Exploring Füssen

Getting to Füssen took much longer than expected. Right about now we are fully willing to recognize publicly that, yes, we did bring too much luggage. Many recommended a wheeled suitcase, but those individuals severely underestimated the amount of cobblestone streets in old European cities. It’s a nightmare, to say the least. It’s like trying to rollerblade on tortoise shells. Despite arriving in Füssen later than planned, the train ride in was spectacular. The weather was a bit drab but did nothing to mask the beauty of the Bavarian countryside. We could see the alps in the distance, their peaks shrouded by a low-hanging fog.

After checking in to a quintessential little hostel and dropping off our bags, we took the 5:00 bus to the famed Neuschwanstein castle. Famous for its original owner (the “mad king” Ludwig II) who spent so excessively that they deemed him insane, famous as the location where the Nazis stockpiled a large portion of Europe’s precious artwork and wealth during WWII, and famous as the inspiration for Cinderella's castle. If you ever find yourself in Füssen, Neuschwanstein is a must— not only for the architectural grandeur of the two adjacent castles but for the serene forests that surround them as well. You have four main options when deciding how to traverse the mountainous 450 meters up: driving (Boo! Boring! Hiss!), bussing (if you want to embrace your inner tourist to the fullest extent), by horse-drawn carriage (if you have the money), or hiking one of two trails (highly recommended). The first trail is more of a paved road and, despite being longer, is considered more popular due to its slower incline.

The second is a path that cuts through a woodland so thick and picturesque you feel as though you fell into a storybook. The woods were uniquely quiet as if they were alive and decided to be that way. There was such a sense of peace amid the thicket and crisp autumn air that all you cared to do was listen and feel the forest listening back. It’s hard to put into words how perfectly pleasant the grounds around the castle are. We reached the top, out of breath and covered in sweat. Since we arrived later in the afternoon, we practically had the entire castle to ourselves. I could get very used to that idea. Photos were taken, strangers were met, and we faced the decision to either end our long day on great terms or proceed another 15 minutes uphill to Marienbrücke bridge. No ordinary bridge, it features the view most are familiar with when they think of this “fairytale” castle. Ultimately, we decided to roll the dice, call it a day, and start our night.

Before a hard-won dinner, we decided to visit the closest supermarket and suffer the exorbitant prices we’ve come to expect from buying food in Germany. Much to our surprise, we were wrong and happily so. A large bottle of water costs .29 cents and beer started at .45. Unheard of. It felt like the financial opportunity of a lifetime to make back some of our losses. I’ve never experienced joy like that in a basement-level supermarket. We dropped off our libations and discovered that most restaurants were closed for the night. Savannah decided on a falafel joint (shocker) and naturally, her dish arrived absolutely doused in dairy. Having done this dance with her lactose intolerance many times we’ve learned to buy a backup sandwich at almost every establishment we patron. I ordered the lahmacun— a pizza-like Armenian dish that I’d only ever tried at the few family events we held to remind ourselves we’re more than Irish. Armenian food in the Alps? When in Rome, right? My countrymen should be proud. That night, as we lay in two separate bottom bunks facing each other like kids on the last night of camp, Savannah and I attempted to research the next day's events only to fall asleep looking at our phones. Thus far, the days have been equal parts rewarding and exhausting. A price I am happy to pay.