High Germany

deeper down the path

Introduction:

This is a continuation of my writings on my travels/adventures in the late 1970’s. You can refresh with this entry, here: The Passenger and previous to that: New York & London & Hawaii & Los Angeles

A brief synopsis… These travels began with yours truly waking from a dream in Hawaii in November 1976 wherein I received instructions to return to LA, and to then travel to Europe, Britain specifically. All else follows in my life with that dream, and the travels it engendered.

Gwyllm

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The old Munster Train Station, 1930 or so….

Germany was a completely different experience for me. I was lucky to have my friend Michael there to introduce me to his world.

We stayed a couple of days at Michael's parents’ home in Munster. They were lovely people and very welcoming. Michael and I explored Munster together until it was time to head south to Freiburg where Michael was in university.

We headed down the Autobahn in a rickety old Volkswagen Beetle with 3 of his friends who were returning to Uni as well...

I was astounded at the beauty of the German countryside, I was quite taken by the undulating fields with the occasional solitary giant oak tree smack in middle, with forest rising in the hills behind. I still have that image of those oaks in my mind to this day.

We traveled south in the slow lane as the Volkswagen could hardly achieve 88km going down hill. There was no speed limit on the Autobahn seemingly, faster vehicles sped past us as if we were standing still.

As the road trip went along, I tried to speak as much German as possible which became a running joke as everyone would respond in English to me. There wasn't one person who wanted to go along with my German program. Everyone wanted to practice their English on me, which was nice, but I wanted to practice my German on them, and they thought my accent and syntax was hilarious.

There is a jumble of fleeting memories of that drive South…. We were smoking hash, laughing as we drove along. One of the memories is looking to the right over the fields as a we're driving and an American tank keeping pace with us as it went over the hills…. We had two Mercedes sport cars pass us with a couple of meters between them as they maneuvered through traffic at an incredible rate of speed... 5 km down the road we happened upon massive amounts of wreckage stretching for several hundred meters where they had tangled and crashed leaving nothing but smoking carnage.

We made it to Southwestern Germany/Freiburg... We bid goodbye to our fellow travelers and made our way to where Michael was living just outside of Freiburg in a cold water flat. It was suburban in setting, attached to house. The landlady was nice, but very strange. Hard to describe it now.

(If you get the chance, I suggest Freiburg. A most beautiful city. The University District was incredibly lovely.)

As Michael returned to classes, I would spend my days exploring the University and Freiburg. One of the wonderful parts of the city was the fabulous Gothic cathedral, which along with the town was founded by Charlemagne if I am correct in my memory. There are these wonderful arches going across the streets that were there for time out of mind.

Yes, MacDonalds. This was mind blowing to see…

I would meet up with Michael after classes and we would go walking and exploring, often hitting the local bars, visiting with friends and generally having a hell of a good time. Michael was a wild man with an incredible appetite for life and experience. (He eventually migrated to Brazil for an academic career, we are still in touch.)

A memory: Michael and I are in Freiburg university's library, and I discover a first edition of William Burrough’s Naked Lunch in its original paperback edition. I was absolutely floored as I held it in my hand and for the first time in my life, I considered actually stealing a book from a library. I ended up putting it back on the shelf and marveling at the fact that the library had a copy of it. 

I believe this was the Library then. It has been some 45 years, so there is that…

Sometimes at night you could hear police actions going off around Freiburg as they looked for the Bader Meinhof gang (some had attended Uni there). I remember being awakened by the sound of submachine gunfire about a mile away. Nothing of this ever made it into the press. I wonder to this day what exactly was going on that night.

I discovered there was a Mexican restaurant in the heart of Freiburg! From what I understood it was the only restaurant of its kind in the whole of Germany. I had honestly been starving for Mexican food as it was a mainstay in my life in Southern California. The restaurant was in the old town section not too far from the cathedral. After the initial discovery, a ritual emerged; I would take 3 to 4 students to the restaurant and pay for their dinner on a Friday or Saturday night. I had the money, and it was a way that I could return the kindness that Michael's friends had shown me. It turns out that the owner the restaurant was the tour manager for The Bothy Band, and as the band was Irish so was the tour manager.

