Of the Black Forest

Pardon my horrible delays in getting all of these entries up. In contrast to the ones of Italy, I did not get bring along my laptop this time around so for all of the places I am writing about, I'm recalling them from memory (which may account for why these entries are so short). Of course, you can always tell of the impression that a place has made on you depending on how much you end up writing about it in your journal. So keeping that in mind, we move onto:

The Black Forest, or rather, the two towns that we visited that were near the Black Forest: Freiburg and Triberg. Time spent: 2 days.


Freiburg


Triberg

We arrived in Freiburg at 6AM, after spending the night in an overnight train and almost missing our stop. Luckily, days of waking up at 7AM and sleeping in a room together had acclimated us to becoming very light sleepers. So after what was a very bumpy rest in a reclining seat (since we were cheapskates and didn't want to pay an additional 10 euros for a bed), complete with the periodic waking up in the middle of the night anytime the train stopped , we woke up right at our destination, and hauled our duffel bags and our tired bodies off of the train a minute before it left. Talk about great timing.

What follows is me recalling our first morning in Freiburg where all I wanted to do was take a shower and go to bed. Suffice to say, sleeping on a train is not something I care to repeat, only because of the exhaustion and dirtiness that follow from not being able to shower the night before and from only getting a light sleep. Perhaps sleeping in a bed would have been better...

Yet, one cannot call the morning unproductive since after dropping our luggage off at the Black Forest Hostel, we proceeded to climb up to the old fort on the hill to get a glimpse of the town and the forest that surrounded it. Nothing like a good walk uphill to work up an appetite, especially since that walk gave you the countryside of Germany in the morning light.



I may have been a bit presumptuous (and a wee bit ignorant) calling San Marino in Italy the place of fairy tales, considering that the Black Forest in Germany is where most of them originated. Looking at that blanket, and then walking through it the next day, it was easy to see where such dark thoughts of fairies, elves, talking wolves, and gingerbread houses came from.

Though there were no houses of gingerbread, there was a giant cuckoo clock next day in the town of Triberg, located in the middle of the forest, and infamous for its clock. And we had come just in time to see this one come out of its doors and greet us.



There was also the waterfall, which is one of the tallest in Germany and the mist was so refreshing after such a humid walk up and through the woods. I had never been so close to a roaring waterfall before and it had always been a dream of mine ever since Yosemite at age 8. Of course, at that time, that fall was dried up and there was barely any mist. Not in this one though, we got so close that I could just almost touch the water.



Then there was just the hike deeper and deeper into the forest, with the trees on both of your sides just waiting to envelope you up. They grow so thick and dark. At any moment, the Elf-King could come and take you away and no one would even know...


"Oh, come, thou dear infant! oh come thou with me!
For many a game I will play there with thee;" - Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, Erlkönig

The most surreal moment of that walk, to me, was just coming out of the forest and as the trees parted, you were greeted to a view that seemed to have come from the pages of a storybook. It was the picture that I have always used to associate with Europe in my mind, the rolling hills of green with cottages, and fields that seem to go on forever with no fence to picket them off. The strangest thing about it was the enveloping silence where nothing seemed to disturb the air, save for the mooing of cows. It was such a strange moment and one that I have not experienced before. Usually, when you go to any of these places, there are always the chattering of tourists or the clicking of cameras. Not then, it was just us, the fields, and the forest behind, waiting to envelope us in again. Strange and yet, so calm. I would never be able to live in such a place but sometimes, it is a wonderful reprieve from the stress of car horns and the cold steel and concrete of city life.



To end our days in the Black Forest, I had what I had been dreaming about the whole time, ever since Allison told me that we were heading towards that area of Germany: the Black Forest cake. It is a dessert concoction of chocolate cake, held together with black cherries and covered with white icing plus just a spray of rum. Bittersweet and slightly tart but that's the way all good fairy tales traditionally end. In our case, it was an ending to replace the lack of gingerbread houses and witches that were supposed to dwell in the woods.



