The University of Heidelberg international exchange program that sponsored the first Tour Bus Ride of my life has since sponsored my second—this past weekend we went to Weimar and it occurred to me to lie about how it went. Something like, “Weimar?! Are you kidding?? It’s was so amazing, I mean there’s so much art and history there, how could I have gone and *not* have had the most enriching experience of my life??”
But to be honest, the day began badly the night before we left. We were out with a friend who was also going on the trip, and we came to the belated realization that the buses leaving the Studentenwohnheim (where we live) for downtown (where the tour bus would depart) didn’t
start running early enough on a Saturday to get us there on time. Another round of drinks became a subject for debate—it was only a little after midnight, but the bus was leaving at 6a.m. after all—and we laughed and laughed at the hilarity of making willfully bad decisions; said oh why not!!
It’s useful to look at a map to know exactly how ridiculous this “day trip” was, but it might suffice to say that the bus ride took 4 hours, each way. We arrived a bit after 10am and went to
the Stadt Kirche first. It is the site of Johann Herder's
grave and a pretty cool church in baroque style. Then we traipsed around a little
bit after a tour guide rendered inaudible by the rain; we broke away from the group for a coffee here (in the rain), a sandwich there (rain, headache), and finally decided to leave behind the embarrassment of traveling with a pack of 40-something students and go our own way.
Once we made it inside, the Goethe house was quite cool. Several weeks ago when I was in California visiting
my parents, I read an article about an old European tradition, which was to place a used shoe under the floorboards of a house (preferably near the doorway or under a window) as it was being built. It was believed that as the likeness of the person’s foot was retained by the shoe, so was their spirit, which could ward off any evil spirits that might try to enter the house. This occurred to me at Goethe’s house, seeing all the things he used each day—in particular, of course, his books. There is something really awesome and hard to explain
about seeing the stuff of someone’s life, which is, well, not quite so basely ordinary as my own (headache, coffee, hooked umbrella), but some approximation of what a person is, rather than a larger-than-life, literary-plus-everything-else figure. It just seems so funny that he slept in such a little bed. A twin size! Cute. (I wish I had pictures here but
cameras weren’t allowed in the museum. The above is a picture of the map pamphlet they gave me at the door.)
But also I think the magnitude and preciousness of History and Art is way too much. It’s impossibly serious and while I, too, enjoy and consider important History and Art, I’ll go ahead and say that, under frantic constraints of time, the pair becomes a compulsory drag. Weirdly it’s the same way I feel
sometimes about Nature. Overwhelmed by having to express constant awe and fixation, trying to rush to a summit—! But anyway, this brings me to extolling and coveting, on behalf of all Americans, the German Urlaub, an annual, mandatory-for-all, 6 weeks paid vacation. That would fix some of this problem, no?? And I’m also reminded that I’m not just passing through, which is lucky and great! I’m staying through at least February, and (much better) plans for our return trip to Weimar are in the making.
No comments:
Post a Comment