I awoke early, before my AirBnB hosts even got out of bed, left the flat keys on the desk and headed for the metro station to catch the train to Füssen, Germany. The train to Füssen was filled with tourists, eager to see the late King Ludwig’s Wagnerian dream castle, Neuschwanstein, which translates to New Swan Castle. Neuschwanstein is the fairy tale inspiration for Walt Disney’s Cinderella Castle in Disney World, with it’s towering spires built high on a hill surrounded by snow covered mountains and rapidly flowing rivers. The countryside surrounding the castle is green and fairly flat but very beautiful.
Our train arrived in the small town of Füssen, famous for one Europe’s most visited and dreamiest castles. It’s the stuff of storybooks and legends built by a young handsome king inspired by Wagner’s operas. Everyone rushed to bus 78, the one that would take us to the castles, one of which was inhabited by King Ludwig’s family and is situated on a gentle slope. We crammed into the bus and as we moved closer to our destination, we saw out the window, the hill shrouded in a blanket of thick fog, unable to see Ludwig’s castle.
When our bus arrived at the stop, we rushed out, some people madly ran up the hill to the ticket office, trying to get ahead of the much anticipated long line that we’ve all read about. When we reached the ticket office, a kind of glass shoebox structure, there was a queue for people with reservations and the longer line for people who didn’t make reservations. I stood in the queue for people who didn’t make reservations. I wasn’t sure when I was going to get to the castle, so I took my chances. The wait was not very long. I purchased a ticket just to visit Neuschwanstein and not the other castle, because I was anxious to figure out my next plan of action for later that day.
I paid a small fee to take a shuttle up the hill to Mary’s Bridge, which provides impressive views of the castle, a gorge and the surrounding mountains. The air was a bit chilly, but sizzled with excitement as people walked across the bridge, snapping photos of each other and gaping at the precipice below. I walked to the end towards a trail with signs warning visitors to enter at their own risk. The trail was narrow and wound around part of a hill, providing breathtaking glimpses of the mountains in the distance, barely visible in the fog. I liked the fog because it made the area feel dreamy and otherworldly, if only other people weren’t around to mar the surreal experience. I believe King Ludwig had a vision, appreciated the arts, and could have been an artist himself, to conceive of building this castle on top of a hill surrounded by wild untamed beauty. Many called him Mad King Ludwig building this castle made him very unpopular with his people, so much so that he died shortly after his dream castle was completed and only lived there for a few months.
I walked back to the bridge and finally caught a glimpse of the glorious and magical Neuschwanstein in the misty distance. I walked down the trail and followed the signs towards the castle gates where I waited for my reservation time to appear on a TV screen. They only accept small groups of people accompanied by a tour guide. When my reservation time appeared on the TV screen, I approached the guarded turnstiles and entered the castle where the tour began. Throughout the castle, you can look out the window to catch a glimpse of the mountains, forests and deep gorge, it’s like being in a castle in the clouds. The castle was built in the 19th century and had working plumbing, using the water from the mountains. Ludwig had a toilet that he could sit on like a throne. The swan motif is seen everywhere from door handles to sculptures and paintings. The throne room is impressive, filled by a chandelier that resembles a crown. I kept trying to imagine this young handsome king gracefully walking through his castle, admiring the works of art and looking out his window, while listening to Wagner. A stage was created for the performance of Wagner’s operas, with elaborate sets and paintings.
