First, back to Munich, early morning. Ellie woke late, after a long time finding it hard to get to sleep last night. I woke early. 5AM. It’s not hard for me to get to sleep, but very hard to sleep much past 5 or 5:30—even, it seems, with the time change. I got up, did my half-hour's meditation, and downloaded yesterday’s pictures to the laptop. Then started on the text of the blog entry for Saturday. Then went back to bed and tried to sleep some more. No luck. Then read a bit of “The Teachings of the Buddha.” Then gave that up and got up again and found the hotel’s connection to the Internet, got online, and posted the blog. This took quite a while because there were so many pictures I wanted to upload, and I’m not too skilled at the process yet. Then I waited for Ellie to wake up.
We had a pleasant buffet breakfast down in the hotel restaurant, and returned to our room to repack everything ready for our half-past-noon departure from the train station across the street. What a chore! Ever notice that the suitcases seem to get smaller every day when you’re traveling? How does that happen—especially if you’re not buying anything in particular. Ah well, we finally got everything stuffed back into the bags and had time to spare to watch a few minutes of a fascinating television report on Scientology from the BBC.
An easy walk across the street to catch our train, which left the station precisely, to the minute, on time. Scary. Wasn’t it Adolf Eichmann who made sure the trains ran on time? And unkind thought. But five minutes later, we were passing merrily through Dachau… Hmmm. And here I am now on board a comfortable train, riding through a landscape of exquisite rural green fields, woods, and hedgerows, and bringing the text of the blog up to date while I have the chance.
We completed our train journey without incident at Nuremberg station, and were about to search amongst our papers for the address for the place to meet our cruise boat when we were accosted by a pleasant young man who had noticed the red “Viking Cruise” tags on our baggage. We thought he might be a fellow traveler, but no, he turned out to be none other than the cruise manager, Frank, himself on business in town, who made things easy for us in finding the address and a taxi to take us there.
We were soon on board and duly registered, and over a buffet lunch met up with a couple from Arizona who recommended a visit to the Documentation Center of the Nazi Party Rally Grounds: it was here that Hitler staged his now infamous pre-war national rallies, to summon the sinews of all good Germans to support his odious cause. A taxi brought us there, and we were astounded by the sight of the immense stadium building
which would have dwarfed the Coliseum in ancient Rome if it had ever been completed. It wasn't. Proportionate to Hitler's demented ego, the massive ruin survived him, having never once been put to use.
The Documentation Center was, as promised, a detailed and painstaking documentation of the intended role of this architectural relic, and of the city of Nuremberg in promoting the Nazi agenda through its annual rallies. The permanent exhibition is aptly named “Fascination and Terror”, though it’s hard, these days, to understand the “fascination” of the shrill rants of that loathsome little man with the absurd moustache. To watch the story of the spell he cast on countless numbers of his fellow citizens in order to lead them into war and genocide is to be puzzled, all over again, by the perversity of human nature. Most pleasing was to see the numbers of German museum visitors and the seriousness with which they gave their attention to this dark episode in their past.
The center was well worth the visit, then. Perhaps the best view came at the end of the carefully planned museum tour, where the visitor is led out onto a cantilevered platform, reaching out over a corner of what was to have been the vast amphitheater, where the multitudes were to gather to salute the Fuehrer and venerate the Vaterland…
Such grandiosity! As Byron wrote, “Look on these works, ye mighty, and despair.” “Ozymandias.” Did I get the quote right? Pretty close I think.
Back to the boat for a quick shower—it’s unbelievably warm here for this time of year, and the shower was a necessity—and off to the general assembly of our fellow passengers where our own leaders gave forth about the details of our cruise, including our friend the cruise manager, Frank. Then a good, four-course dinner in the spacious dining room at the stern of the boat and, afterwards, a quick tour of the boat in the gathering dusk, and a brisk walk along the bank of the canal which will lead us, soon, into the Danube.
An early bed tonight, as soon as I have finished and saved this entry.
