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September 11: Journey to Tove and first day in Kpalime

Thursday, October 12th, 2006

I read in my guidebook that in Togo, the worst thing you can do is be in a rush to get somewhere. Even on a car here in French I saw written “those who are in a hurry will arrive late.” These principles were proven true today. The driver was supposed to pick me up at 7:00 a.m. to get to Tove (a town outside of Kpalime where my next seminars were being held) by 9:00 am. When 7:05 came and he wasn’t there, I decided to have a quick breakfast; as a result, we left 15 minutes late. Then we had to stop at Mary’s house to pick up some things. Then the driver couldn’t find Jean’s house. We didn’t start leaving Lome until 8:00. Then we hit traffic in Lome. Jean said it was because it was the first day of school.

We arrived in Tove at 9:30. I felt terrible. The schedule the rest of the day was completely off. At the break, I apologized to one of the DIFOP trainers, saying we had some trouble getting out of Lome. He asked in a worried tone what happened, but when I told him, he said, “oh, that’s not trouble.”

At lunch time, we went to the Hotel Royal in Kpalime to check in. It was a small hotel on the edge of the city. It only had 12 rooms. It was clean and peaceful. When I saw the Van Gogh reprints on the wall, including the less commonly known “Starry Night” which I have a copy of, I felt at home immediately.

The owner, Jul, was there to greet us. He was born in Togo, but had lived in Georgia for a couple of years and then in Austria for 25 years. His English had a slight southern accent. He showed me around the hotel, and told me about the choice to come to Togo and of building a hotel in Kpalime instead of settling in Lome. He showed me the papaya tree in the backyard; I said I’d never had fresh papaya before so he offered me some of his. He said he eats it every day for his health. It wasn’t as sweet as I imagined it would be, but still delicious.

I had to get back to Tove for the seminars, so I scarfed down a tomato salad and promised to chat more in the evening. When I returned for dinner I had wienerschnitzel and fries, which were pretty good. Jul’s wife, Karoline, arrived shortly after dinner. She had spent the day shopping in Lome. She spoke some English and French, but most of our conversation over the course of the evening was in German. I was amazed how much of what she said I was able to understand, and how easy it was to speak German to her. She said she had experience talking in German to foreigners.

She also told me about the choice to come to Togo. She said she and her husband had met at the American Embassy in Vienna. After they married, they had run a restaurant outside of Vienna for 18 years. Then her husband suggested they move to Togo. She came without ever laying eyes on the country. But now she says she would never go back to Austria except to visit.

DECEMBER 30, 2005: NEUSCHWANSTEIN

Saturday, May 27th, 2006

We woke up at a reasonable hour for Fruhstuck (breakfast), included in our room price. The dining room was small, but the food and service were very good. There was meat, cheese, tomatoes, cucumbers, eggs, bread, cereal, and bottomless pots of coffee and tea.

After filling up, we asked the front desk clerk the best way to get to Neuschwanstein, the famous Bavarian castle, from where we were. She wasn’t sure exactly. Peter asked for directions to a specific highway, and she said something about finding the “Mullerring”, and then we’d find the highway from there.

Peter started heading up Ludwigsstrasse towards the university; he was sure he’d seen a sign pointing to the highway on the road. I was sure from looking at the maps that we needed to go back the way we came and turn left. I finally convinced Peter that he should turn around, and voila! he saw the highway sign he was looking for. In that moment, I started to wonder if God thought of Peter and I as two of his students for whom he’d created an information gap activity: Peter and I each had half of the information necessary to make the whole trip work.

It still took us another 20 minutes of twists, turns, and asking two cab drivers for directions before we found the “Mueller Ring” and finally the highway out of Munich.
The paperwork Peter had said we should take the B7 to the castle. As I was looking at the map, though, the B17 looked closer and easier. Of course, in these situations, looks can be deceiving; in this case, the road less traveled was also a road that moved more slowly than I anticipated. The B17 was two lanes and went through lots of small towns with slow speed limits. To be honest, the scenery wasn’t that impressive either. It may have been more impressive in summer, or it may have been more impressive if I hadn’t just come from seeing the steppes and cowherders of Ukraine and Moldova.

The Bavarian Alps made me sit up and take notice though. The peaks were majestic and snow covered, and the sun glinting off of them added a rare beauty. I still feel a little bad asking Peter to do all of the driving to see a castle that was so touristy, but for me seeing those Alps made that part of the trip worth it.

We arrived in town and went to the visitor’s center to buy our tickets for the castle. Normally there is a bus that takes visitors to the top of the hill, but the bus was not running due to icy road conditions. Our choices were to walk or take the horse-drawn carriage. I thought the carriage ride would be kinda cool, but Peter wouldn’t hear of it. The walk turned out to be nice despite the cold, though. It took about 20 minutes and I am sure I needed the exercise after all that beer and sausage.

We had our ticket electronically scanned at our tour group’s appointed time of 3:05. The tour was conducted in English. The rooms were what one would expect from a medieval castle; tall ceilings, long red carpets, tapestries on the walls, and the like. There were many swans in the rooms; his childhood home had been “Schwangau” (Swanland), and “Neuschwanstein” (New Swan Stone) was the castle he built across the street as an adult. Perhaps more interesting than the rooms was the story of Ludwig’s life, his madness, and the mysterious circumstances of his death, possibly at the hands of his own psychiatrist.
After the tour and a walk through the old kitchen, we saw a very strange movie about Ludwig and his life. Then it was time to walk down the hill and start the long journey back to Munich.

Along the way, we started to get hungry. We stopped at a roadside Bavarian restaurant that had been there since the 1500s. It felt like being in a hunter’s lodge; there were many animal heads on the wall. Because of the cold, I was in the mood for Gluehwein. It wasn’t very good there, though. A better choice was the Hirschgulasch (venison ghoulash) with Semmlnknoedel (dumplings made from bread rolls). Peter informed me that Semmlnknoedeln are very traditional and very Bavarian. They were delicioius.

About an hour and a half later, we were back in Schwabing. Peter rested while I started adding layers of clothing—it was Friday night and we wanted to go out again in Schwabing, and it was expected to be –14 Celsius (about 7 degrees F) that night.

As we walked up the street, Peter was very disappointed by Schwabing. Apparently it had had a reputation at one time of being very hip and eclectic. The Schwabing we saw was quiet and yuppified. We saw some nice places for a drink, but for some reason “nice” also looked expensive to me. So I talked Peter into a place that looked darker and more down-to-earth. We sat there and downed another liter of beer while talking about life.

DECEMBER 29TH, 2005: MUNICH

Saturday, May 27th, 2006
The Drive to Munich We left Peter’s hometown in the morning. Although there had been some snow the night before, the roads were remarkably clear. We had Peter’s father’s Mercedes with all-weather tires just in case, though. About two hours into the ... [Continue reading this entry]