Nurnberg, Germany

Thurs. June 22, 2023- Nurnberg, Germany

       We were up early, perhaps thinking of all that we had to do today. A light breakfast, on the open air aqua vit terrace, got us underway. We would be leaving the Vali today. She had been a good ride, with a wonderful crew.

       Our bus tour of Nurnberg got underway. The City had been founded in 1,050. Its name meant "rocky mountains" in German, perhaps because of the proximity of the Alps. The buses cruised through the outer perimeter of this working class city. During the days of the late Kaiser’s realm and the early Weimar Republic, Nurnberg had been a leader in constructing decent public housing and gardens for the working class. The style was a somewhat severe, Stalinist architecture, like east Berlin, but it was a well intentioned effort. 

       We passed by the huge parade grounds, Congress Hall,  where Hitler had held his monstrous annual Nazi rallies during the 1930’s. Now, they looked like and old football stadium steps, that had fallen on hard times. There were some two dozen solid stone WC facilities that had held up well. It was perhaps a fitting monument to national Socialism. The aging Loos were filled with the same type of content that the Nazis had espoused during the 30’s & 40’s. The nearby SS barracks was solid and menacing. The good Lord only knows what horrors that building had seen.

       The solid bulk of the federal Court house is the most noted building in town. It was here that the Nazi war criminals had been brought to trial by the victorious allies. We had chosen not to take this portion of the tour. I had seen enough of those horrors on the old news reels. Twenty four of the nastiest rascals had been convicted and hanged for their crimes. That fat schmuck Herman Goering took his own life, before he could be tried. Presiding at the Trials, was the honorable Thomas Jackson, from nearby Jamestown, New York. He would later be appointed to the U.S. Supreme Court.

      Passing by the very old St. John’s Cemetery, with graves dating back to the 1,100’s, we mused upon the varied history seen in these environs. Admidst the awful memories that the city evokes, Pachabel’s Canon, a work of timeless beauty, had been composed here. Like every city, there are saints and rascals in its history. I think I will keep in mind the imagery of the stone WC’s, and what content filled them, as a commentary on the merits of National Socialism.

      Our bus dropped us off in the main plaza of Nurnberg, the Haupt Market Square. Most of us went immediately to pay our kidney tax in a nearby one-euro facility. Several flower, fruit and vegetable stands occupied the square’s center. Around the periphery, sit a host of coffee shops, gift stores and other merchants. There were school groups and other tour companies like ours walking about, looking for they knew not what. It was over 92 degrees out (F) and very warm. The City’s main administrative hall sits in the square. Several happy groups, clad in various types of formal and semi-formal dress, stood waiting for their nuptial ceremonies to be performed. Picture taking was all around us. The central fountain in the square was an odd affair. Composed of a single ornate spire, it was surrounded by a tall, black-metal work fence. A low set of steps surrounded the spire. Many people tried to take shade in its presence. Like most tourist areas, the only place to sit down was at a restaurant where you paid for your place.

      We walked about the square and over the bridges, spanning the city canals, for a time enjoying all of the activity. There were some trendy shops nearby, but it was too hot. An Apothecary provided us with some additional meds. Seeking shelter, we sat under the welcome shade of the Café Potenza. Cappuccinos, with water, were a welcome thirst quencher. We had found often enough, on other visits, that only the French and the Italians know how to make decent coffee. Cafe' au lait or Cappuccinos were the better choice everywhere else. I suppose, the locals were used to having a light beer at breakfast or lunch. It was a habit from the days when the beer was safe and the water wasn’t. A few panhandlers were aggressively seeking money from tourists. These were the first bums we had seen on our trip, may the Lord be good to them.

     At 1:00 P.M. the horn from the mother ships sounded, like E.T’s UFO calling, and we all came running. Our tour director, Gabriella, led a very large crowd of us through the square to the “Weinsteuben Restaurant.” We were seated at tables of eight. A very efficient staff served us beer, wine or water and then a salad. A plate of local bratwurst and sausages was served. I managed to get some decent ravioli. Vanilla ice cream was served and of course everyone tried it. They also offered refills on beer and wine. Viking ws picking up the tab, trying its best to improve the mood of her passengers, for the ship transfer.

    After lunch, an aging and somewhat sleepy passenger contingent made it through the square, to reboard our buses, for the three-hour ride to Passau and our new Viking ship, “The Tir.” Along the way, we observed prosperous fields of barley, wheat and corn, that filled the verdant countryside. Many of the passengers nodded off. The traffic was heavy on the autobahn. Fields of windmills, generating electrical energy, sprouted up along the way.

     It was after 6 P.M. when we pulled into Pasau, and boarded the Tir. The ship slipped her lines soon afterwards, headed downstream for Regensberg. As promised, The Tir was a duplicate to the Vali. We walked into our state room and unpacked quickly. Then, we prepped for dinner and made our way to the 7 P.M. sitting in the main dining room. We joined the Broyles and the Pinazza’s for dinner. Sweet potato soup, a filet of sole and some interesting bread pudding filled out the menu. We also tried and liked a very good German Cabernet. The conversation was lively, with exchanges about what we had all seen and done that day. Viking had handled the transfer of bags and passengers effortlessly. 

       After dinner, we repaired to our cabin “stanke morte.” (dead tired) We unpacked our gear and settled into our new room,  like we had been there all week. Outside a violent electrical storm lit up the skies of  the entire river valley, reminding us that these environs weren’t always so bucolic and restful. We slept like the dead that night, grateful to be safe in our new berths.

                                       -30-

                                 (1,127 words)

                            Joseph Xavier Martin