After breakfast on Wednesday, August 9th, we loaded up Marika’s little Mazda 2 and headed south on the autobahn toward Dresden. On the way, we got off at Luebbenau, to visit the Spreewald.
The Spreewald is a place where the Spree River splits into many branches, dividing numberless wooded islands. This area is still inhabited by a Slavic people, the Sorbs, with their own language and culture. The normal mode of transportation is the Kahn, a flat-bottomed skiff or barge, poled like a gondola. We went to the main Hafen or harbor at Luebbenau and got into one of these boats for a three-hour round trip to the little village of Lehde, in the heart of the Spreewald.
The Spreewald is a place where the Spree River splits into many branches, dividing numberless wooded islands. This area is still inhabited by a Slavic people, the Sorbs, with their own language and culture. The normal mode of transportation is the Kahn, a flat-bottomed skiff or barge, poled like a gondola. We went to the main Hafen or harbor at Luebbenau and got into one of these boats for a three-hour round trip to the little village of Lehde, in the heart of the Spreewald.
The three of us boarded the boat, lined across, facing, over a table, a young German family of father, mother, 9-year-old daughter and two-year-old son Moritz. Moritz did very well, though he did get a little tired and cranky toward the end of the trip. He spoke slowly and deliberately, like an elder statesman. As a duck flew off, for instance, he might say: “En-te geht nach Hau-se.” (“Duck goes home.”).
When the captain had gathered enough passengers (10 or 12?) to fill the boat, we set out. As he poled along through the waterways, he kept up a running commentary in accented (Brandenburger? Saxon?) German, of which I understood barely a word. Mary Joy had some trouble understanding it, but Marika said that we weren’t missing much—it was jokey, wordy, but not providing much useful or interesting information.
When we got to Lehde, we were let off there for an hour on our own. We opted for lunch on the waterside terrace at the Gasthaus Oppott, where we had a very good lunch of fresh fish in a cream sauce, boiled potatoes and a wonderful pickle salad. The Spreewald is famous for its Gurken or pickles. But these hadn’t been sitting around in jars. They were fresh cucumber slices, newly pickled.
After our return to Luebbenau, we visited the town center and its church, then stopped for a coffee and goodies, before continuing to Dresden.
When the captain had gathered enough passengers (10 or 12?) to fill the boat, we set out. As he poled along through the waterways, he kept up a running commentary in accented (Brandenburger? Saxon?) German, of which I understood barely a word. Mary Joy had some trouble understanding it, but Marika said that we weren’t missing much—it was jokey, wordy, but not providing much useful or interesting information.
When we got to Lehde, we were let off there for an hour on our own. We opted for lunch on the waterside terrace at the Gasthaus Oppott, where we had a very good lunch of fresh fish in a cream sauce, boiled potatoes and a wonderful pickle salad. The Spreewald is famous for its Gurken or pickles. But these hadn’t been sitting around in jars. They were fresh cucumber slices, newly pickled.
After our return to Luebbenau, we visited the town center and its church, then stopped for a coffee and goodies, before continuing to Dresden.
It may be a few days before we can post our adventures in that wonderful city.
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