Tag Archives: meeting new people

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A funny thing happened on our afternoon walk…

The sun is out this afternoon, and temperatures are kind of pleasant outside today. Arran missed yesterday’s walk because it was yucky outside and I was waiting for a package that never arrived. The package still hasn’t arrived yet, but I couldn’t miss the chance for some fresh air and exercise. Walks are also when Arran does his business best, otherwise we run the risk of him going in inappropriate places at inappropriate times.

On the way out of the house, Arran and I ran into our landlady. We don’t talk to her very often because her husband handles most of the business with us. We learned from the landlord that his wife’s brother built the house we’re living in. Our landlord then joked that he gets called “slumlord” a lot, but Bill told him this is the nicest house we’ve ever lived in. I think I agree with him. We’ve lived in a few houses we’ve enjoyed for various reasons, but overall, I think this one is in the best shape. The only place I absolutely hated in all ways was our apartment in Fredericksburg, Virginia. It was the true epitome of a dump, along with inconsiderate neighbors, high crime, and shitty infrastructure. For that dump, we paid about $900 a month in 2003. By contrast, the house we’re in now is the most expensive of any we’ve ever lived in. But, for the most part, it’s completely worth it… and not just because it’s a nice house, but because we are treated respectfully, like adults with the right to privacy. It’s also a very comfortable home with many nice amenities and no one freaking out over dog hair in the doorway.

One nice thing about our current landlords is that they don’t mind dogs. Arran went over to say hello to the landlady. She gave him a pat and asked about Zane. I told her that he’d died. I’m sure they were wondering, but probably didn’t know how to bring it up. I mentioned that maybe we’d have a new dog after the holidays. She nodded in agreement, which makes me feel good. A few weeks ago, one of our elderly neighbors asked about Zane, and remarked that the dogs are like our children. That’s definitely true in our case. I was kind of happy that he’d asked, since I never know how the neighbors feel about our dogs. It seems like they’re well liked in this neighborhood. Obviously, Zane has been missed, and not just by Bill and me.

So we did our usual loop, and on our way through the messy field by the Rewe, I noticed an older lady coming down the hill with a little Yorkie. The Yorkie was off lead, which usually makes me nervous, since you never know how dogs will act when they first meet each other. The little dog came running up to Arran, who was whining and shrieking, trying to make contact. The lady smiled at me as our dogs sniffed. Her little dog was so cute, dodging, barking at Arran, yet curious and wanting to sniff my hand. I said to the dog, “Hello… aren’t you cute?”

Then the lady laughed and said, “You’re American?”

“Yes!” I responded, with a giggle.

“Me too!” she laughed.

We shared another awkward moment, then said goodbye. What are the odds?

I’ve heard there are a number of Americans here in Breckenheim. I know there’s a little hotel and there are a couple of Air BnBs here, too, where people have stayed until they find housing. This was the first time I’ve bumped into an American while walking the dog near my home in any of the three places in Germany I’ve lived so far. Or maybe I have run into them, but because I pass for German and so do a lot of other Americans, I just didn’t know it.

Anyway, it was kind of a funny encounter. Maybe we’ll run into each other again sometime. I hope so, since I think Arran and her dog may be buddies now. I love how our dogs serve as such excellent canine ambassadors. I’ve met a lot of nice people in Germany thanks to my dogs.

Today also happens to be the seventh anniversary of losing MacGregor, who was Arran’s predecessor. MacGregor was such a wonderful dog. He was best friends with Bill, who was probably the only man he ever liked. I can’t believe it’s been seven years already since we lost him. Time flies!

MacGregor, posing on our well-loved loveseat at our very first German house… Our first German house was almost as beautiful as the one we’re in now. We lost MacGregor in Raleigh, North Carolina seven years ago today. Canine cancer sucks!
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Burrata brings people together at Momo’s Osteria und Restaurant!

My neighbors have a sense of humor… I spotted this while walking Zane and Arran yesterday.

Because we’re going on vacation tomorrow, I told Bill I needed to stop by AAFES. I have a couple of dresses I plan to wear on our cruise that require pantyhose. I don’t often wear hose anymore, even on the rare occasions when I do dress up, but there will be a couple of “gala” nights during which Bill will be wearing his kilt. I don’t want him to upstage me too much.

