Around Weimar
We cycled into Weimar at dusk and found shelter in an old vine-wrapped hostel in the center of town at 10 EUR per person. The hostel building used to be an old Soviet army station-house and bore many signs of its former incarnation, not all of them as quaint as an "Inventory of items in Toilet No 8." Thankfully one shower at a time could be coaxed into producing hot water, and our sleeping gear made the bunk beds reasonably comfortable. The hostel was almost empty of visitors, and was completely unstaffed except for the guy who came over to let us in after we followed the instructions pinned to the outside door and called his home phone.
We wandered around the town a bit before going to sleep and looked at the still-smoldering remains of the Weimar library, which had been one of the city's greatest treasures until just a day earlier, when a fire destroyed 30,000 volumes of ancient manuscripts, Luther bibles, Mozart's original music and countless other irreplaceable treasures. Had we begun our cycling in Weimar as we initially intended, we might have been some of the last people to see some of these works. Ironically, all the rare books were scheduled to be moved to a more fire-proof location within a matter of weeks before the tragedy.
The next morning we spent more time exploring the city of Goethe and Schiller, which according to Tonie, my unimeacheable source on German history, occupies an almost unrivaled place as the cultural and literary cradle of Germany. The city was as beautiful as any I have seen in this country, which is pretty high praise given the competition.
A few houses, however, looked abandoned, and Tonie explained that some of them were probably taken over by squatters, who not only lived there for free, but sometimes even opened simple eateries or cheap bars on the premises. On a whim, we popped into one of the empty-looking houses and shot some video of the drab interior. While we were filming, we suddenly ran into a man who was the house's rightful owner and was more than a little surprised to see us in his house. But when we explained that we were interested in the squatter culture and old houses, the man warmed up and gave us a guided tour of the place, which he had inherited and intended to spend his life renovating. It was a quite an amazing encounter, and I managed to catch much of his broken-English yet enthusiastic narrative on my camera, which shoots short and rather low-quality video clips.
After lunch we started down a bike path down the Ilm river to Naumburg, making a detour to view a massive gazebo-type structure made entirely of living vines. Finally, near the end of the day we came across one of the most welcome sights I could imagine at that point: a luxurious open-air swimming pool with sparkling clear water (at least it was before we entered it), diving boards, a water slide and a magnificent view of the surrounding hills.
Clean and relaxed, we camped in a remote corner of a harvested field, to the sounds of a German band in the distance singing uninspiring renditions of popular American songs. Although the band was probably quite a few miles away, the wind carried the sound in unpredictable patterns and created an illusion that the source kept moving around rather chaotically in the surrounding valleys. We decided to skip putting on the tent's rainproof cover that night and enjoyed views of a starry sky, which was unexpectedly brightened by the echoes of an unseen fireworks display. We thought we were probably missing out on the area's largest annual festival, but were quite content with the fact, hoping that any local farmers or hunters who might otherwise discover our hiding-spot would be merrymaking there as well.
We wandered around the town a bit before going to sleep and looked at the still-smoldering remains of the Weimar library, which had been one of the city's greatest treasures until just a day earlier, when a fire destroyed 30,000 volumes of ancient manuscripts, Luther bibles, Mozart's original music and countless other irreplaceable treasures. Had we begun our cycling in Weimar as we initially intended, we might have been some of the last people to see some of these works. Ironically, all the rare books were scheduled to be moved to a more fire-proof location within a matter of weeks before the tragedy.
The next morning we spent more time exploring the city of Goethe and Schiller, which according to Tonie, my unimeacheable source on German history, occupies an almost unrivaled place as the cultural and literary cradle of Germany. The city was as beautiful as any I have seen in this country, which is pretty high praise given the competition.
A few houses, however, looked abandoned, and Tonie explained that some of them were probably taken over by squatters, who not only lived there for free, but sometimes even opened simple eateries or cheap bars on the premises. On a whim, we popped into one of the empty-looking houses and shot some video of the drab interior. While we were filming, we suddenly ran into a man who was the house's rightful owner and was more than a little surprised to see us in his house. But when we explained that we were interested in the squatter culture and old houses, the man warmed up and gave us a guided tour of the place, which he had inherited and intended to spend his life renovating. It was a quite an amazing encounter, and I managed to catch much of his broken-English yet enthusiastic narrative on my camera, which shoots short and rather low-quality video clips.
After lunch we started down a bike path down the Ilm river to Naumburg, making a detour to view a massive gazebo-type structure made entirely of living vines. Finally, near the end of the day we came across one of the most welcome sights I could imagine at that point: a luxurious open-air swimming pool with sparkling clear water (at least it was before we entered it), diving boards, a water slide and a magnificent view of the surrounding hills.
Clean and relaxed, we camped in a remote corner of a harvested field, to the sounds of a German band in the distance singing uninspiring renditions of popular American songs. Although the band was probably quite a few miles away, the wind carried the sound in unpredictable patterns and created an illusion that the source kept moving around rather chaotically in the surrounding valleys. We decided to skip putting on the tent's rainproof cover that night and enjoyed views of a starry sky, which was unexpectedly brightened by the echoes of an unseen fireworks display. We thought we were probably missing out on the area's largest annual festival, but were quite content with the fact, hoping that any local farmers or hunters who might otherwise discover our hiding-spot would be merrymaking there as well.
posted by Dmitri Evseev at 8:53 PM
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