Europe 2026 - Germany & Czechia
- Tim Madison
- Apr 2
- 47 min read
Updated: Apr 12
Seattle to Leipzig – April 1-2, 2026
This is the run-up to Easter Week, 2026 and that means we’re pointing our noses toward Leipzig, Germany. We have been going there for 12 years give or take a Covid interruption or two. Our friends there are happy to see us and treat us like family. Easter week is the equivalent of a long Spring Break in Germany, more so if you’re a student or a school official. Katherina, Helene, and Wille all qualify and therefore will be free to carouse with us for days in a row. We come bearing gifts, of course. All will be revealed soon. But first we must get there and that means running the gauntlet of air travel, USA style. We hope to also dodge the collapse of western civilization; get this trip to Europe done and dusted before that happens. Of course, we can only hold our breath (and our noses), ignoring the news when possible. With luck we won’t be compelled to pay attention. Our golden years of bucket list punching weren’t supposed to be infested by Nazis and genociders but that’s how it’s turning out.
We begin on Lopez Island, our home base, April 1. From there it is a swim across on the ferry to Anacortes followed by a hired drive to Seattle-Tacoma Airport. Iceland Air will take us away on an afternoon flight. Because of ferry schedules and the unreliable nature of its ancient vessels, we are getting off the island as early in the morning as possible. If all goes well, we will be waiting at SeaTac airport for 5 hours, give or take. Most of this time will be spent hovering near the Iceland Air check-in desk. This airline is a less expensive means to get to Europe but it comes with some inconvenience, namely this: their check-in at airports beyond Reykjavik are closed until two hours prior to a flight. At SeaTac, lounge areas are beyond the security line and we can’t go through until we’ve checked in. Hover we must unless we don’t check our luggage. Hrmmm. There’s a thought.
We have often punctuated this flight with a day or two layover in Reykjavik, Iceland, but not this time. We land there but only to change planes, no layover. No layover means no soaking in an Icelandic spa or chowing down a greasy goose burger in a tourist bistro on the waterfront. No splurging on sparkling fresh seafood. No peeking through the window of the Drunken Rabbit Pub in hopes of seeing some ridiculous inebriation in progress. No strolling past The Black Pearl doing impressions of Geoffrey Rush in full pirate regalia mincing about like Johnny Depp. No browsing the sweater and hat shops gasping at the price tags. Nope. We’re pushing on directly to Berlin after we get checked into the European Union Zone at the Reykjavik Airport. Berlin airport is ok if you’re arriving. Departures are a different animal and we recommend avoiding that if possible. We cover this in detail in a previous post but can’t recall which one at this moment. Sorry. Just don’t do it.
Leipzig is southeast of Berlin, about two hours plus by train. This is in the part of Germany dominated by Russian occupation after 1945. There is plenty to remind one of this, such as Soviet style buildings, reconstruction projects replacing them, pedestrian signals on street crossings. Café Puschkin, in the Karli District, mocks the era with its décor. Of course, this history is more like a faded memory for anyone born after 1975 or so. To correct this there are museums dedicated to the goal of not forgetting.
Further back in time, more than 200 years, Leipzig was the site of a horrific showdown between allied forces of Russia, Prussia, Austria, and Sweden and the Grand Armee of France honchoed by Napoleon. This was the largest, bloodiest battle in the history of Europe at the time and was not surpassed in slaughter until World War I: 90-110,000 killed, injured, or captured. Napoleon was driven from the field. An enormous monument (Volkerschlachtdenkmal), 300 feet high, was built in 1913 to commemorate the battle on its 100th anniversary. At least that is the theme of it. The real reason was to add a propaganda boost to German nationalism.
Further back in the time machine we find Johann Sebastian Bach who was the Boss Music Director in Leipzig (Kappellmeister) from 1723-1750. Bach was responsible for music in four city churches: St Thomas, St Nicholas, New Church, and St Peter’s. He composed a Canata every week for his first few years. He also taught Latin and music to boys at Thomasschule. Busy guy. Curiously the Leipzig City Council had him as third choice for the position, having offered it first to Telemann and Graupner. Both turned it down. The council also weren’t fans of his work. They thought it was too fancy and elaborate for church (too Italian, also). His time in Leipzig was productive but rocky.
And here we are in 2026. There are lovely cafés here. One survives from 1711, Zum Arabischen Coffe Baum. Riquet is another with a superb art nouveau vibe. Near Thomas Kirke is a Café dedicated to Bach, featuring a small museum with 18th century instruments and manuscripts. Dunkin and Starbucks are also here in town but… why?
The tale of our transit to Leipzig has little drama in it. In fact, close to zero. I could mention the shocking natural skill of a toddler in the waiting area at SeaTac: she stood on a table, throwing a tantrum that truly got everyone’s attention and with considerable stamina too. The security line was short and worthy of mention only because it was so quick. SeaTac has been upgraded a lot in the past few years. They’ve installed new artwork and slick facilities which we might notice or not. One of them is a doggy restroom. First time I’ve ever seen one.
Airtime to Iceland is about 8 hours. I could report on the food they served but there isn’t much to it. We’ve had much worse. Seems that no matter how they try, and they seem to be putting some effort into it, the result is usually mediocre. Iceland Air can’t resist tossing in an updated version of a native recipe. In this case it is smoked salmon with a beet salad accent. This was the best bit, in my opinion. Otherwise, my chicken was… I already can’t remember it. I’ll damn it with the faintest praise.
We land in Reykjavik but not without a thrill. The plane descends into a blizzard at about 5 thousand feet. We get tossed about enough for me to check the ladies in the crew, buckled up in their seats just ahead. They appear relaxed, chuckling and chatting. They are either unconcerned about the climatic violence against our plane or they are putting on a good show. I’ll vote for the former. I’m somewhat reassured but we are taking punches from all sides all the way to the ground, this includes some sickening dips. Wheels-down is a bit of a slam but the staff treat is as routine. I would have made a lousy cabin crew member. They would have fired me for intense telepathic paranoia broadcasts.
Keflavik airport has very few jetways for some reason. This means we have to de-plane down stairs to the tarmac and board a bus to get us to the terminal. The weather is blowing 30 mph with sideways rain. The bus doors remain open for people to load in. Weather and bus exhaust streams through the doors. For this, it is well to have a jacket, hat, and scarf ready in the outer pockets of your luggage. In the terminal, things are first rate. The Icelanders have been improving this terminal for years and now it ranks very well for design, spaciousness, efficiency, service, and comfort. Of course, there is food everywhere and fat shopping offerings as if everyone that passes is financially flush with tons of extra space in their luggage.
We only have time to navigate the EU passport control and find the gate for the next flight. Nothing doing here except that the blizzard we passed through coming in has made landfall. It is now coating the airport with snow. No worries, as we hop into the humanly humid bus that takes us across the tarmac to our aircraft. The plane has a firm coating of snow and ice on it. It collects on the window as we settle into our seats. Before pushing out the skipper announces that there will be a delay while the plane is de-iced. We haven’t seen this done before. A truck sprays anti-freeze, coating all surfaces. After shedding a few thousand kilos of ice we’re ready to hop off to Germany.
