These outdoor holiday markets are abundant across Europe during November and December, with the most famous ones, like that in Strasbourg, France, drawing thousands of visitors each season. As only local artisans and merchants are allowed to sell products at a Christmas Market, each town has its distinct specialties.

Monschau’s Christmas Market is a wonderful experience to share with children.

Nürnberg is famous for its gingerbread and Rauschgoldengel, golden foil angel figurines with pleated skirts crafted from finely milled brass or golden foil. Vienna’s ornately decorated trees grace the Rathaus (city hall) square, where local residents and visitors from all over the world enjoy an enchanted atmosphere.

I was looking for an intimate experience, a quaint and quintessential snow-globe scene where I could rekindle the memories of the Christmas spirit I once knew. I found the cure only 90 minutes from my house in Brussels, and a few miles over the German border, in the storybook town of Monschau.

Arriving on a cold gray winter morning, I caught my first glimpse of the tranquil western German village of 13,000 that looked as if it had been cast in miniature and set beneath a Christmas tree. All that was missing was the toy locomotive encircling the scene. The cobbled town streets leading to Monschau’s main square were an obstacle course for the senses.

Bakeries and candy shops lured me in with the smell of warm apples and shortbread, and beautifully festooned bags of chocolates and other colorful treats were within grabbing distance. I pinballed from store to store, sampling the goodies offered on trays by cheerful attendants, all the while admiring the windows bulging with handcrafted dolls and ornaments, trees and twinkle lights.

Wooden games and toys spilling out of doorways looked just like the ones Santa’s elves would make. I was beginning to feel better already. Not a Barbie or Xbox in sight!

Monschau’s buildings and square are decorated for the season.

In the distance, I heard the sound of brass horns and, as I turned a corner, its source was revealed. Fifteen men and women in fur hats blew golden trumpets until their cheeks were cherry red. Although I didn’t recognize the songs, the merriment was contagious.

Around the Weihnachtsmarkt (Christmas Market) were wooden huts stuffed like Christmas stockings with everything from ginger cookies to ornate music boxes, hand-carved nutcrackers to Santa hats. Even I couldn’t resist trying on a hat with attached blonde braids. I looked in the mirror and decided against it. I wasn’t quite that spirited.

The lingering smell of cinnamon and cloves lured me past the grilled bratwurst and crocks of bubbling Monschauer Senfsuppe (mustard soup), a local specialty, to the glühwein (hot mulled wine) hut where the line was six-people deep. The choices of steaming hot beverages on this winter day were inviting.

Eggnog, a creamy coffee-based elixir and hot chocolate were all available with a little extra “warmth” from one of the bottles of brandy, whisky or schnapps lining the countertop. I opted for the glühwein, a Christmas Market must, and happily warmed my hands on the blue ceramic mug as the steam from the cup clouded the crisp air.

From the church, I heard the familiar sound of Christmas carolers. I sneaked in and sat in the back pew, sipping my wine. I am not sure what was warming me more … the spirits in the cup or the spirit all around me. As I quietly inched out of the church, a robust woman caught my eye. “Frohe Weihnachten.” “Merry Christmas,” I waved back. And I meant it.

Although the Weihnachtsmarkt is certainly about shopping, it is also about enjoying the magic of the season: the music, the festivity, the family and the friendly faces. As I meandered the small alleyways out of Monschau, I was transported for a moment to my own Christmases past, and I remembered what Christmas was once about for me: A time of believing, singing, my grandma’s chocolate-chip cookies, and a tattered copy of ‘Twas The Night Before Christmas, the famous 19th century poem by American author Clement C. Moore.

This wooden hut sells custom-decorated ginger cookies.

As I drove back home, a song popped into my head … Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. Hark! Could it be I was cured?! Yes, Scrooge has left the building! Deck the halls because Santa Claus is coming to town!

If only I had purchased the braided Santa hat.

If You Go

Weihnachtsmarkt Monschau
www.monschau.de

Kuno von Zedlitz grins as he opens the door and sees my flabbergasted expression. “My great-great-grandfather took one trip too many to Scotland,” he explains. Carl-Burchard von der Decken, Kuno’s ancestor, was evidently so impressed with the architecture there that he had his Low German Hallenhaus — a straw- or reed-covered house constructed partly from timber with a steep roof and a large foyer — torn down and the existing castle built in its place in 1871.

The Wedding Room, with its romantic, four-poster bed, is a favorite with newlyweds.

The estate on which the castle lies, Gut Hörne, first documented in 1501, has been in the same family for generations. On two occasions the estate has been passed down along the female line, hence the name change from von der Decken to Zedlitz.

When Baron Kuno inherited the manor in 1988, the three-story mansion was more than his family wanted to occupy. After extensive research, he and his energetic wife, Maike, decided to turn part of it into a bed & breakfast.

