Wieskirche:
Maybe I'm just not the type of person who can appreciate "Germany's most impressive Rococo Style Church," or maybe being soaked by cold rain at the the previous stop (Neuschwanstein) was the problem, but they compete with the commute for most likely reason we have no fond memories of Wieskirche.
Wieskirche is only a half-hour north of Neuschwanstein Castle if you actually know where you're going, but the psycho Tom Tom navigation lady (she and I have a history which I'll explore in later posts) who is built into the car and, therefore, impossible to rip out, sent us to a completely different church of a similar name in the middle of a field where the only passing traffic (and this is completely true) was a suspicious-looking man on a tractor. Now, in the farmer's defense, his expression could have been due in part to my husband standing half naked (from the waist up) behind our car which was behind the church in the middle of absolutely nowhere. And a point worth noting here is that the car and the church were nearly the same size. I should also mention that the only mud puddle in the vicinity of said church was directly behind our car's trunk because that's where my husband's clean, dry shirt landed when he grabbed it from the drying rack (aka the top of the suitcases), my shirt came along for the ride, and he dropped his shirt to save mine. In sacrificing his clothing for mine, my husband got to wear a day-old shirt and see his wife hug the steering wheel while laughing. He appreciated neither.
I'm not sure what the rules are for cursing and proximity to church, but if it's prohibited within 20 feet, he could be in trouble.
Now, as I say, I don't know Rococo style from Baroque and I can't even hear the word "Rococo" without silently adding "Rocky" to the beginning. So, by the time my husband explains the concept for the fourth time, I'm knee deep in thoughts of Midwestern pizza. But I know how to nod and say, "Aha," at all the right times so he won't know I'm a fraud until he reads this post.
In any event, Wieskirche was mostly white inside with gilt-edged colorful paintings above altars of red and green marble. There was symbolism everywhere and a miracle attached to a statue, but I didn't get it, or maybe I was too grumpy, tired, and cold to get it because....
Neuschwanstein Castle:
That morning we woke up early to drive to Germany, to stand in line to buy tickets to see Neuschwanstein Castle (soggy picture below).
Just for clarification purposes, we booked online and paid a booking fee in order to have the opportunity to buy tickets at 9:00 AM. They actually make you make an appointment to buy the tickets. And since buying a ticket is in fact making an appointment to enter the castle, they are asking you to make an appointment to make an appointment. If this isn't bad enough, they will charge you the booking fee and the cost of admission if you are more than five minutes late for your appointment to buy your tickets.
If you are on time to buy your tickets, you have an hour to stand in line for a shuttle bus (enter cold rain; no umbrellas; two buses full of Japanese tourists who like to cut lines; and no hope of making it to the front of the shuttle line, or the top of the mountain, by the allotted time on the ticket).
If you're late in arriving to the castle gates when they call your tour group number (they do this twice within a five minute period), you're out the ticket price, the booking fee, and the time you spent standing in two lines in the cold, driving rain cursing at people who think you don't notice when they turn around to join the line in front of you instead of staying in the line behind you (this is where stanchions and ropes delineating snaking lines could be very handy).
In any event, we got out of the shuttle bus line after 15 minutes of not moving and took a horse and buggy ride to the top. It cost 24 Euro. The driver was nice, but the burping and gas-related noises (I wish I were only talking about the horses) sent the kids into loud bouts of laughter we couldn't control. After forcing our kids to use their indoor voices for several days so as not to be dubbed ugly Americans, defeat at the altar of crude humor felt particularly bitter. And did I mention we were cold?
We made it to the gate on time and the castle was lovely and we were much less cold a half-hour later when the tour ended and we were hurriedly led into the castle gift shop--apparently Neuschwanstein learned something from Disney World too.
Heidiland:
This one I feel particularly badly about since I've been a fan of Heidi since before Menudo made it big.
We traveled there the day after sleeping in the car which clearly isn't Heidi's fault, but the pictures on the signs displaying her as a brunette need to be blamed on someone. Now, I have no problem with brunettes. Some of my friends and three percent of my relatives are brunettes. I know of important people in literature who happen to be brunettes, but there is no way I'm willing to envision Heidi among them.
So, that had nothing to do with why we didn't enjoy the Heidiland, but I can't put my finger on the real reason. Maybe it was a let down after seeing Ebanalp. I can't say. What I do know is that upon my pointing out a beautiful Alpine home on a meadow clearing half-way up a mountain, my husband (the man who has read three different travel books for each country we're visiting, and the man who has been living and breathing this trip for over a year) said, "Yeah, whatever."
Brunette or not, I took offense on Heidi's behalf and we headed to Liechtenstein soon after.
Liechtenstein:
Liechtenstein's two major exports are stamps and false teeth. I don't know why this matters, but it colors one's opinions when driving into Vaduz, the capital city. The palace of the Crowned Prince on the mountainside (pictured below) also makes an impression, but one can't pinpoint if it's a privileged or a lonely one.
Liechtenstein is the only country on the planet named after a family--a Prince who purchased lands from more senior (and bankrupt) feudal lords. Though you know this going in, it doesn't feel very old and there is no sense of a distinct national history or identity. In fact, upon seeing a picture of the Royal Family, the boy looked at the small prince and said, "He looks Swiss... if you remove the smile."
The city is clean and the people are as happy as you imagine people with low taxes, plenty of stamps and good dentures could be. We stayed a few hours, then went to Feldkirch.
Author of: Letters to Salthill
