the Japanese place, and certainly no tapas-style schnitzel at the Spanish joint. Just plain, unassuming, traditional German schnitzel. A default meal, the culinary equivalent of the “In Case of Emergency” option that exists in every restaurant in Germany.
At first, I thought this must be some kind of backup plan—for people who show up at a Vietnamese restaurant, stare at the menu, and panic. “I don’t know what pho is… Better order the schnitzel!” But now, I think it’s something bigger than that. Schnitzel is more than just a meal—it’s a constant. Like gravity. Or the tax office. You don’t question it; you just accept it.
And the more I think about it, the more I realize: Schnitzel isn’t on the menu because it belongs there. It’s on the menu because it always has been—and always will be.
Just when I thought I couldn’t take it anymore, I found myself at a vegan café, confident that this would finally be a schnitzel-free zone. I ordered an oat milk latte and glanced at the menu. My heart stopped. There it was. Tofu schnitzel.
I stared at the menu in disbelief. It was then I realized: The schnitzel had won.
But I couldn’t let it end like this. If schnitzel was everywhere—lurking at tapas bars, haunting Asian fusion spots, and infiltrating Indian restaurants—then there was only one place where I could face it at its purest form.
I went back to the original German restaurant, the place where it all started. I sat down, looked the menu straight in the eye, and ordered the schnitzel. Not out of desperation, but out of a strange sense of duty. If I was going to understand this phenomenon, I had to go back to the root of the chaos.
The waiter nodded, as if he knew this moment was inevitable. A few minutes later, the schnitzel arrived—a golden, perfectly breaded cutlet, served with lemon and a side of crisp fries. It looked… innocent.
I took a bite.
It was glorious. The crust was light and crispy, the meat tender and perfectly seasoned. The lemon added just the right amount of brightness. For a moment, everything in the world made sense.
And that’s when it hit me. Schnitzel isn’t a backup plan or a conspiracy. Schnitzel is a test.
It waits for you, quietly, on every menu, knowing that sooner or later you’ll give in. It lingers there, patient and confident, because it knows that once you finally take that bite, you’ll understand: schnitzel isn’t following you.
You’ve been following schnitzel.
It was never about escape. It was about acceptance.
A few weeks ago my coworker sent me a link to an event, Nacht der Vampire, Feb 8, Heidelberg Schloss. Not only was it a vampire party in a castle, but there was the option for a horror themed buffet at the castle restaurant as well. I bought my ticket, and spent the next bit planning: bought a dress, but it didn’t look quite right, so I bought a corset too; makeup; jewelry; train tickets for the S-Bahn to Heidelberg-Altstadt; hotel room for one night, walking distance from the castle.
Finally the day came. I overcame my curmudgeonly urges to stay home and go hiking instead, and walked to the train station. I was nearly 20 minutes early for a train that arrived 5 minutes late, so I got to watch other trains slide by and stir up the cold wind. ‘I really should buy an actual scarf.’ (I have had this thought probably 20 times since I got here. still haven’t bought an actual scarf). My train arrived and I boarded and found a seat, facing south and looking forward.
The train ride was smooth and uneventful. I watched the people that boarded and then left, and the landscapes roll by. Crossing the Rhine is always super impressive, it reminded me of crossing the Mississippi back when we drove to Michigan. The views from the train are quite different than from the highways, I had no idea there were a bunch of tiny-house communities near the railroad tracks. they looked pretty well put together but only a step or two away from being shanty towns; The ramshackle tiny homes had the occasional solar panel and all of them had little gardens.
I arrived to Heidelberg and walked to my hotel. It was hard to find how to get into the hotel because it is at the top of a parking structure and apparently the only way to access it is via the parking structure elevator, and I didn’t see any signs that said that. I eventually found it and checked in, and the view from my room directly to the castle was breathtaking. This was going to be a super cool night.
I got ready and headed out to the castle after dark. The structure was lit up and the pathways to the castle are open to the public 24/7, even if the castle itself is closed. The hike up was rather steep, and my wool cape was actually a little warmer than I needed as I huffed and puffed in my corset and boots up the hill. I got sat at a table “for the people who came alone” where 3 other people were sitting, 2 American gentlemen working in Munich to open a new office for CCG, a company responsible for Pokémon trading cards, and a German lady. We all immediately made friends. The buffet was excellent, and included a wine buffet along with whatever cocktails and drinks one could want.
I was pretty toasty by the time my coworker arrived to the party, and after checking my cape, joined the party in earnest. There were two dance floors, one in the ground floor of the main castle, where Germany’s biggest cask has been since it was built in the 1700s. It can hold 68,000 liters of wine, mirroring the crowd dancing to the DJ sets.