Six double rooms are available, mostly on the third floor, some with a private bath. The accommodations are aptly named. The spacious Gelbe Zimmer (Yellow Room), for example, has warm, sunny colors. The Schottenzimmer (Scottish Room), naturally, sports tartan-style plaids in an armchair and curtains.

Baroness Maike has developed a distinctive style of interior design with much attention to detail. All rooms are lovingly decorated with an eclectic collection of family heirlooms, stylish antiques and fun Ikea furniture.

A sumptuous, healthy breakfast is served in the historic dining room that the family used for centuries. Choices include muesli, yogurt, fresh fruit, whole-wheat walnut bread and a different salad every day, such as tomato-mozzarella or sorghum. House guests may determine their own breakfast hours. “You are on vacation,” says Maike with a smile, “and I don’t want everyone to rise early to catch breakfast when they would rather sleep in.”

The friendly little village of Hörne, population 200, offers several dining options. However, should you prefer to prepare a meal by yourself, you are welcome to use the guest kitchen on the third floor, which is occasionally stocked with regional organic products for sale, as Gut Hörne is still a working farm.

When Kuno von Zedlitz took over the family business, he converted the farm to organic production of mostly wheat, rye and spelt. On occasion, he may even show you around on his tractor.

Meals have been served in the historic dining room for centuries. This is where guests have breakfast today.

The 346 acres (140 hectares) of Gut Hörne, located in a region called Kehdinger Land, near the estuary of the river Elbe, is surrounded by nature reserves. Extensive flood banks protect the land from periodic flooding. White woolly sheep dot the green grassy dykes and look up dreamily as we chug by on Kuno’s John Deere tractor.

Birds twitter above. The marshes are an important breeding ground for lapwings, redshanks, godwits, ruffs and many kinds of wild ducks. More than 10,000 geese winter in the bird preserve area of Gut Hörne — a bird watcher’s paradise.

This is a landscape of spread-out, fertile plains with rich grasslands, isolated groves and a big sky, inviting you to take long walks to unwind from your busy life. Relax in the historic garden with century-old trees. Enjoy the in-house sauna. Read a good book in the common living room. Cycle (rentals are available nearby) along the Elbe bike path, Germany’s most-frequented scenic bicycle route.

Otterndorf, famous for its healing saline baths, is 10 miles (17 km) away, and the beach at Cuxhaven, on the North Sea, is only 23 miles (37 km) away. Surfing, sailing, water-skiing and golfing are also offered in the area. Like me, you may quickly take to country living in style, and want to stay longer in this nature enclave. If so, rent the historic two-story carriage house as a vacation home, as I did.

Visit the local Museum Natureum, a nature museum, to learn about the forces that shaped these lands. Or take a stroll through the Medieval Village, which was built on estate grounds for educational purposes. Enclosed by a high stockade, it boasts a blacksmith’s workshop, weaving area, dyer’s workshop and a kitchen building.

The village was constructed to teach area students about the old trades, but it is open to the public, as well. There is even a small church, for weddings here. Receptions are sometimes held in the castle’s romantic Backhaus (bake house), which is also available for meetings.

If you need a diversion from quiet country living, the bustling city of Hamburg is only about 50 miles (80 km) away, making Gut Hörne a perfect base to explore.

If You Go

Gut Hörne is located northwest of Hamburg, in the German state of Niedersachsen (Lower Saxony).

The architecture of Gut Hörne is reminiscent of Scottish neo-gothic style.

Rates for a double room with breakfast start at € 37.50 per person per day (about US$ 48). Vacation rentals are also available. The price for four people sharing a holiday flat without breakfast is € 77 (about US$ 98) per day. The cost for any additional person (up to a maximum of eight) is € 10 (US$ 12.75) per day.

Bed & Breakfast Gut Hörne

Hörne-West 46

21730 Hörne/Balje

++ 49 (0) 4753 362

++ 49 (0) 4753 688 (fax)

www.guthoerne.de

Audis and other BMWs pass us like we’re standing still. Since there are still no speed limits on some lesser-frequented German roads and the highway is smooth, I let the BMW do what it does best, and push the pedal down a little more.

Schloss Basthorst suffered decades of neglect under communist rule. Today it has been renovated as a boutique hotel.

Thankfully, my mom, who is in the passenger seat, has her eyes on the scene outside the window and not on my speedometer. The landscape is postcard perfect. Fertile farmland, cut bare from harvest, stretches across the horizon. Massive farm equipment dots the fields, farmers out preparing the fields for next season’s crop.

Overhead, the sun burns bright in a clear blue sky. It’s a beautiful day to be in Germany — especially with this gem of a car.

