Tag: Germany

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Ride Warrior Does Germany

The first time I went to Germany was for my Bucket List item, Raphael’s Sistine Madonna at the Dresden Gallery.  The second time was for Oktoberfest, which was on spouse’s Bucket List.  The third trip was suggested by daughter—Berlin. 

Are mice mascots for every theme park? Asking for a friend

I was advised that Berlin has no fewer than 100 museums.  This is not the selling point that one might think, for a seasoned traveler like myself knows that if there are 100 museums, three will be great, five more might be mildly intriguing, and 92 will be one room only/by appointment only/open only on Wednesdays 11 a.m. to 1 p.m./dedicated to an obscure subject like footstools or rakes or plastic hangers/on the outskirts of town reachable via train, bus, taxi and a 40 minute walk/have no website or any other means to ascertain their existence.  Still, the DDR Museum alone was enough for me to be intrigued by this scene, and I acquiesced.  Now, to a person of my generation, upbringing, and ethnic makeup the concept of “reaching Berlin” means something entirely different than to a younger person half a world removed, and so I braced myself for the encounter with the Brandenburg Gate in real life. 

And then the trip went off the rails.  Virtually sidling up to me via text, daughter started a relentless campaign of visiting an amusement park in Germany.  This person has a great track record of persuasive videos: sending me a video about dogs being able to sniff out cancer was what finally convinced spouse and me to adopt a dog.  And so far so good, I am happy to report.  Thus at some point, I found myself planning to visit not one but two theme parks, and as far away from Berlin as it is possible to get in this one united Germany.  Not my typical vacation, and I will not lie—I was mildly worried about many things, not the least of which was enduring several days of standing in long lines, possibly hurting my back, and missing out on all those museums.  And then I said to myself, there have been and will be many museums in my life.  But how many rollercoasters do I have left?  And that was motivation enough and plenty. It’s not that I did not think there were amusement parks in Europe.  After all, I have been to Meli Park https://oldladywriting.com/2025/11/23/whats-in-belgium/.  They just were not on my radar—and now I am truly questioning my life choices, because (spoiler alert) I am still a Ride Warrior!

The trip started in the most hectic manner upon arrival in the Frankfurt airport, complete with a wild-ish goose chase of a rental car (I always hate myself a little when I have to rely entirely on my English in a non-English speaking country) and a couple of hours drive on what is most assuredly NOT the autobahn, all on 2 hours of stiff-necked airplane sleep and a 6-hour time difference.  But once we entered Europa Park, all of my cares melted away.

No, this is not what you think–inside the giant golf ball is Eurosat-CanCan

It is an enchanting place, and none of my words can do it justice.  It has the magic of Disney, but the unfamiliarity of it made it extra special and added to the joy of discovery. It is also not as children-oriented.  It is themed like Epcot, with twenty [plus] distinct areas, including 18 European countries/areas, but each region is ride- and food-focused with significantly less commerce. There is the beauty of the park itself, with winding pathways through the trees, charming squares, and gentle rides over air, land, and water.  And it has some of the best roller coasters I have ever experienced, led by Voltron, which defies description.  It basically combines the best and most thrilling elements of every coaster ever.  We rode it three times! Special mentions go to Eurosat-CanCan, where you literally go through giant stylized legs kicking it up; Wodan, a majestic and exciting wooden coaster; and Arthur, a suspended ride with beautiful special effects. 

The differences between what I expected based on lived experience and what I got were all good:  (1) The lines were not comparable to anything in the U.S. (let alone Russia) and very manageable, with nothing over an hour. The park was packed at the end of May, but somehow, there were no bottlenecks—including as we were exiting at closing time.  Everything just moved in an orderly fashion.  (2) The food was amazing and affordable.  Herring sandwich in the Scandinavia area?  Ćevapčići in Croatia?  Yes, please. And did I mention, no lines beyond maybe a couple of people? (3) Commercialism was down to a minimum.  Of course there were stores, but mostly upon exiting the main rides, and then a couple when you first come in.  It really felt like a park rather than a large commercial venture, like something from a kinder, gentler time—despite all the latest in roller coaster technology.

Worst part?  A most ridiculous bobsled coaster called Schweizer Bobbahn.  Who knew that bobsleds are so incredibly uncomfortable?  Honorable worst part mention goes to Euro-Mir, a spinning coaster in the Russian part of the park, which never actually spun for us. 

We spent two days at Europa Park, and it was absolutely wonderful.  Somehow it just felt very relaxing, alternating intense roller coasters (14 in total) with charming dark rides, boat and train rides, and shows.  It was magical—and not enough.  And despite being constantly on the move, the less hectic vibe left us rejuvenated rather than exhausted.

