Author: Rosie

Rosie and The Operator wandered up and down the cobbled streets and enjoyed the quietness and charm every nook and cranny had to offer.  It was slow paced and quiet, time dosnt move fast here unless you only have an hour stop on a tour bus, even then Bacharach will still leave a lasting imprint on you.

This city is regarded as one of the most romantic cities in Germany…Rosie turns to look for The Operator, time for a little smooch on the balcony…he is busy checking out some scaffolding couplings and shaking his head as to the apparent lack of care on construction. Rosie is surprised he didnt pull out his permit pad and issue a stop card.  Never mind, this city is not short of beautiful places to stop and linger.

Inside the town walls it is basically a pedestrian only area unless you live there or are staying at a hotel. You enter through the thick walled gate and the rattle of the cobbles under your tires is good, it alerts tourists taking photos and looking skyward that you are coming…or in this case not, as we are immediately surrounded by a busload of Asian tourists as we were trying to turn a narrow corner. The Operator is slowly persistent at forward momentum, Rosie was opting for the horn herself….get off the road!

Whilst Rosie was looking at the ancient manuscripts, The Operator was mooching around the windows. They all had drawn curtains and he was peeking behind them….look what he found from the second story of the Criminal Museum.  The elusive Doubleback bridge.  Rosie and The Operator ducked behind the curtain and got the perfect shot we had been looking for through the glass.
 

The site itself was as grey and sombre as the day and the mood of all who entered.  The kids themselves were old enough to know to be respectful and there were all types of people visiting here.   You wondered at their stories…did they loose family members here?  Were their families part of the liberation?  Or just like us, having heard of the horrors were they they there to show their respect and honor the past and those that lost their lives, with,  lets be honest, abit of morbid curiosity thrown in.