Unfortunately, this engineering marvel isn’t mine. The BMW belongs to my German friend, Torsten, who has graciously loaned it to my mother and me for our girls’ road-trip adventure. But this road trip is different; we have no maps. The car’s navigation system is our only guide.

After giving us a quick lesson on the car in the northern city of Hamburg , Torsten had wished us luck and sent us on our way. The car’s smooth female voice, speaking in High German, guided us through the busy streets. Though I had to brush up on my vocabulary (the German I learned attending school in Austria came in handy!), we were out of the city in just 45 minutes.

Our plan now is a five-day tour across Mecklenburg-Vorpommern (Mecklenburg–Western Pomerania), a German state that once belonged to East Germany. We’ll stay at castle hotels along the way.

Though it’s the sixth largest state, Mecklenburg-West Pomerania has only 1.7 million residents. Bordering the Baltic Sea and with hundreds of inland lakes, the area is a popular destination for European tourists. Strangely though, few Americans make it to this part of the country. It’s my first visit to this region as well, and I’m beginning to wonder why I haven’t discovered it before now.

Our first stop is the town of Schwerin, population 96,500, about 70 miles (112 km) east of Hamburg. The capital of Mecklenburg–Western Pomerania, Schwerin is famous for its fairy-tale-like castle on an island in the middle of Lake Schwerin.

Patio dining is a popular pastime in Germany.

With its golden towers and tall turrets, Schwerin Castle fits my ideal of a perfect castle. Once the Grand Duchy of Mecklenburg-Schwerin, the castle was converted into a palace in the 16th and 17th centuries. Our guide takes us from room to room, providing tales of long-gone nobility. Our necks strain looking at ceiling paintings, and our American minds spin with centuries of history that had previously been unknown to us.

Dazed with information overload, we step back into real life with a stop for lunch at Zum Stadtkrug, a local brew pub. Hans-Ulrich Trosien, the brewmaster, takes a few moments to talk with us, explaining the intricacies of beer making and offering samples of his rich, dark ale. Full of hearty German food, we head back to our trusty BMW to head to a castle of our own … at least for a few days.

After a few false turns in the dark country night, we finally locate Schloss Basthorst, 20 minutes outside Schwerin at the end of a tree-lined dirt road. Like many of the castles in former East Germany, Schloss Basthorst suffered decades of neglect under communist rule. Today, however, it has been lovingly renovated as a boutique hotel.

With its red brick and open-timbered rooms and the elegant air of a grand old lady, Schloss Basthorst is more of a grand manor than a castle. My mom and I share the place with a small group of German businessmen. The evening is so beautiful that they ditch the meeting rooms and talk by candlelight in the back gardens, the soft sound of their laughter floating up to our windows in the cool night air.

The next morning we head for Wismar, a small town on the Baltic Sea. A UNESCO World Heritage site, Wismar was founded in the 1220s, and it became a Hanseatic town in 1259. In 1632, the Swedish army conquered Wismar. The region remained under Swedish control for about 150 years, which accounts for the Nordic look in some of the local people, the annual Schwedenfest (Sweden Festival) and some Swedish words still in use today.

I learn all of this and more from Guenther Faust and Dallas Reese, our guides for the day. While Dallas, an English ex-pat, and my mom explore the town, I follow Guenther, who tries his best to explain the town’s history in basic German I can understand.

We explore the Church of Mary, with its 262-foot-tall (80 m) tower, and then wander through the ruins of St. George, a cathedral that met its doom with American bombs; its restoration is due to be completed in 2010. But my favorite stop is at a local bakery. Since I’ve been craving German pastries since we got here, the four of us circle a small outdoor table, and chat and laugh as we down tortes and Berliner (German doughnuts).

It’s soon time to hit the road again. After driving for two hours, passing only farms and small towns, we come to Schlosshotel Gutshaus Ludorf. Built in 1698 in Danish brick renaissance style, the hotel has an enviable location on the west bank of the Müritz River. Once a dilapidated clinic, the manor has been carefully restored by Keril and Manfred Achtenhagen.

In the process, they’ve uncovered several treasures, including historic ceiling murals found under layers of paint. Each of the manor’s 23 rooms is different, some with open-beamed ceilings. As with many hotels in Germany, our overnight fee includes a full continental breakfast each morning. My mom is pleased to find that, like most Germans we’ve met so far, our hotel hosts converse comfortably in English.

Gutshaus Ludorfis is across from the Müritz Nature Reserve, nicknamed “land of a thousand waters,” because of the huge number of lakes in the region. We pass bikers, hikers and boaters during an afternoon walk through the area. From there, we explore the nearby village of Ludorf, which probably consists of no more than 50 buildings. At the heart of the community is a rare octagonal church dating from the 14 th century. It’s so small I can walk the length of the church in 20 strides.

