FROM FRANKFURT, GERMANY

The Lore of Loreley

FRANKFURT, June 27, 2006 - Ah, the lore of Loreley! (above). Like the Rock of Gibraltar (left) or the Cliffs of Moher (Ireland - right), Loreley is one of the earth's rare gems.  For, its mystical power and the natural beauty that surrounds it has inspired many writers and poets to great works of art.  

I first became aware of Loreley when I studied German literature as a young man.  I remember the poem "Die Loreley" by Heinrich Heine leaving a deep impression on me.  It begins with "Ich weiss nicht was soll es bedeuten" ("I don't know what it could mean" - in English - see the full translation below).  It then goes on...

The loveliest of maidens,
She’s wonderful, sits there,
Her golden jewels glisten,
She combs her golden hair.

She combs it with a comb of gold,
And sings a song as well:
Its strangeness too is old
And casts a powerful spell.

According to the German lore, Loreley is a maiden who threw herself into the Rhine in despair over a faithless lover, and became a nixe whose voice lured fishermen to destruction.  

I don’t know what it could mean,
that I’m so sad: I find,
A fairy-tale, from times unseen,
Won’t vanish from my mind.

The above opening verses of the Heine poem had remained hidden in the crevices of my mind for decades but have evidently not vanished.  Yet, even though I romanticized Loreley as a young teenager, I actually never knew exactly where the rock was, except that it was "somewhere on the river Rhein in Germany."  Well, today, an invisible hand led me to it, fulfilling another youthful dream.  Unwittingly, as you will see...

That guiding hand led me not just to the famous rock, but right to the top of Loreley, from where I took the above shot.

* * *

It all started this morning at a car rental company's check-in counter at the Frankfurt airport.  

"Where are you going today?" a friendly Croatian agent asked me, making small talk.

"I have no idea," I said.  "I just need to get out of the city and go to some place nice after my long flights from Asia.  Maybe Heidelberg." I had heard that this university city has beautiful campuses and buildings.

"Heidelberg is nice," he agreed.  

"Or maybe Luxembourg.  I haven't been in Luxembourg for nearly 30 years."

"Oh, that's even better.  But if you go to Luxembourg, you must stop at Ruedesheim.  It's a charming little town on the river Rhein."  

I smiled back.  I liked the way the man transitioned from small talk into a helpful travel agent.  He proceeded to map out the route for me that would take me up the right bank of the river Rhein away from the Autobahns (freeways), up a regular two-lane road.

And off I went... to Luxembourg with my Opel jallopy.

The first major town I drove through was Wiesbaden.  I remember running a two-day seminar hear in 1986, and then taking another day's drive to Wuerzburg to the east.

As I was approaching the Rhein river valley, I was taken by the beautiful rolling hills with sprawling vineyards.  They reminded me of my former second home in Western Australia.

When I got to Ruedesheim, I could see that it was also all about wine.  The first sight at the entrance into town was that of an old winery (above).

As I drove into Ruedesheim, I noticed that interspersed between the lovely old buildings, like that charming hotel above, were some modern facades, like the plain one with balconies above.   An ugly graft between healthy skin parts was the image it created in my head.

"Vestiges of World War II?" I wondered.  My mind conjured up the image of a bomb crater where that modern structure stands today.  I know of streets like that in my hometown of Belgrade, including the house in which I was born.  The house was "collateral damage" - hit by American bombers who targeted and missed the German barracks in 1944.  Which is probably why my mind went there when I saw this Ruedesheim street.

More of the old Ruedesheim...

...right by the river Rhein, one of Europe's great waterways.  As I was admiring the size of that passenger riverboat above...

...a train roared by on a track that paralleled the road.

...and then another one.  "A busy place," I thought.

When I was finally able to make my way across the tracks, I saw this charming old 12th century castle with a lovely little vineyard in front of it.

The entrance to the castle was lined by lovely roses.  That again was reminiscent of a winery called Voyager in Western Australia, just south of Margaret River.  It had full time gardeners maintaining year round the pretty roses around the vines.  

"So charming," I thought looking at the above scene.  But the best was yet to come...

As I continued my drive up the river Rhein, every other hill seemed to have a castle on it.  I could have filled this travelogue with just the castle pictures, but I only took a few of them...

Below the castles, such as the ones above, every valley of a Rhein tributary housed an idyllic-looking little town...

I had no idea there were parts of central Germany that were so picturesque and pretty.

I felt I needed to share my excitement over this discovery with someone, but alas, everybody in America was still asleep.  So I called my daughter in Moscow and interrupted her business day with my child-like wonderment.  She patiently listened.  

Later on, I realized that I had forgotten to tell her that she had actually been to Luxembourg - as a 15 month-old baby on her first overseas trip in July 1977.  Since then, Tanja has circled the globe several times on her own in her various international investment banking jobs.  But I did not want to interrupt her again with such trivia.

Meanwhile, the scenery around me was changing.  The river was narrowing as we entered a gorge that reminded me of my Ibar Valley drive in southern Serbia last September.  

At the Loreley

I drove past that female sculpture (below) and wondered if that's the maiden from the Loreley lore.  "My God," I thought, "that's something I have not thought about in over four decades!"  Amazing how one's memory works.  

