A day trip to France

Saarbrücken is close to the French border, so we agreed that it would be silly not to have a trip there. My companion has lived in Saarbrücken in the past and is familiar with the area, so she suggested that we could go to the French town of Metz.

Metz is about 40 miles from Saarbrücken, so it doesn't take long to get there by Autobahn and then the French Autoroute. By this time I was regretting having not upgraded my satellite navigation system for continental Europe, as we had by now taken one or two rather circuitous routes to some of our destinations (although we had always managed to get there in the end). We had also had one or two slightly fractious moments.

And so it was with Metz. We managed to overshoot the town at first. I was driving and managed to mishear my companion's navigational instructions. Fortunately, it was quite funny on this occasion. Even reminiscent of the John Cleese film, Clockwise. Fun and games.

We found a parking space just outside this beautiful town, which was free of charge. As I come from the UK, parking for free so close to a large town always seems to good to be true. And we all know about things that seem to good to be true (They usually are.), but on this occasion we parked for free. But enough of parking tales. Who writes Blogs about parking?

Metz is gorgeous, and once again the weather was warm and sunny. The most striking thing about Metz is the Cathedral. It stands out from some distance, due to it's elevation. It also has large buttresses which stick out some way, as if to protect it from toppling over. And the darkish yellowy sandstone caught the sun's bright rays brilliantly.

It can't possibly be true, because France is - arguably - an economically successful country, but when walking around French towns during the day; it often seems to me as if no-one is doing very much. Everyone is having a nice time. They might be hanging around in the streets talking to their friends, having a coffee in one of the delightful coffee shops; even protesting. During our time in Metz, we encountered several protests one of which seemed to be protesting at cuts to a local hospital. But I sometimes can't help wondering if anyone is actually doing any work. Who am I to ask? Good luck to them.

We climbed up a small hill near the town centre and looked down at the beautiful view below. Life seemed good. The weather was fantastic, the view good and I was with a friend. We spent the rest of the glorious afternoon wondering around the town, it's churches and the main cathedral. On the way back to Saarbrücken, we decided not to take the main Autoroute, but to meander home through rural France.

This meander reminded me of other trips I'd had to France with my late grandfather, some years ago. The long straight roads with mature trees lining each side of the road seem to me characteristic of France. Indeed, on those occasions with my grandfather, we had been near Compiegne, some way North of Paris. That is a long way from this part of France; but it may go back to what I was saying in my previous blog "The strangeness of national borders".

On the way home, we stopped in Saint-Avold to have our evening meal. We ate outside the restaurant overlooking the main square. A great way to end a wonderful day.

The Strangeness of National Borders

I have often thought that borders drawn by humans between nation states are somewhat artificial. Of course there are exceptions. For someone like me from the United Kingdom, some of the borders between the UK and other nation states are natural. There is a coastline. But staying in Saarbrücken, located in the west of Germany near the French border I was reminded of how arbitrary borders between nation states can be. We had spent the previous day in Luxemburg, so we had crossed quite a few borders in the last few days; although - of course - since 1992, within the European Union you can just drive straight through (albeit at a reduced speed).


Furthermore, the borders between nation states in Europe have been dynamic over the years. Under the treaty of Versailles (1919) and as compensation for the destruction of French coal mines during the first world war, the Saar coal mines (Saarbrücken is the capital of the region of Saarland in Germany) were given to France as exclusive property. As part of this treaty, a plebiscite was required in 1935. In this ballot, more than 90% of the electorate voted for re-unification with Germany, 0.8% of that population voted to stay within France, with the remainder voting for maintenance of the league of nations administration. The Saar subsequently rejoined Germany.

Saarbrücken was heavily bombed during the war and then made part of the French zone of occupation in 1945. In 1947, France created the nominally politically independent Saar protectorate, and merged it economically with France to exploit it's vast coal reserves. Political pressure on France from West Germany together with the rejection by Saarlanders of the Europeanisation of the area, led to the reunion with West Germany on 1 January 1957. It is said that economic re-integration would take many more years.