Later in the day we head to Waren, a charming town that has recreated itself since its communist days. Brightly painted homes, trendy cafes and shops line the cobblestoned pedestrian zone. We stop for ice cream and eat it outside in the warm sun. Our server is an Albanian, who loves living in this part of Germany — and I can see why. Waren is a very walkable city, with just enough size to have everything one would need to live in comfort.

From there, it’s off to the town of Klink, just a 40-minute drive away, for some fun on Lake Müritz. Tokon Sports specializes in group adventures, but they kindly take us for a speedboat tour of the lake. The town along the shore looks so small from this perspective, and it’s a thrill to speed across the water.

Tokon’s staff is young, so they barely remember this region under communist times. They have a fresh, optimistic outlook on their homeland, and I can’t help but enjoy their company.

They drop us off at Schlosshotel Klink, a huge, dreamlike castle that has been turned into a spa and resort. This castle has a more commercial bent, with wedding and meeting facilities for big groups. We dine on fresh fish, looking over the lake from the castle deck. It’s easy to feel like royalty from this vantage point.

We spend our last day in Güstrow, a picturesque town of 31,000 on the River Nebel, just an hour or so away. Like most former East German towns, parts of it have been carefully restored and updated, while other buildings are dilapidated, still searching for owners with the courage and money to restore them.

We tour the town center and then visit the grand Palace Güstrow, a museum that requires much more than the hour we can spend there. Built in 1589 in renaissance style, the castle was a residence for the dukes of Mecklenburg . It fell into disrepair during war and communist times; restoration began in 1963, and was completed in 1981.

At the city’s cathedral, a brick Gothic church built between 1226 and 1335, the most-visited attraction is Schwebende Engel (Hovering Angel), created by expressionist sculptor Ernst Barlach in 1926 as a tribute to the victims of World War I.

Afterward, we lunch with our guides, the Neubert sisters. The two were separated by the wall, one growing up in the West and the other in East Germany. The two spent many years separated by the wall, and Germany’s reunification brought their family back together.

Hotel Klink is now a spa, hotel and conference center.

Each time I visit Germany, I’m amazed by the changes — and this time is no exception. As my mom and I turn the car around to head back to Hamburg, we pass a lone German flag, perhaps 10 feet (3 m) in length, flying proudly from a window. The flag is a symbol that many countries take for granted, but Germans have always been cautious to display their love of country, for fear of dredging up its shameful Nazi past.

Yet it seems Germany has finally allowed itself to be proud of its hard-fought accomplishments — and what accomplishments they are. In the last few decades, they have brought two different countries and ideologies into one nation, the stronger half holding up the other until it could grow robust again on its own.

And having spent the last week visiting the towns of former East Germany and seeing this amazing progress first hand, I can’t help but be proud of their accomplishments, too.

If You Go

German Tourism
www.cometogermany.com

Mecklenburg-Vorpommern Tourism
www.auf-nach-mv.de

Schloss Basthorst
www.schloss-basthorst.de

Schlosshotel Gutshaus Ludorf
www.gutshaus-ludorf.de

Schlosshotel Klink
www.schlosshotel-klink.de

We were about to have dinner at Berlin’s dunkel restaurant, a dining experience in pure darkness.“If you go this slow, you’ll take all night,” Sandy said, as we shuffled hesitantly behind her. “Remember that I know where we’re going and nothing is in the way.”She was like a bat. Only later would I learn she was sight-impaired. She’d learned to move within a world of darkness. “We’re here,” she said. “And we’ll seat the lady first.”

I felt her reach out and heard a chair moving back from a table. She took my waist and moved me toward the chair, leaving my companions standing alone in the darkness. I sat against a wall and I reached out to feel the edge, covered with Styrofoam.

Diners must put their faith in the staff as they are led into the dining room.

“And then her man,” Sandy said. Soon I felt Jim’s presence near me. I wiggled my fingers in the darkness, finding his shoulder first, then his hand.

Attila sat across from me. Staring straight ahead, I knew he must be right in front of my eyes. But I couldn’t see a thing.

“You have a knife on your left, a fork on your right, and a spoon at the top of your setting,” Sandy said, and we all ran our fingers across the table, looking for what she described, trying to get our bearings.

My finger touched one piece of icy metal, another, then a third.  I knew where to find my utensils. But how to get the food in my mouth would be more challenging.

The restaurant opened in autumn, 2002, and Sandy has worked there since the beginning.

“There was a discussion between a man who was blind and a man with normal vision,” she said. “They thought it would be a good idea to create jobs for sight-impaired people and to give people an experience of what it’s like to not see.”

The idea behind the restaurant is that the loss of sight heightens other senses, allowing diners to appreciate their meal in a new way.

