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What’s a man to do on a rainy day in Baden-Baden? Well, considering that the German town is a spa town of some repute, it would be logical to indulge in some water-based ‘treatment’ in the company of the bold and the beautiful.
Since bidding adieu to Belgium, entering Germany, and travelling down through Dusseldorf, Cologne and Koblenz beside the River Rhine, I’d hooked up with a fellow traveller called Taylor. Hailing from Sydney, Australia, he was a writer and photographer, and he coolly introduced himself over breakfast at a Frankfurt hostel in which I was staying. At the time of his intervention, I’d been chatting to Steph Greenstreet, a student from England who was studying German.
A train south from Frankfurt delivered Taylor and I to Baden-Baden for midday, but – having nothing but our senses to guide us – we soon became hopelessly lost in the leafy suburbs.
Once into the town centre we simply followed the crowds, with Baden-Baden’s famous bath-houses located little more than 500 yards from each other. We ambled into the nearest, spurred on by the rumour that Victoria Beckham had recently visited. If it was good enough for her, then it was good enough for us.
‘That will be 13 Euros, please,’ intoned the matronly receptionist. ‘Oh, you do realise that this is the Roman bath-house, and that no shorts or trunks are allowed in the bathing areas, don’t you?’ she proceeded to warn in clipped English.
I glanced at Taylor. He appeared to be executing a particularly troubling mental calculation. Beneath furrowed brows, he seemed to be visibly shaken by the prospect of baring all. In all fairness, I knew how he felt.
‘No way am I getting naked!’ he snorted, hence why we ultimately visited the other bath-house. There, for the same price, we were awarded unlimited access to the hot and cold pools, the sauna, and the sunbeds. Being allowed to keep our dignity intact was a major bonus.
The spa’s restorative powers inspired us to wheel into Heidelberg later in the afternoon, the city’s romantically ruined castle constructed from pink sandstone serving as its prime visitor magnet.
The following day, Taylor darted down to Zurich in Switzerland to catch up with some friends.
I, meanwhile, cut a course in a rough south-easterly direction through Nuremberg to Regensburg, a lesser-visited city dominated by a grand, twin-spired cathedral.
Travelling even further east brought me to Passau near the border with Austria. However, instead of pursuing my prevailing train-of-thought (which involved hiking in the Austrian Alps), I veered south… to Munich.
Although I was too early for the city’s world-famous ‘Oktoberfest,’ I sampled the Bavarian city’s sights in spite of the heavy rain, with Munich’s old town teeming with outstanding architecture and vibrant night-life. A sucker for fun, I could have stayed out all night. Shame I had a Berlin-bound train to catch first thing in the morning.
Copyright © 2009 Steve Rudd
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