Climbing the Hill

Hilly Erdenbach Strasse

In 2010 I wanted to return to Saarburg, Germany and stay in the apartment of Margret and Hans-Dieter Jung.  What began as a simple landlord/renter relationship in 2002 had change into a friendship during my first visit and my return in 2004.  I loved the apartment with its sunny kitchen where I sipped my breakfast coffee and did my best to read books that Hans-Dieter Jung and Ewald Meyer (more about him in another post) had loaned to me during my stay.

Unfortunately, Margret had a serious condition which was discovered after our plans were made.  She would be having an operation and my sunny kitchen reading place was not to be.  But I had already made my travel reservations and paid my money.  I needed a place to stay, and the Jungs suggested I stay in an apartment owned by the Hoffmanns.  Mrs. Hoffman and Mrs. Jung had been school friends.  I was so happy to have a place recommended by the Jungs.  The only drawback was a hill.  The Jungs live close to the Saar where the sidewalks are very friendly to a flatlander like me.  But Saarburg is built on hills, one so high - the Warsburg - that there is a chair lift to it.  The Hoffmann's beautiful apartment was not THAT high but it did cause me some concern, especially since the way to the city, when I was fresh and energetic, was downhill.  When I was tired and wanted to come "home", I had to walk uphill, often carrying a shopping bag.

Hoffmann House

Siegelbahn (chair lift)

Well, I rented the Hoffmann's vacation apartment, one of the wises things I ever did.  Hedwig and Hans Hoffmann are two of the nicest people I have ever met, and so thoughtful.  On the first day of my stay, a Monday, Mrs. Hoffmann offerred to take me grocery shopping.  Not only did that eliminate the problem of lugging groceries uphill, it also gave me an education in which were the good products and which were so-so, as well as the locations of the best bakery for bread and the best butcher shop.

We were scheduled to leave on the shopping expedition at 10 a.m.  I got up at 8:15 (which was actually 1:15 a.m. body time), pulled my hoody over my pajamas, and headed for the kitchen to make some of the tea which I had brought with me, although I wished for strong coffee.  The doorbell rang and when I opened the door, Mrs. Hoffmann greeted me with the words, "My husband is worried about you.  You have no butter and no bread.  So come and have breakfast with us."

I pulled on my jeans and a pair of shoes and was soon sitting at a table that had everything I could have wished for, including excellent strong coffee.  In my jet lagged condition, I babbled in what must have been mostly incomprehensible German, and Mr. Hoffmann, eyes twinkling, kept his hand covering his chin and his grin.

We went shopping at 10:30, having been slowed down by my attempts to communicate and their attempts to figure out what I was trying to tell them.  Weirdly, the jet lag had cleared most of my German AND my English vocabulary out of my head, but Spanish words popped up every time.  Not at all useful.

In the days that followed, I walked the hill down to Saarburg's upper city, which is lower than half of the houses in Saarburg and made my way home again.  I became very fond of a tin rooster in a garden half way up the hill going home.  He was admired again and again over the next three weeks, photographed, and all of his features were studied, while I caught my breath and pretended I was just fine.

The day before I left to go home, I forgot to say goodbye to my rooster.  I walked up the hill without a single gasp for air.  So, in apology, here is the picture of this very fine fellow:

Auf Wiedersehen, schöne Hahn