Europe 2026 - Germany
- Tim Madison
- 2 days ago
- 18 min read
Updated: 1 hour ago
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.
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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.
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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.
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