So we went to the PX. I got a pair of tights and two pairs of hose in the largest size I could find… because if I have to wear hose, I don’t want to feel like I’m stuffed in sausage casing. Bill got some socks and I got more face cream to help stave off wrinkles for as long as possible. Once we were finished with our chore, Bill proposed having dinner downtown.

We rarely go out to eat during the week, so I decided I wanted to go somewhere we don’t usually go. I remembered a side street off of Wiesbaden’s big square that had a couple of restaurants we’d never tried. Although there was some building construction going on next to Momo’s Osteria und Restaurant, a barrier was put up and they were fully open for business and welcoming. We took a seat and quickly decided on what we were having.

A long haired, swarthy gentleman who appeared to be Italian, came over and asked, “Deutsch?”

“American.” I said kind of sheepishly. “But it’s okay, we can read the menu.” The specials were in German, but the actual menu had most everything translated anyway. An attractive blonde woman who spoke English came over and took our orders. She brought us warm bread, spicy olives, and olive tapenade to go with our primitivo and San Pellegrino.

Spicy olives! And salty olive tapenade…
I liked the bread. It was served warm, which is kind of a rarity over here.

I decided to have taglatelle with cubed salmon and a light tomato sauce. Bill had linguini with strips of beef, vegetables, chilis, and Parmesan cheese. The food was good– your basic Italian fare. I particularly liked the salmon, which was cooked perfectly and melted in my mouth. There’s a real trick to getting salmon to turn out moist rather than dry and tough.

I know… I always seem to go for pasta with salmon. I really like fish.
Bill enjoyed his dish, but I preferred mine. I think the fish is better than German beef.

About halfway through our dinner, another couple sat down next to us. I immediately noticed the man was wearing a metal bracelet, the same kind people wear to remember Vietnam veterans. They could have passed for German, but then I heard them speaking and they were Americans all the way. They were trying to figure out the menu and Bill overheard the lady talking about burrata, which I just had a few days ago at Little Italy. I don’t usually go for cold cheeses or raw tomatoes, but I must admit I have become a fan of burrata ever since we first tried it at Osteria da Gino’s in Nagold. Incidentally, we made new friends that night, too! Burrata brings people together!

The woman seemed confused about what burrata is, so Bill interjected into their private discussion. He explained burrata, but then I asked, “You did say burrata, right? Not dorade?”

The woman smiled and said, “Yes, burrata.”

“Because dorade is fish.” I clarified.

Next thing we knew, we were getting to know this couple, who had come to Wiesbaden to find their next home. She’s taking a job on Clay Kaserne and he’s probably going to telework… or, maybe he’ll do what I do. It sounded like he wanted to keep working… or maybe felt like he should keep working. But then he said he didn’t have to, especially since he’s retired from the military and presumably gets paid to get up in the morning. The couple has a young son who will be joining them when they make the move. Frankly, if I were him, I’d take the golden opportunity to bond with the boy and show him Europe. But then, I have never been known for my puritan style work ethic. I don’t believe life should be entirely about work.

We spent a good hour or so chatting with our new acquaintances, trading stories. It turns out we’ve been a lot of the places they’ve been, and in fact, we were even in some of the same places at the same time. They surprised me by knowing the town where I grew up, having visited the campground there. I went there myself as a youngster; my dad bought a VW pop top camper and we spent the night at that campground to try it out, even though we were locals.

Our new friends decided to go have gelato at Wiesbaden’s best ice cream joint, so Bill and I shared a Ramazotti on ice after we paid the check. “Once again,” I mused, “I had a feeling about a certain place. We go there to eat, and we’ve run into new people.”

I have a weird knack for either making new friends in restaurants or running into people whom I either used to know or who know someone I know. Once, when we were in San Antonio, I ran into a guy and his wife I had met in 1994, when we all worked at a summer camp in tiny Star Tannery, Virginia. We hadn’t seen each other in almost 20 years.

Another time, while waiting tables, I met a couple from Belfast who happened to be neighbors with a friend I met at the same summer camp. He’d come to Virginia to work, and left with an American girlfriend, who eventually married him. They now have six children and live in Belfast. What are the odds I would have met my Irish friend’s neighbors while waiting tables at one of Williamsburg, Virginia’s many restaurants? But this kind of thing happens to me all the time. It’s one of my many quirks.

