Where's Bertie? He's still at the commercial Stellplatz in Freiburg.
Weather: Sunny intervals; very warm and muggy.
As planned, we walked back into town last night for the England match, and managed to find ourselves what must have been the worst bar in town. We chose to sit outside on the pavement because:
1) it was unbearably warm inside; and
2) smoking was permitted inside this establishment.
There were 16 chairs outside, of which we occupied two, and various other people came and went around us. All of those people must have been chain smokers and at times it was difficult to believe that we were outside. It was most unpleasant and we came away with our clothes smelling like they used to after a night in a pub in the UK before the smoking ban came in.
About half way back to Bertie we passed a much nicer looking bar, complete with big-screen TV, but I'm sure last night's game will remain all the more memorable for the awful surroundings in which we watched it (as always by 'we' I mean Mick watched and I looked up occasionally from my sock knitting).
Sitting atop the arches of the bridge is a popular pastime
Today, after I'd explored a section of the local river at a trot, leaving Mick in bed, we took ourselves off for a proper look around the town - or as good a look as we could manage having forgotten to take with us the town guide given to us by the owner of the Stellplatz.
The Minster is currently undergoing extensive restoration and we approached from what is currently its least flattering angle.
The church square was fair bustling
I don't appear to have taken any passable snaps of any of the streets of the old town, but cobbles, tram lines and streams running along the edges all featured, together with some attractive buildings ... and, of course, a few 1960s monstrosities.
Looking to one of the town gates
Good door!
It was approaching noon by the time we paused for coffee - or in my case tea, because I haven't yet perfected the German phrase "Do you have decaf coffee?". If I'd just perused the drinks menu a bit better, I would have found it there, but instead I had a cup of tea that went straight into second place in my list of 'worst cups of tea I've ever had'.
Looked good. Tasted awful.
Not long after we stopped for lunch, which was a far better choice:
Two thalis in an Indian restaurant.
Our return route to Bertie brought us past the university (surprisingly busy until I remembered that no matter what my mind would like me to believe, it is not the weekend) and past the 'old Synagogue'. The latter was destroyed in 1938 and now takes the form of a water feature laid out in the shape of the old building's foundations.
It's flat around here, thus there are a lot of bicycles in this town. This was one of many bicycle parking areas.
Just up the road from where we're staying. Presumably just a parish church, but quite striking.
(Today's random aside: As I approached the Stellplatz at the end of my run this morning, I could see Mick standing outside at the edge of the road, wearing his pyjamas. This struck me as odd and I could only rationalise it on the basis that he must have fallen back to sleep, then woken thinking that I'd been gone far too long and in his panic had dashed out to look for me. I got to within a couple of paces before I realised that this man had the same build and posture as Mick, with the same hair, and the same pyjamas, but it was not, in fact, Mick. I located him a few minutes later still in bed.)
Weather: Sunny intervals; very warm and muggy.
As planned, we walked back into town last night for the England match, and managed to find ourselves what must have been the worst bar in town. We chose to sit outside on the pavement because:
1) it was unbearably warm inside; and
2) smoking was permitted inside this establishment.
There were 16 chairs outside, of which we occupied two, and various other people came and went around us. All of those people must have been chain smokers and at times it was difficult to believe that we were outside. It was most unpleasant and we came away with our clothes smelling like they used to after a night in a pub in the UK before the smoking ban came in.
About half way back to Bertie we passed a much nicer looking bar, complete with big-screen TV, but I'm sure last night's game will remain all the more memorable for the awful surroundings in which we watched it (as always by 'we' I mean Mick watched and I looked up occasionally from my sock knitting).
Sitting atop the arches of the bridge is a popular pastime
Today, after I'd explored a section of the local river at a trot, leaving Mick in bed, we took ourselves off for a proper look around the town - or as good a look as we could manage having forgotten to take with us the town guide given to us by the owner of the Stellplatz.
The Minster is currently undergoing extensive restoration and we approached from what is currently its least flattering angle.
The church square was fair bustling
I don't appear to have taken any passable snaps of any of the streets of the old town, but cobbles, tram lines and streams running along the edges all featured, together with some attractive buildings ... and, of course, a few 1960s monstrosities.
Looking to one of the town gates
Good door!
It was approaching noon by the time we paused for coffee - or in my case tea, because I haven't yet perfected the German phrase "Do you have decaf coffee?". If I'd just perused the drinks menu a bit better, I would have found it there, but instead I had a cup of tea that went straight into second place in my list of 'worst cups of tea I've ever had'.
Looked good. Tasted awful.
Not long after we stopped for lunch, which was a far better choice:
Two thalis in an Indian restaurant.
Our return route to Bertie brought us past the university (surprisingly busy until I remembered that no matter what my mind would like me to believe, it is not the weekend) and past the 'old Synagogue'. The latter was destroyed in 1938 and now takes the form of a water feature laid out in the shape of the old building's foundations.
It's flat around here, thus there are a lot of bicycles in this town. This was one of many bicycle parking areas.
Just up the road from where we're staying. Presumably just a parish church, but quite striking.
(Today's random aside: As I approached the Stellplatz at the end of my run this morning, I could see Mick standing outside at the edge of the road, wearing his pyjamas. This struck me as odd and I could only rationalise it on the basis that he must have fallen back to sleep, then woken thinking that I'd been gone far too long and in his panic had dashed out to look for me. I got to within a couple of paces before I realised that this man had the same build and posture as Mick, with the same hair, and the same pyjamas, but it was not, in fact, Mick. I located him a few minutes later still in bed.)
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