Arrival in Berlin is smooth, the weather is sunny. After some phone texting we locate our driver. We’ve decided to cut some time off our transit by using a car to get to Leipzig instead of a train. Even with that our transit time is about 27 hours from home to our hotel in Germany. The date is April 2. Mr Singh, our driver, gives us an Autobahn experience as he hits the gas on his Mercedes sedan for a 110 mph cruise in the fast lane. The car is built for this but it still seems rather furious to me. I’m sure we’re in a far more risky position here than we are in a 737 jet flying through a blizzard off the coast of Iceland but it doesn’t seem to register like that. We are delivered to the Adina Hotel in Leipzig in good order at about 4 pm. The Forsythia is in full bloom everywhere.
Our task is to obtain tram passes and gather some pizza to bring to our friends out in the suburbs. CK got some sleep on the plane so she has the energy to do the errands. I’m a zombie. I collapse for a nap while she does the shopping. At 6 pm we are out the door, heading for the tram, pizza in hand. Managing the pizza is awkward on a crowded tram. I need two hands to manage the boxes, no hands left to grab the bars or straps. There are no seats available. I’m trapped next to the door, leaning against a bulkhead. People are trying to pass as they go in and out, most likely cursing my foreignness as they do. I get a perfect stinkeye from an 85+ y.o. lady. I give myself some slack here as I recall watching Joshua and Katherina navigate Helene’s kiddy kart on and off the tram 11 years ago. There was fumbling and comedy involved.
CK, me, and stone cold pizza arrive at their home in fair shape. Herr Wille is waiting on the street to usher us up the stairs to the flat. Joshua and Katherina graciously welcome us with big hugs all around. Helene looks like she grew 2 inches taller than when we saw her last in October. She is 12. I’m guessing she’ll be 6’+ (183 cm) when she’s 18. They serve us a lovely rosé even though there is probably a better pairing than pineapple pizza. It was delicious. Dessert is an All-German patisserie spectacular, with sweets for both eye and tongue. We want to sample it all but it is just too richly done. A little bit goes a long way. It keeps well and we’ll get to plunder it again soon.
Tomorrow is Good Friday which means something mythical for some folks. For most, it signals a real-life day off unless you’re a merchant, service worker, or transport worker. Same goes for Easter Week for which Good Friday serves as a starting point. All the kids and most teachers are on holiday for 9 days. During this time in Germany, as well as other countries in Europe, shopping and recreation go off the scale. Winter is fading, the weather is nicer, and people are ready to bust out of their flats, jettison the cabin fever, and do stuff that isn’t drudgery. We will meet Joshua and Katherina and the Squids tomorrow at 2 pm for a romp around the Easter Market in Leipzig’s main square.
=====================================================
Leipzig – April 3, 2026
Room 409 at the Adina Hotel is haunted. I don’t know why any respectable ghost or protoplasmic entity would want to inhabit this space. It isn’t unpleasant, just unremarkable. But haunted it is. There is a rhythmic squeak that comes from the ceiling beyond an access panel. The squeaky wisp is intermittent and perverse. We called the desk to send someone to investigate but, of course, the phantom squeaker hides when there’s an official in range. It rematerializes when they leave. I’m certain that this ghost plans to ruin our sleep at 2 a.m. tonight. Stay tuned.
Breakfast is not included with the room rate here. They want €20+ per person. Silly to do that when we can hop across the street for a breakfast bagel and coffee for half price. That said, the bagel I choose today, from Bagel Bros., is problematic. The food items are good and fresh, no trouble there. The rub is the construction of it. It comes in the shape of a sandwich, basically a finger-food meal. But when mouth is applied to this one, every item between the bagel comes squirting out on a greasy skid of mayo. It doesn’t taste bad, it’s just impossible to manage. The more I struggle, the greasier my hands with the mayo until I give all the way up. I must change tactics to eating the bits one at a time, very un-sandwich like. I’m also deciding that pleasurable dining must include tidiness and cohesiveness. A sloppy experience detracts mightily from the satisfaction no matter how tasty the vittles. I suppose there are exceptions, such as Poi where the gooey stuff is meant to be slurped off of one’s fingers, but a sandwich shouldn’t behave this way. I don’t think their quality control department worked on this one very much. Here’s another one for the Road Food Hall of Shame.
Yours truly needs a post messy sandwich nap. The sandwich stress may have been partially responsible but I suspect jet lag and relentless ancientness are also at work. CK takes advantage of my unconsciousness. Check that. She flees the obnoxious noise that accompanies my slumbering state. She takes a long, contemplative rest in a pew at the Nicolaikirche, her favorite church ever. Surprise bonus: She walked in on a choral and chamber orchestra rehearsal of various Bach pieces. This is top quality musicianship. They take classical music quite seriously here. There's a long history of it in Leipzig from Telemann to Mendelssohn to Lang Lang and right up to present day. The chorale was being led through warmup exercises prior to the rehearsal. CK has never been a musician and this activity captured her attention. Soaking up the surprise concert brought her close to the rendezvous appointment hour. She had to hustle back to the room to roust me out of my coma.
The plan is to meet with the Fam this afternoon. That part we accomplish perfectly. Phase two is to patrol and patronize the Easter Market. There are particular goals in mind: Bratwurst, Beer, and Trdelnik. Out of the hotel, strolling toward the main square we note an eerie quiet, very unlike a Market Day. Rounding the corner onto the square the answer presents itself. All the shops are closed. A poster tells us that the market is running April 1-6, but closed April 3. Why? Good Friday, of course. Because Transaction Jesus needs a freakin' day off, you silly gits. We must hatch new plans. The most immediate consideration is that Helene (12) and Wille (10) are growing before our eyes and require frequent refueling. Since Easter Market street food isn't available Katherina shifts to meal-seek mode. She points us toward a German style place we haven't yet sampled. Raths Keller Der Stadt Leipzig which translates to Leipzig City Hall. This space was once the seat of city politics, since converted to a nobler endeavor, gastronomy. It also dabbles in Fein Geist, the brewing of Fine Spirits, infused vodka of a seemingly endless combination of flavors. Out of date copper distilling equipment adorns the room. Lunch is a simple affair for us; burger for CK, soup for moi. The Squids tuck into high calorie pasta and meat. We are saving our Genuine German Dish experience for another moment when we're properly starving. Perhaps that will happen tomorrow.
Joshua points out that we are in the part of town that features the family home of Felix Mendelssohn, a musical titan of the Romantic Period. The entire building is now a museum dedicated to him and his sister Fanny. In addition to Felix’s orchestral and piano compositions, he was dedicated to the creation of a civic orchestra for Leipzig. He hatched one that gave performances in a wool trading warehouse that was to become the Gewandhaus Orchestra which thrives today in Leipzig. His sister would also give recitals on Sunday afternoons (Sonnstagsmusiken) which became an attraction for famous persons of the era: Franz Liszt, Clara and Robert Schumann, Paganini, Goethe, Alexander von Humboldt, Georg W. F. Hegel, and others. Up to 300 people could attend the Sunday performances in the Garden House. In the home there are a number of tasteful displays meant to send one back 185 years when the only music was live music. One room is set up as a chamber orchestra might be, electronically with individual speakers dedicated to each instrument. The score is projected to a screen on a podium with a cursor scanning through the notation revealing how it translates from ink to sound. This was my favorite part. Elsewhere, there’s a period costume dress-up room where we can fill our boots with laughs.