A few years ago, in Herrenberg, Germany, Bill and I ran into our former neighbors from the first time we lived in Germany. They immediately recognized me, but it took me a minute to remember them. I never did know their names, although I used to talk to the English speaking daughter and son-in-law all the time. We bonded over our old beagle, Flea, who was in love with their little boy, Robin.

We made our way back to the car, passing a bizarre looking Gucci display in which one of the headless mannequins appeared to have forgotten something important…

No pants!

We also ran into some wildlife… many geese and rabbits enjoying their evening meal, completely unbothered by people or predators. We used to see hares a lot in our last town, but here in Wiesbaden, it appears that rabbits are king.

There were dozens of geese last night!
“What’s up, Doc?”

Well, that about does it for today’s post. I may or may not do much writing while we’re away. Depends on my mood and whether or not I think it’s worth bothering. I will be writing about the cruise when we return, though, and I’m sure it will be epic.

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Volvo, Mark Knopfler, and East German adventures… part three

Sunday morning, I woke up at about 3:00am.  I couldn’t help but notice the sun was already rising.  Sweden is a bit weird for the uninitiated, especially in the winter and summer, when days are either really short, or really long.  A few hours later, we got up for real, enjoyed the awesome rainfall shower, got dressed, and headed to the 25th floor for breakfast.  At Upper House, breakfast is always included in the rate.  You get a very nice buffet, as well as “small plates”, which are prepared by the chef.  Most people get two or three of the small plates, as well as whatever they want from the buffet. Below are a few photos of items we enjoyed over the course of our two night stay.

The menu.

Awesome scrambled eggs with chives and bacon.

 

Roast beef…

 

Chocolate filled cream puff.

Delicious strawberry crumble with cream.  I think this one was my favorite.

 

A beautifully set table.

 

A view of the city.

On day two, Bill had the royal and the shakshuka, a dish of eggs poached in a sauce of tomatoes, peppers, and garlic.

 

At 11:30am, we headed to the spa for our massages.  One thing I want to mention about the spa in Sweden.  It seems that when it comes to nudity, the Swedes are more like the Brits and us Americans.  We were advised to come dressed in our bathing suits.  Even in the locker room, there really weren’t any places to change in privacy.  So, if you’re reading this in Germany and you want to visit the Upper House spa, be advised that it’s NOT textile free, even in the sauna.  In fact, we even had our massages while wearing bathing suits, although they were rolled down.  We were fully covered the whole time.

Our aromatherapy massages went on concurrently– Bill and I were in the same room with two female therapists.  We spent 80 very peaceful minutes getting the knots knocked out of our tired muscles, although the bed at the Upper House was the very best of all four hotels we stayed in this week.  Then, we checked out the amazing spa area with its views of Liseberg.

Heated lounges overlooking the amusement park.

The view.

Bill in his snazzy robe.  I brought mine from home.

 

This pool is 18 floors up and has a glass bottom… Yes, it’s very secure, and yes, you can see to the street when the water isn’t bubbling.  

 

A saltwater pool…  It had jets.

A peek at the pool from the ground floor of the towers.


After a few pleasant hours in the spa, we were hungry.  We got dressed and went looking for food.  Unfortunately, just as it is in Germany, a lot of Swedish restaurants also take a “pause”.  Consequently, we ended up at Ristoria, an Italian eatery in the towers.  They had a Sunday brunch, which didn’t really please me much.  The food wasn’t bad, but it looked like it had been sitting for awhile.  Also, the chairs were uncomfortable.  But it satisfied my hunger well enough…

From the buffet at Ristoria.  It should be mentioned that cash isn’t accepted anywhere in the hotel or restaurants, so bring your credit cards.

 

Not too impressed.