MONDAY
Another short night of sleep for me. It must be the time change. I woke at half past three and managed only to doze until 5:30, when I climbed up to the upper deck for my half-hour’s meditation. I guess one of the benefits of the practice is that I don’t lie there and fret too much when I can’t sleep. Instead of “tossing and turning,” I watch the breath. If I manage to do it right…
A good buffet breakfast in the dining room, just the two of us at a small table at the back. Very pleasant. Then back to the cabin for a shower and change ready for the 8:30 departure, on three buses, for a tour of Nuremberg.. The tour took us first to where we went yesterday, the Nazi rally area where we saw, this time, not only the coliseum-like structure with the newly-added Documentation Center, but also the vast Zeppelin Field where the great marches took place and where Hitler strutted his stuff before the adoring masses. You could almost hear the roar of ten thousand ghosts.
The tour led us on, actually driving into that vast, unfinished stadium we viewed yesterday from above, and then into the city of Nuremberg, where we learned a great deal about the history from our able tour guide. An important part of that history, of course, is its role as host to the trials of the WWII Nazi war criminals, and the prison where the most prominent among them were executed. It was here that Hermann Goering escaped the hangman’s noose by poisoning himself three hours before he was due to make his final appearance on the scaffold. We made a stop at that famous courthouse,
and afterwards drove past the site of the executions. A little ghoulish, perhaps, but a healthy reminder of the history. And a challenging thought for Buddhists: is it justifiable for us, as a society, to do away with such monsters as Hitler and Goering? Is it perhaps even necessary, to purge the world of their presence?
We drove on. Passing by the medieval gates and moats that once protected the city, we stopped in the shadow of the ancient wall and de-bused for a tour of the castle, with its great view down over the panorama of city roofs.
Our walking tour took us down to one of the landmarks of the city, the Golden Founatin,
now no longer a fountain but a delight of gilded fantasy. From there, we were free to wander through the market place and the old town for an hour before returning on the buses to our boat. The ship set sail, if that’s the right term for what is basically an elaborate canal barge, while we ate our lunch, and is now proceeding through a series of locks in the direction of Regensburg.
This afternoon we watched the dramatic process of raising the twenty thousand ton boat a matter of some eighty feet to reach the higher stretch of canal above.
Later, we hear, the locks will lead us in the opposite direction, downhill—the waterman’s way to cross a mountain. For me, now , a good snooze to catch up on last night, and to escape the heat. It has been unusually hot for this time of year all day, as indeed it was yesterday. Global warming, I guess.
Post-snooze: a great nap—an hour’s good sleep, and I woke feeling much refreshed. Went up to the top deck around five o’clock and was grateful to find the it has cooled considerably. Sitting at the ship’s bow, I caught a pleasant breeze off the water as we moved gently along between the banks of the canal,
and enjoyed the gorgeous view: green rolling hills and farmlands, groves of trees and the occasional neat little village, small groups of houses and farm buildings and churches topped by spires or those Bavarian onion domes. Couldn’t stop taking pictures of this wonderfully picturesque landscape.
I took a shower and changed in time for the official greeting ceremony in the lounge, with free (!) champagne. (They really get you on the incidentals here!) There was a brief welcoming speech in German from our Captain, translated by our friend Frank, the cruise manager who had by happy chance met us at the train station, followed by introductions to the other department heads, including our executive chef.
Then it was time for the “Captain’s Dinner”—a five-course affair which started with a cold hors d’oeuvre and led through consomme and a hot hors d’oeuvre to the entree (I chose the veal, Ellie had fish) and a good dessert. Altogether, an excellent meal.
We took a moonlight stroll on the lower deck and stayed around for a short while to watch the evening’s entertainment—a glass-blowing demonstration which proved to be a good deal more entertaining than we might have thought. The glass-blower was extraordinarily adept and easy with his craft, and his patter was consistently cheery and interesting. His father, from whom he evidently learned his skill, goes across to the US frequently to pass on his skills at the Dale Chihuly school in the state of Washington. Despite the interest, though, we did not manage to hold out to the end, but chose instead to retire to our cabin for a reasonably early bed at 10:30PM.
