Hamburg, Luebeck or Bust! And . . . . the winner is . . . . Bust!

The tramp had to wait longer for the spare part than originally expected so Hamburg was delayed yet again. Just as the WLW was about to pull out of the factory and the trampess was saying her last goodbyes to the staff (we are all quite friendly now), the owner came over to find out where we were planning to stay in Hamburg. All the tramp’s careful research was rejected and a new campsite right on the harbour was suggested (much quieter and a very good location; the one in the Stellplatz guide while not a bad location sits under an U-bahn stop and is very noisy; quiet is good and harbour is even better). This change had one small consequence (which is never small but the trampess is improving) which was that the carefully debated navigation routes and entries on both navigation systems (one can never be too careful, but don’t ask me how we decide when they disagree – this is worse than being a parent) had to be re-entered. It is always more stressful to do this when the engine is running, the tramp is in the driver’s seat and the only place for the trampess is on her knees in front of the navi systems. Add a glaring sun to the mix and mistakes can happen. With relative calm, and a few deep breaths before and during, despite the prevailing conditions, the re-entries took place and the drive began. Sound having been restored, the navigation voice once more deigned to speak to us, making the trip much easier. Earphones on and Wagner on the iPod and the trip promised to be pleasant.

Sadly, on arrival in Hamburg (all three maps – from autobahn to big view of city to detailed city map – in full use with full commentary by your trampess and only an occasional comment from the tramp) at the preferred campsite which was really just a parking lot on the harbour – but conveniently located as promised - the tramps were unceremoniously chased away by the parking lot attendant: full – to the gills. I won’t mention that we passed it (with the tramp noting that these places all have gps addresses which get us within 3 meters of the destination so why didn’t we see the entrance in time???!!!) and had to make a u-turn (u-turns do not come naturally to a vehicle over 11m long) – meaning we drove a long way down the road before coming to a rather tight traffic circle where we could reverse direction (tension by this time was mounting in the cockpit) so that this rejection was doubly wounding (and time consuming).

Once more on her knees, this time in Friday night traffic (did I mention the trip took at least two hours longer than it should have owing to exceptional traffic entering the city?), the trampess re-entered the original destination. I will spare you, dear reader, the details of the journey from one campsite to the other but let’s just say that we did make it and it was relatively straight forward, though by now definitely past our supper time. As we entered the correct street (and from that vantage point saw nothing like a campsite even though the street was not so very long) the tramp re-iterated the gps location remark and decided to check out our destination on foot before committing the vehicle (one does not wish to be like a lobster in a trap – able to enter, not able to exit). Wise decision, as it was as described: under the U-bahn and very noisy. In the meantime, the tramp spotted a legal parking space (free even) behind a truck (safety in numbers) and the area being largely industrial would be quiet on the weekend. We circled the block and settled in for the night – indeed for the weekend. And while the view of the impounded by customs car lot we were next to was less than what we have become accustomed to, we were happy to call it home for the night.

Our patience and acceptance were rewarded the next day with sun. But instead of sightseeing we, of necessity, turned to finding a suitable supermarket. Not so easy in an industrial area (there were warehouses selling food to retailers but no retailers and even though the tramps eat large quantities of vegetables even we do not qualify, nor could we carry, a wholesale quantity of all that we needed). Nonetheless, after half an hour walking, and some good directions from the nearest petrol station, we arrived at a more than adequate supermarket, called Real – hopeful, no? Not, the tramp told me, an upmarket brand but the produce was actually very fresh with a huge organic selection. Your trampess was in vegan heaven. Of course the walk back to the WLW was also half an hour only this time the tramps were laden (running out of olive oil is a serious matter and one bottle will not do – not to mention the trampess’s tipple). Still, in good spirits, with the sun shining we arrived home and the trampess made lunch – 11:30 is a very early lunch but since the morning had been spent doing errands the afternoon had to be extended to allow for the purpose of being in Hamburg: to see Hamburg.

The tramp decided that such a nice day should not be spent inside a museum (along with churches always first on the trampess’s list) to which the trampess could only concur, so we set out to the harbour and the site of all the old warehouses (Speicherstadt). It has to be said when the Germans do urban renewal they don’t mess around. The old buildings are beautifully restored, the new ones are striking (more about which later) and the space for pedestrians (and bikes) is well thought out – as long as you remember that bikes are everywhere, silent and have their own lane – perish the thought that you should walk on red bricks when you should be walking on stone! There is a marvellous maritime museum, a stunning walk along the harbour with restaurants and cafes (all of which look remarkably un-German – no bier and bratwurst here). The number of cranes and building sites is unbelievable but there is enough already finished to understand just how fabulous this area will be, and indeed already is. We kept walking past the still-being-built-concert hall (the subject of much controversy as the original budget was 180m euros and is now expected to reach 500m euros), which can be visited for a small fee in a guided tour, (they have to bridge that 320m somehow) and as the tramp loves building sites as much as he loves harbours the tour was added to the to do list, and then carried on along the water until we reached the working harbour – and principal tourist area. After finally reaching our original (campsite) destination there and finding that Monday morning would be a good time to arrive, we returned to the boats offering tours of the harbour. What better to do on a sunny afternoon than take a boat around the second largest harbour in Europe (Rotterdam, in case you were wondering – please see the Turner painting in the Frick – it was big back then, as indeed was Hamburg, which in fact may be on the opposite wall). Swimming docks, shipyards, container ships coming and going, tugboats waiting for action – and we weren’t walking any more (not much more a trampess could want after about 8 miles non-stop – excluding the morning’s shopping). The long walk home was interrupted by a coffee in one of the cafes in the rather nicer part of the harbour and a determination to visit the concert hall and the maritime museum the next day.