One drawback to Gothia Towers’ location is that it’s not close to downtown, nor is it in a particularly walkable location.  Moreover, while we were in the spa, I overhead a guy telling the staff that he was robbed.  So after we finished lunch, we went back to the room.  I proposed a visit to Liseberg to Bill, but he wasn’t interested.  He doesn’t like rides, particularly ones that are extremely high or just plain extreme.  I will admit, while I wouldn’t have hesitated to ride most of the rides at Liseberg when I was younger, they did seem a bit extreme, even to me.  And I don’t like crowds or being part of a captive audience… so we decided to hang out and talk.

At about 5:00pm, we went to the Upper House’s bar and proceeded to spend the evening drinking… and talking to a British woman named Janet who lives in Doha, Qatar and works in the airline industry.  Bill struck up a conversation with her when she said she wanted to sit out on the balcony.  The wind up on the 25th floor was extreme, but Janet said she had been dealing with 50 degree weather for weeks and she wanted some fresh air.  Dopey me… I thought she meant 50 degrees Fahrenheit.  Nope… 50 degrees Celsius.  That is some HOT weather!  No thanks!

Janet was a total stranger prior to last Sunday, but she turned out to be a lot of fun to talk to.  She also reminded me a lot of my sister, Becky.  She said she was going to have to get up very early on Monday morning to fly to Stockholm for business purposes.  Then, I guess, she was going back to Doha…  We had a lot to talk about, though, since it turned out we liked the same kind of music and had lots of travel stories to share.  We found ourselves talking about everything from 9/11, Princess Diana and where we were when she died (I was in a sleeper care with a Chinese family on a train from Vienna to Venice) to her trip to Vietnam and, of course, religion and politics.  She even kissed us goodbye!

This was dinner… two small plates.  Pork belly and some kind of sea scallop soup.  I was partial to the pork, but that probably surprises no one.

The next morning was the day we picked up our new car.  Things got off on the wrong foot, when the elevators wouldn’t work.  We had to climb a tight spiral staircase to get to the restaurant.  Then, while we were eating, our waiter came over and said Volvo had sent a taxi for us.  Bill was upset, since he was told they wouldn’t come until after 9:00am.  But he never got any confirmation one way or the other and, I guess, trusted that things would go according to plan.  He was pretty upset that we weren’t ready for the taxi and they hadn’t told us it was coming.

After breakfast, we went to the reception and explained what was going on.  A very beautiful blonde woman with delicate features and big blue eyes was running the desk.  She offered to call Volvo for us and find out what to do.  Meanwhile, we went back to our room to wait.  While we were there, I noticed the below sign.

This is pretty awesome!  If you smoke in your room, they’ll charge you a lot to clean it.  Then, they’ll donate half of the fine to Sweden’s Heart and Lung Foundation.  I love the sense of social responsibility the Swedes have.

One more view of the dining room.  Next time, we’ll be sure to reserve a table for dinner.  Upper House has a restaurant with a Michelin star.

Volvo agreed to send us another taxi at 10:40am, so we waited in our room, checked out, and hung out in the lobby to wait for yet another taxi driver driving a Volvo to take us to our new wheels.  I prepaid for the room, so the only bill to be settled was for our dual massages and drinks in the bar.  It was about $400.

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Hessen, house hunting

Whirlwind trip to Wiesbaden– our quest to find new dog friendly digs… Part six

We had absolutely glorious weather all weekend.  It was unseasonably warm in Wiesbaden yesterday, so we decided to take a stroll with the dogs, give them a chance to stretch their legs and us a chance to see a little more of the city.  I managed to grab a few more photos and we ran into a fellow beagle owner, who stopped us and enthused about how cute Zane and Arran are.  She showed us a picture of her beagle and I quipped to Bill that having a beagle in Germany is kind of like having a Mini Cooper in the States.  It’s like you’re in a special club!

Below are some pictures from our walk.

Another picture of that beautiful tree in the park.

Wiesbaden has so many fountains!  They’re everywhere!

My friend Susanne says this reminds her of the Salt Lake Temple, only it’s a different color and isn’t LDS.

 

We really didn’t even get the chance to explore the other beautiful landmarks in Wiesbaden… I can see I’m going to have my work cut out for me as I get to know Wiesbaden and Mainz.

Wiesbaden is a very international city– I would say moreso than Stuttgart, which seems more traditional to me.  We saw a lot of Muslims in Wiesbaden, some of whom were openly praying in the park.  I saw many women of Middle Eastern descent dressed head to toe in black, as well as some just in headscarves.  We also saw a group of men sitting on a blanket with one older guy sitting in a chair.  It was something I don’t see a lot of where I live now.  