Medical science was, sadly, quite incompetent in the early 19th century. Felix died at age 38 of a series of strokes. His sister Fanny also died of the same cause at the age of 42, both of them in the same year.
All of this erudite 19th century refinement and history sponsors a powerful craving for ice cream in the hungry souls of The Squids. The Pinguin Milchbar is the go-to shop for sweet treats of this type. The Squids, knowing the way, lead on. More caloric plunder ensues. Here, over a frothy sundae topped with blueberry, I find a moment to be reminded that Joshua is a chief engineer at the Marriot Hotel. He might personally know the ghost that squeaks in our room and yes, he does. It is a heating control device of inferior design, well known for producing this kind of failure. Repairing or replacing it requires considerable effort, so we cannot expect the Adina desk to offer any solution other than put us in a different room. The alternative is to shut off the heat. This, theoretically, renders the device inoperative and noiseless. This is our next move. Stay tuned.
With hugs and a plan to meet again tomorrow, we send the Fam off to their tram ride home. CK is still peckish. We cruise an area we haven’t explored much. Poking our nose up an attractive alley, we discover a Japanese Ramen joint. We see a crowd of people dining and more folks at the door hoping for a table. I consider this one a find. It calls itself Ramen1974 Zentrum. Prices are quite reasonable: €10-20. Just a few feet away from this is another fascinating joint: Katzentempel Leipzig Mitte. This is dining with housecats wandering between tables, patrolling elevated cat-walks near the ceiling, or lounging on various cushions dotted around the room. Clearly this is for cat lovers. Those with the allergy must grant this a wide berth.
CK, a confessed cat aficionado, isn’t buying these options. She has the Sardegne Italian Restaurant on her mind and won't be denied. This is where we end our evening: CK with a plate of pasta presented by our man Giorgio and me helping her after I demolish a small salad.
We’ve had a lovely day, fun with the Fam, good food, and got smarter too. Can’t ask for more.
================================================
Leipzig – April 4, 2026
Today is Saturday, not Good Friday anymore. On Good Friday the church was open and the market was closed. Today the market is open and the church is closed because I dunno… Give-‘em-Hell Jesus is in the underworld flipping tables or something. Chocolate Bunny Jesus is scheduled to make his appearance tomorrow. He’s late to the party. Persephone was released from Hades several days ago according to the forsythia and hyacinth blossoms.
Breakfast was a little more orderly today. I passed on that sloppy bagel sandwich, settling instead for a filling of chive flavored cream cheese. CK did a repeat of the yogurt and granola with a boiled egg bonus washed down with OJ. We’re going light on brekky because iconic German gastronomy is featured this afternoon and we want to be hungry for it.
Our room here at the Adina Hotel is still haunted. The ghost carries on despite our efforts to placate it. Ignoring it is definitely our next plan. If we pretend not to be annoyed it could lose interest and float away looking for another guest to bother. Our pet spirit is noisy but not as noisy as the drunks rolling down Brühl street at 11:56 p.m. This isn’t unusual per our travels. Downtown Reykjavik gets fizzy and loud between midnight and 6 a.m. When we stayed in Oxford years ago we experienced wandering mobs of drunken students under our hotel window after closing time pretty much every night. In Cologne we enjoyed the maniacal vocalizations of sodden individuals at odd hours. I couldn’t understand a word, of course, but the sound of it brought to mind a possible combination of lead poisoning and alcohol. A little squeaky phantom in the ceiling is weak salsa by those comparisons.
We meet Joshua, Katherina, and The Squids at Zum Arabischen Coffe Baum at 2 pm. Begun in 1711, this is considered the oldest continuously operating coffee house in Europe. Even though we’ve been coming to Leipzig for a dozen years we only discovered it last October. This is because it was under a multi-year renovation, only re-opening 2.5 months before we found it. Famous patrons of olde include Bach, Goethe, Schumann, von Humboldt, Mendelssohn, and Napoleon. Name dropping aside, the downstairs spaces are quirky and despite renovation still have an old world vibe. The window glass is thick and wavy turning every view into a psychedelic smear. The upper floor is set up like an old fashioned café tea room, spacious and noisy. A narrow, ancient wooden staircase is the only way to get to it. This stairway is used by patrons and wait staff alike, causing some very curious traffic jams. We visited a similar café in Salzburg last year but that one hadn’t been renovated in 150 years. It was funky.
J & K and The Squids have a table staked out when we arrive and we waste no time ordering our tea and cakes. Except The Squids, of course. They require real food and lots of it. This meeting is the staging point for the next thing which CK has been plotting for a while. After tea, she is escorting The Squids on a shopping junket. Bringing gifts is the thing we do, being enthusiastic God-Grandparents and all. The problem is knowing what a good gift might be. CK struggled with this mightily this year and decided that a shopping trip was the answer. So, CK and the Squiddos go off to plunder the shops while I take a circuitous walk back to the hotel for a nap. I need to gather my strength because Katherina has booked us into a very cool authentic German spot for the evening meal.
On the way home I noticed something curious. The main square is full of the Easter Market and the crowd is thick. So are the cafés that line the plaza. But at the corner of the square is a passage through some 250 year old architecture that opens into a closed courtyard. There I find a German pub called Gasthaus Barthels Hof. Here the atmosphere is the exact opposite of the throbbing madness just a few meters away. It is mostly deserted and quiet here. Inside is much the same. Décor is colorful but not overdone, interesting without being loud. Lots of empty tables and quiet space. It looks like this is the place Leipzigers go on a hot summer day to sit in the courtyard shade and take a break. This space is the last of the “through court” (Durchgangshof) architectures surviving in town. A passage through one side of the courtyard leads to one on the other side, allowing trade carts to move through without having to turn around. Back in the day, Barthelshof was a merchant center and warehouse as well as a tavern. It was a bustling place of business then. I can’t stay but I’ll put it on my list for future.
I’m at the hotel catching some winks while CK is shopping with the Squids. Eventually they make it back to the hotel lobby and ring me up. I need to hustle down to meet them because we have a date at the Augustiner Restaurant. This place presents traditional German fare in a Bavarian style atmosphere. The maitre’d is sporting lederhosen. A lady, I guess to be his counterpart, is wearing dirndl. Inside it looks like a huge dining hall one might find in Munich with wooden wall panels and cast iron light fixtures. The menu is chock full of meat, potatoes, and kraut in multiple combinations. Joshua and I are here for the hinterhaxe, the pig’s knuckle from the hindquarters. This is a chunk of pork that can send ecstatic shivers through the soul of a carnivore of any species. For an appetizer we grab a plate of Nuremburg style wurstchens. I discovered these when we were there a dozen years ago but haven’t found them again until now. I could eat them like candy but not today. One will do. This indulgence is focused on the hinterhaxe with its crispy skin and luscious dark meaty goodness that is very much like duck confit. Joshua totally demolishes his plate. I’m only good for half of it. This isn’t going to waste, though. I’m doggy bagging this piggy back to the fridge in the room. I’ll gnaw on it for a couple of days. It was such a good meal I couldn’t even do ice cream dessert. I finished with a Vogelberry Schnapps instead.
