The Lake

Finally we make it to the Rotweilers’ just as it is getting dark. I introduce Erin and Scott and the whole family comes to say hello. The house smells just like I remember it, I feel completely at home and at peace. We are ushered into the garden and we sit around the table there and are plied with beer and sekt (the Champagne knock-off sold in Germany). Finally, we head to the hotel to check-in. It’s just a few minutes from the house, but we need to check in before the lady of the house closes her bar. Gasthaus Hubermuller is like a Hollywood version of what a typical German bar would look like – in other words, a complete caricature, although I am sure the owners have no idea. In order to get to our rooms we walk though a bar that is filled with locals watching a soccer game. The walls are bedecked with beer steins, dried flowers and stuffed and mounted animals; the air is putrid with smoke. As we walk in the door, heads turn laconically toward us; the patrons say nothing, just exhale smoke and stare, then they turn back to the tiny TV that is broadcasting the game, though a few smile and a smoke-enshrouded dog lifts its head as we pass.

Our room is so small that the shower and sink are about a foot away from the bed. The toilet at least has its own room. One wall is inexplicably made of cork and the rest are covered in wallpaper that has tiny seagulls on it. Erin is staying at Tom and Christian’s and although their place is small it seems very large by comparison. The room is clean and the bed is remarkably soft for Germany, so neither of us are complaining.