One evening about 4 weeks in the manager owner came up to the table and thanked me for the patronage. He had fallen in love with Mexican food while touring with The Bothy band in the States. 

As we were talking, I noticed that he had a bottle in his hand, finally he came to the point: "if you like after the restaurant closes down, I would love to share this bottle with you and your guest. Here's the thing we have to finish it tonight. I asked what is it? He replied “Absinthe”. Seeing as we were on the border with France and Switzerland this made perfect sense to me... I looked around at the table all the students looked pretty excited, so I said yes of course it sounds great. 

The restaurant emptied out and we said about exploring the Absinthe. There were five of us at the table sitting, as it was just turning midnight. Unlike the traditional method of the absinthe fountain, and chill water/sugar we were drinking it neat. We weren't throwing it back but slowly sipping and enjoying each other's company and conversation. This seems to be one of the hallmarks of absinthe, the social aspect amplifies. As the evening wore on, I distinctly noticed that everything that I perceived in the room was taking on a roundish, glowing appearance. We were sitting by candlelight under the great oak beamed ceiling from the centuries old building.  Around 3:00 I had a visual/mental epiphany. Watching a moat of dust descend slowly, spinning from the ceiling. It seemed to become suspended, hovering… Time slowed down, the dust moat refracting a golden light across the room as it hovered slowly turning above us. A wave of absolute calm and beauty wash over me. I had a subtle ringing in my ears and as I sat there concentrating on it my mind opened up and I began to wonder through labyrinth of consciousness. Everything was a reverie. (I now know that it was the wormwood in the Absinthe that was engendering these flights of thoughts.)

This is something I have discovered about this marvelous drink over the years. You drink it slowly so the wormwood builds up in your system to effect the changes of consciousness. Drink it too fast and all you'll get is the alcohol high without the effects of wormwood. My formula over the years has been one drink every 45 minutes to an hour and 15 minutes. Patience is a virtue, and this is why good company is important because the conversation in the exchange enlarges the wormwood's effect.

Eventually the bottle was finished, and Michael and I departed thanking our host and saying good morning to all as we walked through the quiet streets.

I have been enthralled with Absinthe ever since though I do not drink it as often as I once did.

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Another memory emerges on a Saturday we all get together and cross the Rhine to a village in France. Neuf-Brisach if I remember it correctly now… atop of a hill enclosed within walls that seemed as ancient as anything I had ever seen up to that point. (the town walls, not the military ones…)We drove through the gates entering the village, parked our vehicle and walked into a restaurant that had a long table going down the middle of it. That evening we share the communal meal with what seemed the whole community. The hall was filled with blazing candlelight along with a large fireplace blazing at the end of the great room. Sitting at the table, one could believe you were transported back to medieval times. It was a glorious evening, a fantastic meal, with amazing company.

Later on, on the way home we stopped along the Rhine for a breather… I stood there with the moon light reflecting off of the waters, marveling at the amount of history with the ebb and flow of humanity that had crossed the Rhine over great swaths of time. Humbling.

During my last week in Freiburg, we made our way to Freiburg Minster… We were heading there for a concert… We stopped indoors, to view the cathedral from inside… It was snowing & raining out side… We stood underneath the spire, which to my surprise, opened up to the sky, unecumbered by ceiling and glass. You could see the rain and snow falling, but none came inside. It was completely dry! I have puzzled over this for years. Did the builders have some trick we’ve forgotten since? It was astounding to witness, in such an incredible setting.