We had a great day once again. The Squids got loot and lots of food. Enjoyed tea and cakes in an ancient café. We dined like royalty on German peasant dishes. Had nice chats and plenty of laughs. Tomorrow, we join the crowds at the Easter Market with some possible improvised evening activity. Stay tuned.
==============================================
Leipzig – April 5, 2026
Easter Sunday is upon us, and we wish well to all who celebrate. The churches are certainly expressing their happiness with enthusiastic bell ringing all around the town. This is their big day, after all. My personal response: a profound attack of sloth. I just want to be a lazy slug today. My ambition level has flat lined. It may be delayed jet lag or just the inevitable drag of ancientness and gravity. Either way, my battery is low. CK is more with it than I. She hits the hotel pool for some exercise. I manage to get out to the train station shopping zone (the only stores open on Easter Sunday) for a couple of items. On the way back to the hotel, I grab a yogurt parfait for CK and a muffin for me. A little walk in the cool air and a bite of breakfast should have started my engine but nope. I just want to collapse on the sofa and snooze. CK’s motivation is lit so, she’s out to visit her favorite haunts in town: Nikolaikirche (her fave church ever) and the finest art nouveau café in town, Riquet.
She was hoping to catch the Easter music offering at the church but arrived too late. I think it may have been tough to get a seat for it had she been on time, but we’ll never know. Instead, she sat in a pew and meditated on the unique palm frond ceiling motif. At Riquet it was a second breakfast with coffee and cake.
We rendezvous with J & K and The Squids in the afternoon in the hotel lobby. Today we all patrol the Easter Market hunting a street food, sweet treats, rare meat morsels, and cheeses. And people watching, of course. This is unavoidable, actually. The crowd is dense and walking space seems unreasonably limited particularly in front of the bratwurst stall. There are queues for things like sausages, crepes, beer, trdelnik, and vanilla crème filled waffles. The booths selling handmade knives and ocarinas are staffed by forlorn craftsmen with a dream. I want to buy something from them just to cheer them up.
The Squids are rebounding from yesterday’s shopping experience with CK. Wille woke at 3 a.m. to work on the 2.5 million piece Lego project he acquired (a cheerful effigy of Groot from “Masters of the Unverse”). Helene chose a fresh spring outfit, matching top and bottom, which she is wearing today. We all march 5 minutes to the market and straight to the food stalls because, its lunch time and I haven’t had my gigantic bratwurst moment yet. The stage is thumping with musicians in medieval costume banging drums and wailing on bagpipes. I get a gluhwine and CK snags some brats. The Squids attack some kind of meat sandwich I’m unfamiliar with. They wolf it down directly. This isn’t nearly enough. Wille finds the trdelnik stall while Helene goes for the caloric nightmare of vanilla crème waffeln. This is a frothy filling of sugar and cream folded between waffles; my teeth hurt just looking at it. She loves it, though, and so does Joshua. I’ve watched them soak these up multiple times. Wille goes for the gusto with his trdelnik, ordering the Nutella filled version. CK and I wish we were hungry for a trdelnik (it looks delish) but we’re bursting after our bratwurst. No can do.
When gluhwine (a kind of sweet mulled wine) is sold at these markets, you buy the cup along with the wine. It’s kind of a cool souvenir if you want to keep it but you don’t have to. You can return it to the stall and retrieve €3 of your purchase. This I did because I don’t want to give space in my luggage to an earthenware cup that will probably break anyway. The guy in the stall gave me a quick once-over, no doubt spotting me for the clueless foreigner I truly am. He carried the cup away immediately without offering me the Euro. I suspect he was hoping I’d turn and wander off, not understanding the refund policy. After 15 seconds he glanced back to see that I hadn’t gone. His expression seemed both sheepish and resentful as he delivered the 3 Euro to my hand. I’ll betcha anything he’s gathered a bit of extra coin this way and feels a little anger when his assessment of the situation fails. People watching. I tell ya.
After the Squids dessert plunder we’re ready for a quiet moment. Riquet café is nearby. We find a table on the second floor. We enjoy coffee, juice, and tea and a lovely chat away from the confusion of the market. Katherina gives us instructions to meet at their flat tomorrow for brunch. Helene will be the kitchen boss and cook for this and Katherina loves it.
As they all steer for home, I slink back to the hotel to crash again. That mulled wine and bratwurst put a food coma on top of my delayed jet lag. The Jasmine tea at Riquet had no reviving effect. CK’s motor is running ok so she’s back on the trail to Thomaskirche. This time she is lucky. There is some kind of Easter Service but it isn’t a sermon. It is a musical presentation with various brass instruments combined with the main church organ and its little brother. Two organs with a brass ensemble and she gets a front row seat! NICE. After this she goes back to the market square to sample the medieval musicians with their pipes and drums. It finishes with a fellow doubling up on an alpenhorn and a harp.
Eventually she gets back to the hotel to roust me out of my funk. Just around the corner is an Irish style pub (Dhillons). We duck in for a bite of salad and a pint of Guinness for medicinal purposes. I almost order the seafood chowder but must first ask if it has crab in it. It does. I can’t. I have that allergy. A short walk after the evening snack takes us past another art nouveau cafe/bar that would be awesome if they didn't allow smoking: Mephisto.
And that’s all there is for today. Very little adventure but a lot of fun in between sleepiness. Spring has officially sprung in the ecclesiastical way so get out there and bloom, dammit.
Stay tuned.
=========================================
Leipzig – April 6, 2026
I’m sleeping in to abnormal hours. At home I’m up with the crows or before. Today, I’m only getting out the door to grab coffee at the corner by 8:30 which seems like almost noon to me. The day is half gone. I lean on the door of ‘Coffee Fellows’ just opposite the hotel. It does not yield. The sign says Mo-So (So is Saturday), 7:30 am. Today is Monday so what’s up? I’m about to learn a new word in German: “Feiertage”. At the bottom of the sheet is printed “Feiertage 9 a.m.” My bio-processor goes to work but comes up snake-eyes. The phone bot tells me that feiertage means “holiday”. Today is a holiday? It must be because the door is locked. Today is Easter Monday, the bot says, being polite enough to forego naming me a hopeless git, a public holiday in Germany. I must have run into this on previous Easter Weeks but I’m still drawing a blank. I’m probably going bonkers and need to be put away but please not before I acquire a cup of joe. There are functional coffee shops at the train station a couple hundred meters away. Perhaps I can manage that.
CK is hopping out the door as soon as I return. She is off to Nikolaikirche again to see if anything is happening. I sit this one out since I’ve had all the church I need for now and I have coffee to slurp. She gets lucky again and has another musical experience, this time with brass instruments plus the big organ. It is crowded. No front row seat this time, she has to perch off to the side. She must watch the clock, though, because we are due to catch a tram out to J&K’s flat about 11:30. They have a brunch planned and Helene is making the crepes. CK makes it back in time to hustle me out the door and over to the trams. Our tram is the #11 and it is 11 minutes away. This gives us time to run across the street to pluck a bouquet from the flower shop. We get back to the platform with 3 minutes to spare. Things are going well. We got this!