Visitors are led into a lobby with natural light, supplemented by the flickering flames of small candles. Staff hand them menus and ask them to choose between the short and mysterious descriptions. The choices include poultry, lamb, veal, fish, game, and vegetarian menus, costing an average of 45 euros.

But poetic descriptions hide the actual contents, leaving open the question of what will actually appear on one’s plate. A vegetarian appetizer is described as, “A bowl full of lusciousness with a natural snake bite antidote.” The dessert following the veal was described as “Creamy white, bruised by cupid’s red lips – he just had a mint.”

After ordering, a sight-impaired server leads diners into the dining room, where windows covered with wood and velvet submerge everyone in a sea of blackness.

Guests choose their entrée in the softly-lit lounge before taking the plunge into complete darkness.

Our experience began with lots of laughter and disbelief as we adjusted to our new environment. I heard other diners as though they were in a different world, even though I knew they were nearby. Soft music piped through the dining room via a radio. I opened and closed my eyes to no effect.

“This would be a good place for blind dates,” Attila joked.

Sandy brought our drinks and set them down carefully, making sure we’d remember their locations. Then she put a breadbasket in the center. Our fingers, crawling over the basket’s edges, found soft rings of baguette bread.

Soon followed our appetizers and our first challenge – salads for Jim and Attila, soup for me.

“Hey, there’s something hard in my salad,” Jim exclaimed.

“I think it’s a walnut,” Attila guessed.

Jim, afraid to eat unknown food, a quality that distinctly hinders the experience of dark dining, passed it to me. It was a cucumber.

I had a spicy soup with shrimp and some other unidentifiable objects. I ate cautiously, dipping my spoon into the bowl, leaning down, and imbibing. A strong and magical smell danced up into my nostrils.

True, the lack of sight brought me closer to my soup, made me notice better its scent and texture.

While eating, we listened to the creaks and groans of chairs, the occasional crashes, a drink spilled at a neighboring table. Sandy would make some noise on her arrival, to not frighten us into knocking something over.

Sandy handed me a small, ceramic round dish.

“What is it?” I asked.

“Manioc.”

I found little chips that tasted like potatoes and were great to eat with fingers.

I used the finger-licking method for my main course as well. Since I couldn’t see where my food was, I couldn’t aim for particular items. So I explored the textures – the soft, ribbed skin on three squares of fish, the spice granules on the soft, round manioc chips, the firm, smooth long shapes that tasted like asparagus.

I gained a new appreciation for custard with fruit as I slid my fingertips over the crusty, caramel crust, down the smooth gelatinous sides, into the cream pooled at the base of the plate.

I ate less than usual, surprisingly full from the initial soup.  I realized what an impact looking at food has on inspiring one to eat it. Without sight, one focuses only on the sensation of hunger. Jim left his plate of rich and tender game largely untouched, paralyzed by the stress of not being able to control what he put in his mouth.

There were long pauses between the courses, during which we began to feel hot, sticky and uncomfortable. Attila stood up.

“The ceiling is high,” he said, as he unsuccessfully tried to reach it. He felt the need to move, but felt trapped. Sandy told us to call for her if needed.  Attila began to call, low but with a cry for help, “Sandyyy!”

The restaurant gives diners a feel of what it is like to be sight-impaired, as many of the servers are.

At the end of the meal, Sandy stood us up and we formed the snake-like line again, shuffling across the dining room. We reentered the lobby, two hours later, groggy and with blurred vision, but relieved by the sight of glittering candle flames.

“Do you ever have anyone freak out?” I asked the cashier.

“Yes, about one in a hundred.”  With 50 guests per night on average, that would be one case every other night. “We just talk to them and explain things to them,” she said. “There is nothing else we can do.”

Stepping outside into the warm, late summer evening, we admired the pastel building, brightly-colored graffiti panel that had been completed during our dinner, and the welcoming pale sky.

“I’m never going to appreciate the outdoors so much,” Attila said.

If You Go

unsicht-Bar
www.unsicht-bar-berlin.com

Jessica Jacobson is a writer and explorer who has visited more than 50 countries. She is the author of the forthcoming Roaming Kyrgyzstan: Beyond the Tourist Track. She has also written a guidebook to Siberia, Roaming Russia, and published articles in various newspapers and magazines. She’s currently working on a memoir about her time as the first Western resident of a Siberian indigenous community. She blogs about her travels at www.jjstravels.blogspot.com.

At the top of the list is Rick Steves’ Easy Access Europe, which was released in July 2004. Rick Steves is the author of 30 guidebooks and has hosted nearly 100 travel shows on American public television. It’s the first time a major publisher has addressed access in a big way.

This travel guide haslistings for accessible hotels, restaurants, and attractions all throughout Europe with anoff-the-beaten track focus.