Freiberg, the photo album

Triberg, the photo album

Of 21

We take some time out of our regular programming (ie: the travel blog), to wish myself a Happy 21st away from home. Of course, it lacked Las Vegas (a 21 year old tradition) and copious amounts of alcohol. Yet, what it did include was British flatmates, surprisingly good Mexican food, and cake. Oh, and the lights that they gave me with fun little hand-written quotes such as "It's not my fault, I'm American." All in all, the best thing that could have happened in my home away from home.

Though I must admit, I do not feel as wise as I thought I would be at this age. How very anticlimactic.

Of Chocolates in Bruges

So, in order to further procrastinate on writing my essays (I'll get to them eventually, spoken like a true student), I will now take the time to not sulk about California and instead, to reminisce about the latter half of my Spring Break at Warwick. This (*cough*) productive time was spent in the German, speaking nations, namely Belgium, the Netherlands, Germany, Switzerland, and Austria.

In 12 days. Which was a good idea on paper but when put into practice...

Exhausting.

Exhilarating.

Slightly frustration inducing. I do not recommend it unless you have quite a bit of energy and stamina. But, like the chocolates I consumed, this was only a sample tour. The next time I go traveling, I will definitely go to less cities and spend more time there, if only for the sake of my physical health.



The first stop was Bruges, Belgium. Time spent: 1 day.

Languages spoken by the locals: 4 (English, French, German, Dutch) and I kind of wish I was Dutch so I could hold myself above the rest of the world with my language skills.

The number of chocolate shops we passed: endless



If the only reason you will ever come to Belgium is for the chocolate, you are certainly in for satisfaction and then some. Only because there was a chocolate shop on every single block. Sometimes, there was 2 or more on one block and you wonder how all of them stay in business.

The answer: tourism.



Yet, the other reason why it was Bruges and not Brussels was just the change of scenery from the big cities to a smaller, more medieval town. It was a good choice, just because it was so serene and beautifully maintained. Almost like another Venice in terms of the canals except far less tourists and instead, filled with waffles, chocolates, and mayonnaise covered french fries.

In other words, Belgium was basically junk food heaven, if only for the sheer amount of chocolate I ended up eating and that Friday where all we ate was candy, chocolate, waffles, and french fries. Not exactly a well-balanced diet but heck, when you're on vacation...

Not to mention, the weather was lovely and I saw my very first real-life, old fashioned windmill! Now I know I'm in the low countries.



Bruges, the photo album

Of Galaxy...

I'd like to make a confession.

I, Deepy, am a chocoholic. This revelation came to me tonight after I finished off the last of a 120 gram chocolate bar. This would not seem so bad if I had not just bought two bars on Tuesday and I have now gone through both of them and it's Friday. Having become acclimated to crappy Hershey bars that are now more sawdust than cocoa and too cheap to buy real chocolate back in the States, imagine my surprise when, coming to the UK, you can buy a real chocolate 120 gram bar for only a pound fourteen.

These are known as Galaxy bars or Dove chocolate (as they are known in the States), owned by the Mars Company (beautiful, beautiful people). Or as a fellow Californian calls them, "The best chocolate you will ever have."


Unfortunately in the States, Dove chocolate is more expensive and they're sold in smaller quantities. In the UK, you can buy the bars by the bulk and they are fairly inexpensive for the quality of the chocolate that you are receiving (ie: real chocolate).

What makes them so great is that rich blend of sugar, milk, and cocoa that is not too sweet while just being the right amount of creamy as to not be overbearing. Wrapped in a golden foil with a curvy shape imprinted on the chocolate face, one can't escape the feeling of pure relaxation and tranquility that comes in the aftermath of that first bite, and the subsequent ones after. It's like a drug and once you've had one, there's no stopping until you've had more.

The ingredients in a Galaxy milk chocolate bar are as followed: sugar, cocoa butter, cocoa mass, skimmed milk powder, milk fat, lactose, demineralised whey powder, vegetable fat, emulsifiers, and natural vanilla extract. Notice the simplicity of the ingredients list, the lack of artificial flavoring, and the inclusion of real cocoa ingredients. It's natural and simple; and while it won't make you skinner or give you better complexion, it's still damn good.

Now, what to do until I buy another one...

An interesting article on cocoa substitution in Hershey's chocolate, I'm ashamed:
http://www.seriouseats.com/2008/09/chocolate-cocoa-butter-replacements-hersheys.html

Of Paris, the food!

