Back to Heidelburg

So enough already of lounging around! I decided that I loved Heidelburg so much that I had to go and see it again. Ben left for work in the morning and I got ready to leave. I asked the receptionist which tram would take me to Heidelburg. She told me I could take the number 5, but it would take an hour. If I took the train, it would be only 30 minutes. That sounded good, so I got directions and headed off.

First I caught the number 6 tram to the street closest to the main train station. I walked to the station via an underground walkway. When I got closer to the station, I realized just how huge it was! With all the throngs of people, I couldn't see over anyone's head to find some instructions. I was so confused as to what to do. Seconds later I spotted a familiar sight: two young men in black suits with backpacks and little black name tags on. Missionaries!! I quickly walked over to them and asked if they spoke English. They said yes, and I told them I was from Utah. They both had smiles on their faces as they told me they were from West Jordan and Syracuse. We chatted for a while and then I asked them if they could help me find the train to Heidelburg. They walked me over to a part of the building where I could buy a ticket, and then they pointed me down a hallway and told me to get on platform number 9. I thanked them profusely and headed on my way, since the train was due in about 5 minutes. When I got to platform 9, not many people were there, and as I looked at signs, there was no mention of Heidelburg. Platform number 10 behind me was full of people, and as I rounded the corner I saw the word Heidelburg on the sign. I stood in the line hoping that I was making the right choice. I had only been there for about 2 minutes when the same two elders came running up the stairs to find me and tell me they were wrong! How sweet these two boys were to come back and make sure I got on the right train. Their mothers should be so proud of them! We talked again for a while and I wished them good luck as I boarded the train. Hooray for Mormons in Germany!!

It took about 20 minutes to reach the Heidelburg train station. When we got there, I followed the masses off the train and realized that I had no idea where I was. I decided to walk outside to see if I could get my bearings. I looked around and didn't recognize a single building or sign. I walked a little farther and suddenly saw a building that said "Tourist Information." That's english! I walked into the building and asked a woman how to get to the shopping area by the castle. She pulled out a map and I realized I was pretty far away. I took yet another bus to get to the area I wanted. I think the whole trip took about 50 minutes. So much for "faster than the tram." Yeah, maybe if you are German and know what you are doing. I was pretty much a fumbling tourist who would have been utterly lost without help from another American!

When I got to the market, I found a little coffee shop to stop and eat. I looked at all the delicious pastried behind the glass and the only one I could translate was something called buttercake. I pointed to it, and the lady pulled a huge square out from the case. I thought that she was going to cut a piece off for me. Nope, I got the whole thing! I went to sit in the cafe, and she brought me a plate and dessert fork. The cake didn't even fit on the plate! It was like the WHOLE cake! It was delicious though. It was a sweet pastry type bread, with a buttery top covered in drizzled icing and slivered almonds. It was sooo good, but I only got through about half of it.

I started to go through the little shops, and I came to a big Christmas store. Christmas is HUGE in Germany. I started to go through the shop, looking at the hundreds of ornaments and decorations. I headed up a tiny staircase to the upper shop to look at more decorations. When I finished, I headed back down the stairs. I was so involved with looking at all the stuff in the store, that I didn't notice that there was a small landing at the bottom of the stairs with a little lip. I caught my heel on the ledge and WHAM-went flying towards the ground. I landed on my knee and my hands, but not without totally twisting my ankle. I quickly got up and hobbled out of the shop. I limped along until I found a park bench to sit on. I pulled off my shoe and sock. Yup. A big blue puffy spot was forming just below my ankle. I was officialy a bad tourist.

I waited for Ben to arrive, and after he parked the car, we went back down into the square to visit one more shop that had the perfect souvenirs. I might be injured, but that is no reason to stop shopping! After the shop, I hobbled down the street with Ben looking for a restaurant to eat at. We ended up choosing a bavarian place. The food was really good. We both had steaks topped with thin strips of fried onions and fried potato slices. Meat and potatoes; my kind of place.

We left the restaurant and traveled by car back to Mannheim to our hotel. When we got to our room, I couldn't stop laughing at what a joke I was. I was a fumbling American tourist with two injured feet. One with a blister, and one with a sprained ankle. Ben had little sympathy for my shopping injuries. I guess that's the price I must pay to get the exact items I want. Oh, well. I am still totally amazed just to be here.