World Chump - Wanderlust

So far I have to say our European experience has gone as planned and has netted us some pretty decent travel. France, Spain, U.K., Italy, Czech Republic, Croatia, among others, plus numerous trips within Germany...I think it's a good haul, even with the cancellation of some great trips (curse, you, COVID) like the south of Spain or Denmark. What is absolutely unacceptable is the fact that we have not made it to Cologne...until now, three and a half years after first moving to Germany. 

Cologne is only a two-hour drive from Frankfurt. I would even make the claim that the Autobahn between Cologne and Frankfurt in the very center of Germany may be the most frequently used motorway in the country. Getting up there is easy, whether by plane, train, or automobile. I would particularly recommend the train ride, which takes you along long stretches of the Rhein River and its dozens of medieval castles looming on the hilltops. Life in the age of Corona, however, does not always allow us to make the best decisions, only the wisest. It would be the autobahn to Cologne for us.

Cologne can be seen from far away, or more precisely the Cathedral with its huge twin towers. The Cologne Cathedral, or the Kölner Dom, might be the biggest church I have seen in Germany. You can't help but be in awe of it. The towers are almost 160 meters a pop, trailing only the cathedral in Ulm for height among Christian churches worldwide. We saw the Cathedral from a good 50 miles away, if I were to venture a guess here.

One thing I don't like is waste. Money, resources, food, you name it. Growing up in a big family will tattoo those values on your forehead pretty quickly, and that hasn't changed. So when I read that the hotel we were staying at (a nice one, but they don't need any advertisement from me here) charged 56 Euros per day for parking the car, I flinched. No, no, and nein. Let my family sleep in comfort, by all means, good food even for my cat, but I honestly doubt my car, a little old Beamer named Hambone (the name was the kids' choice) gives a rusty taillight in which underground car park it stays. I shopped around a little bit, and voila...about a quarter mile from the hotel is a car park that charges 16 Euros per day for the pleasure of leaving Hambone safe and relatively warm. 80 Euros saved. We would put that money to good use in Köln, as the Germans call it. The "drawback" is we actually have to walk a quarter-mile. I think we survived.

Cologne is one of Germany's hip cities if there is such a thing. Germany has only four cities with a million people or more, and Cologne is the smallest of them (for trivia buffs, the others are, in the proper order, Berlin, Hamburg, and Munich). Like Frankfurt, Cologne also has a high percentage of foreigners, nearly 40 percent. Cologne with the highest gay population is the undisputed gay capital in Germany and even Europe, as some might argue. Their mayor is an independent and survived an assassination attempt. Never a dull moment here.

I've known Cologne for a long time, and it is still the only dialect in Germany that I can't understand. Perhaps you have heard of the carnival in Cologne? Kölsch beer? The Rhein river? Well, one at a time. With our car parked and our backpacks stored away, it's time for a walk. A long walk.

All right, let's talk about stereotypes. Just play along for a moment.

What do you imagine when you think about Italy? The leaning tower of Pisa? Gondolas in Venice? Red wine? Fashion?

How about France? The Eiffel Tower? Berets? Baguettes? Cheese? The Louvre? Maybe even a guillotine? 

Germany? Lederhosen? Beer? Brats? Engineering?

Out of all German stereotypes, the abundance of capable engineers, all with impeccable precision, seems to rank near the top. No, seriously, even more than the yodeling, the Oktoberfest, or the Berlin Wall. Engineering as in cars, in buildings, or any machines. Lately, Germany's reputation - and stereotype - has taken a hit. We could mention the disasters connected to VW and their pollution tests. Same with Daimler, which got hit with a 1.5 billion dollar penalty over its emission scandals. 

But no, let's move on to buildings. Cars, while still very much the talk of town these days, are dwarfed by architectural and engineering gems, led by three prominent examples.

1. There's the new airport in the nation's capital, Berlin-Brandenburg, or BER, for short, that is scheduled to open. Enough about Frankfurt and its huge volume, or Munich's new airport that has set a new standard for air travel in Germany. Berlin would have its own, better airport, verdammt, or at least that was the plan. Construction on BER started in 2006 and was scheduled to open in 2011. Here it doesn't take an engineer to do the math. That's a nine-year delay. Nine as in nein, year after year after year. What happened? Poor construction, even poorer engineering and planning, bad management, and even charges of bribery. BER has now become a running joke in Germany. If something is a perpetual disaster, then it has become the Berlin airport of cars, projects, governments, football teams, take your pick. Der Postillon, Germany's very able answer to America's The Onion, introduced a Lego playset for BER, which would feature construction workers with only left hands (in English, that would be all thumbs), and a set that would never have all of the pieces in the box because it can't be finished.