This European travel guide includes listings for accessible hotels, restaurants and attractions in London, Paris, Bruges, Amsterdam and Frankfurt. All listings are rated for access, but because of the off-the-beaten track focus of Steves’ titles, the majority of the listings are only appropriate for slow walkers (or those people who can do one or two steps).

Still, it’s a useful resource for budget travelers and for people who can make do with less than perfect access. Rick and co-author Ken Plattner did an especially good job on the walking tours, but then again that is Steves’ specialty. By his own admission, complete barrier-free access is a rarity in Europe, but this guide helps wheelchair-users and slow walkers make informed travel decisions. Hopefully, we’ll see more titles in this series, as Steves addresses the subject quite well.

Another European title, The Accessible Guide To Florence, was also released in 2004. Penned by first-time author Cornelia Danielson, this self-published title is packed full of general tourism information, historical background notes and detailed access information.

One of the most refreshing aspects about this guide is that the access information is presented in a meaningful narrative format. For example, instead of just using a pictogram or stating that a building is accessible or not accessible, Cornelia goes the extra mile and lists important access details such as the number of steps, the location of ramps and even the height of small steps or raised thresholds. This attention to detail makes this guidebook a useable resource for everyone from slow walkers to wheelchair-users, as it helps visitors realistically determine if they will be able to access specific attractions.

This handy resource contains everthing you want to know about access to the rides and resorts of Walt Disney World.

PassPorter Press, publishers of a popular line of Walt Disney World guidebooks, will release their first access-related title in August 2005. Known for their expert advice and emphasis on planning and organization, the folks at PassPorter recruited Disney experts Deb Wills and Debra Martin Koma to pen the PassPorter’s Walt Disney World For Your Special Needs.

Filled with detailed access information on all the rides and resorts at Walt Disney World, the book is a great resource for wheelchair-users and slow walkers. Recognizing that an increasing number of grandparents vacation with their grandkids these days, the authors also paid particular attention to the access needs of seniors. Diversity is the key word here, as access accommodations for a wide range of disabilities and medical conditions are covered. Truly this handy resource contains everything you ever wanted to know about access in Walt Disney World.

Another US title, Access Anything: Colorado is due to hit the bookstores in mid July. Penned by new authors Craig P. Kennedy and Andrea C. Jehn, this resource-filled volume includes detailed information about accessible outdoor fun and activities throughout Colorado.

This well-organized book contains information about adaptive sporting activities for all seasons in Colorado; from snow skiing and dogsledding to hiking, biking, fishing and camping. Also included are lodging and dining suggestions plus lots of resources. It’s a must-have resource if Colorado is on your vacation itinerary.

This travel guide contains detailed information about adaptive sporting activities for all seasons in Colorado.

Finally, I’d be remiss if I didn’t at least mention the June 2005 release of the second edition of my own Barrier-Free Travel: A Nuts and Bolts Guide for Wheelers and Slow Walkers. This new edition has detailed information on the logistics of accessible travel by plane, train, bus and ship. New features include an expanded cruise chapter, a kid travel chapter and lots of new and updated resources. And as always, I continue to stress consumer education and self-advocacy throughout this new edition.

Rick Steves’ Easy Access Europe

Rick Steves and Ken Plattner

ISBN 1-56691-668-2

500 pages US$ 19.95

The Accessible Guide to Florence

Cornelia Danielson

ISBN 1-4134-5729-0

297 pages US$ 18.69

Passporter’s Walt Disney World For Your Special Needs

Deb Wills and Debra Martin Koma

ISBN 1-58771-018-9

400 pages US$ 22.95

Access Anything: Colorado

Craig P. Kennedy and Andrea C. Jehn

ISBN 1-55591-534-5

256 pages US$ 18.95

Barrier Free Travel: A Nuts and Bolts Guide for Wheelers and Slow Walkers (2nd Edition)

Candy Harrington

ISBN 1-932603-09-3

292 pages US$ 16.96

Each path eased through a forest dotted with blue violets and primroses, surging with little streams melting moment by moment from the snows above, and offering vistas of medieval towns cupped in the craggy embrace of the Alps ― a mere wanderer could break into poetry, or song.

Welcome to the “Gap Season” in Garmisch-Partenkirchen, a play on words that also refers to the automobile license plates of this southern German town, which read “Gap” (short for Garmisch-Partenkirchen). Spring is the perfect season to enjoy the delights of Bavaria, without the crowds that fill this “Aspen of Germany” for winter sports or summer music ― an excellent time for quiet rambles, good food and the luxurious experience of a fine spa hotel.

Garmisch-Partenkirchen is 55 miles (89 km) south of Munich. While it might be handier to refer to the area as “Garmisch,” don’t! Each town has a long individual history. The Romans built a road through the valley and established an outpost at “Parthanum.” During the Middle Ages, traders stopped at Partenkirchen on their route to Italy, and Garmisch loggers sent the area’s timber down the River Loisach. The area was “discovered” by 19th-century travelers, but the 1936 Winter Olympics brought the world to this valley ― leading to the forced union of the town names.