Although the border between France and Germany has been dynamic in many areas over the years, I understand that it is unique that this area has become it's own country (They even had their own national football team, which has played Germany.). This makes the Saarland and Saarbrücken unique. My travelling companion went to University in this area, and she notes that the Saarland is famous for it's good food and beer. Also, the people around there are noted for being - perhaps - a little bit more relaxed and easy going, than Germans as a whole

From the four or five days that we spent there, I can attest to that. The food was excellent - particularly two meals that we had in a particular pub attached to a brewery. The company we had in this area, mostly consisting of my old friends of my companion was excellent. The local people seem very welcoming to strangers.

I should also mention that the weather we experienced in mid April was excellent: warm and sunny. So on a sunny day my travelling companion and I decided to do a walk that she had enjoyed many times in previous years. I found it unusual that the walk started from a car park half way up a hill above a hospital. The first time - I think - that I had set of for a walk from near a hospital car park.

We set off on our short walk over the hill. Somewhere on that walk we entered France. It is not clear as you walk along the wide path, when you walk into France. So an interesting thing about this walk was that we weren't quite sure whether to greet people in French or German.

After a couple of miles you get to a small settlement, with a pub a car park and - strangely - a tank, called Spicherer Höhe. The tank commemorates efforts by, I believe, American troops to liberate this area during the war. We went for a drink in the pub and suddenly the atmosphere was definitely French. I still think it remarkable that by taking a short walk you can go from somewhere that is definitely German (albeit with it's own unique twist) to somewhere that feels French.

For a long time it has seemed really obvious to me that borders in Africa are entirely arbitrary. I understand that they were drawn up by Europeans sitting in offices, that were remote to the borders themselves. And they took no account of tribal domains or local culture. I suppose that it is less true of Europe, surely national borders between sovereign countries is a Western European notion. But, despite that, I still feel that they are somewhat arbitrary even in Europe.

However, given this short walk that we took, I have to concede that you do seem to experience something entirely different when you cross the border into France. The people speak a different language, they behave in a different way, their attitudes come with a different hallmark. The place feels culturally different. In this part of the world, as soon as you cross the border the whole place seems to scream France! Perhaps in Europe, borders are not so arbitrary after all.

Towns near Rivers.

I think rivers hold a fascination for many people. And certainly for me. One of the topics that I enjoyed doing most at school was 'River Basin Management' in Geography. Perhaps humans retain a primeval fascination with large bodies of water, be they rivers or the sea. Somehow I always prefer a walk or bike ride by a river or the sea to one which does not encompass water.
Germany is a good place if you like towns and cities located on rivers.

Whilst on rivers like the Trent or the Thames in the UK these days, the traffic is predominantly leisure crafts, the larger rivers in France and Germany seem to still be used for large barges carrying freight. I applaud that, I gather that moving goods by ship is a good way to transport freight and it must keep lorries off the roads and Autobahns.

Easter Monday probably isn't an ideal day for travel on the Autobahns. So our transition from Gottingen to Frankfurt-am-Maine was somewhat hampered. But the weather was beautiful and we took the opportunity to stop at a conveniently located picnic area. The youth hostel in Frankfurt is splendid. More like a hotel than a hostel to me. I was even in a room with a view. The hostel is located next to the river, so there are views over the river and Frankfurt's central business district.

It was early evening by the time that we had checked in and - I think with a degrees of fluke - parked the car nearby. But there was still time for a quick look around the central area and a short length of river bank. As the sun set we enjoyed a few drinks in one of the squares.

This blog really isn't intended as any sort of travel guide and of course this list is totally non-exhaustive, but in my humble opinion a trip to Frankfurt would be incomplete without a trip to the (Church which was the original German Parliament and also the thin park). In the evening we went to a charming Frankfurt restaurant which served meat and particularly sausages which were myriad and varied in nature.

When I was a student I did the whole interrail pass cliché thing. And although it's very mild by the standards of what many people get involved in for gap year etc. activites. I look back on the whole trip fondly. During that trip (in 1997) I stayed in a wonderful Youth hostel which looks over the confluence of the rivers Rhine and Mosel in Koblenz. I was anxious to return and persuaded my companion that we should go there.

The hostel in Koblenz lies within a maize of buildings which go back for 1000 years. This area is all currently being refurbished for what the German people call a "Festung". Furthermore, I understand that there are plans afoot to install a cable car from the apex of the corner of the Rhine and Mosel (where there stands Koblenz's landmark statue). So all of it looks like a construction site. And what we failed to anticipate was that the youth hostel was in fact closed for refurbishment. We found an alternative youth hostel nearby.

