Marie Javins's Blog, page 47

Quirks

I was reading up on my JC house this morning in an article from 9/26/1895.

And now I have a new question. Or three.

Where is my well? What is in it? Can it be excavated, like a privy?

Is my house a red house secretly a buff (tan) house covered in reddish-brown paint?

Where can I find this speaking tube?

Funny How Things Work Out

When I was a college radio dj in southwestern Ohio, I remember talking to one of the classical announcers who asked about my plans for the future.

At this point in my life, I'd just learned it was possible to get a master's in pop culture or American studies, and mentioned I was considering doing that.

He was horrified and said so.

"You can't be serious. You'd have to write papers about Batman."

I remember the disconnect between us in the conversation. He was saying this like it was a bad thing.

Grocery Shopping

Cashier at the supermarket a few blocks from my Burbank condo: "You gonna go home and watch basketball on TV now?"

I stared at him a moment. I was certainly going home, yes. Not sure where else he'd think I was going with all these groceries I'd picked up for my empty kitchen after my trip to Europe.

The rest? What?

"Or baseball?" He added.

I was still struggling to respond. Was the World Series on? I was sure I'd have heard something about that. (It was,  I learned later, which shows you how little I follow sports events.) Did they even play basketball this time of year? Is there even an LA team? There must be. Wait...they had a famous guy for a while. Lakers? Why would an LA team be called Lakers? That can't be right. Los Angeles isn't famous for its lake. The Silver Lakers?

The guy could see I had no idea what he was talking about.

"Not into sports?"

"No, not really," I respond. "Shame on you."

I'd been shamed by a Vons cashier for not watching sports on television.

Gaping at Greenland

I glanced out of the window on my flight from Munich>Denver>Los Angeles.

Lo and behold. I've never seen this before. I didn't even know it was possible to get such a great view of Greenland from a commercial jet.

Independent Travel to Neuschwanstein Castle

Several months ago, when I was first told by my job I would be attending Frankfurt Book Fair, I attempted to book an entrance ticket for Neuschwanstein Castle. 

"Booking for this day is not possible." Was I too early? No. I tried again several times. Apparently, I was too late.

How could this be? Too late for a Sunday in October? The following Sunday had plenty of space. Oh well. 

I decided to just hang out in Munich on Sunday, October 20th, but then when I took an early train from Frankfurt to Munich on Saturday morning, then walked 26,299 steps (more than 11 miles, according to my Fitbit), I fit in pretty much everything I felt I absolutely had to see. The castle took precedence over any museums, and shops are closed in Germany on Sundays anyway, so I decided to wing it on public transit.

I know, I know. What's the big deal about public transit? Aren't you the queen of public transit, you may be thinking.

Sure. The train wasn't the problem. It was all the reports of ridiculous queues that seemed problematic. The castle isn't the only thing King Ludwig's house has in common with Disney World.

I decided my sleeping schedule had been so erratic (thanks, jet lag), getting up at 5 a.m. to get the first train out would be easy. And it was. I'd purposely booked a hotel by the train station so as to avoid dragging my luggage all over Munich, so I was on the platform ten minutes after leaving my room at MARC Munchen. I was a bit early so I headed down the escalator to the Starbucks that opened at 4:30 (I'd scouted it out the night before), and that's how I was able to avoid one of my big early-travel problems now that I've been avoiding cow dairy. I'd learned to deal with soy lattes in Tokyo, but here in Germany, it's easy enough to find mandel milch, or almond milk. I've only seen one place with Oatly so far, but I've only been in the country for six days. (If I do MariesWorldTour 2021, I realize I'll have to go back to drinking black coffee like I frequently did in 2011, or switch back to moo-milk. That's far enough off I have no idea if I'll still be avoiding cow and goat dairy by then.)


I'd used the Deutsche Bahn app to get a mobile phone Bayern Ticket for the day. These are 25 euros and go from almost midnight to midnight on weekends. They work on the local trains, commuter trains, and the buses, so this covered my trains to and from as well as the buses on the Neuschwanstein end of things. I was on the 5:52 a.m. train to Füssen—the first direct train of the day—which arrived at 7:55. That worked for me, since the ticket office opens at 8:30 in the "off-season."

The train seems to be carrying straggling partiers from the night before, me, and a bunch of young Korean tourists. By the time it got to Füssen, the partiers had all disembarked.

The Korean college-age travelers and I spotted the bus as soon as our train pulled into Füssen, so we all rushed over to stop #5 to board. The #73 and #78 buses (see links to schedules at bottom of that page) both pull up at stop #5, where all the tourists pile in, then it goes ten minutes to Hohenschwangau/Castle. Everyone piles on at the same time and off at the same time, so you can't possible go wrong, but if you're worried, listen for the call-out on the bus speaker and watch for the bus stop by the tourist information center. Remember you can show the driver your Bayern Ticket so you won't have to pay for the bus. I'd looked up the times for the buses in advance, so I was aiming for the 0805 bus, but this one was a little early.


Once off the bus, we all rushed up the hill to the ticket center. There are signs telling you where to go once you're off the bus. We all lined up and waited for the 8:30 opening, then surged in through the winding queue, like when you're at an airport or Disney World. I was in maybe the third row from the front, and people with reserved tickets had their special own queue. I glared at them with jealousy.

A screen indicated availability and I watched as each slot evaporated. Tours start at 10, and I figured I'd get close to that and be on the 12:05 train back to Munich, latest. But no. By the time I'd gotten to the counter, the earliest I could get was a 10:55 audio tour. (You're not allowed in the castle on your own.)

