 |
| Hotel Zur Linde |
 |
| The Hotel Dining Room |
 |
| A Guest Room |
A few weeks ago I reviewed a new anthology edited by Marlene Cullen titled The Write Spot--Possibilities. One of my travel essays and a poem were included in the book, along with some writing advice from me. This essay was also published a few years ago at Dave's Travel Corner website.
Since last Friday's post was about delivering a message in your personal essays, travel essays and short memoir pieces, I am going to share my travel piece that is included in the book. It is a combination of travel/personal essay. When you read it, look for a message, a universal truth, or how I was affected. Sometimes the messages are merely inferred, not spelled out.
A Hungarian Hotel in Germany
Our heads were fuzzy
and our legs like jelly when we left the long, overnight flight from Kansas
City, Missouri to Munich, Germany. After clearing passport control and getting
our luggage, my husband and I headed to the rental car area of the airport.
Despite our fatigue, we managed the paperwork and check-out with only a minimum
of frustration. An hour later, we settled into a Mercedes C Class sedan and
made our way out of the city, Ken at the wheel and map in my hand. Our second
job of the day was to locate the hotel we’d booked on the internet. I’d
searched diligently for a reasonably priced hotel not too far from the Munich airport. I found
many, but somehow one kept calling to me, so I clicked and clicked until we
were booked for the first three nights of our three-week stay in Germany .
The half-hour drive to Hohenlinden turned into an hour, then
another hour. We learned that German roadways are excellent but that German
road signs leave a great deal to be desired. We also discovered that the GPS in our rental
car was programmed in German. Useless for us. Round and round we went, on
highways and byways, roundabouts and little-traveled pathways. I was near tears
and Ken near eruption point when we somehow pulled into the small,
rural village of Hohenlinden
“I think it’s on the outskirts of the town,” I told Ken as
he gripped the steering wheel more firmly.
“Not so,” he said slowing down in front of a three-story stucco
building with Hotel Zur Linde painted on the side, right in the middle of town. He pulled into the side driveway and around
the back to a miniscule parking area, and we walked wearily into the hotel. A
small reception area appeared dark and rather uninviting, but a teen-aged girl
in the office cubicle smiled, told us her name was Hanna, and greeted us so
warmly, our spirits rose like a hot air balloon on a sunny day.
All we wanted was to go to our room, take a shower and
change clothes, but it was not to be.
“Oh, I’m so sorry,”
Hanna said in perfect English. “You cannot go to your room until 2 p.m. But you can have lunch first.
Her smile erased any irritation we might have had as she led us to the outdoor biergarten surrounded by greenery, an
arbor, and sweet-smelling flowers. We could easily spend an hour and a half
here.
A tall glass of the local beer and a bowl of Hungarian soup
helped revive us. We lingered in the pleasant outdoor garden until 2 p.m. when we unloaded our luggage
and stepped into a tiny elevator to go to our room. It was small but clean and
nicely furnished. A big window looked out on a church across the road. The bed
with a snowy white duvet, sheet and soft pillows looked so inviting.
Showered and clothes changed, we set off on a walk around
the town. Quaint houses, small shops, and flower gardens cooled our blood
pressure back to normal as we savored the quaint houses and small gardens. In
one front garden, a man wearing a long cotton coat, worked with wood using a
standing saw. Seeing him thrilled Ken. He told me he’d seen pictures of men
doing work like that and wearing the coat to protect their clothes.
As we walked, we discussed our plan for the next day when we
were to go back to the Munich airport to pick up good friends from South
Africa, who would be traveling with us.
In the evening, we went to the formal dining room and
enjoyed a leisurely and excellent meal served by a waitress who had charm plus.
Several patrons ate with well-behaved dogs lying next to them. Hanna was
nowhere to be seen, but her mother was the dining room hostess and hotel clerk
for the evening. Mama was tall, slender and blonde, wearing a low-cut blouse
and spike heels. We chatted with her and were a bit surprised to learn we had
booked into a Hungarian hotel. Good
German beer and German food like roast pork, red cabbage, and potato dumplings
and a few Hungarian items on the menu, so, not a problem, especially with the special
way we’d been welcomed.