 

A little bit later, we decided to have dinner, even though I was still pretty satisfied after our Thai food extravaganza.  We passed a couple of Italian restaurants and I decided I wanted Italian food for dinner.  We ended up at Little Italy, which is a tiny restaurant just around the corner from our hotel.

We were looking at the specials, which were written on a portable chalkboard, when a man in a chef’s uniform came out and invited us to sit down.  It was pleasant weather, so we sat outside.  The chef pointed out blankets and a heat lamp over our table, in case we got cold.

Our waiter impressed us by being at least tri-lingual– he spoke English, German,  and Italian.  When he heard me speak English, he was genuinely surprised.  Apparently, we pass quite well for Germans, although his boss in the chef’s outfit quickly figured out we’re Americans.

Bill chose this lovely Super Tuscan wine to go with dinner…

 

This came with the bread… olive oil with a dollop of very fresh tomato paste.

He had a Parmesan tartufo, which consisted of tagliatelle encased in a small Parmesan “bowl” and topped with sliced truffles.  We usually see this made in a big Parmesan cheese wheel, but they do it differently at Little Italy, probably because it’s a very small restaurant.

I had risotto with prawns, onions, and lemongrass.  It was topped with a breadstick.  I really enjoyed this because it was just the right size and very simple.

 

Just after we finished eating, we were thinking about dessert, when a very well-dressed, attractive, petite, older Italian woman sat down at the table next to ours.  She had perfectly manicured nails painted fuchsia, although she wasn’t wearing any makeup.  We noticed the staff at Little Italy knew her and greeted her by name as she sipped a glass of prosecco.  After a few minutes, she struck up a conversation with us.  It turned out she organizes high end luxury vacations, which Bill and I have been known to enjoy on occasion (although we didn’t tell her that).

She told us she hadn’t eaten for two days because she’d been so stuffed at a wedding and she decided that last night, she needed to eat.  So she stopped by Little Italy and ordered spaghetti with branzino.  Before we knew it, this lady was telling us stories about people she’d taken on trips, including one memorable tale about how she’d rented a Mercedes limo to take a client to an opera in Vicenza and the car broke down at a swimming pool.

Bill told her about how he’d been in Vicenza just last week and had Baccalà Mantecato, a Venetian specialty.  He hadn’t cared for it.  It’s salted cod with lots of olive oil served with polenta, which sounds okay to me… but apparently, it sat very heavily on Bill’s stomach.  Our new acquaintance was impressed that Bill had tried it.

Then she showed us pictures of herself and her friends at Carnival in Venice.  They were wearing masks they had made in Venice.  As she enjoyed her dinner, more people who worked in the restaurant came over and said hello.  They were obviously happy to see her, although I got the sense that maybe the chef guy might have thought of her as being too chatty.  She certainly chatted us up, and told us her name is Paola.  I won’t be surprised if we run into her again.  We have a knack for running into people.  Actually, I have a real knack for it– always have, even before I met Bill.

I decided to have tiramisu for dessert.  It was very light and creamy, with ladyfingers that tasted more like angel food cake.

Bill had Zabaione with ice cream… this stuff was absolutely sinful.  It’s like very rich creamy custard made with marsala wine, with a ball of ice cream in the middle.  I tasted it and could practically feel my ass expanding.  

As we enjoyed dessert, Paola told us about a friend of hers who had died.  She had gone on a trip and was feeling kind of blue when she noticed a cloud shaped like an angel.  She said it was like her friend, Sue, telling her to enjoy her life.  Paola came across as very extraverted.  I’m not sure what made her decide to talk to us.  It might have been because Bill looks like a sweet teddy bear and is basically like that most of the time.

Paola told us that she had wanted to go out and talk to someone.  She said she had gone to the sauna and then the movies, and decided to have dinner out because she needed company.  She thanked us for talking to her, since she lives alone.  It was our pleasure.  She’s a very interesting lady.  That experience kind of drove home that Wiesbaden is probably going to be different in many ways… although it also occurs to me that a week ago, we met Germans from Wiesbaden at the Cannstatter Fest.  Maybe it’s one of God’s little signs that we’re in for something new and exciting.  I sure hope so.  But I especially hope we find a house that won’t drive me batty.