My ticket and I stopped at an overpriced cafe for a snack I neither needed nor wanted, but what else was I going to do until 10? I headed to the shuttle bus a bit on the early side, packed on with a tour group.

The shuttle bus is 3 euros return, and it goes to Mary's Bridge, a scenic if somewhat terrifyingly high lookout. Which you can do even if you don't score a ticket into the castle.

Next, I walked about ten minutes downhill to the castle courtyard—you can go here too without a ticket. If you just can't get a ticket, you could do everything I'd done so far without a purchase.

In the courtyard, everyone milled about waiting for their entrance time to be called. Mine was tour #435, and when 435 flashed on the screen, I was first in line to go through the turnstile. I still had a notion I could whiz through at my own pace. Wrong. You go through with a guide, who tells you when to stop and start, and you will go at the pace they tell you to go at. There would be no 12:05 return for me.

The tour is pretty good. You can do the entire trip without actually going on the tour, and it would save you a lot of aggravation as far as acquiring a ticket, but that's a last resort since if you'd come all the way here, you might as well go see the intricate detail of King Ludwig's palace. I'm not going to say it's missable, because it's cool. But I can see how it might be tempting to just take in the views and then head back to Munich. I almost, but not quite, recommend doing exactly that.

By the time I got the shuttle bus back down the mountain and walked to the #73/78 bus stop, it was one minute after the 11:46 bus back to Füssen, so I took my time and stopped in souvenir shops. But then I saw a bus leaving and realized they don't necessarily adhere to the schedule on big tourism days. They just show up whenever. I went to line up for the bus, which is at a sign that says BUS TO FUSSEN. Again, you really can't miss it.

The bus showed up (marked FUSSEN) after a few minutes and carted us all back to the train station.

The next train wasn't until 2:05 p.m., though, so everyone headed out into Füssen to see what they could find.

Except for me and about 8 Korean college students. We'd all worked out the connecting train schedule. We grabbed carryout sandwiches and boarded the 1:05 AUGSBURG train. I took it as far as KAUFBEUREN, where there's a connecting Munich train. You can also connect at the next stop BUCHLOE. You're connecting to the same Munich train, so it doesn't matter which stop you change at. I chose Kaufbeuren because it had a few more minutes connecting time, and I didn't know what to expect when I got there.

What I found was the Kaufbeuren-Munich train arrived on the same track as my previous train, just a few minutes early.

Dead easy.

As a bonus, these two trains were nearly empty, much nicer than the packed direct train of the morning. But this connection was not on the DB app—I'd had to work it out myself.

Just after 3 p.m., I was back in Munich, heading over to my room to take off my shoes and rest before packing. 

Tomorrow's destination? Los Angeles.

To Bavaria

I boarded the 6:29 a.m. train out of Frankfurt this morning, my work duties done.

Holiday mode activate! A’schnitzeling I shall go!

Though it's a short holiday as I fly back to LAX on Monday. More a mini-holiday than an actual vacation.

I was in my Munich hotel near the train station by 10:30 a.m.

I've never been to Munich before, for complicated reasons. Not that complicated, I guess. Everyone has that ex they don't like to think about, the one where things went horribly wrong and you don't let them out of the dark recesses of your brain, and mine is Bavarian—Herr Marlboro—from a small town near Munich. He's in Stalking the Wild Dik-Dik, nicknamed this in my work because when I met him, he was wearing his sister's brown leather trousers and riding his XT-Tenere home from doing development work in Nyala. Like a German Marlboro man. (I usually nickname people in my books unless they have given me permission to name them, and given we weren't on speaking terms by the time the book came out, I couldn't very well ask him.)

Anyway, that was all a long time ago and I think he's working in the Philippines now anyway. No, the internet says Mongolia. Whatever.

So finally, fourteen years later, there was no reason to let Bavaria bother me. So here I am.

Helping Out at Frankfurt Book Fair

Frankfurt Book Fair. The largest trade book fair in the world.

A woman in gold lamé trousers walks up to me and a colleague at the DC booth.

"Are you publisher?"

"Um...yeah." (nervous glances, not sure where this is going.)

"I am writer!"

She's beaming and reaching into her bag to pull out her manuscript.

We stopped her short with "Sorry, we make comics," but I have to give her points for ballsiness.

Friends and their Books

I read up on the Frankfurt Book Fair and studied my guidebook on the plane.

This might be the only time I page through Publishers Weekly to find two different books by two different friends reviewed on the same page.

Connecting

Gah. 0457 train to the airport.

Good news though. My plan to stay right next to the Barceloneta train station (Estació de França) worked. I practically rolled out of bed and onto the commuter rail.

I have seldom stayed in a hotel in Barcelona, having only stayed in apartments up until the one time I stayed in an empty dorm, following that up with a stay in a Gracia hotel last year.

My regular apartment complex had space, but once I found listings for Hotel Santa Marta in Barceloneta right next to the train, I had an idea. I needed to get an early flight from Barcelona to Frankfurt on Monday, and if I stayed at my regular spot, I'd have to walk or get the metro up to the airport bus. What if, I thought, I caught the first train to the airport?

The later trains involve connections but this one is direct.

Easy-peasy. Bonus—the airport shut down later after protests. I was lucky to get out when I did. Imagine if I'd been sent to Frankfurt Book Fair and gotten stuck on my own plans in Barcelona. This would be a bad thing.

Caganer Jackpot

A caganer and souvenir store opened near my favorite Barcelona clothing store.

Most of the caganers sold in tourist districts these days are poor quality, but a few were better than the usual.

I bought the Putin one to add to my collection.