Freiburg Markets and Schauinsland
Day two in that foresty Jewel that is Freiburg.
This, my friends and enemies, is Martin's gate- one of the original entrance points into the Old City. Now also known, as a result of a beautiful salute to capitalism, as 'McDonald's Gate' .
Schade, but at least they didn't put the golden arches on.
Saturdays, like Mondays, Tuesdays, Thursdays, Fridays, Sundays and also Wednesdays, are Market days in the Church square.
I followed my nose to the berries, and Andy followed his to a spicy sausage. This is his guarded 'get away from my sausage' look:
They had spices and fresh fruits and dried fruits and baked goods and cured meats and all manner of things that are pretty for the eyes and tasty for my breakfast.
Including some very, very tasty raw bliss balls, made from dates and figs and cashews and a little bit of cocoa, which seemed to come with obligatory 'eye contact'- the seller was the type who stares into your souls as he serves you his produce.
I wasn't allowed to buy any flowers or plants, but we did sink our claws into a couple of the local dried wursty things.
Let me introduce you: (left to right) chili sausage (german 'spicy'), garlic sausage, hunter sausage- the last one being the local specialty.
I feel I would look dashing in this hat.
We decided that we hadn't seen enough of the edges of the world from on high, so headed up the 1,284 m Schauinsland (*edited- the first day we went up Schlossberg, not Schauinsland). Being lazy little so-and-sos, we took the cable car up the mountain itself, before doing a bit of roaming around on the peak.
Andy was fascinated by these bright red seedpods:...
... but I was a bit more interested in the colourful groundcovers. It doesn't look that exciting from here, but let's zoom in a bit...
.... pretty huh?
I'm now confident enough in my German capabilities to assure you that 'Naturschutzgebeit' translates literally to mean 'BEWARE, EAGLE ATTACK'.
We didn't manage to get attacked, or even see any eagles, but there were various flavours of livestock. Andy, hallucinating from cow-cravings after months of german pork-diet, managed to amuse himself for several minutes trying to fit the cow onto his spoon...
The clouds started shifting down the mountain, and I tried to convince Andy that they were actually ghosts. I was reprimanded for silliness, only to be rewarded with an 'I told you so' moment when we encountered this fine fellow:
The Ghost of the Woods
As it got colder, and damper, we took refuge in an eatery near the cable car station, and helped ourselves to some of the finest black forest ham, liverwurst, blood sausage (ummm), and meat jelly (ugh!).
Plus of course, (and I want all of you who know my sister to imagine this in her poshest voice):
One simply does not visit the black forest without trying their cake:
Ella would have respected the cook for their ability to get Kirshwasser (cherry liquor) into the cherries, the sauce and the cream filling. Probably the cake too. Personally, I'm not that into this style of 'model cake' (more looks than substance), but it seemed unfair to judge only on the Coles and Woolies incarnations.
The ghosts followed us down the mountainside.
CONVERSATION