Incidentally, my German friend, Susanne, found Paola’s Internet presence, based on my description of her in the post…  Paola might be a good person to know, since I love my food and wine experiences.

We’ll definitely be back to this restaurant, too.  It was a great find!

Our drive back to Stuttgart was mostly uneventful, except that a trucker tried to run us off the road while laying on his horn.  I think maybe Bill was trying to pass him as he was speeding up to prevent being passed.  Consequently, he may have been cut off through his own fault.  He backed off when he looked into our car and saw me with my iPad.  I suppose I could have taken a picture of his very aggressive driving.  He acted like a total lunatic and probably shouldn’t be a trucker anymore.

Our next door neighbor was in her yard when we drove up.  She greeted us warmly and asked me about my singing.  She is also a singer… and she likes Van Halen.  I’m going to miss her when we go. But now that I’ve seen Wiesbaden, I know that there will be new friends to be made there.

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Cannstatter Volksfest 2018…

Over the past few years, Bill and I have taken to going to the Cannstatter Volksfest on Sunday afternoons.  It seems like the crowds are less obnoxious on Sundays, although there were definitely plenty of people festing yesterday afternoon.  This year, I talked Bill into wearing his kilt, since I wore my dirndl.  He was a good sport, although he was afraid he might get in trouble for wearing it.  He heard some Scotsmen wore their kilts to the Oktoberfest in Munich and were stopped at the gate because they were mooning people.  I don’t know how true that story is, especially since Munich, in particular, seems to be pretty relaxed about public nudity.  Nevertheless, he was concerned about it.  I’m happy to report that the kilt was not only acceptable, it was a big hit!

Anyway, below are some photos from yesterday’s drunkfest…  Yes, I did drink way more than I should have and some of the photos might reflect that reality.

Bill in his kilt.  He got several comments about it!

A shot of the countryside near Herrenberg.  Too bad I didn’t roll down the window.

 

We made the 12:46 train to Bad Cannstatt, which takes about 45 minutes to get to from Herrenberg.  I don’t really enjoy riding the train, but I will admit that the train makes it much easier to have fun at the Fests.  We ended up sitting with a nice family from the States.  The dad is a teacher on Patch Barracks.  I was glad to get to talk to them, since it made the travel time pass.

 

I managed to get a nice shot of us.  For some reason, I seem to look best in a photo if Bill is with me.

 

We arrived at the Wasen along with many others.  I managed to snap a few photos.  I wish Bill liked riding the rides.

This guy was collecting bottles.  I liked his hat.

I’ve seen it more crowded.

 
 

Let the drinking begin.

We sat in the Furstenberg tent, which I think is the same one we went to last year.  It was quite festive and there were a lot of people there, although they didn’t seem too wound up at first.  I think I got more funny pictures and videos last year.

The band was alright.

The chicken was just okay… it was a little dry.  Last week’s was better.

These guys were having fun!

I call this my Bill Cosby look.

More merrymakers!

In a world of lederhosen, wear a kilt!  One lady selling cigars came by and told Bill he looked great.

Doing the Macarena!

Head and shoulders above the rest!

Around 4:30 or so, we decided to go to the Wine tent.  To be honest, I think it was really more my speed.  It was much less crowded and there was an older crowd in there.  Instead of a full band, there were two guys playing a keyboard and guitar.

But this guy wasn’t among them.

They had fish, too!

More my speed.

We ended up sitting with a really nice German family from Calw.  It turned out the parents are from the Wiesbaden area.  They didn’t speak English, but their daughter and her husband filled them in.  I think it was the kilt that got them talking to us.  We learned that wearing Trachten to the Volksfest is actually kind of a new thing.  According to our new friends, fifteen years ago, no one dressed up for them.  Now, Germans love to put on their best Lederhosen and Dirndls!

They did a lot of dancing divinely!  I sat and drank too much wine.

Nice bar area, too.  I think I might stick with the wine tent from now on.  But then, we may not be back to the Cannstatter fest next year.

