The Black Forest, or: One flew over the Cuckoo Clock
Sometimes you can have it so easy in Germany. You drive to a popular destination like Freiburg, take in the sites, and tear up the autobahn on your way home.
Luckily, easy is not always an option. On our way home, we opt for a more scenic route, this one through the region just east of Freiburg along Highway or Bundesstrasse 500. We actually have a few destinations in mind, among them Liebi's never-ending quest to acquire a handcrafted cuckoo clock.
As far as landscapes go in Germany, it doesn't get better than the south, more specifically the states of Bayern and Baden Württemberg. I suppose it helps that they are located directly at the doorstep of the Alps, which makes their countryside by default more hilly and lacking the flatlands the north is more known for. But cheer up, northerners, remember that you still have a coast up there.
The 500 zigs and zags through Swabian small towns, past rolling hills, cascading brooks and Tudor houses with colorful window shutters. There is Schönwald, next comes Schonach, home of several Olympic gold medal winners (in biathlon, I think). In Schonach we have the finest German lunch buffet I've ever seen (and at seven euros a head a real bargain, I might add) that has very tasty salad and schnitzel options.
In Schonach we visit "the world's first biggest cuckoo clock", which I assume means that at some point this fine piece of work must have made it to the Guinness Book of World Records as the biggest clock of its kind. It's impressive to see the machinations up close, with all gear wheels made of wood instead of metal. The bird itself is probably the size of a cat when it comes out, and the noise is powered by air manipulation, meaning there are two air pumps inside the clock that simulate what could pass for the sound of a cuckoo.
Liebi will not be denied and examines a few cuckoo clocks at a nearby manufacturer. It's impressive how these clocks have evolved. Nowadays, besides your more traditional cuckoo clocks, you can have the more abstract, modern versions, where the front part of the clock is transparent, allowing the visitor too see through the wood (or metal in this case) and directly at the machine. In the end, Liebi decides to go with a clock that also features a small glockenspiel.
Last but not least, as we climb further into skiing country, we reach the Alternative Zoo for Bears and Wolves. Here the guest feels more like he's in a cage than the animals, that's how much he is actually protected. Primarily, there are bears that used to belong to circuses or other animal-unfriendly business ventures. The wolves are wolves and travel in packs. These animals don't necessarily live in freedom, but I'm guessing their lifestyle beats their slavelike life in captivity before that.
In the end, a successful trip. Six bears, seven wolves, a cuckoo clock, and no carsick kids.
Luckily, easy is not always an option. On our way home, we opt for a more scenic route, this one through the region just east of Freiburg along Highway or Bundesstrasse 500. We actually have a few destinations in mind, among them Liebi's never-ending quest to acquire a handcrafted cuckoo clock.
As far as landscapes go in Germany, it doesn't get better than the south, more specifically the states of Bayern and Baden Württemberg. I suppose it helps that they are located directly at the doorstep of the Alps, which makes their countryside by default more hilly and lacking the flatlands the north is more known for. But cheer up, northerners, remember that you still have a coast up there.
The 500 zigs and zags through Swabian small towns, past rolling hills, cascading brooks and Tudor houses with colorful window shutters. There is Schönwald, next comes Schonach, home of several Olympic gold medal winners (in biathlon, I think). In Schonach we have the finest German lunch buffet I've ever seen (and at seven euros a head a real bargain, I might add) that has very tasty salad and schnitzel options.
In Schonach we visit "the world's first biggest cuckoo clock", which I assume means that at some point this fine piece of work must have made it to the Guinness Book of World Records as the biggest clock of its kind. It's impressive to see the machinations up close, with all gear wheels made of wood instead of metal. The bird itself is probably the size of a cat when it comes out, and the noise is powered by air manipulation, meaning there are two air pumps inside the clock that simulate what could pass for the sound of a cuckoo.
Liebi will not be denied and examines a few cuckoo clocks at a nearby manufacturer. It's impressive how these clocks have evolved. Nowadays, besides your more traditional cuckoo clocks, you can have the more abstract, modern versions, where the front part of the clock is transparent, allowing the visitor too see through the wood (or metal in this case) and directly at the machine. In the end, Liebi decides to go with a clock that also features a small glockenspiel.
Last but not least, as we climb further into skiing country, we reach the Alternative Zoo for Bears and Wolves. Here the guest feels more like he's in a cage than the animals, that's how much he is actually protected. Primarily, there are bears that used to belong to circuses or other animal-unfriendly business ventures. The wolves are wolves and travel in packs. These animals don't necessarily live in freedom, but I'm guessing their lifestyle beats their slavelike life in captivity before that.
In the end, a successful trip. Six bears, seven wolves, a cuckoo clock, and no carsick kids.
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