2. Say hello to Stuttgart 21, featuring a new railway station in Stuttgart, plus miles and miles of new railway that would connect all of Europe in blissful harmony. Construction started in 2010, was scheduled to be completed in 2019, and now is not expected to open until at least 2025. The problem? Unstable grounds, cost overruns by the billions, and a resistant populace that has never quit protesting against the project. It's one thing for people to get pepper-sprayed over COVID-19 or racism, but over a railroad project? Only in Germany.

3. And then there's Hamburg and the Elbphilharmonie (Elbe Philharmonic) concert hall that opened in early 2017. The first stone for the Elbphilharmonie was laid in 2007, with an estimated completion date of 2010. The estimated cost was 250 million dollars. The actual costs, in the end, were closer to 900 million...and the concert hall opened seven years too late, of course. So much for German punctuality. The Elbphilharmonie today resembles a series of waves in the harbor quarters of the city, and, by every evaluation, reported modest cost overruns and delays compared to the other projects mentioned above. If it weren't for Berlin, Hamburg would have a running, or sitting, joke of its own.

In the end, tourists will marvel at these modern projects, and the stereotype of the efficient German engineer will be reprised. The Germans, though, especially those involved, will bicker about these projects until their dying breath. Or at least contemplate outsourcing major projects like these in the future. 

Only a year ago during our trip to Scotland, Liebi tried to add one important leg to the itinerary. The fact that she did that at all suggests how badly she wanted it, since I am usually the one doing all of the planning and booking. Loch Ness? No. St. Andrews? No. Any of the dozens of fine whiskey distilleries? No again.

The answer had little to do with Scotland, did not feature kilts or bagpipes, and was something we would, eventually, find elsewhere in the world, almost at our front door: hiking with lamas. That's right, lamas, the South American pack animals that are largely domesticated, as we first learned during our tour of Bolivia. Lamas. How do you like them oatcakes? By the way, the lamas were fully booked in Scotland, so our hike would have to wait.

Then, Bash decided he wanted a lama hike for his birthday. The plan would be to drive out to a secluded farm, where everybody would be assigned to a specific lama. Then the guest would simply walk the lama for a few hours. That's quite a business plan, when you think about it. Imagine paying somebody for the privilege of walking his dog. That is, until you realize how special lamas really are. The farm would be in the southern part of the Rheinland-Pfalz, a heavily wooded area with plenty of high hills (I wouldn't quite classify them as mountains) to climb. Consider it a hike with the family, then, with the only difference that you have a 350-pound lama trailing you at all times.

When we first arrive at the farm, we see that the farm isn't that big at all. We count about 20 lamas in all sizes. Axl gets the leader of the herd, a female named Lola, a 400-pound beauty who must walk ahead should the peace be kept in the herd. We all have females, since the separation of gender is essential to a functioning lama herd. Lamas, simply put, are as cool as they look. Very easygoing, these animals go where you lead them, up hills, down hills, narrow pathways, cross country. You might want to keep a lama moving, however, since a lama will eat whenever there is a pause in the action. And lamas eat a lot. 

We cross paths with dozens of other tourists, who can't help but smile when they see lamas hiking in the middle of Europe. One thing you'll notice about lamas is also the hierarchy among them, and what they do at times to provoke each other. When a lama seems to have leverage or a height advantage over another animal, however so temporary it might be during the hike, you'll hear the lama clicking its jaw, which reminds me of apes beating their chests in an odd way. 

Contrary to popular belief, lamas don't spit as much as you think. I think one of the hikers in our group received a load on her sweater, and we still have no idea what provoked it. At the same time, lamas are not the cuddly animals you'd expect them to be. You can pet them among their necks, but you might want to avoid hugging them, or touching their faces. Lamas are among the few animals that are immune to COVID-19, yet they still prefer social distancing.

Another word of advice: don't try and follow a lama when it starts running. That will end badly. A lama is a natural herd animal, so it will find its way back to the herd eventually. There are also no predators the lamas need to worry about in this neck of the woods, so the owners of the farm only have a couple of old midsize dogs to guard them. 

In all, we spend over three hours on the hike, lunchtime not included. Absolutely worth it.