A surprise weekend

What is it about the sheer fact of something's being a surprise that makes it unbearably interesting? Reminds me of Chief Wiggum's exasperation with the Springfield children: "What is your kids' fascination with my Forbidden Closet of Mystery?!"

See, last week, Bert told me not to plan anything for that weekend, "weil wir weg sind." Away? We are? Where to? The response was just a grin. So of course I spent three days antsily stamping my feet until we finally began to pack a few overnight things on Saturday morning. He still wouldn't reveal our destination as we walked out the door -- until I turned to walk toward the train station, and he instead directed me toward an unfamiliar car.
"We're driving? Whose car is this?"
"Ours, for the weekend."
And, tossing our things in the back and a map and sandwiches in the front, we took off down the Autobahn, heading north.

We found ourselves, three hours and many a gorgeous winding road through tiny village later, checking into a lovely hostel with a view over the town of Mayen, north of the Mosel River. After a little walk around, we then drove up to Andernach for a bite to eat, and finally arrived at some kind of building out in the middle of nowhere between the two towns. "Aussteigen!" chirped Bert as he pulled a fluffy rolled-up blanket out of the back seat. Okay... we walked toward the building, and I realized it was some kind of cultural center. Bert produced two tickets at the door, and in we went.

Inside was a stage, with a floor in front of it containing no seats. Instead, a veritable army of music fans was sprawled on blankets and cushions, holding drinks and facing a stage set with chairs and dim lighting. We spread our own blanket against one of the walls so Bert could lean on it, and I on him; and before long, none other than Eric Fish -- the lead singer for one of my favorite German bands -- moseyed onto the stage and took a seat with his guitar! I had heard that he occasionally does an unplugged concert of his own music, without the rest of the band, but had never really made the effort to find out any further information. And here we were!


The concert was awesome. Two other guys (and their guitars) joined Fish, who occasionally swapped out his own instrument for a mandolin, and the three of them proceeded to sing some harmonies that vibrated right down into your very bones. Fish's genre is generally kind of a strange mix of "folk metal," and so unplugged, his eclectic style was even cooler. I never thought three guys on acoustic guitars could rock so hard! The crowd stomped their feet, sang along, and exchanged jokes and banter with the musicians. The atmosphere was cozy and intimate -- there were even candles on the stage! Bert and I even met some other cool people during the break.

The next day, we got up early and checked out in time to drive off into the morning mist, toward a national park with the uebercool name of Westerwald: "the Westwood." We spent pretty much all day walking through an autumny wonderland.


The midpoint of our hike was a high hill that emerged from the forest onto wide fields, with views of the surrounding golden woods and villages down below -- not long after our arrival, the bong of churchbells even started drifting up toward us! So we spread out the same picnic blanket and took an afternoon nap in the sunshine, before sharing a beer on the way back down through the rustling, late-afternoon woods. It was magical.

Even the drive back was gorgeous, as we chose to head south along the western bank of the Rhein between Koblenz and Bingen: a route popular for Rhein-river cruises, due to its thick concentration of riverside castles and the famous Loreley cliff across from St. Goar.

Where else are the freeways lined with random castles?

Did I mention I friggin love Germany??