When I left the castle, the fog had cleared and the castle was revealed, above it was a cerulean blue sky with large clouds lazily blowing by. Crowds of people took photos of each other with the castle in the background. I felt a little melancholy, and made my way down the path towards the summit of the hill to take my bus back to Füssen. I had to figure out where I was going next and how I was going to get there. I took the bus back to Füssen and looked for the correct bus stop for the bus that would take me to Reutte, Austria. I waited for some time even when the bus was scheduled to arrive but it didn’t show up. The skies turned gray and heavy. I felt a chill as I waited with two young Japanese men also waiting for the same bus to arrive. I found a different bus and asked the driver if it would take me to Reutte, where I would take the train to Garmisch-Partenkirchen. He said it would take me to another town and I would need to take a train from there to Garmisch-Partenkirchen. It started to rain and the bus felt hot as a group of young men sat around me. I was nervous as I gazed at the chilly dark skies surrounding the lush hills. "Would I catch the correct train, where was I going and where would I sleep that night?” were questions I pondered. But for some reason it didn’t matter, because I would figure it out somehow. The transportation was so good in Germany and Austria, immaculate and modern.
The bus ended at my stop, in a small Bavarian village where I anxiously waited for my train. I walked around the village near the train station. It felt like a sleepy little town with not much to do, tranquil and relaxed. It felt like the kind of place where one would visit a grandparent, a place where you felt safe and carefree like a little child. At the train station, there was a child waiting for the train like me. It looked like his grandparents waited with him. He came to the bench I sat at, looked at the train table and smiled at me with his plump rosy cheeks, then said something to me in German. He ran back to his grandparents and the train approached. The train was a very small regional train, but very modern with large clean windows for viewing the countryside and mountains. The train slithered through valleys and past mountains to another train station, the station that would take me to Garmisch-Partenkirchen.
I hopped on another train and viewed the breathtaking landscape of Bavaria, passing grand snowy mountains, little villages dotted with gingerbread houses, lush pastures, through tunnels, winding and grinding our way to Garmisch-Partenkirchen. We passed by the largest mountain in Germany and I wished I had time to go up it, but it was too late in the day and the weather is unpredictable up there. It can get really cold and it’s a little expensive to take the cable car to the top of the mountain. I was thrilled with just seeing the mountains from the train.
When we arrived in Garmisch-Partenkirchen, a town once separate but joined together by the Nazis, I decided to stay there for the night to find a place to stay. I think it was a Sunday afternoon and most places were closed. I walked around parts of the town close to the station, pleased with finally visiting this little Bavarian town, once the host of the Winter Olympics. I wasn’t sure if I would find a place to stay at in this town and the first hotel I visited was rather expensive. This was the part of the trip I didn’t really plan, but thought I would try playing it by ear to see what would happen. I went into the next hotel, unsure about whether I would be able to afford a stay there. I had a feeling that the old man, dressed in traditional Bavarian attire, gave me a room discount of some sort, or maybe I just want to believe that he was a kind fellow that saw a single woman needing a nice place to stay at and he needed the business. The price was reasonable and included breakfast. When I arrived in the room with a single bed and looked outside my balcony window, I knew I made the right decision. I was so pleased with the view of the mountains from my room and with the accommodations.
Feeling weak and hungry, I went downstairs and sat in the hotel restaurant, which was quite nice and comfortable. I ordered a traditional Bavarian dish, pork knuckle with kraut and a pint of Bavarian beer. The pork knuckle delivered to my table by a young woman wearing a lovely dirndl, was substantial. But I was starving from my long exciting adventure and I would make the attempt to devour the large hunk of tender meat on my plate, swimming in juicy gravy with large potato balls, a meal for the hungry and weary after a long day of working in the fields or hiking in the mountains. I ate until I couldn’t eat another bite, satisfied and ready to rest in my room. I walked outside onto the balcony to take another gaze at the starry night sky and at the mountains. I remembered what my uncle Ben used to say to me, a truck driver who drove across the country for many years, dying less than a year after my aunt died. He said, “I don’t know why you would want to travel. It’s all the same. Every place is the same.” “No Uncle Ben,” I thought. “It’s not all the same. It really isn’t!” I felt water in my eyes as I gazed at the mountains in the distance, thinking about my day and the journey I’ve had in Europe. I felt grateful and joyful for the opportunity to see these places, to meet kind people, and to have these experiences. I have no words to express the exhaustion and content I felt that night. I didn’t feel alone, but filled and free.