Ultreïa!

Merely by accident I came across the Jakobsweg (St. James' Way, Camino de Santiago) today. There is in fact a wide network of pilgrimage routes all over Europe leading to the Cathedral of Santiago de Compostela in Spain.

Many people chose to walk the walk for spiritual reasons, others for the fitness challenge. To get into the spirit of the pilgrimage I strongly recommend this movie: The Way.

The trails are marked by the shell of a saltwater clam. An old pilgrim's greeting is E Ultreïa! Onwards! (Or more contemporary: Buon Camino!).

Thirsty pilgrims and wanderers might be one reason why there are so many wells and fountains along the way. I for myself used the water to clean my bug splattered visor.

Below is the former (nun) abbey of Wittichen, founded in 1325 by the Poor Clares, a sister order of the Franciscans.

The foundress chose a secluded narrow valley for the abbey, the church was set on a hill, while the long building provided housing for the nuns, and also served as a shield against strangers.

Alonzo posing in front of the stable, which houses a museum, alas, it was closed.

Ultreïa! Onwards now, the road is calling. There are some fantastic twists and turns waiting ahead of us!

***

Pilgerfahrt.

Ein glücklicher Zufall führte mich heute am Kloster Wittichen vorbei, einer Wallfahrtsstätte des Jakobsweges. Alle Wege führen nach Rom, und noch mehr zum Dom in Santiago de Compostela. Auch wenn ich kein religiöser Mensch bin, so verstehe ich doch die spirituelle Bedeutung dieser Pilgerroute. Die Jakobsmuschel zeigt dem Wanderer den Weg und Ultreia ist der alte Gruß der Pilger, was so viel bedeutet wie: voran, vorwärts! Ein wohl dieser Tage geläufigerer Gruß ist Buon Camino, einen guten Weg! Am Wegesrand gibt es immer wieder Brunnen, und ich kann nur vermuten, dass diese den durstigen Pilgern zur Erfrischung dienen sollten. 

Das Nonnen-Kloster Wittichen wurde im 14. Jahrhundert von einer Klarisse gegründet. Laut Wiki ist der Klarissen-Orden ein Schwesterorden der Franziskaner. Die Anlage enthielt eine Kirche, ein Schlafhaus, Stallungen und andere Zeughäuser, aber nicht alle Gebäude haben die Jahrhunderte unbeschadet überstanden. Leider war das Museum geschlossen. Ich hätte gern noch mehr erfahren.

Little Things

Sonja: When looking for a rental apartment in Germany you will notice that it is quite rare to find a home that comes with the kitchen, appliances and lighting fixtures already in place. And don't even think about walk-in closets...

There is this strange concept that we Germans pursue in quest of making our personal space homey:
The native spends top Euros to install costly designed custom fit furniture (such as kitchens) in their rented condos, only to rip them apart, and drag them along when they got to move. Later you will find them spending another big portion of dough to get the previously perfectly fitting parts adjusted to make them fit into the new home. Seriously!

And yes, of course we take with our lamps and draperies as well, even if we end up storing them in the basement because they don't fit the new home. I am not kidding you.

However, we were lucky to be able to find an apartment that already had a kitchen and a few appliances (no fridge, no washing machine) in place. But the kitchen was not in best shape, and definitely not our style... not to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Before:

After

You won't really notice it but the surfaces were quite tacky and greasy, and I soaped and scrubbed everything in and outside several times. We removed the top rims and the rustic glass cabinet door, painted the walls and the wooden duct cover, and it immediately brightened up the space. Then I re-adjusted all cabinet doors, used some wood putty (thanks to Martha I know that word now) to cover up some holes and cracks, and changed the wooden knobs to brushed metal ones. After that it was just a matter of setting some colour accents. Guess, what's my favourite colour... It only required little investment but we find it a very satisfactory improvement.

And just like that, it's over?

Summer came and passed away. 

Hardly seemed to last a day.

But it's over and what can I do? 

(Lyrics: Electric Light Orchestra)

Summer has lost its grip. Today it was 19C (66F), overcast and windy, but it felt colder. I grabbed Alonzo for a quick spin anyway.

Halfway through my round trip I noticed that I hadn't mounted my TomTom, and I felt quite comfortable because I realized that I was riding on familiar grounds. This area has become home.

I didn't need my GPS to tell me where to go. Even though I chose some new tracks today, I always got my bearings and knew in which direction to turn.

I procured my scooter with less than 200km on the clock. Meanwhile the odometer shows almost 1,700 km (about 1,000 miles), most of the distance had been spent on exploring my new backyard in the last four weeks.

The green moss and ferns reminded me of the forests of the We(s)t Coast. Hence, I stopped and pushed Alonzo into position for a quick photo op. I was just about ready, when the atmosphere got somewhat eery.

The air fell silent, and it was like cold fingers were touching my neck. I looked around and all of a sudden I was surrounded by fog.

It was merely a cloud passing through the forest but for a moment it felt like one of those scenes out of a Stephen King novel...

About fifty kilometers equals ninety minutes of riding time. The round trip doesn't look like much, does it? Having said that, the ride was on single track roads mostly, and that was eating up time.

On my descent back into the valley I watched the low hanging clouds which had succeeded in giving me the creeps. On the spur of a moment I had the odd desire to return into the foggy damp mass lingering on top of the hill. Did someone (something?) call me?

A passing car broke up my silly thoughts, and I returned home to tell the story of the summer disappearing into the clouds.

***

Wie, der Sommer ist vorbei?

Wir hatten einen Temperatursturz und ein scharfer Wind pfeift durch's Tal. So fühlt sich doch kein Sommer an. Ich bin wieder auf den Brandenkopf und stelle fest, dass ich mein Navi vergessen habe. Ich brauchte es auch nicht, denn so langsam kenne ich mich hier aus. Die Bergkuppen dienen zur Orientierung und ich weiss genau wo ich bin. In einem vermoosten Waldstück fühle ich mich an den Regenwald der kanadischen Westküste erinnert und posiere Alonzo, meinen orange Vespa GTS300 SuperSport für ein Foto. Plötzlich wird es still und etwas unheimlich. Wie in einem von Stephen King's Romanen rollt ein Nebel auf mich zu. Klar ist es nur eine Wolke, die über die Hügelkette zieht, aber ein wenig gruselig ist mir trotzdem zumute. Bei meiner Abfahrt lasse ich die Wolken zurück, es wird etwas wärmer und die Sicht ist wieder klar. Ich drehe mich herum und ertappe mich bei dem Gedanken, dass ich noch einmal zurück fahren möchte. Wo kommt das denn jetzt her? Ein vorbei fahrendes Auto reisst mich aus meinen Gedanken und ich rollere nach Hause.