April 2013 Articles

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Notes from Germany

At the end of May, during a two-week break from my school in Germany, I decided to take one last big trip and go traveling throughout Western Europe. The trip would take 12 days, and I would visit four countries: Luxembourg, France, Spain, and Portugal. My first stop was Luxembourg, a tiny country with a surface area of only 998 square miles, or roughly the size of Union parish. Luxembourg City is the capital, and has a population of about 300,000, many of whom are international businessmen residing there part-time. Luxembourg lies between France and Germany and has an incredibly high standard of living; for this reason, it serves as the obvious location for many European Union offices. Major banks and multinational corporations also keep their European headquarters here, with Apple being perhaps the most famous. Indeed, there are today so many internationals in Luxembourg that visitors will hear French, German or English spoken far more often than they will hear Luxembourgish (native Luxembourgers tend to live outside the city, in the small farm villages lying out amongst the green rolling hills). Luxembourgers are also very pro-American, having never forgotten the German invasion of their country, or their land’s subsequent rescue at the hands of U.S. forces in 1945. To emphasize their gratitude, Luxembourg hosts a large American military cemetery just outside the city to honor America’s World War II dead, most of whom died in the nearby Battle of the Bulge. Over 5,000 small white crosses line the field, an awe-inspiring sight, and on a little hill set off from the others, lies the last resting place of General George S. Patton of the U.S. Third Army. He has no monument, no memorial, just a small white cross like all the other soldiers, and somehow, this is fitting.
Next, I traveled to Paris, the capital city of France, only a three hour train ride from Luxembourg. Soon after arriving, I met Pauline, a French girl from the south of France, and her roommates—they had agreed to host me in their apartment while I visited the city. Fortunately, they spoke English, and I was able to talk with them about my travels. That first night in Paris, the four of us went out and had a picnic on the banks of the Seine River; they offered me a typical French dinner—cheese, wine, and baguettes. Then, we walked around the city at night. They showed me the famous Latin Quarter, a haven for American writers and artists in the 1920’s, the magnificent cathedral of Notre Dame, and the Eiffel Tower at night. The city was just as beautiful as I’d always heard, but it was the food that made the biggest impression on me. In the course of four days, I would sample crepes, roasted duck, homemade quiche, French bread and pastries, and even escargot. In truth, I never thought I would eat snails, but with the right sauce, well, I discovered why they are so popular. Finally, in exchange for hosting me, I cooked jambalaya for my French friends, and though it was a bit too spicy for them, they were very impressed. Most Europeans associate American cooking with fast-food, with McDonald’s or KFC, and have never experienced real American food; jambalaya, therefore, was a welcome surprise for my French hosts, and something quite different from anything they’d had in the past. In the end, I left Paris with a full stomach and four days’ worth of sight-seeing, and then took a train headed south for Seville, in the south of Spain.
Spain is the second-largest country in Europe after France, and so my train trip from Paris to Seville was an arduous journey lasting nearly 15 hours. At 7:00, I boarded the train in Paris; at 8:00 that night, I finally arrived in Seville. All day, I had watched the countryside slip by and change, from green, wooded hills outside Paris, to a tropical Mediterranean paradise in Nice and Barcelona, and then to a rough, arid landscape of low hills and scrub vegetation as the train drove deeper and deeper into the very heart of the Spanish nation. In Seville, the heat was incredible—nearly 100 degrees and muggy—and though it was quite like Louisiana, I had lived in Germany so long that I was unprepared. Despite the heat, though, Seville is a popular tourist attraction, with many considering it to be the true heart of Spanish culture. Indeed, the city was long the seat of Spanish kings, as the great Alcazar palace reveals. This fortress was built by the Muslims when they controlled Spain, and its architecture suggests distinct Islamic influences. However, when southern Spain was eventually conquered by the Spanish, the Alcazar passed into European hands, leaving what remains today—an imposing testament to both Spain’s Islamic and Christian heritages. Then, in the nearby cathedral, I viewed the grave of Christopher Columbus, who set out from Seville and accidentally discovered America. Today, in honor of this discovery and of the city’s key role as the gateway to the Americas (all Spanish ships bearing gold from the colonies were required to dock here), Seville houses a large museum known as the Archive of the Indies, documenting Spain’s colonial expansion. All in all, I found in Seville a fascinating city, and a brief taste of Spanish culture that would certainly be worth a future visit.
Lastly, though, I visited Portugal, taking a bus from Seville and traveling across the border to the small city of Faro, where I caught a train and rode 6 hours north to Porto, Portugal’s second-largest city. Porto was quite different from Seville. It was much cooler and less humid thanks to its location on the Atlantic, and indeed, it seemed to be the ideal vacation spot for tourists, with beautiful cliffs and a gorgeous view of the Duoro River as it flows into the ocean. I didn’t stay long in Porto—just two days—and certainly I was exhausted by now from my travels. But, I entertained myself by walking along the river, sitting and reading in the park, and by simply admiring the old city on a peaceful summer day in early June. After two weeks, it was time to go back to Germany, and when my flight landed in Frankfurt, and at long last my train pulled into Neustadt station, I climbed the mountain up to my house, collapsed in my bed and slept longer than I believe I ever have before in my life. The trip was tiring, but worth it, filled with memories and stories to last a lifetime. Two weeks will do that to you. Cody Bennett