The next day we drove up the Mosel towards Trier. The road follows the river which wiggles with pinache. It really is a lovely river valley. During the journey, we had several stops, which gave us a chance to walk along the river. It really did strike me that if I ever get the opportunity to come here again, then the best mode of travel would be on foot on a puch-bike or ideally in a canoe.

The motor car has proved to be a popular means of transport, but if you want to sample beautiful country, the pace is far too fast. In my opinion, the aforementioned modes of tansport are better. I have not been in a canoe in ages.

A fast blast nach Deutschland

So the economic downturn continues to bite my company. There was talk of some school and museum work in for my company in the UK; but that's on hold so the remaining ongoing work that I have can be done from anywhere with an internet connection and a 'phone.

Have motor car, have laptop (it is an ungrateful, rude and annoying beast........I've only ever been kind to it; but it is only ever ungrateful and despondent with me) and I have mobile 'phone. So on good Friday, I packed my car, nursed my hangover and pointed the yellow bubble towards Dover, Kent, England. Much of my route follows that of the east coast mainline railway. So you may be interested to read my blog derived from a similar trip from Edinburgh to London on the train.

But there is an important difference. The first leg of the trip is from Edinburgh to Newcastle-Upon-Tyne. This is an oft discussed navigational topic. Many people that I know prefer to drive from Edinburgh to N-U-T along the coast road. But if you look at the map it is a long way around. It is quicker to go cross country (A68 and then A697 (check)) if you're heading that way and you are an enthusiastic driver.

There was a mass exit from Edinburgh (and who could blame them) as I left , so I queued for ten minutes at the end of my street and the Edinburgh city bypass was busy. Then out through Dalkeith and we're off. Soon you're out into the Scottish Borders. This is nice scenery. Whilst it does not quite have the drama of the Highlands, it is a pleasure to travel through. I have many happy memories of cycling around the borders in years past.

The road gets more twisty as you approach the English border and then immediately beforehand there are some hairpin bends. And into England, from where you can reach N-U-T quite quickly after passing through the affluent town of Ponteland (where all the footballers live). My brother is fortunate enough to live in N-U-T, so I had lunch with him.

I was planning to stay with a relative who lives in a Nottinghamshire village, and the vast majority of the rest of the way is very familiar to me. I worked in nearby Newark-on-Trent for a few years not long ago, so I travelled a very similar route quite regularly. I am very fond of the North East of England, and then Yorkshire and beyond, but you are on dual (or more) carriageways for the rest of the journey, so you do not see too much from the road.

The evening was good fun (rural Nottinghamshire pubs usually are, but then, I am biased). After a nice chat with some family members in the morning, it was time to continue to Dover. Again, the route is quite familiar due to a former family connection in the county (region) of Kent (The South East corner of England, just south of London), so the route passed quickly. I always feel that I am not too far away when I cross the river Thames at Dartford.

Dover is an interesting place. My grandparents who lived in Kent used to holiday in France and so Dover was a familiar place to them. They used to enjoy going to a nature reserve above the legendary white cliffs, and watching the ferries comings, goings and manouvreings. So I have fond memories of that as I killed an hour or so at Dover port.

Dover has the oft discussed 'air of fading grandeur', shared by many former seaside (resort) towns in the UK. Some of the newer buildings look horrible and some of the lovely older buildings are boarded up. I suppose with the advent of cheap international flights and the Eurotunnel, people often pass through Dover and it's ilk without stopping. I guess that I only stopped because I was early.

How do we make these places appealing again. A triennial arts festival, has been tried in other places. Perhaps it will be possible to take a view in twenty years. I always enjoy ferry trips and this was no different. But soon it was time to alight in Calais. I had not been able to find any hostels in Calais, so I checked into the cheapest hotel that an internet trawl yielded. Thanks to a kind french lady for some navigational assistance.

I was up early, because I was headed some way into Germany to meet with my travelling companion near Hanover. The weather was cloudy as I left Calais and into Belgium there was heavy rain. All of which got me down a little bit. The weather was just as rubbish as the UK, and also the rain and spray made driving conditions difficult. But around the time that I crossed the Dutch border, things looked up.