You see, a 13th-century German legend titled Der Marner says that the Nibelung treasure was hidden beneath the rock. The tale, and therefore the sculpture, may be connected with the myth of Holda, queen of the elves. She supposedly sits combing her locks on the Hullenstein, and the man who sees her loses sight of reason, while he who listens is condemned to wander with her forever.

"I wonder if the Loreley rock is also somewhere around here?" I thought.  I felt my heart beating faster in anticipation.  Literally seconds later, as if answering my question, there was a road sign pointing to the right.  It read "Loreley."  My car seemed to turn right by itself.  My excitement grew as I followed a narrow and winding road through the woods that pointed upward.  "Maybe this will take me to the top of the rock?" I hoped.

Bingo!  And once on the top, I saw at the visitor's center this aerial view of the Loreley Cliff.

I walked on foot for about five minutes to the edge of the rock from where I took this picture.  This spot is the narrowest and the deepest part of the river Rhein.  A very strong current and the rocks below the waterline have caused many boat accidents and sailors' deaths in ancient times.  They contributed to its mystical nature.

I had goose bumps when I stood there contemplating the quirk of destiny that put me there, and the rich lore that emanates from this cliff, some 120 meters (almost 400 feet) above the river.  

By the way, its name Loreley comes from the old German words "lureln" (Rhein dialect for "murmuring") and "ley" (rock). That would translate, therefore, into something like a "murmuring rock". The heavy currents and a small waterfall in the area (still visible in the early 19th century) created a murmuring sound.  This combined with the special echo the rock produces, which acted as a sort of an amplifier, giving the name to the rock itself.

There were a few more castles along the way, like the one above, before I finally got off this scenic road and onto the freeway that took me to Luxembourg.

Luxembourg

It was interesting to see the enormous superstructure that was once a checkpoint at the border crossing between Germany and Luxembourg.  Deserted and useless in the united Europe, it now looks like a relic from the past akin to Checkpoint Charlie in East Berlin.

The Royal Palace is probably the best known postcard site in this tiny country ruled by a Grand Duke.

More scenes from downtown Luxembourg City...

Overall, Luxembourg left a pretty pale impression on me.  Maybe the natural beauty of the Rhein and the splendor of the Bangkok palaces were too much to compare to.  Guess I expected more from a place that has attracted hundreds of billions of dollars in bank deposits from giant multinational companies that are trying to avoid the long arm of Uncle Sam's taxman (Luxembourg is the one of the world's favorite places for parking overseas profits - see "All Roads Lead to Luxembourg" from  "To Russia with Love and $$$," Oct 2004).  Nevertheless, without the Luxembourg trip idea I would not have made it to the Rhein and Loreley, the highlight of my today's outing.  So it was worth it overall.

Speaking of multinationals, on my way back to Frankfurt, I passed this Wal-Mart store in Trier, the first bigger town east of the Luxembourg-German border.  "Start looking for padlocks with which to close your stores," I thought of warning the local merchants.  "The Waltons are coming.  In fact, they are here."

Epilogue

ABOARD SINGAPORE AIR FRANKFURT-NEW YORK FLIGHT, June 28 - While I was waiting to check my bag at the Frankfurt airport this morning, the Singapore Air crew arrived to do the same.  It turned out they were the same nice men and ladies from my long incoming flight from Singapore during which we became fast friends.  

I tapped the head purser on the shoulder.  When he turned around, his face stretched into a wide smile.  "Nice to see you again!" he exclaimed, visibly excited and pleased to see me.

"The same here," I replied.  I was just as excited to see them.  For, we had really bonded on the earlier flight.  The crew took interest in my stories from Thailand and other tales.  And I was curious to learn about their travels.

"Are you working this flight to New York?" I asked the purser.  

"Yes, we are."

"Oh, that's great," I said.  "What a nice surprise.  See you on board."

Right behind him were several other crew members from the Singapore flight.  Two ladies waved at me.  It was starting to feel like the old homecoming week.  I exchanged similar warm and friendly greetings with them, including some high five's, to the bewilderment of other morose-looking passengers who were waiting in line behind.  Guess not everybody is joyful when traveling long distances.

Speaking of which, when I requested a bottle of water during the flight, an attendant told me, "sorry, Sir, but we don't have bottles on short flights like this."

I chuckled.  I wondered how many of my American compatriots would consider the eight-hour Frankfurt-New York flight a "short" one.  But I appreciated what she meant, especially after "The Longest Day" we had just spent together.  It was during that flight that she somehow surmised that I was a writer.  

"How did you know that?" I asked a little bewildered by her prescience.

"Just a wild guess," she said.  "I can sometimes sense things like that."

Amazing.

Half way across the Atlantic, after they had finished the first in-flight service, three ladies and the purser from the original Singapore flight came over to chat a little more.  They congregated around my seat and read some of my travelogues from this trip.  Considering that I am now connected to the Web even in the air, they were able to do it "live," on my laptop screen.  Then they wrote down the web address so they could do finish it at leisure later on.  

At one point, the four of us got so rowdy laughing loudly that another morose lady passenger asked us to keep it down.  "I am tying to sleep," she said.  We obliged, of course.  One of the Singapore ladies rolled her eyes.  "I know," I said.  "It takes all kinds."  

THE END

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