When our waitress brought our food, she asked what we would
say in English to wish someone a good meal. “Enjoy!” I told her, “or even Bon Appetit!”
With eyes sparkling, she called out “Enjoy!” as she hurried back to the
kitchen. Our food proved to be as satisfying as the hotel itself.
We’d noticed the church across the street filled the summer
air with its bells every hour on the hour--lovely bells which chimed for a
couple of minutes. We strolled over to the church after dinner and found a
small cemetery on one side of the building. Each plot was outlined in paving
stones and perennial flowers, some with stone angels adorning the area where
the marker sat. We were taken with the loving care each grave had been given and
the gentle, dainty look the flowers and statues added.
Hand in hand, we crossed the road to our hotel and bed. “I
can’t wait to see Mike and Mavis tomorrow,” I said to Ken.
At 6 a.m. ,
the church bells began to peal. Nice, I thought, as I pulled up the duvet and
snuggled deeper into my feather pillow. But the bells went on and on and…. fifteen
minutes worth! Enough to wake the entire town! Surely, no one in Hohenlinden
needed an alarm clock.
After a pleasing breakfast, we zipped into Munich in less than half an hour. Amazing
what you can do when you have the proper directions. We picked up our friends
at the architecturally impressive airport and brought them to Hotel Zur Linde.
Our innkeeper greeted them warmly as new guests and we as old friends, having
been there an entire 24 hours.
“Oh, what a nice
place this is,” Mavis said to me as we helped them to their room down the hall
from ours. We met in the biergarten for
a tall glass of beer to toast the beginning of our time together. Living
halfway across the world from one another, our times together are treasured. We
ate outdoors that night with many of the locals who were having a good time
judging by the chatter and laughter.
The next morning I asked if there was a guest computer. “Oh
yes,” the innkeeper said, and she led me to a folding screen in the breakfast
room which hid the computer. I tried and tried to get onto the internet but
could not find the @ on the keyboard. I finally gave up and went to the office
to ask for help.
“That is a Hungarian keyboard,” the woman told me. “Come,
I’ll show you what to do. ”She said to hit Shift and q and the @ would come up.
Success at last, but the y and z were in the opposite places of our keyboards.
Otherwise, they were the same. I finally got it figured out and was able to
check my e-mail.
We woke each morning to the 6 o’clock bell concert. By the
third morning, I was awake and waiting. Instead of being irritated at the early
awakening, I looked forward to it, knowing a wonderful German buffet breakfast
awaited us on the floor below. Fresh fruit, cereal, cold meats, cheeses, and
hard rolls accompanied by strong coffee and a few pastries filled us to
satisfaction as we lingered in the sunlit dining room.
Before we checked out of the hotel, we booked it again for
our last night in Germany ,
negotiating a lower price for our return.
After touring the back roads, small towns and villages of
southern Germany ,
for three weeks, we returned to Hohenlinden. When we pulled into the parking
area, it almost felt like coming home. The four of us strolled into the
reception area, and our Hungarian innkeeper came to greet us, three-inch heels
clicking on the tile floor, her face alight with a warm welcome. We were
definitely home.
A rainy night meant dinner in the formal dining room with a
fire burning to take the chill out of the air. Good food and drink and a recap
of all we’d done while touring Germany
gave us a lovely final evening in the Hotel Zur Linde.
The grand finale came at six the next morning when the
church bell concert began. I lay in the comfortable bed, listening to the swell
of the bell tones, pleased that I’d found this charming small hotel, or did it
find me? With so many choices, why did this one keep calling out to me?
We checked out after breakfast and loaded the car, ready to
go to the airport. The four of us made one last trip inside for a warm farewell
from the Hungarian hostess of this special hotel. The church bells rang to let
us know it was eight o’clock
as we drove out of town. My instinct when searching for a hotel online had
served me well.
The writing prompt:
Write about a memorable travel experience.