And then we went to yet another park, Phantasialand.  This one was more of what I am used to—longer lines, more crowded, strictly there for the rides.  It is a hilly, mildly claustrophobic, chaotic place, with many of the rides not visible from the waiting areas (which is not a bad thing, because you don’t know how scared you should be).  It had its own cool moments: Fly, an absolutely terrifying coaster where you are on your stomach and literally go underground; Talocan, which flips you over, and over, and over; and Mystery Castle, which is an enclosed drop tower. Seeing people scream on the opposite wall when lights flash in the darkness is an absolutely haunting experience.  And as previously mentioned, there was the beautiful Wellenflug, flying over an early 20th century Berlin. 

Worst part? A water ride called Chiapas, which apparently has the steepest drop on a log flume in the world and is allegedly the world’s best water ride.  It was a good ride, but despite planning and plotting and trying to find the best seats to stay dry, we learned there was NO staying dry.  Honorable worst part mention goes to the Fanta bottle that opened unexpectedly while we were riding Colorado Adventure, a mine train, almost making it a water ride as well.

Shockingly, there were no souvenir shops in sight at this park.  To be clear, we did not look for them, but they also did not present themselves to us.  And the food was excellent as well.

After three action-packed days, Berlin was practically a different world.  And that is another story for another time…

Liechtenstein

That summer that I spent studying in France , https://oldladywriting.com/2019/06/09/when-did-the-arc-de-triomphe-start-leaning/ I decided to visit every country in Europe.  The Eurail Pass made it seem like an actual possibility, if not a likelihood.  So how did I do it?  Well, I did not, because a couple of caveats were built into this very vague plan, including:

  • British
    Isles did not count, because the Eurail Pass did not include them
  • Soviet
    Bloc did not count, for obvious reasons (it was the ‘80s, friends)
  • Germany
    and Austria did not count, also for obvious reasons

What did count were the “dwarf states”[1].  I first read about them in my beloved childhood encyclopedia, “What Is This, Who Is That?”  My mom bought it the year I was born, so as of this writing, pretty much all the information in it that does not pertain to fish or ancient history is outdated.  Even the fact that Malta is not included in the article on microstates is pretty telling—it was still part of the United Kingdom.  Yes, I date back to Malta’s pre-independence days!  Plus, it was published in the USSR, so literally, all the post-Renaissance history articles are pretty skewed. 

Liechtenstein is the one with the stamps and teeth. There is a stamp museum there, which we did not visit. I am not sure about the teeth. Unless they are just signifying a welcoming smile?

The original article listed, as anyone who can read Russian can plainly see on the attached, but I will translate for the rest, Andorra, Monaco, Liechtenstein, Luxembourg, and San-Marino.  Currently in Wikipedia, we currently also have Malta and Vatican, but not Luxembourg.  What happened to Luxembourg?  I suppose since it is bigger by area and population than all the others combined, by all means let’s exclude it.  I *have* been there, and survived a traumatic experience of being [almost] attacked by a knife-wielding maniac at a cemetery—but that is another story for another time! (I might be saving it for my memoirs)  And as for Vatican, it goes without saying that the Soviet version would make no mention of it under any circumstances, because “religion is an opiate of the people” (Karl Marx said this, not I).

And so, during that summer, I already had Vatican under my belt, having lived as a refugee in and around Rome some years before then, and then proceeded to have that encounter in Luxembourg[2].  In the past decade, I travelled to Malta (which is literally the most perfect place in terms of weather, history, food, ease of getting around, and the fact that all the signs are in English even if no one actually speaks it), and Monaco (which is also cool in many ways but is the opposite of easy to get around.  I mean, when there are elevators to get you from one street to another—take them!  Do not, I repeat, do not brave the stairs!)  I still have not been to Andorra or San-Marino, and frankly, they are a bit off the radar for me.  Someday—but not today, as I say. 

So when I planned the vacation to Munich for Oktoberfest this year[3], I noted how close Liechtenstein is.  Driving there was one of my motivating factors for renting a car, because I already learned from that European summer that the train does not stop in Liechtenstein.  It literally does not have an international train station!

I could not find a tour book on Liechtenstein, so spouse and I decided to improvise.  We pretty much just drove into the country and looked for parking.  Everything is right there: a beautiful cathedral, an interesting history museum, and a town square with souvenir shops and cafes.  There is also a medieval castle within a short drive—it is apparently in a different town from the capital, Vaduz, which is basically one street over[4].  The views are breathtaking, since Liechtenstein is ¾ Alps.  The beer is not bad, though not as good as three countries over in Germany.

In short, I would highly recommend a visit to Liechtenstein, if you happen to be in the Alpine neighborhood, and like picturesque towns.  Do I feel like I visited a different country?  Well, not necessarily, but I do have another flag to prove that I did[5]!

[1] I apologize for the use of the term “dwarf” to anyone who might be offended by it.  This is, again, a direct translation from the Russian language, as again can be seen from the attached illustration.

[2] Faux-dwarf!

[3] I travel to Germany now.  My, how the world has changed!…

[4] I did not realize it was a different town until I looked it up just now.

[5] Fun fact—I collect flags from the countries I visit.  Soviet Union and Russia merit their own separate flags, as does the Republic of Texas.