Today is the sixth day of our trip to Europe. It’s been raining a lot. But that’s okay.
I’m just happy to be here.
We’re on a tour of the German Christmas Markets. OMG – doesn’t that sound like such a Baby Boomer thing to do? And of the 43 folks on our bus – it’s nice and cosy – something like 40 are over the age of 55.
Makes me want to ask the three who are in their 30’s what the hell they were thinking.
But we’re a pretty perky group on the whole and very friendly. And very homogeneous. It’s like being in the middle of Celebration, FL. With three 30 somethings thrown in.
We flew to Munich a day before our tour officially started. We like to try to beat jet lag by coming in early. It hasn’t happened yet, but we keep trying. The definition of insanity…
AGMA grew up watching the Wonderful World of Disney in the 1960’s. My little girl dream was to someday go to California and see Cinderella’s Castle in person. I finally got to Disneyland when I was 20. It was okay, but some of it’s magic had been lost in the intervening years. I grew up. Life happens.
Can you tell where this is going?
So we had an extra day in Munich last week. And Füssen is only a 2 hour train ride from Munich. And the glorious castle built by Mad King Ludwig, said to be Walt Disney’s inspiration for Cinderella’s Castle, is a 5 minute cab ride from Füssen.
Neuschwanstein Castle. Easy for you to say…
I can’t believe it’s taken me so long to get there. But oh my – it was worth the wait.
And it had all of the magic and enchantment that my six year old self expected from Walt’s pale copy. Even more. That’s pretty good for a cranky, jaded, old AGMA.
It was snowing in Füssen. Snow covered the ground, all of the trees and the castle. And the snowflakes were big and fat.
It was one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen. It left me speechless. You can imagine how rarely that happens…
If I do nothing else on this trip, Neuschwanstein was worth the price we paid.
Oh – and the würst. Right now, I’m stuffed with würst. Weisswürst, bratwürst, currywürst, mettwürst, and other unknown yet delectable würsts. I eat it all. With mustard, if you please.
And beer. Lots and lots of beer. That might explain my bloodshot eyes.
So my semi-svelte runner´s body is turning into a big roly poly. I’m now starting to look like the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man. Just call me AGMAwürst.
But who know when or if I’ll ever get back to Germany. So I’m going to enjoy the local food and drink with reckless abandon. Until the acid reflux starts to act up…
I’ll worry about the pounds, cholesterol and bloodshot eyes next week after we get home.
You only live once my friends.