To finish off my travelogue of Paris, I am foregoing my Victorian poetry reading and reliving the memories of Parisian food.

What can I say about French food that has not been said already? Rich, creamy, delectable, délicieux! If you do nothing at all in France, at least eat well. It's the food capital of the world (remember Pixar's "Ratatouille"?).

On most days, for breakfast, we usually went into patisseries (bakeries) that boasted the most buttery and wonderful croissants. It almost seemed to melt in your mouth with how warm and flaky it was. Then, there was the pain au chocolat (chocolate croissants) which were so sinful when you considered how much butter and fat is within them. The best ones I had were during my last day in Paris since I finally got one that was fresh out of the oven and the chocolate ended up being rich and bittersweet.

A pain au chocolat (photo courtesy of Wikipedia)

If possible, try to go early in the morning since French bread and pastries taste the best when straight out of the oven. Though eating them cold wasn't bad either, especially when you are consuming one while strolling down a wide Parisian boulevard.

My favorite thing, and I have a feeling, my travel mates as well, food-wise was the brasseries (creperies). These were open stands attached to cafes that sold crepes to go for upwards of 2 euros. And in 5 minutes, you had a warm, buttery, sweet, and amazing crepe in your hand, wrapped in a napkin, that you can take with you as you walked along the Seine (and yes, I did that and it was incredible). Of course, the variations available were a bit on the simple side, usually butter or sugar, ham/egg, fromage (cheese), or nutella (a hazelnut and chocolate spread), but they were still a good value for the price. What's so bad about getting filled up on chocolate?

An idea of what crepes look like (I made these back when I was at home)

If you want a fancier crepe with a variety of toppings, then going inside the cafe is usually the best idea (you don't want to carry a loaded crepe around, it can get very messy). One night, I had a crepe with chocolate sauce, vanilla ice cream, bananas, and chocolate liquer. I couldn't get a picture of it because I dived in too fast but suffice to say, it was the perfect ending to a meal.

The cheapest food in Paris was on the side streets. There, the cheapest (price-wise) food could be found. We spent a copious amount of time in the Latin District, a small area especially for college student.

Located south of the Notre Dame, near the Seine, we spent most nights looking for dinner there, if only because so many restaurants offered set menus for only 10 euros, which is usually less expensive than ordering á là carte. Though beware of the hecklers outside of the restaurant, they will try to get you to come inside their restaurants, most of the time, just look away and say "no" if you don't like the menu.

Despite that, for 10 euros in France, you could get a 3 course meal, which included appetizer, entree, and dessert. Dinner was heaven and when accompanied by red wine, I savored every bite of it. Usually dinner lasted about 3 hours since we'd end up engaged in long discussions while the waiters were slow to bring out of the food. Everything moves slower in France, especially when you're eating. After all, food is meant to be savored and dinner is the biggest meal of the day. I can't say anything more, just look at the pictures.

Mussels á là crême

Duck l'orange with baked potato (the sauce was so good, I was scrapping it off of the plate)

Chocolate souffle with vanilla custard

Contrary to popular opinion, Parisians are not very snobby at all. Understandably, they were not opening their arms in welcome but whenever I needed to speak English, they were very accommodating. Of course, it helps to speak French in Paris but it's not essential and no one's going to chop off your head if you don't. More often than not, I just ordered food in English to avoid mangling the language, especially since most restaurants had bilingual menus. It also helps if you ask them, "Parlez vous Anglais" ("Do you speak English?") before you start spewing out English, just to be polite. But otherwise, being in Paris helped me to realize just how universal English is becoming. Though the French accents still throw me since they're so thick and sometimes nearly indecipherable.

To close, being in Paris was akin to being in a dream, to coin a cliche phrase. You read about the sights in the book (or in this case, in a blog) and you see it in movies such as "Funny Face" and "Paris Je T'aime" but it's not until you are within the city itself that you are made aware of just what makes Paris so magical. It isn't just the sights or the sounds or the food, but everything melted together, the relaxed energy (except for drivers during rush hour), the history, that certain "je ne se quais" that makes it so amazing. And the crepes and pain âu chocolat? That's just the cherry on top.