That wraps up yet another fest season for us.  We’re not the kind of people who go to it repeatedly because it’s just too much excitement.  It’s a one and done deal for us.  I don’t even remember much of the ride back to Herrenberg…  It’s probably just as well!  I think I’ll spend today recovering.

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Our Rolling Stones weekend in Stuttgart… part one

View from our seats at the Rolling Stones concert in Stuttgart…  before the teeming crowds showed up!

 

I think 2018 will go down as our “year of the concerts”.  This year, I have purchased tickets to five concerts, four of which are happening between yesterday and Halloween and one for next spring.  In two weeks, we are going to fly to Dublin to see Paul Simon, who will have James Taylor and Bonnie Raitt as guests.  In September, we’re going to see Roger Hodgson, formerly of Supertramp.  In October, we’re planning to see an Irish folk music festival.  Next May, we’re going to see Elton John.

We don’t usually go to a lot of shows.  I don’t like crowds and Bill doesn’t like traffic.  Neither of us likes overpriced concessions or being too short to see the stage.  However, we have found that concerts in Germany are somewhat less obnoxious than shows in the United States, so we have taken advantage of the opportunity to see some of the great entertainers who pass through Stuttgart.  So far, in our two tours in the Stuttgart area, we have seen: Lyle Lovett, Diana Krall, Van Morrison, Sting, and now The Rolling Stones.

Last night’s Rolling Stones concert is probably the biggest of all of them…  and the tickets were definitely the most expensive.  However, having now seen the freak of nature that is Mick Jagger perform live, I can say it was worth everything– the expense, fighting the crowds, sitting next to a smoker who kept hitting me with his jacket, and Bill’s manspreading.

Last February, when I went on my ticket buying spree, I remember gasping at the price of the tickets I selected for the Stones’ concert.  They were priced at 497 euros each, but they were on the 13th row.  In retrospect, maybe I should have opted for a seat in the stands, since I’m only 5’2″ tall and the 13th row is in the flat area.  I probably would have had a better view on the side.  But I wanted, just once, to experience a concert “close up”.  Of course, if we’d really wanted to be close, we could have gone for the “stehplatz”.  There were two areas where people were standing and dancing the whole time; one was literally just a few yards from the stage.  Unfortunately, Bill and I are both short, neither of us are dancers, and Bill has a bad knee and needs to be able to sit.

Not so long ago, Bill and I were pretty much relegated to the cheap seats.  I remember seeing both Alison Krauss and Eric Clapton while perched high in the nosebleed section.  We had better seats when we saw James Taylor, except for the two drunk chicks who stood up and swayed in front of us for the whole show.  Probably our closest seats were at Livingston Taylor’s show at the Birchmere in Alexandria, Virginia, and it was probably one of the best shows I’ve been to, although Liv is not as big a name performer as his brother James, is.  Anyway, I figured that if I was going to drop a load of cash on close seats, The Rollings Stones would be the show for which to do it.

I learned a new German word on the way to the hotel.  This camper is obviously driven by people who love their dogs.  On the bumper, there was a sign in German warning that dogs don’t have a “crumple zone”; therefore, please don’t tailgate…

As is our habit, we stayed at the Wald Hotel in Degerloch the night before and the night of the concert.  We started this custom when we saw Van Morrison in 2016.  I remembered the nutroll of getting in and out of the concert venues and how late it usually was when we got home.  The idea of staying downtown was very appealing, especially since Stuttgart is about 45 minutes from where we live, depending on traffic.  Staying in Stuttgart gives us a chance to see more of the city without having to worry about getting home to take care of our dogs, who never stay with us at the Wald Hotel, even though the place is pet friendly.

We checked in on Friday, June 29th.  As usual, I booked a “superior room” and added breakfast.  The Wald Hotel is a very comfortable four star hotel.  It’s situated very close to the TV tower and surrounded by a sports complex and walking trails.  I think I booked it the first time because it’s air conditioned.  I have booked in on subsequent occasions because it really is a nice place in a convenient location.  It has free parking, free WiFi, and a very attentive staff.  Even though we’re essentially staying in our home town, being at the Wald Hotel is a treat.

Below are pictures of our room, which was as expected. All three times, we’ve stayed in the same type of room and they all pretty much look the same.

