How I Loved Germany

and Saw Europe, by Paul Winter

This web site was primarily created to explain Why Doctors Can't Prescribe the Better Medicine. The rest of the web site, such as this page are interesting, but nowhere near as valuable as my information on Alternative Cancer Treatments Comparison and Testing.

All my life I had definite ways of doing things that were often different from the methods of others. I thought I was quite unique. But, after living in Germany, I realized that I was just German. Wherever I traveled in Germany, I found helpful and gentle people. Perhaps it was because I made an attempt to learn the language, but whatever it was, they made me feel like I had come home.

In Germany, I was the flightline technical representative (tech-rep) for Hughes Aircraft. They made the radar system on the F-15 and I helped the Air Force keep the darn things working. On most days, I elected to work a split shift, starting at noon. This way I could talk to the last pilots to fly the jets that had radar problems and then talk to the crews that were going to work on them. If the problem seemed difficult, I would go out with them, but working on a big chunk of metal on most German nights was not my idea of fun. OK, even in the cold, it was kind of fun. Usually after talking to the aircraft maintenance crews, I would retreat to the warmth of the labs were the removed radar parts were being tested.

If the Air Force can't find what's wrong with something, tech reps help them out. Most tech reps only worked during the day so the night shift Air Force techs never got any help. Since the radar on any fighter is the most difficult system to fix the Air Force guys loved seeing me show up on swing shift. Work was great. I often think that someday I may return to the giant metal birds.

The best thing about my work schedule was that I had my mornings free to climb the mountain that I lived part way up of and then look down my nose at my townfolk.

Prumzurley about 20 KM northeast of Trier

On the top of the mountain was a bush. It was very optimistic and I had great hopes for it. Perhaps someday, I'll go back and see how it turned out.

I rented the downstairs front half of a wonderful house that was the second highest house in town:

The living room, dining room, and kitchen looked out over the valley of the quaint village, but had privacy because the house was above the rest of the village:

The landlady had a green thumb and the backyard was an explosion of flowers.

The woods were a magical, rejuvenating source of a pleasurable feeling I call the big green. It is a feeling I can keep for about a day and miss it when it fades. But, in Germany it almost never faded because I went into the woods everyday.

Across from my front door were the start of two paths. One went straight up the mountain with many branches. The other traveled a level path that stayed in the woods to the next village a mile or two away.

I would climb up to a rock that had a natural curve surface that fit me perfectly. The sun would be out by then and I would be out for a mid-morning nap and tan.

The mountain had cliffs to climb

But the ruins didn't make as pretty a picture as the natural terrain at the top.

The entire area around my village was full of cool stuff, like this cool playground:

Even the door knobs were cool.

One of the things I still love to do is swim and the Germans make it a special treat. The next town put their pool at the top of a hill that looked out over the convergence of my valley and this one:

Two of the walls of the pool building were floor to ceiling glass looking out over the valleys.

About 20 minutes away, was one of Germany's oldest towns, Trier.

Now, that's 20 minutes at 70 miles an hour on roads like this:

Of course roads like this, you can do 90 miles an hour:

Taking those roads far enough can uncover the unexpected:

And the expected:

Hair in disarray? Need a mirror?

I love to try out pianos where ever I go. I don't care if its in a department store or the lobby of a hotel, most people are glad to hear a little live music, but for some reason they wouldn't let me play this organ:

During the winter, I would fly down the autobahn at 90 to 100 to this Austrian village:

To ski the untracked Alps.

My best memory of Germany involved an American, my sister. Although she loved to ski and had never been to Europe, she had to visit me during the summer. She was a school teacher who couldn't take vacation during school. I know this disappointed her, but I had a little surprise and kept it even as we drove through this valley heading into the Austrian Alps.

When we arrived at our hotel, we stood in the parking lot without her noticing the glacier covered mountain partly hidden in the haze of summer. I told her, "I know you wanted to visit me in the Winter so we could ski together again, so guess what we are doing tomorrow?" Then I pointed to the mountain. You can imagine the reaction.

I often found myself in Austria, sometimes to the Alps for skiing, sometimes to Salsburg for a little culture or a photo or three.

After almost two years of living in paradise, the sun set on my German experience.

I packed my car and drove off to see the rest of Europe. I drove through my nearest neighbor, Luxemburg.

I was heading for Amsterdam where they made my favorite pipe tobacco. Searching the streets for a tobacco shop, I found a organ they would let me play.

With just a little bit of detail work, they manage to make some buildings appear quite fancy.

So many buildings were fancy, I couldn't tell if this was a church or a bus terminal:

When I did find a tobacco shop, I learned that my favorite tobacco was made in Amsterdam, but it was for export only. You couldn't buy it in Amsterdam. I resumed my old touring approach and just followed the best looking roads. No more pipe dreams for me.

Then I drove through some very lonely country to the land of great drain pipes and flying guys, Denmark.

From there, I headed for England with a bit of bad information. My friends in Germany thought they would play a joke on me. They convinced me that England had changed over to driving on the right side of the road to come in line with all the other countries in Europe. I drove off the ferry without a care in the world. This didn't last long as cars started coming at me on the wrong side of the road and being very rude with bright beams and honking horns. Well my horn worked too. Wait a minute. Those bums.

While skiing, I had made a friend who lived in London, she didn't have a spare room, but a friend of her's did and for a very modest rent I had my own room. When I arrived, it was already dark, but I could see that my room looked out onto some sort of park. I left the drapes open when I went to bed because I like the morning light to gradually wake me. I had a terrible night's sleep with very disturbing dreams. In the morning, I looked out the window onto a cemetery.

From then on I slept with the drapes drawn and had no more problems.

London was spectacular with it's grand architecture.

I thought my college had some flying buttresses, but London kicks butt.

Cambridge really spoke to me.

The people were very jolly, always laughing and smiling, but I had a hell of a time finding the Came Bridge. I'm not sure, but I think this is it:

...or this:

After a couple weeks in Jolly old England, it started to get cold. I headed for Greece, but way of Yugoslavia where the cars are very small and they all follow each other around in single file.

This would have been a great building, but they ran out of money after building the tower and just the very front of the main structure:

I had a little confusion at the border. So for the first day I thought I was actually in the Czech Republic. This made for some interesting conversations.

When I got to Athens, I started looking for a place to stay. Since it doesn't rain there much, there are all sorts of really rustic possibilities:

I loved the fact that Athens has this real old Greek stuff right in the middle of town:

I took a ferry to one of the small Greek islands and found another world where things slowed down to total relaxation. When I couldn't stand it any more, I decided to swim around the island. If Mike had been with me, I could of made it.

On the ride back to Athens, I was greeted with a sunny welcome.

I found my car right where I left it, but when I went to put my ignition back together (antique anti-theft technique) I tightened a screw too much and broke a circuit board. So how do you tell a Greek taxi cab driver that you need to go to a BMW parts store?

When it was time to leave Athens, I received an ancient farewell or an ancient Greek curse.

I took many pictures on my tour of Europe, but my favorite was taken in northern Greece:

I returned to Germany to sell my car and head back to the States. I had driven that car hard and fast for many thousands of miles and it was amazingly reliable. The guy who bought it let me drive to the airport. He went with me so he could drive it back to his home. On the way to the airport, I lost second gear. I heard from a friend that my car literally fell apart in front of this guys eyes. He's still looking for me.

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