It was good that we did the harbour tour on Saturday – being on the top deck of a boat on a grey, rainy day is not fun. Neither, as it turns out, is waiting to see if there are returns for the concert hall tour (apparently it sells out as quickly as the Ring at Covent Garden – in a few minutes the tickets for one month, three months in advance, are sold out). The trampess, who can always find good coffee in a storm, found a student hangout which had soya cappuccinos (a small miracle in German where the word soja generally produces a screwed up expression and the German equivalent of “come again?”) and silent(!) videos made by Red Bull of extreme sports (worth the detour) on the wall. The return to the model of the concert hall (where there was a brief lecture, and a number of videos plus schematics of the building) resulted in no returns so the tramps set off for the nearby maritime museum in a splendidly redone old warehouse, situated on a canal, reached by going over an old iron bridge and with a marvellous piazza in front. Nine storeys of outstanding exhibitions left your tramps panting (texting accelerated – it is a long standing rule that everyone’s pace in a museum is different, the larger the museum therefore, the greater the distance between the tramps becomes - near the end as it was well past lunchtime and the tramp wondered if the chef would ever make it to the end; she did). The possibility of lunch out had been vetoed the previous day – the tramp declared his willingness to take the trampess out but not if it meant eating the only possible (and pathetic) choice on the menu that would satisfy our vegan eating habits. The one restaurant that looked a distinct possibility was Thai (a good solution in London) but the posted menu revealed not one vegetarian (we won’t even speak of the extremist vegan) option. So, in the full understand of what is meant by an army moves on its stomach, the tramps rumbled home and lunch was finally served at about 3pm. The rules of hiking should now be applied to cities: either eat a bigger breakfast or always have chocolate and nuts in the handbag.

Monday morning meant driving to Luebeck where the tramps were to see the finest example of Backsteingothik in the cathedral (no point in staying in Hamburg to go to the museum since museums are closed on Mondays), churches (unless closed for restoration) are always open. The tramp had given the trampess a gift of the navigation system manual in English, had located a Stellplatz (with full coordinates) in Luebeck and the trampess dutifully put the gps data into the first navigation system and the address into the second (reliable but slightly more old fashioned) . It wasn’t til well beyond Luebeck on the motor way that the trampess remarked that it looked like the tramps wouldn’t be walking to the cathedral. The tramp nearly jumped out of the driver’s seat and said that we would, the spot he had chosen was only a short walk from the centre. The trampess referred to the Stellplatz guide book and read the description. The tramp took the next exit from the autobahn and pulled off the road as soon as was safely possible. It was a grim tramp that repeated the words that have hung over our heads this spring: “we have to get better at this”. Another set of coordinates was entered. And that should have been that. But it wasn’t. the command: Wenn moeglich bitte wenden (if possible make a u-turn) was for once taken literally by the tramp. The trampess could not quite believe the manoeuvre the tramp was about to perform but said nothing (John Gray says men do not like to have their driving prowess questioned) so the trampess bit her tongue (knowing that even in a more benign state the tramp might have taken offense, but certainly in the current state such a suggestion might re-open discussion about the Oder-Neisse line). No one came to a screeching halt and the WLW proceeded in the opposite direction.

You might therefore expect, dear reader, that I was reporting on the delights of Luebeck, having had our spirits restored by our visit to the cathedral and our bodies by a coffee and perhaps one, little, delicious piece of Luebecker marzipan (my Polish grandmother’s favourite – when she was worried about becoming diabetic, which she never did, she allowed herself one small piece a month – you will not be surprised to know that she lived well into her nineties with that kind of discipline), but I am not, and we are not in Luebeck (nor did we ever get there)– we are in some truck factory forecourt waiting for the door of the garage (of the WLW) to be secured so that the German autobahn police who stopped us are content that our progress (now back to our factory not to either Luebeck or Hamburg) will not kill or maim anyone sharing the autobahn with us (they might have been less friendly if they had seen the tramp’s u-turn but luckily they did not – they only spotted us as we drove past a petrol station – our rear door, unbeknownst to us, badly ajar). They gave chase - not that it was hard to catch us given our top allowed speed of 80km/hr. So, suddenly in front of us was a car marked Polizei – looks more ferocious in German with that Z – blue flashing lights on top and a flashing red sign on the back window screen: Bitte folgen; which means, as you have no doubt guessed, Please follow. Polite notice but not really an invitation given the nature of the car signalling. When the tramp got out of the car he must have nearly fainted. Possibly not optimal behaviour for demonstrating complete awareness and control of the vehicle, but no one gets out of a tight spot better than the tramp (apologies to George Clooney). The gap between the garage door and the main frame of the car was more than enough for your trampess to squeeze through. Not exactly falling on the ground, but certainly not inspiring to anyone following!

It is only fair to add at this point that the trampess’s own desire to beg the tramp not to make a u-turn had nothing to do with foreseeing the incident which actually caused the accident (the bottom of our garage door catching the top of a small pillar in the lay-by where we had been contemplating our fate), so any thought that I was trying to prevent the disaster that ensued would have been badly misplaced. And even if I had told him to please not make the u-turn any notion that “I told you so” was applicable would also not have been and would only have added insult to injury. It was clear, the only thing for the trampess to do was to start cooking. So here we are, post lunch, waiting til we are pronounced safe enough to return to my favourite factory.