1/3 a nutshell?

We just finished a walking tour of Regensburg, and I hope to write down at least a third of what that woman told us. I don’t think I’ll even get that much, but maybe the pictures will help. By the way, a quick side note before we start, I picked up about two dozen pictures today that I want to try and use as background/touch-up images for the site. I’m not sure how many I’ll actually get to use, or when I’ll get around to using them, but better to have them ready.
A few things before the walking tour:
I saw campus for the first time today. We rode up there on the bus and wandered around to peer into the buildings where we’ll be having class (we’d go in, but they’re all locked). It’s very modern, but in a kind of cozy sort of way. For me anyway. Tiff thinks it looks like an overgrown subway station. I can see where she gets it, but I find that comfortable too. Nice and Urban.
The shining white walls don’t hold up well, though. They’re covered with all kinds of funk and stains and everything that grows over the course of thirty years in the weather. But the look is still neat.
After the quick Uni-tour we walked back with Dr. Griffin, Jennifer, Lisa, and Liz. Dr. Griffin took us through the alleged spot of Keppler’s grave, though there’s apparently some dispute on the matter. It’s quite certain that he died here, anyway. As our tour guide (who you’ll meet later) told us: “bad for Keppler; good for us.”
He also made me practice my German. When I asked how much renting a bike would cost we went into a bike store and asked. When I say we, I mean me. Everyone else stood there grinning at my suffering, including Dr. Griffin. It’s probably good for me, and at least Dr. Griffin helped translate some of the guy’s responses. We can get a 4-person tandem for 30 Euro a day. Not that we need one, but it’s neat to know. And we can rent single-rider bikes for 9 Euro 50 (like saying 9 dollars and 50 cents, they just drop the cents). That might be an idea for a nice little bike/hike/camp up or down the Danube.
We poked our heads into an Evangelical Church whose name I’ll try and edit into here later. I can’t recall it currently. It was pretty, but since they were in the middle of baptizing an infant in the antechamber, I didn’t get a chance to get many pictures. I’ll have to go back there some time. Art history supposedly sees plenty of cathedrals, too, so expect plenty of pics from that as well.
We went back, had a late lunch, and lazied around for a bit. I bought this great tasting plum pastry, thinking it was just strange-looking strawberries. I didn’t understand the woman’s confused look until I tried it. I guess they’re used to stupid Americans here, though.
Now we’re ready for that walking tour. I don’t believe I forgot my voice recorder. I had hoped to have a recording of the tour for you to download, and for me to listen to and actually remember. Oh well.
The walking tour, not the schemes.
We began the walking tour at the “altes Rathaus” (“old city hall.” Yes, the rat jokes are so easy to make), which dates back to a date I don’t remember, but will have to look up later. There’s a set of measures on the corner of the building: a foot, a “double-elbow” (that’s what she called it, anyway. It’s a fabric measurement), and a plank (the measurement for wood, I think it was called that). She explained a little of the workings of Medieval government, from which I’ll spare you, and gave a quick rundown of the founding and growth of Regensburg. I’ll paraphrase as best I can.
Regensburg means “Rain City” if translated into English, but is actually named for the Regen River, on which part of the city sits. The Regen river is a branch of the Danube, which also runs through here (see map).
Centuries passed. The Germanic people settled on the other side of the river and gave the Romans trouble time and again. The Romans expanded the city and fortified it, then the empire fell. Now there’s a McDonald’s where one corner of the wall used to be, and the only standing gate leads into a medieval bishop’s square where a 19th century sculptor decided to place an amusing satire. The church has been expanding in Regensburg for years, literally. St. Peter’s Cathedral (not the Basilica in Rome, the cathedral here) started off as a humble little thing, and has now been expanded by almost every major artistic movement. Even today artists are restoring it, putting fresh white limestone in place of the old. Luckily, their styles haven’t seeped into the façade. It’s chaotic enough there anyway.
In the 16th century, the Germans burned down the Jewish community in town and used their headstones as bricks. Several of them can still be seen today, though locals take much less pride in them now.
Thanks to a great big bridge, Regensburg has always remained a center of commerce, and continues to be so to this very day. This bridge was the only way to cross the Danube anywhere in the region, so people flocked to it. The tall, cheese-like building was built to store the salt that was brought in from Austria and other places. The little green building beside it represents a restaurant that has been operating in that location since the 13th century, when it fed the builders of the bridge.
I imagine many more significant things happened in between the founding and now, but most amusing to me was the conception of Don Juan. It seems his father (King something-or-another) met Don’s mother here in Regensburg and made her quite rich in the process. Rich is common in this city of Merchants, though. One family actually took the German word for rich as their last name. And all the families who could afford it built tall towers for themselves in the city, so that they could soak up the sunlight that their buildings blocked others from getting. Some things never change, eh?
Superstitions have created dozens of great stories here, and hopefully I’ll fish out some more for you another time. The Great Big Bridge I mentioned earlier, actually called Steinerne Bridge, was built in only 11 years. Obviously, the architect back then had made a deal with the devil to get it done so quickly. He was jealous of the guy building St. Peter’s so he made a deal with the devil to get his project done first (obviously he didn’t realize the scale the church was going to end up being built on). Satan agreed, but demanded three souls in return. The architect got worried and so when the time came he sent three animals across the bridge. Satan got peeved and tried to come up from the depths to break the bridge in half. He only succeeded in bending it (see the nice arch shape?), but it threw the poor little animals off. Three eddies sprung up where the animals fell, and are there to this very day (as you can imagine, this makes boating and swimming quite a pain).

Well, that’s the tour in a very small nutshell. It took an hour and a half, my version took a page and a half. I just finished a wonderful dinner of baked spaghetti (thank you Tiffany!) and now must do dishes.