Upstairs was a different, fancier dance floor with a different, more pop-music focused DJ. I linked up with my coworker friends and bopped around a bit with them, then lost them after we went out for some fresh air. My new German friend from the restaurant found me on the stairs on the way back up to the dance floor, so I linked up with my new friends, and was herded up to the stage to dance. I am so happy I remembered to purchase, bring, and wear earplugs to the party!
After dancing at the front I lost both my drink and my new friends, found my old friends, and acquired another drink (water this time, cause I’m smart.) We people-watched for a while, as there were some really intricate costumes circulating, and I watched several ballroom and swing dancers find small spaces to dance. At some point the dance floor got far too warm, and I started getting rather tired, so I took my leave of both sets of friends (found the new ones on the stairs again, taking photos in the deep castle window), and weaved my way back to the hotel. Thankfully my corset has a side zipper so I took it off while I hiked back to the hotel, proud of myself for both remembering how to get back and not tripping or stumbling.
The headache I woke up with was not as bad as I was expecting, and I did not wake up as late as I expected. The hotel breakfast was perfect post party food, consisting of breads, lunch meats, some weird egg salad sort of things, fruit, and coffee. I packed up my party clothes and headed out to walk around the castle in the daylight before I caught the train home.
The hotel receptionist had mentioned some stairs to reach the castle and had recommended the footpath for getting to the party, rather than going up the stairs. I was curious so I went up the stairs to the castle. It felt like approximately 68,000 steps, but it’s actually more like 315. It was like time travel walking up, the old style houses with their little terraced gardens, their only access from these very steps.
When I got to the top and reached the castle battlements, the view was stupendous. A crow landed a couple meters from me, hopeful I might have food for him. I told him in German that I had no food for him, but thanked him for joining me, so he politely posed for a couple photos before flying off.
The vast expanse of the castle was lovely to explore, with a bunch of really neat statuary, various carvings, and views for days. I heard what sounded like parrot screeches, and ended up seeing a flock of wild ringed parakeets flying around being adorable. They have apparently naturalized in the area since the ’70s.
Finally, I hiked back down the hill on a different path and walked over to the train station, 10 minutes early to catch my train, which came on time. When I got home, Sensi wasn’t even mad, so all in all this small trip was a huge success. The S-Bahn was easy to navigate since I found a direct line with no transfers, and Heidelberg is a truly beautiful historical city. I am very excited to go back and explore more of the old medieval streets and go to some of the museums there.
Today I discovered that my bike has a “walking assistance” mode. I found this out about a kilometer into the nearly 9km walk home from Landstuhl, where my apparent slow leak turned into a fast leak. Of course it was the front wheel, making it hard to steer.
I recently got an ADAC (ah-de-ah-tse) membership which has a neat feature where they will assist you with your car or bicycle breakdown. The wait for assistance was 2 to 3 hours. Google maps said it would take me an hour fifty six to walk home.
I set out with the intention to do a loop to the north east of my house. It would be about 20 miles and go on the bicycle highway and some other neat attractions. 4ish miles in, though, and the road was closed, and not in the closed for most but not us bikes kind of way. Apparently it was blocked with significant amounts of trees downed on the trail.
I went back to the gallows along the road (they even had the nooses hung, along with a sign explaining the gallows site from the 30 years war) and found a different komoot tour to do. This one would be a few more miles, but it was beautiful out and I was feeling good.
This new loop would take me around several villages then through Ramstein to Landstuhl, and I planned on just skipping closing the loop and heading home on Kaiserstraße.
The landscape was breathtaking, green fields, forests and a river running alongside the bike trail. I went over several very cool bridges, and under a few others. Off to the said at one point there was a herd of dark gray sheep grazing next to the river.
Shortly before Steinwenden, I hit a patch of black ice in a turn, and my bike nearly came out from under me. I have no idea what correction my muscle memory did on my behalf, but I stayed upright and the only evident damage was smacking my left knee on the frame of the bike. I am pretty sure a really decent bruise is going to develop there.
Things became familiar when I got to Ramstein,and I now know what path to take when I ride my bike to work eventually. Right as I got to Landstuhl I noticed my front tire was getting noticeably flat. Oh no.
A cyclist ahead of me stopped momentarily and I tried to ask if he had a pump. He did not but pointed the direction to a gas station. I walked the bike there, and by the time I arrived, the tire was completely flat. The gas station could not fill my presta-stemmed tire, but even if it could I’m pretty sure my encounter with the black ice caused the tire to get pinched and develop a slow leak. Either that or I ran over something sharp somewhere. Either way I’d need a patch.
Other than my quads being rather annoyed at me for walking 5.5 miles after an 18 mile bike ride, the walk home from Landstuhl was rather pleasant. Several people asked if they could help and I explained in my bad German that I was ok and walking home was not so bad.
I got home, having been gone a total of 4 hours. I’m definitely feeling it, but yesterday my IKEA winged back chair came in so I can now relax in the living room with a cat on my lap and probably take a hot bath later. Good thing the bike has walking assistance.
Margarine is Murder 