“To this day, we are still separate ― two fireworks, two ski clubs ― generation to generation,” says hotelier Renata Kauffmann.

Well marked walking paths, such as the Philosophenweg, an easy trail through spring woodlands, make getting around Garmisch-Partenkirchen a breeze.

Partenkirchen is the elder sibling, with a well-tended historic district along the Ludwigstrasse, as well as a modern commercial center. Our home base in Garmisch, the Hotel Zugspitze (Klammstrasse 19), lives up to its name, with balconies that face the icy talon of Germany’s highest mountain (9,721 feet or 2,964.9 m). The Kauffmann family has blended Eurostyle with Bavarian tradition to craft a manorial experience for guests ― classy rather than kitschy, and downright comfortable. It’s within easy walking distance of the train station and just down the street from the Marienplatz that centers Garmisch.

Walking is the way to get around town ― and indeed, all of Bavaria. Well-marked trails network the valley and the mountainsides, with shelters, restrooms and inns. I began my ramble in Partenkirchen, at the “Plague Church” painted with a giant fresco of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. Following the signs for St. Anton’s, I headed up steep streets, past a fountain and toward the green hillsides. The cherry trees and daffodils were in bloom. I heard chickens cluck, and saw a sign for fresh milk beside a pocket pasture and small barn. Steep-roofed houses presided over tiny flowerbeds or sheltered behind clipped hedges.

At the edge of the village, Stations of the Cross appeared beside the road, each in its white-painted arched niche. The Pilgrim Way was steep, toward a white church with black onion domes. A chapel offered a moment of meditation, to the flicker of candles and the sound of birdsong ― on the porches of St. Anton’s, plaques bore images of World War I soldiers and pleas for prayers.

As I continued to the Berggasthof (Mountain Guest House) Panorama and its view of “The Golden Land,” signs warned that the hillside path through fields occupied by spotted cows was private. So it was back to the crossroads, and the Philosophenweg. While edelweiss may have been blooming at the edge of mountain snows, here violets and primroses were thick among last fall’s leaves.

I checked out the Woods Walk next, then the byways of Partenkirchen. Backyards were often guarded by wooden fences, but glimpses of daily life were frequent ― from woodpiles stacked with Teutonic precision to a man grooming one of the horses that pull Pferdekutschen (horse cabs) and sleighs through the streets.

A view down the Ludwigstrasse in historic Partenkirchen.

Walking and window-shopping are delights in this town of fewer than 30,000 residents. Partenkirchen has the prettiest street, the Ludwigstrasse with its iron street signs worked with the image of the wares inside: books, eyeglasses, pretzels. It also has a commercial district along Bahnhofstrasse with souvenir stands, clothing stores and a hardware store that carries, among its other signs, one of a squatting dog in a circle crossed by the standard red diagonal.

Garmisch street life centers on the Zugspitzstrasse. Merchants offer high-end linens and engraved crystal, Rolex watches and ties hand-painted with slalom skiers. Upper stories of the buildings are painted with scenes of Bavarian life ― cattle, harvesters, men and women in traditional costume ― as well as religious tableaux of the Holy Family, saints and angels. A particularly pretty walk follows the course of the Loisach, an icy blue that reveals its glacial origins, to the back of the Kurpark (Spa Gardens) with its beds of primroses and pansies.

If you can tear yourself away from the town, a required destination should be the Zugspitze, Germany’s highest mountain. It’s an emperor among crowned heads, dominating a skyscape of snow-covered peaks, wrapped in weathers of snow, ice and fog. Hotels offer summit forecasts each day so that you can choose a clear view across the icy rooftops of four nations.

A pass purchased at the Zugspitzbahn may be used on the train and the cogwheel train and/or the cable cars that serve the summit. The engine bearing the sky blue and white diamonds of Bavaria pulled cars crowded with skiers through the valley’s flat fields with tiny barns and long-horned brown cows, past the villages of Reisersee and Hammersbach with onion-domed churches. At Eibsee, riders could choose between the vertiginous climb via a single cable car run to the summit, or a switchback train ride up the shoulders of the mountain and through a 2-mile (3.2 km) tunnel.

The landscape shifted from fields to pine forests, with small patches of flowers making an early appearance at the melting edge of snowdrifts. As the train crept and I focused close to the tracks, my seatmate gave me a nudge. Below, the intense blue waters of the Eibsee glowed like an opal in its setting of dark pine. She had no English, and I had no German, but the scene was beyond words.

The Bavarian flag rests with Germany’s highest mountain, the Zugspitze, in the background.