Tram trip managed, J&K welcome us to their home and the Squids pretend they haven’t seen us in years. Katherina has set a sumptuous table of delicacies and rich goodies, most of which we would never have access to at home. Exoticness like truffle cheese, lemon curd, and deer ham. Helene has the crepes ready. She is making perfect crepes now, much improved from last year. Katherina has Easter Baskets for each of us filled with candy bits, truffles, and a chocko-bunny. They really make a thing out of it, kind of like Xmas with fresh flowers. It’s a hoot. Abandon all diets ye who enter here.
This is brunch on steroids. After such an indulgence we find it necessary to go for a stroll to banish the food coma. We have perfect weather for it, too. Bright warm sun, cool air. The plant life is putting on a show. The early bloomers are out: wild garlic, wood anemone, wild currant, plum. The hardwood canopy is flashing green buds and new leaf tips against a bright blue sky. Our route is through an area that was reclaimed from swamp years ago. Now it is a protected forest area. The waterways and ponds are manmade features related to the drainage project (see photos).
After a perfectly pleasant walk, back at the flat, Joshua teaches us a card game (Skull King). I end up winning it out of sheer ignorant luck. My prize is nothing but glory and bragging rights. I need to remember to taunt everyone when we play again next year. Speaking of games, this year I figured out a simple magic trick to show to Wille. He learns fast, so I expect he’ll have a slick presentation of it in no time. Now I need to learn another one for next year.
Our time is up except for the hugs and goodbye-for-nows. We tram back to the city center where, amazingly, CK is wanting dinner. I’m still stuffed from crepes, cheese, and chocolate bon-bons. The Crown India is her choice. A chicken curry dish for her and a salad for me. Tomorrow, we light out on an adventure of sorts. We’re taking a train to Dresden, then changing for a train to Prague, Czechia. There we need to taxi over to another station to catch a train toward Cesky Krumlov. This may be an 8 hour trip door-to-door. We’ll return back here to Leipzig on Friday. That’s the outline of the plan. We shall see how it goes. Wish us luck.
Stay tuned.
============================================
Leipzig to Cesky Krumlov - April 7, 2026
Our train out of Leipzig is at 7:20 a.m. The schedule tells us to find it on track 15. We know where that is, no problem. The goal for today is the Dvorak Hotel in Cesky Krumlov, Czechia. This is our third excursion to the Czech Republic, the first two being Prague and Karlovy Vary. Both of those junkets were arranged and guided by our friends Joshua and Katherina. Today we are pushing out into eastern Europe for the first time by our own sketchy pluck and wobbly wit. We are instantly challenged in this way by heeding the Hauptbanhof public announcement that track 15 is now incorrect and we must move our butts to track 18 and hop to it, all schnell etc. because we only have 5 minutes.
I want to describe how to get to Cesky Krumlov because it seems to be tucked away in a corner of the country with only indirect connections to anywhere. No matter where you are, you can't get there from here. Our first train takes us to Dresden for a switch. We don't wait long. Our connection is on the same platform we arrived on. This next train takes us to Prague. We were only able to buy our tickets online to this point. We could not get reliable information about trains from here to Cesky Krumlov. Our first job, now, is to reconnoiter the station in search of The Ceske Drahy ticket and information office. After a 10 minute search we find it. It’s a gigantic office. How did we not see it immediately? In moments we're successfully negotiating two tickets to Cesky Krumlov. Mischief managed, a dry baguette sandwich in hand, we find track 7. Again, there's a track change at the last minute which CK recognizes by the movement of the crowd. We did not grok the announcement in Czech lingo, of course. Identify the train, grab a seat and settle in. Next change is Ceske Budejovice. Here we wait on the platform. It's another bright spring day. A little cool breeze keeps our layers zippered but it is pleasant. This train looks well-worn but serviceable. The map shows that we don't have far to go and we don't. It stops. This seems normal for a milk run route. But everyone gets off. In our half snoozing state we don't notice that this is the end of the line. The train's driver finds us as he does his sweep. We must get off he says. Outside we find a bus waiting. The last leg to Cesky Krumlov is by road. The train cannot procede because of track repairs ahead. This bus is not an Express. It is a local with frequent stops and, as is often the case, overheated. We get a slow, sauna-like, more informative ride than on a train. Cesky Krumlov is surrounded by rolling farmland and forested areas. In the middle of this ruralness, the town pops out astride a river. We cross the city limits at 4:15. 30 minutes later a taxi drops us at the hotel. Leipzig to Cesky Krumlov, a loose 10 hours and things went smoothly, pretty much. It would have been far longer had we missed one of the several connections.
We are somewhat wilted. All day in transit does that, somehow, even though we haven’t done much but hork luggage and sit on our bums. We take a short rest before going forth to find sustenance. We select a restaurant based on a hotel recommendation and an internet mention. These seem to corroborate so we go in search of it: Šjvejk. Google Maps gives us walking directions so off we trot across a charming bridge on a brick paved street. No good. Google directs us to a dead end. No restaurant. I duck in to quiz a hotel receptionist. The nice lady hands me a map and points to the proper spot. We retrace our steps but still cannot spot it. Fail. Defeated, we dive into a convenient Italian style place, Latran. Salad and pasta is the offering. The noodles are home-made. Points for that but, sadly, a bit too underdone. We cannot recommend. Their pizza looked pretty good although we didn’t sample it.
I want a gelato after the disappointing pasta but the shop that was supposed to be open until 9 is closed at 8:30, the lazy gits. Instead of finding gelato, we find, guess what… the Šjvejk Restaurant. We had walked straight past it. It was nearly next door to our hotel. Note is made to try this again, maybe, tomorrow. CK wants more of a constitutional stroll, so we continue up the street until we get to the main square. The evening is dark and quiet here except for a bit of garish color on the edge which belongs to an ice cream shop that is still open! Yay! I get my treat of stracciatella gelato after all.
We are bushed and ready to crash. Today has been dotted with false starts and misdirection, none of which were catastrophic, only annoying. Tomorrow, we have a full day of sightseeing planned and lots of photos to edit.
P.S. - Gas prices here: $8.03 per gallon. I feel that I'm looking at our future.
==========================================================
Cesky Krumlov, Czech Republic – April 8, 2026
The local chamber of commerce, the Infocentrum, has done a pretty fair job of projecting the charms of this town onto social media and other internet connections. They got my attention through a travel program on Amazon Prime. I shared it with CK and she said, hey, let’s go for it. CK found a series of trains with diaphanous connections and here we are in a UNESCO World Heritage town that somehow time forgot to dismantle properly.
Our habit in Europe is to look for the ‘living museums’ of human culture: ancient architecture that has been preserved or restored, buildings or communities that allow our imagination to indulge in a fantasy of time travel, such as Quedlinburg and Wernigerode in Germany. And it is a fantasy, for sure. Restored architecture from 500-600 years ago is charming and curious but doesn’t take us into the humanity that created those buildings. By all reports and research, we wouldn’t want to revisit that bit for a number of reasons, one of which I can list immediately: the pitiful lack of dentists. Getting one’s teeth fixed is not likely to be the most pressing dysfunction of those times but it’s the one I’ll go with for now.