We were there to see Alan Stivell perform at an adjacent room to the cathedral. It was a great performance, his harp playing and storytelling is unparalleled and for the uninitiated, highly educational, with the tales of the various Celtic peoples and tribes.  As he was finishing up his set he decided to play the Breton pipes. As the music skirled and reached a crescendo the most amazing thing happened... Smoke appeared just above his head in the beamed ceiling. Alan continued playing until he noticed the smoke… when he did he motioned for everyone to follow him, and he piped us out into the evening rain/snow in Freiburg. I have seen him since and although there has never been fire (like what happened before) his performance is always most amazing.

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And The Return:

Two or so days later I had that dream again that I had to go to London. As before I followed it after making my goodbyes to one and all. (Not realizing I wouldn't be in touch with Michael for over 40 years.)

I hopped onto a train leaving Freiburg and, in a few hours, I had a layover in Strasbourg in what was once known as the Alsace Lorraine, now the Grand Est... It is an incredibly lovely city, and I had several hours to kill waiting for my train on a Friday afternoon. I decided to attend the cinema and watch a James Bond film which delightfully wasn't dubbed. After that I caught something to eat on the way to the train station for the journey to Calais.

I was traveling on the cheap so I took a second class ticket... Which turned out to be among the many mistakes in my life, but not one of the biggest. Being Friday as we went along our way the train started to fill up with national service personnel heading home for the weekend. There was not a seat to be found and with the usual the decorum of French officials.... the conductors were running around kicking people for sitting on the floors of the carriages and passageways/corridors.

 The fact that the train was overbooked made no matter to the train officials as the train rolled through the night… it was nothing but misery for those who didn't have seats.

 Eventually I got tired of the constant harassment making my way to the first-class carriage and locating a seat, exhausted by it all. Found myself seated across from a couple, slightly older than I and by their attire said we were fellow travelers… Eventually conversation ensued, and we spent many hours talking, smoking cigarettes together. It turns out that they had worked for Keith Richards & Anita Pallenberg in the South of France, when the Stones were in Tax exile (Exile on Main Street) . The gentleman had maintained the villa, keeping it in shape, and she had served as the nanny for Keith & Anita’s 2 kids. Such great stories they told! I was enthralled. They asked about my travels, what the States were like, and enjoyed my tales of The Haight and other locations/event.

They, were heading to London. I assumed to visit Keith & Anita, but it is somewhat dim now in my memory.

We were talking away when one of the conductors burst into the compartment demanding tickets and passports…. which we all readily gave. He looked at theirs, grumbling, and then at mine. Of course, I had a second-class ticket, and here I was in a first-class seat. He sneered, and put my passport in his pocket, rapidly talking to us in French which of course, I didn’t understand. I asked for my passport back, gesturing with my hand, he refused. At that point, I snapped. I jumped up and as I was about to do something foolish, (as this was one of the conductors who went through the train kicking and pushing people during the night) my compatriots spoke to me urgently…. “No, no, no! don’t do anything foolish!” Which was a life saver, I guess. They spoke rapidly to the conductor, who was shaken by this point with my show of resistance and got him to agree to let me pay for 1st class. Which of course was expensive as hell with a “fine” tacked on top of it. Finally, he left, happy to have fucked around and made someone’s life a little more uncomfortable… <sigh>

We eventually made it to Calais, boarded the ferry for Dover. We shared a brilliant meal onboard, which was lovely and charming. The crossing was highly enjoyable with such nice company. On arrival, we made our way to customs. Our conversation continued, as they were whisked through. I on the other hand, once more was put through the wringer. It seemed that as soon as my name came up or whatever it was… the computer threw up an alert. My bags were thoroughly searched, as was I. Questioned on how long I would be in the UK, etc. By the time I got out, my travelling companions were gone on the first available train. I had to wait for the next, but I was back in Britain, and heading to London, following the dream’s instructions.

It was the last day of November, 1977. The wind and cold of the channel drove me on... Boarding the train, soon reveling in the Kentish countryside, then Essex, I was shortly back in London. I headed to the East End from the train station, to where I was expected.

Thanks For Reading,

Gwyllm