I like Holland. Holland is not a very wide country at the point where I crossed it so it wasn't long before I entered the Bundesrepublik. By then the weather was good. The sun was shining and it was warm. So I followed the Autobahn to Essen and within a few hours I had joined my companion near Hanover.

We spent some time in the charming little town of Goslar and then drove to Gottingen. German youth hostels are often something to write home about, and this one fared well. After quite a lot of travelling over a three day period (at least by European standards), it was nice to be where we meant to be.

The Northern Californian Coast Part 2

So we spent the next morning in the coastal tow of Fort Bragg (FB). FB originally existed as a military fort. According to Wikipedia (good old Wikipedia), the original fort was part of the Humbolt military district, headquartered in Fort Humbolt.

By around lunchtime, we were feeling hungry and we decided to get a bite to eat. We went to this small but very inviting diner/restaurant in FB. The place was very friendly, there was a painted 'yellow brick road' which I followed out to use the restrooms before the food arrived.

Maybe I am too self obsessed. But here´s an anecdote. The proprietor had heard me use the word "Blimey" on my way out there, so she came over and used that as a conversation starter. It's always nice to be addressed personally by the staff in an establishment, and this lady was very friendly. I ordered my usual favourite Californian food – Eggs Benedict. I think it was the best that I had sampled so far.

Once again, it was a lovely day as we drove up the coast road. At this point the road winds around a lot and also it drops up and down as it follows the cliffs and the coastline. We had planned to stay the night in Eureka. Eureka didn't, upon first sight, seem to be a great place. As you drive in from the South on the main road it seems to be just generic suburbia. Almost like it could be anywhere (Reading in the UK, the outskirts of Edinburgh my home town;even perhaps Slough.). But as you get to the town centre heading north, your curiosity is rewarded if you take a left turn and head a few blocks to the old town.

I'm no expert but the Eureka old town seemed to sport Dutch architecture. Pretty painted buildings, and lots of small antique shops and second hand book stores. We went into some of the second hand stores and one of them was – I think – the largest second hand bookshop that I have ever been in. Furthermore, it was mostly naturally lit (by daylight) and it had an upper tier. It was a very pleasant building to be in. More like a traditional library somehow than a second hand bookshop.

The variety of books was also impressive. A few steps down to the river, and you're rewarded with good views of a Marina on the other side of the river. The old town of Eureka is quite pretty, well worth a look if you're passing by.

We decided to pop out for a drink that evening. We decided that it would be good to go back to the nice 'Irish' pub where we had food. Strangely, the place had closed although it was only about ten o'clock in the evening when we got there. After that we decided to go somewhere else, but after a reasonably thorough (although definitely not exhaustive) search, and asking a couple of locals, it did seem that the bar that we went to was the only place that was open in the town.

It seemed strange to me that a place that is of such a reasonable size would only have one bar open on a weekday evening. Maybe it's because I'm British, where many small villages have several pubs. We ordered a drink and Morag beat me at pool.

Well time was pressing on, and the hire car had to be taken back to San Francisco. We had seen quite a few Redwood trees up close, but we thought that we should walk through a Redwood forest. We stopped for a late lunch in a small town, called Orick. There is no way – really – for me to know what constitutes an authentic small town californian experience. But from the small amount that I know, I would think that the cafe where we had lunch is. As we arrived, there was a country and western band warming up. The band turned out to be good. The cafe was relatively full, with what seemed to be local people. Everyone seemed to know everyone else, and there was banter, between the waitress and the patrons and also between diferent patrons.

Furthermore the lady who brought us our food in the diner worked for the national park during the summer months. So we got expert advice on where to go. To a European, Redwoood trees seem enormous. Although we probably walked passed throusands of them, I just couldn't get over the size. By the end of our walk, the sun was hanging low in the sky and it was time to point the motor car south.

Quite a bit of the next day was spent in the car. But we often stopped off. For the final drive into San Francisco we took the coast road. We stopped, again in Medocino. Go there. It's great. A small town along a pretty bit of coastline.

Our day finished with a drive over the Golden Gate bridge and into San Francisco. Morag wanted to take a trip up the twin peaks to see the view, which we did. She was so right to suggest this. A fantastic view over the bay area at night.

I have a friend from Ohio. His pseudonym is Hawthorn Poorhouse. Although he wasn't with us in person, I'm going to quote him nonetheless: "Good times".