Český Krumlov has theme-park / movie set level of preservation and charm. There are building styles from the 13th century through the 19th with exquisite remodels together with some clumsy ones from previous eras. The oldest buildings here come from the time when Krumlov was on the lucrative salt and amber route. There’s an enormous castle together with a monastery that dominates the heights. The old town is a densely packed ‘island’ of protected buildings lurking at the foot of the castle. There should be details to discover and lots of pix to edit here.
The old town was definitely renovated from dilapidated conditions but not from the ground up like it was in Nuremburg which was bombed level to the ground. The structures here survived the ages in their 500 year old style because they weren’t bombed in wars or razed by businessmen who might have declared that the real estate involved wasn’t being put to its ‘highest and best use’. In the 19th and 20th centuries this area was stagnant economically, thereby falling outside the interest of those with industrial revolution on their agenda. This zone was ignored and left alone. Now in the 21st century, a spotlight on it.
Today we have engaged the help of a guide. Her name is Eszter, a student of art and history. She’s originally from Hungary. We’ll be with her for 3 hours on a walking tour of the zone. We’re about to learn a lot of stuff only some of which I’ll be able to repeat here.
The is the region of South Bohemia. We also learn that the town we passed through yesterday, north of here is literally Budweiser (Budejovice) and is the ancestral home of a once proud barley brew, now considered little more than skunk beer in the US.
Krumlov means, basically, “Crooked Meadow”, so named because the Vlatava river makes a sharp bend creating a little peninsula which marks the boundaries of the old town. The Vlatava is also known as the Moldau (the German name for it), a river that the composer Smetana made famous through a musical score. The town has fewer than 15,000 residents and very few live in the old town section because it has been given up almost entirely to shops, restaurants, bars, hotels, and museums. This place draws 2 million tourists per year. Over 50 Czech fairy tale movies have been filmed here. Czechia’s second largest castle is here, the largest being in Prague.
Eszter is a fountain of historical notes and insights. She takes us past the homes of Czech artists and points out her favorite streets and plazas. Mainly she is taking us up the berg to investigate the Castle. This monster has been through numerous changes over 6 centuries with building and deco from Gothic to Baroque. A moat straddles both sides of the bridge leading up to the main gate. Two bears are kept there. This was the idea of one of the castle’s former lords, the Rosenbergs in the 16th century. The bears have been a thing ever since.
As we enter the interior courtyards, there is a certain gloominess in effect. The walls are covered with a renaissance style painted illusion of dressed stone block. Windows and sculptures are also represented in paint. I have to puzzle over this because it looks so ineffective. Eszter assures me that in the 16th century, this was considered the highest style, not unworthy at all even though it seems shallow to us now.
We decide to climb the 162 steps up the Renaissance Tower, the Painted Tower. It also features large iron bells in its dusty reaches. At the top we get a panoramic view of the old town and the Vltava River. We must watch our heads as we negotiate the narrow stairs. The design of these things don’t accommodate 75 year old tourists.
We have the opportunity to view the interior quarters of the castle where there are period reconstructions of living, sleeping, dining, and entertainment areas but we’re passing on that. It is a lovely spring day to be outside among the flowers and budding trees. And we’ve seen palaces with rooms of this style on other tours. We may be missing out on some fun, though. Precht von Rosenberg is the resident ghost in those rooms, they say. In her time, she was forced to marry a nasty fellow. She didn’t like him in the first place, and he made things worse by abusing her. On his deathbed he asked her forgiveness for behaving like an epic piece of caca but she said no, get thee to Hell and be quick about it. So, he cursed her with his last breath like Ahab did to his whale. Because there’s no justice in this universe the curse stuck on her. Now Perchta’s diaphanous image appears floating through the castle corridors as The White Lady. This could have been a challenge for my Samsung S23+ cell cam but we’ll never know because we’re electing to stroll through a perfectly perfect spring day instead.
We walk across the Cloak Bridge, a 3 story passage that connects the castle to the baroque theater. It was built for just that reason, to allow guests and nobles to make their way there without having to go to ground level or be exposed to weather.
The Baroque Theater is the prime structure I want to see. But wouldn’t you know it… the thing does not open to tourists until May. What a shame. It is one of the few that still has its original stage machinery and lighting from the 18th century. Needless to say, it is quite a delicate thing.
Beyond the structures is an extensive garden and wooded area that was once the playground of the princes who lived here. Gardens are over 2,300 feet long originally established in the 17th century. For big events back then it was lit for evening activities by 20,000 oil lamps. My brain is warping around the thought of the army of minions required to fill, light, and place them all. Today, the public can wander about and enjoy it when it opens in April. It is well kept, ready to bloom out with all kinds of flowers in May.
Eszter adds some extra time to our tour so she can show us St Vitus Church : A gothic era design serving as a mausoleum for the Rožmberk (Rosenberg) family which dominated here for centuries. Their five-petalled rose crest is dotted around town like some kind of territorial marker. Because we’re here on the dot of noon there’s another bonus: they ring the bells for lunch time because even Jesus loves a sandwich.
I thought there was a chance to spot Green Man here in the eaves or columns but no chance. The remodelers from the baroque era probably chiseled him out. Drat.
Eszter has been a marvelous guide. Our experience here was amplified very well with her help. Wherever we went there was a new sight to see, a photo every 10 feet. I have way too many to edit!
After a brief rest and bite of lunch, we’re out again to investigate a turn of the 20th century photo studio. This is Museum Fotoatelier Seidel. Somehow this fellow’s photographic equipment, studio, and thousands of glass plates survived the years to be displayed to the public. With my background in darkrooms and photochemistry, I’m fascinated by the stuff. Poor CK is probably bored but she pretends to be interested in the props and costumes, some of which are from the original studio. My favorite bit is the Portrait Studio with northlight facing greenhouse glass overhead and a linen curtain system for softer lighting.
Our final experience of the day is to sup at an authentic Czech pub. Eszter recommended it, the Hospoda Na Louzi. It is an old building with a wood paneled interior that looks like it was last remodeled in 1890. The lighting looks circa 1920. The food is outstanding. I ordered a classic Czech dish of roast pork, dumplings, and sauerkraut. CK had goulash. Excellent. Tourism isn't that costly here for Yankees. In this pub a meal for two with beer, less than $40 US.
Tomorrow we have some more exploring to do.
===========================================
Cesky Krumlov, Czech Republic - April 9, 2026
This morning CK spends time focusing on our future which necessarily involves transport back to Leipzig. She already has the leg between Prague and Leipzig sorted. It's getting us from Krumlov to Prague that is the twister.
Our third morning here in Krumlov and we're noticing that we've been serenaded by a trumpet coming from the direction of the tower every day. Upon further investigation we learn that it happens three times per day, at 9, 12, and 6 p.m. This is a habit left over from the time when soldiers stood watch up there. It is unclear to me why so I'll guess. Peasants below in the town might forget that they were being watched. A trumpet blaring at regular intervals reminds everyone that the authorities are on duty and not sleeping at their post. They once sounded the trumpet every hour. Now just three times per day and it isn't even a live performance, just a recording.
