I enjoyed one of the most filling breakfasts offered yet in my travels, from the guesthouse where I stayed last night, in the small town of Reutte, Austria. Crusty rolls, plates of meat and cheese, a basket of mixed jams and honey spreads, and fresh juice made for a delicious start to the day.
I met a nice family from Colorado -- Ralph and Pat brought their two college-age daughters with them for a two-week trip through Germany, Austria, and Switzerland. Unfortunately, they've been caught in the same weather pattern I have. But my heart went out to them. Much as I hate the rain, I know at some point it will end, and the sun will come out again. And I will travel on. When I met them, they were on their way back to Munich for their return flight back to the States... so many dreams probably dashed by this European Monsoon.Nevertheless, I was here to see the famous Neuschwanstein, the "holiday house" created by more-or-less mad King Ludwig II, who was obsessed with Wagner's opera icons, including swans, dragons, knights, and damsels in distress.
I learned that the erratic bus schedule from Reutte to Fussen was going to create transportation havor for me -- the next bus out didn't leave until noon, which was hours away, and wouldn't leave me much time to get to the castle and back. Luckily, the Austrian group also staying at the hostel was heading in that general direction (putting up with all that commotion last night turned out to be not worth nothing), and offered to give me a lift to within a 15-minute walk of town. Rain drizzled as we drove along hte Alp-lined roads between northern Austria and southern Germany. If not for the dense clouds hovering above us, the views would have been spectacular.
Arriving at the bend where the busload went one way and I went the other, I waved goodbye to my Austrian friends and started trekking in what I hoped was the right direction into town. Every few minutes I'd pass a sign scribbled with Germany gobbledygook (hell if I knew what any of it said -- it was all Greek to me), and try to get my bearings.
About this time, my toes began feeling a bit numb, despite the fact that I was speedwalking. Let me explain. Three days before, in Munich, I was caught in a downpour in Englischer Gargen. Back at my hostel that night, I scrubbed out my shoes, which were caked with mud. But, as luck would have it, rainy day after rainy day meant that what was wet, stayed wet, and instead of drying out, my own decent pair of shoes was beginning to smell of rot. Not exactly wearing condition. So now, they were soaking in a bucket (converted trash can) of detergent back in my hostel room and I was traversing the Alps in my barely-there leather sandals.The only other drawbacks at this point, aside from the fact that I had no map or clue how to reach the castle, was that my rainjacket had somehow managed to disappear over the past couple of weeks… not that I had known it until just a few days before, when I finally broke down and emptied my entire pack, desperate to find something to put between me and the rain that didn’t ever seem to let up. The last time I remembered seeing it was weeks ago on my overnight train to Nice, when I had used it as a makeshift pillow. I had a sinking feeling that it somehow never made it off the train.
Passing a well-placed rack of rainjackets, I started browsing, until the €79 price tag caught my eye. Yikes, with one little purchase I was about to undo two full days of my Europe budget. (Let’s not mention the fact that I spent nearly €100 several weeks ago in Spain…. But that was different…. How do you say “NO!” to a red silk dress from Spain?) Then, I found my kind of store – with a bright orange, 100% waterproof jacket hanging near a sign proudly declaring that my would be purchase was only going to set me back €15. Wanting to thaw out my toes and try this jacket on for size, I headed inside, only to discover there were a few more shopping bargains under my nose. €52 later, I left with two pair of pants, matching tanks, a workout outfit, jeanskirt, miniature speakers for my iPod… and the rainjacket to boot Fussen – I came for the castle and left with my arms filled with clothes! Now that my back was dry and I could feel my toes again, I headed off to resume my search for the castle.
After getting lost in the woods, I managed to find a Tourist Information officer who pointed me to the Fussen train station. Suddenly I realized what should have been obvious, and chastised myself for not realizing it sooner. Despite Rick Steves’ suggestion to use Reutte as my base to explore the castle of Schwangau, I could have much more easily stayed in Munich and day-tripped by train! Oh well, here I was at the train station, and just in time – the hourly bus departing for the castle had just pulled up to the bus stop. Halfway up to mountain, I struck up a conversation with two San Diego U students on a 2-week European holiday and Bethany, a too-mature-for-her-age 23-year-old who, in addition to reminding me of myself, had spent the past three years actually doing what I had been dreaming of – travelling the world. We spent a good long while talking “shop,” especially about her most recent travels, from Jordan to Turkey and through Eastern Europe, nearly the exact opposite of the route I was attempting. I was intrigued by the experiences she recounted to me. It seemed that my instinct was right – not only could it be done, and done safely, but travel through these regions was culturally stimulating in ways that Europe could scarcely compete with. I was hooked.After being nickeled and dimed for bus and admission tickets to continue on up to Neuschwanstein, we arrived, at the foot of Mary’s bridge, from where the castle can be seen against its backdrop of encircling mountains. No sooner had we set foot on the bridge, but rain began to fall, turning suddenly to huge, wet snowflakes. As we stood there, several hundred meters above a furious waterfall (on a rickety wooden-planked bridge!), an unexpected snowfall blanketed everything in sight. The storm clouds gathered thickly, and soon even the castle itself was lost from sight. No matter that it was nearly June – here in the upper reaches of Schwangau, the temperatures were hovering around 4 degrees Celcius (38 F).
We climbed the path leading to Neuschwanstein and waited anxiously for our timed entry to the castle to begin. (It wasn’t so much being overcome to excitement about the castle itself, not that I wasn’t looking forward to a glimpse into the mind of Mad Ludwig. But mostly, I was starting to lose total feeling in my toes, and at this point, self-preservation instincts were starting to kick in.) €9 buys you a 35-minute whirlwind tour of the finished portions of the castle, which Ludwig ordered to be constructed at the expense of his kingdom’s floundering economy. The interior was lavish and overwhelmingly medieval, quite unusual, given that its construction began in the 19th century. Among the highlights were a 2,000-lb chandelier in replica of a king’s jewelled crown, murals of knights and maidens painted on cloth canvases, and a grotto, complete with cave-like stalagtites and, originally, a running waterfall.
While the interior of the castle was a delicious visual teat, my memories of Neuschwanstein will forever be ingrained with images of frosted alpine mountaintops surrounding this fairytale castle, where I stood from a high bridge enjoying the scenery in a snow cloud myself!
~Melanie
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