Strassenfest der Werbegemeinschaft d’Lugwigstrasser
Strassenfest der Werbegemeinschaft d’Lugwigstrasser
Yesterday, I went to a street festival (the title is not literally translated) while Mark went to bike and hike without anyone to slow him down. I successfully maneuvered the roads and parking to find Ludwigstrasse, a historic street in Partenkirchen with a church dating to 1637 and a hotel dating back to 1763 when it was a wine tavern belonging to a group of monks. Remnants of old farmhouses on the street and a grain storage dating back to 1602 provided a great setting for the fair.
My first sight as I turned the corner from the parking garage was a miniature railroad train with an authentic whistle driven by a huge man with small cars carrying young children. Next, I saw fair-like booths, antiques, homemade goodies, and crafts, but my main intention since time had passed since breakfast was to find a place to eat. I had all kinds of choices in addition to restaurants and booths. I was almost tempted to begin with sweets because of the huge bakery I passed where they were serving pizza-like pieces of apple, raspberry, plum and other fruit pies and frying up what looked like a cross between a funnel cake and a donut, but this one filled with cream. I made a mental note to come back there for dessert. I looked briefly at the boots on a shelf outside a shoe shop, and then turned around to look at the other side of the street. I passed tables where children were making picture frames and other craft-like items for themselves with the help of the staff of what might have been a school (there was a teacherly-type running the event).
Making my way through the streets, I heard four different German music groups with male players in leather leiderhosen (leather shorts with suspenders) and females in Bavarian dresses. Their accordions, guitars, and other instruments which I cannot name were delightful. One group was children about age 10 and 11; one group was all male; another was about eight men and women who were singing together; and the last was a man about our age on a synthesizer. As I sat to eat my pork sandwich (pork cooked on a grill and out of this world good), I thought what a pleasant voice he had and noted to myself, “Now I am hearing German music!” I say this because everywhere we go we hear American or English music, mostly oldies, but funny to us.
However, just as I was thinking this, his next song was a familiar one, “The Green, Green Grass of Home,” I think an old Tony Orlando song! As I finished my lunch, he was playing some Credence Clearwater Revival! I have decided that no one likes to be stereotyped with a certain kind of music and people should be allowed to play whatever kind of music they want, and perhaps finally hotels and restaurants play this because they have some English speaking guests, but I will ask our German cousins about why we have not heard German rap or rock or pop music when we visit them on Wednesday.
Having finished the first course of my meal, I went back to the bakery and purchased a cinnamon roll, just as crisp and sweet and not so gooey as those shopping mall Cinnabons. For our picnic today, I bought a piece of homemade cake from another booth and smoked summer sausage from the vendor; they call it Kamenwurst and I don’t have a literal translation for that word, though wurst is sausage.
Mark’s day consisted of biking up to the other gorge we have heard about. His photos of sheep, cows, and vistas were so good that I felt that I had been there myself without the wear and tear on my body! Last night we shared our day over dinner at the Asia City Restaurant in Partenkirchen and then walked along the river in Garmische, finding a restaurant for one of our remaining dinners in town. The best part of the day was that is did not rain!
Yesterday, I went to a street festival (the title is not literally translated) while Mark went to bike and hike without anyone to slow him down. I successfully maneuvered the roads and parking to find Ludwigstrasse, a historic street in Partenkirchen with a church dating to 1637 and a hotel dating back to 1763 when it was a wine tavern belonging to a group of monks. Remnants of old farmhouses on the street and a grain storage dating back to 1602 provided a great setting for the fair.
My first sight as I turned the corner from the parking garage was a miniature railroad train with an authentic whistle driven by a huge man with small cars carrying young children. Next, I saw fair-like booths, antiques, homemade goodies, and crafts, but my main intention since time had passed since breakfast was to find a place to eat. I had all kinds of choices in addition to restaurants and booths. I was almost tempted to begin with sweets because of the huge bakery I passed where they were serving pizza-like pieces of apple, raspberry, plum and other fruit pies and frying up what looked like a cross between a funnel cake and a donut, but this one filled with cream. I made a mental note to come back there for dessert. I looked briefly at the boots on a shelf outside a shoe shop, and then turned around to look at the other side of the street. I passed tables where children were making picture frames and other craft-like items for themselves with the help of the staff of what might have been a school (there was a teacherly-type running the event).
Making my way through the streets, I heard four different German music groups with male players in leather leiderhosen (leather shorts with suspenders) and females in Bavarian dresses. Their accordions, guitars, and other instruments which I cannot name were delightful. One group was children about age 10 and 11; one group was all male; another was about eight men and women who were singing together; and the last was a man about our age on a synthesizer. As I sat to eat my pork sandwich (pork cooked on a grill and out of this world good), I thought what a pleasant voice he had and noted to myself, “Now I am hearing German music!” I say this because everywhere we go we hear American or English music, mostly oldies, but funny to us.
However, just as I was thinking this, his next song was a familiar one, “The Green, Green Grass of Home,” I think an old Tony Orlando song! As I finished my lunch, he was playing some Credence Clearwater Revival! I have decided that no one likes to be stereotyped with a certain kind of music and people should be allowed to play whatever kind of music they want, and perhaps finally hotels and restaurants play this because they have some English speaking guests, but I will ask our German cousins about why we have not heard German rap or rock or pop music when we visit them on Wednesday.
Having finished the first course of my meal, I went back to the bakery and purchased a cinnamon roll, just as crisp and sweet and not so gooey as those shopping mall Cinnabons. For our picnic today, I bought a piece of homemade cake from another booth and smoked summer sausage from the vendor; they call it Kamenwurst and I don’t have a literal translation for that word, though wurst is sausage.
Mark’s day consisted of biking up to the other gorge we have heard about. His photos of sheep, cows, and vistas were so good that I felt that I had been there myself without the wear and tear on my body! Last night we shared our day over dinner at the Asia City Restaurant in Partenkirchen and then walked along the river in Garmische, finding a restaurant for one of our remaining dinners in town. The best part of the day was that is did not rain!
posted by Kathy Sohn | 3:40 PM
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