Alles tote Hose hier wegen des Virus!

15/8/2020 – Quedlinburg – We take a winding road through the Harz Mountains. Trees, trees and trees and a hint of communist passé. We pass through Schmalkalden, where local protestant princes made a fist against Emperor Charles the V. The village is old and worn and still has some smoking Trabants. If it were not in the history books, one would never look for it. We move on to Quedlinburg, a UNESCO dream town with 1400 half-timbered six century old houses. We check in at the Schlosshotel zum Markgrafen. The owner leaves us speechless and tells us about his childhood dream of becoming a castle lord. The castle is in great shape, the rooms are modern and the atmosphere knightly. A harness with sword and spear watches over our room. I compliment the owner on his work and he replies: ‘Yes, but it did not make me a rich man!’. Our room is under the roof and has a small window through which we see all the towers of Q. Having dinner is not easy. Because of COVID-19 all outside terraces are full and restaurants close at ten. We text our friends that we found Steakhaus Nikolai, but Google spins them around and expects them to walk through walls. So we eat alone, next to a train wagon, once used to carry ore from a nearby mine. The Harz is a mining area. After the steak we have to move on, the city suffers from the virus measures. We find our friends, who finish their meal in a nearby restaurant. The young waiter is so friendly to serve us a night cap. ‘Alles tote Hose hier wegen des Virus.’


Who says Harz, says trees, who says trees, says forest, who says forest, says boars (Quedlinburg shop, FDC)


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