After breakfast in the hotel, and spending time wrestling with bus and train schedules, we've set our compass for the Moldavite Museum. This is a semi precious stone found in this region. There are a proliferation of bling shops in Krumlov, each about 50 meters apart it seems, and nearly every one of them offers Moldavite jewelry in either polished or natural form. The scientific term is tectite. Formed by meteoric impact, it is a glass formed by melting and cooling of sand in a certain sequence during the nano seconds before impact when the asteroid's pressure wave deforms the earth. Colors range from black to light green. Many specimens have been eroded by water and time to create a serrated surface. They are valuable enough to inspire folks to hunt them. These guys are sometimes a scourge on the landscape, digging random pits and trespassing. Of course, certain scalliwags have claimed mystic powers, Chakra activating energy, and other mumbo jumbo contributing to the over-weight pricing of it in the jewelry shops. Recently a miraculous Chinese discovery has been made! woot! Much less expensive! I doubt anyone could get away with selling fake Moldavite here but no doubt it is available online. We looked into several shops but only one features a jeweler at his bench in proper craftsman mode. I don't wear bling but if I did, I'd shop there.
The church bell announces noon again. We feel a Pavlovian urge to consume something. The Authentic Café on the main square will do nicely. The atmosphere here is a modern interpretation of Art Deco, and well done too. CK leans into a cup of potato soup, a caprese salad, chasing it down with black forest cake and coffee. We just ate breakfast 3 hours ago. I think she's developed a hollow leg. I'm an observer for this one with an Aperol Spritz to keep me company.
Now that we're smarter about the relationship between interstellar energy and glass making we're off in search of The Regional Museum. Everything is just the next block over in this town. We find it right away. There are a few displays and dioramas but mostly photos of bygone eras captioned in Czech. We are oblivious, of course. The best piece is a scale model of Krumlov and the castle complex in its 16th century form.
Yesterday was our official tour with Ezster. After this we feel like we've leveled up as tourists to maybe rank 9 3/4, enough to get us a reservation at Hogwarts. This is our final day as tourists in Czechia. Given our upgraded status we're giving ourselves permission to drift and wander. Luckily, this is a kind of magical place to do that.
Although we hadn't planned it, we're hitting the shops [after raiding a gelato shop for two scoops of Kinder Bueno in a waffle]. CK finds earrings set with rough, unpolished Moldavite, better for connecting with the galactic Geist. We wander further away from the square to find a rather fragrant soap and lotion shop. Here CK plunders the shop with gifts in mind. Now the hour is past 16:00, teatime by our reckoning. Returning to wander-mode we hope to find a sunny terrace upon which to relax with a drink. On the way, my eye falls upon a scarf at the doorway of a shop. 10 Euros later I'm suddenly more dashing than ever, hoping CK will notice and be impressed.
A few moments later we find our sunny terrace at a restaurant called Bolero. Soon a Krumlov brew is mine. A cucumber lemonade sits before CK and we're basking in soft, warm spring sun next to the Moldau. This place seems so pleasant that we return two hours later for our supper. CK has pasta and I go for their goulash. So good I ordered it twice.
Tomorrow is a travel day full of trains, buses, and who knows what.
======================================
Cesky Krumlov to Leipzig - April 10, 2026
Gotta move out today. We're up before the hotel serves breakfast. I'm peckish. Only the randomest of random bites are in the room: some pink foiled Easter egg candies and a package of coconut sweets that was here to greet us when we checked in. I fire up the room's kettle for an herbal tea to wash it down. CK scolds me for being a candy gobbling slob. She's right, you know.
The hotel people at the Dvorak are very nice to us. As we check out they hand us a 2 kilo bag of brunch fixings and drinks. A taxi waits to drag us up the hill to the bus station. A Regio-Jet bus will take us to Budejovice, not Prague as reported previously. A 30 minute trip. We've enjoyed perfect spring weather during our visit here. Today, just as we leave, the sky goes gray and cold showers move in. Our luck has been unbelievable [to the positive] so far.
Budejovice: The bus deposits us at the bus station (duh) but being the rubes we are, it takes us 5 minutes to realize we're not at the train station. We see it, eventually, across the street. We see our train on the departure screen, no problem. This isn't a big station. As we find our train platform the weather turns to a snow shower. A young Czech lass with a puzzled expression asks me in English if the train at this platform is for Prague. "I'm always so confused about this", she confesses. I spot an official on the platform and suggest we ask him. "I know Czech", she says, "I'll speak with him." I don't if I should feel reassured that a native is confused here or frightened because of it. The fellow in the uniform confirms that this is our train. Yay!
Two hours or so on this conveyance, where we have a 6-person compartment to ourselves, is sufficient to bring us to Prague main station. Our first visit here was 2017, easily long enough to forget how things work and what to avoid. We have 3+ hours to wait until our scheduled train to Germany but that train departs from a different station, Holovice. Prague main station is pulsing with humanity in all its forms of mild stress, dishevelment, haste, and confusion. Some know exactly what they're doing, weaving through the mob with determination and purpose. We classify as something between the extremes. As we push on we don't see anyone our age in this crowd. I'm beginning to feel conspicuously old!
We're looking for the taxi stand because we have a wispy thread of a plan. We learn that taxis aren't popular in Prague, therefore the taxi area isn't well marked. Somehow we find it. Our goal is the Café Imperial, with a lovely Art Nouveau restoration from 1913. We are revisiting a stop we made here 9 years ago. The hostess seats us but we only get the table for 55 minutes. Drat. We were hoping to camp out here for two hours plus.
After our hour of old fashioned splendor at Café Imperial is over we must find a new hangout.
Across the street my eye spots a likely candidate: Palac Archa is the label on an art deco building. Most of the building houses a bank but its the café we want: Cerna Madona. They don't mind us rolling in with our luggage and packs. The tea and quiche are nice and the loo is free! Yay!
Everywhere we go, (restaurants, cafes, bars, waiting rooms) we are hearing thumpy pop dance music. My idea is that this is the style that tends to win the Eurovision Song Contest. Which is unfortunate. To our ancient ears this seems inappropriate when dining in a quaint bistro or enjoying coffee and cake in an art deco café. But what do we know? Wherever we go, we're the oldest coots there. Our style faded long ago.
From Cerna Madona in downtown Prague, we hail an Uber. Our driver doesn't understand that we want the Holovice train station. He wants to let us out at the bus station. We request a course correction. After a few blocks and a u-turn he safely delivers us to the trains. There is no waiting area except for some hard benches that are totally inadequate for the number of folks wanting a perch. We perch and pace like caged beasts for an hour.
Our train to Dresden is on time. We find it, no problem. At Dresden we wait on the platform 40 minutes, plenty of time to practice our people watching skills. The ride from there to Leipzig is uncrowded and quiet. Most of the way we watch spring snow drifting past our window. The weather lifts just as we step out onto the streets of Leipzig at 6:45. We've spent about 11 hours in transit.