King sized bed… very comfortable with fluffy duvets instead of sheets.  We brought pillows because German hotels usually don’t have good ones.  We needn’t have bothered.  I had forgotten that the Wald Hotel loads you up with nice pillows.

Sitting area and desk.

Awesome shower!  It has special lighting and a huge rainforest option that is just heavenly.  With the press of a button the ceiling rains down a large square shaped swath of water   You can also use the regular shower head, which you can see in the picture.

Since the World Cup has been going on, the hotel gifted us with soccer balls…

And the usual gummi bears, as well as a complimentary mini bar stocked with water, apple schorle, and beer.

View from our balcony.

 

Ordinarily, I would have liked to have booked us a table at a local restaurant, but we didn’t get to the hotel until about 7:00pm and Bill was tired from a day of hard work.  Although there are several casual eateries near the hotel, we decided to dine at the hotel’s Finch restaurant, which is a very pleasant, but rather pricey place to have dinner.  Although the weather was perfect, we didn’t have reservations.  All of the outside tables were taken, so we were seated in the elegant dining at a private booth.

We ate at Finch on our last visit to the Wald Hotel and remembered the slightly Asian inspired menu to be creative in flavor and presentation.  On our first trip to Finch, we both had meat.  This last time, we went with main courses from the sea.

Bill decides on a wine.  Finch offers menus in English, which I appreciated.  Our waitress was the same very service oriented server who took care of us the last time we dined at Finch.  She speaks English, but patiently indulged Bill’s elementary German.

 

Since we were both having seafood, Bill ordered a locally produced white burgundy.  It was crisp and refreshing and paired very well with our meals.

We also had fresh bread with an herb spread, olive oil, and fresh bread garnished with black salt.

I had the Avocado Tatar, with included avocados with beefsteak tomatoes, peanuts, and spinach.  This starter was surprisingly filling, but nice on a warm evening.

Bill had a lobster bisque; it was unfortunately served rather sloppily, but tasted good.

My lobster came with toasted macadamia nuts, half a lemon, drawn butter, spring onions and a sinful carrot puree.  I enjoyed the lobster, but especially liked the colorful presentation.

Bill had “wolfbarsch” (European sea bass).  As much as I like lobster and enjoyed my main course, I think I liked Bill’s dish better. It was a bit more flavorful.

I probably shouldn’t eat dessert so often, but I was intrigued by the “oats and nougat”, which was a nougat atop toasted oats (granola) and served with a caramel panna cotta.  The dish was garnished with chocolate pieces and raspberries.

Bill had a passionfruit creation that he said reminded him a little of a napoleon.  He especially liked the scoop of mango sorbet that came with his dessert.  Wald Hotel also offers several cheese plates for those who are less tempted by sweets.

 

After dinner, we decided to hang out at the hotel bar.  Wald Hotel has a very personable Italian bartender who is a master at mixing drinks and making conversation.  While we were at the bar, a rather alternative looking couple came in.  They heard us speaking English and asked if we were American.  We answered affirmatively.  It turned out they had come to Stuttgart to see The Rolling Stones.  Both had lived in the United States to work and study and both had great love for our country.  They were surprised we’d choose to live in Germany.

It turned out our new friends, Bjorn and Rokka, work in the film industry.  Rokka is a makeup artist and has put her touch on many celebrities.  Bjorn didn’t talk as much about what he does in film, but I got the sense that maybe he was a producer.  Both looked a lot younger than their ages and, in fact, they told us they had booked the “stehplatz” up front.  I was impressed, since agewise they were probably contemporaries of Mick Jagger’s.  They seemed to have drunk from the same fountain of youth he has.  Anyway, we had a very nice time talking to them, especially since they were so friendly and Bill has actually been to Iceland.  I love it when we meet interesting people.  Luckily, it seems to happen to us a lot!

An expertly produced gin and tonic by the barman, who also joined in our conversation.  I’ve seen him on each of our three stays at Wald Hotel.  He definitely makes booking the hotel even more attractive.

We decided to turn in at about 11:00 or so,  which is kind of past our bedtimes.  Little did we know how full our Saturday was going to be.  More on that in the next post.

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