We're a little hungry, so a meal at Sardegna is in order. We are greeted with friendly handshakes. CK thinks they remember us each year. A plate of pasta and a glass of vino is just what we need. It's been a long day. We kept our room at the Adina Apartments while we were in Cesky Krumlov, so it is easy to settle in.
==========================================================
Leipzig - April 11, 2026
We are in need of a restful day after riding the rails yesterday for hours. CK catches up on paperwork, I edit the blog and bring it up to date. CK reminds me to check that UK ETA border document. After Brexit, the Brits added another paranoia-inspired layer to their bureaucracy. A passport is no longer good enough. To cross their border you must complete an identification process online, then hope they approve it. If you don’t have an up-to-date version of this in their system, you won’t be able to board a plane heading to the UK. If the airline makes an error and boards you without a valid ETA on file, you will likely be deported when you arrive at UK passport control. With that comes all kinds of nastiness including bans from ever visiting again. Yeah. CK said I should check it and sure enough, mine is out of date. It expired in January. This is Saturday and we fly to London the day after tomorrow. I hop online, open their app and follow the instructions. I get the application done and hit submit. I figure we’re sunk here because this can take as long as 72 hours M-F to be approved. If it takes that long it will be Thursday morning. Gah. I’m bracing for the worst, but we get lucky again. The approval hits my email within the hour. Whew. Now I’m clear to enter the UK through March of 2028. Our restful day hatches out with a dose of Brexit style stress. Grrrr.
After that cold wet day yesterday, nice bright spring weather returns. We’re out for a small lunch at Zum Arabischen Coffe Baum. As we pass the street vendors offering Thuringer Brats, I’m tempted to abandon my senses and go for the tube steak. But no. We must get some salad for our health and reserve some hunger for tonight’s outing with Joshua, Katherina & The Squids. A stroll in the sun is in order after our gnosh at the café: The grove of trees in the plaza [the Thomaswiese] behind Thomaskirche are in full bloom, freshly opened. I try to snap a photo to capture it but the cell cam just isn’t up to it. CK would like to step inside Thomaskirche but there is some kind of event in progress. We are turned away. On the way back to the hotel I feel that there is a gelato for me at the Milchbar Pinguin. CK feigns shock at the thought and believes the event is worthy of a photo for posterity.
We lurch forth from the hotel and hit the streets again at 4:30 because CK has discovered an organ recital for ‘vespers’ will take place at 5 p.m. at Nikolaikirche. As we round the corner there is a group of guys giggling and goofing off in the middle of the lane. They have pink bunny ears and t-shirts which read: “Maik is getting married. We’re only here to drink.” (This was in German. I had to translate it later.) The groom is dressed head to toe in a bunny suit. They challenge us to join the fun with a fusillade of German. I am called upon to use my magic phrase, the only German I know which informs them that I don’t speak German. This evokes a louder response, all in German, which I gather is something like, “Aww bullcrap, you just spoke to us in German!” My blank response to this convinces them that it’s all true. One guy speaks creditable English and acts as the translator. This is how we learn what is happening here, a wandering, staggering stag party. It’s ok to drink in public in Germany and these guys are enjoying that privilege. They’re a cheerful 2 ¾ sheets to the wind. We confess to being from the US and apologize for it but they don’t mind. They seem very happy to meet us and might be awarding us the key to the city if they had one. We would certainly be offered a can of Pils if we didn’t have to get to the church in time for the organ performance.
The church charges €2 each for admittance. There are four short pieces on the program interspersed by, what I’m guessing to be, a sermon although the fellow doing the speaking isn’t wearing a frock or a collar. The music isn’t the airy Italian church organ style I enjoy. It is a lot of sturm und drang, storm and stress, long dissonance with brief resolutions. Powerful, loud, and appropo to the times but not my cup of schnapps. Luckily, it’s over in about 30 minutes.
For a 1 minute sample of their piping show: https://youtu.be/--S1W0ODDKM
We meet the Fam at about 6:15. They’ve made a reservation for us at a new restaurant discovery, Imperii. We get our hugs from the Squids. I try to lift Wille. I can get his feet off the ground a little. He’s 80 lbs of fun. They are all getting ready for school to start again Monday, complaining that this weeklong break is too short. We share our adventures in Czechia and get caught up on their plans. Our meal is outstanding. CK has a veal schnitzel and mine is a kind of meatloaf with fresh asparagus (in season now). Dessert is an apple sorbet with a granola finish. Superb. We figure they are going for a Michelin star here once they upgrade their service component.
All good things must end and our visit in Leipzig is coming to a close. Another round of hugs for the Squids, Joshua and Katherina with promises to return next Easter Week. They treat us like family, which is far better than royalty. We have one day to roam free here tomorrow before we fly away to the UK on Monday. I don’t know what we’ll do with the time, but I know where I want to dine: Augustiner for those wurstchens!
======================================================
Leipzig – April 12, 2026
Our last full day in Leipzig. This is a short post because we aren’t doing much worth talking about. CK spent the morning with last minute plans regarding our next leg, the UK. I was a lazy bum all morning drifting in and out of consciousness. I think I took about 34 naps today.
CK rousts me out of my sloth for a tram ride to the Karli District. She wants to revisit one of our favorite café – bistros here, The Puschkin. A Google search describes it as “buzzy”, “unique”, “artistic”, all generalizations that are pretty laughable. The fact that AI bots don’t get it is another of Puschkin’s wonderful qualities. I’ve written about this spot before in previous posts and I guess I always will whenever we revisit it. The deco here was done by an artist, a damned good one, for the purpose of sending up the Soviet occupation of East Germany and Leipzig from 1945 to 1994. It goes beyond mocking, all the way to standing as a monument to history, a monument with its tongue lodged firmly in cheek. Brilliant. And the food is good too.
Back on the tram to the hotel. We duck back inside because this is a raw, wet, winter-like day and roaming around doesn’t seem like the thing to do after all those perfect spring days we’ve been enjoying. I hunker down for a session of chain napping while CK works the mojo wire in full travel agent mode.
5 o’clock rolls around and CK says it’s time to dine. Our plan is simply to hit that nice Munich style pub, the Augustiner. I don’t know why we didn’t discover this place sooner. I think, since it’s right on the main square, we didn’t think it would be any good. The general experience we’ve had everywhere is that any eatery on any main square is not worth the time. They invariably give up all forms of quality in favor of looting passing tourists. Not so here. This place is the functional equivalent of a dive bar in beer hall form. The locals lounging around chatting, playing cards, goofing off. And I can get those Nuremburg wurstchens with mashed potatoes and kraut. Yum. The beer is Munich style, which I prefer. So, when in Leipzig, if you want old fashioned German food and atmosphere, this is one of the best spots in town. We recommend with a bullet.
We leave you with another sample of busker art. We’ve seen some professional level musicians on the street before, the last in my memory was in Zurich. These two, an accordion and a violin, were world class musicians. They mesmerized me with a transcribed piece for church organ by Bach. WITH AN ACCORDION AND FIDDLE! Totally concert level. Seriously. For 40 seconds of their chops, go here: https://youtu.be/9BP3cGdEXjg
Ciao for now. Tomorrow we fly.
======================================================
Comments