If You Go

Winter Sports

Garmisch-Partenkirchen shares a passion for winter sports with its sister cities of Aspen and Chamonix. Skiing is on at German’s Alpine Arena from October through May, with the snowboarding season extending into June. Besides the two ski areas on towering Zugspitze, try adjoining slopes at Alpspitze, Kreuzeck, Hausberg and Eckbauer, all served by cable cars from the valley. The Zugspitze offers both skiing from the summit at 9,721 feet (2,964.9 m), and Germany’s only glacier ski area, with eight lifts and one chairlift carrying skiers to the slopes, super-pipe and fun park laid out on the Zugspitzplatt Glacier.

The Olympia Eissport Zentrum, close to the train stations, offers skating, curling and hockey. It also hosts tournaments and special shows. Built in 1934 for the fourth Winter Games, it was updated in 1995 to a modern multifunction site. A wintergarten restaurant and terrace provide a view of the Zugspitze. The adjoining Alpspitz-Wellenbad has outdoor and indoor pools, a wave pool and saunas.

Winter sports may be the main draw, but the area also boasts great whitewater — the world kayak championships were held here in the spring of 2004. Hang-gliding, golf, rock climbing, shooting ranges, and of course, hiking and biking round out the major non-winter sports.

The Partnachklamm is a popular day excursion. This deep gorge cut by the Partnach River has walls up to 300-feet (91 m) high. Visitors can take a horse-and-buggy ride to the gorge from the old Olympic Ski stadium, or walk there ― in the summer it’s a cool refuge in nature.

Arts and Entertainment

Composer Richard Strauss loved this town, and both an institute (with concerts, films and more) and a public square bear his name. His heroine figure resides in a fountain on the Kurpark. Richard Strauss Tage (Richard Strauss Days), in late June, is an annual music festival featuring performances of his works such as “Ariadne auf Naxos” and “Till Eulenspiegel.” During the “Gap Saison,” concerts and opera performances are scheduled at the Strauss Institute, as well as the Kongresshaus on Kurpark, which hosts performances in the event center Festsaal Werdenfels.

GAP Saison in Garmisch Partenkirchen

www.deutschland-genuss.de/gap-saison

City of Garmisch-Partenkirchen

www.garmisch-partenkirchen.com

Richard Strauss Festival

www.richard-strauss-tage.de

Bayerische Zugspitzbahn (Zugspitz train) Garmisch Partenkirchen

www.zugspitze.de

The festival goes back to the Paulaner monks who, according to legend, began brewing an extra-strength beer to sustain their strength during Lent, when church rules forbade them to eat between meals. Their beer, first brewed in the 17th century, went by a number of colorful names, including “liquid bread,” “holy father oil,” and “gentleman’s beer.” It gained a word-of-mouth following among locals, and eventually became known as Salvator.

Salvator got a big boost from Napoleon who, after conquering Bavaria, sold church-owned property, including the Paulaner monastery, to local businessmen. The monastery ended up in the hands of Franz Xavier Zacherl, who turned it into a beer hall and started mass-producing the monks’ beer. Zacherl offered Salvator to the public, shrewdly promoting it as a cure for the wintertime blues. Münchners answered the call, descending on his beer hall in droves.

A typical Bavarian snack.

Salvator is classified as a Doppelbock, which means an extra-strength version of the Bock style. “Bock” in Germany, is a generic term meaning strong beer. Just how strong are Doppelbocks? They start at 7.5 percent alcohol by volume. And because their strength is concealed by a strong malty flavor, they can sneak up on even experienced drinkers.

Munich’s other breweries soon followed Paulaner’s lead and brought out their own versions of Doppelbock. But as a tribute to the original Salvator, they gave their versions names ending in “-ator.” This tradition is still followed in Germany, and has spread to craft breweries in America.

The first day of Starkbierzeit is Bavaria’s answer to baseball’s Opening Day. The keg-tapping ceremonies are attended by a star-studded audience, which drinks fresh Salvator while laughing along with comedians poking fun at German politicians. Local television stations broadcast the festivities, and most of Bavaria tunes in.

The most famous Starkbierzeit address is Paulaner Keller (Hochstrasse 77), which was built on the site of Zackerl’s beer hall. Because it stands on the Nockherberg, the highest point in the city, locals who attend the festivities say they’re answering “the call of the mountain.” The beer hall was badly damaged by a fire in 2000, but last year its owners put the finishing touches on a brand-new facility in time for Starkbierzeit.

The Löwenbräukeller puts on a nightly Bavarian variety show, including the legendary stone-lifting competition.

Although Paulaner’s décor is modern, tradition is still followed: Salvator is dispensed in ceramic mugs, which keep it cold and fresh; and the Blaskapelle, or brass band, plays a mixture of Bavarian marches and pop classics like “It’s a Long Way From Tipperary.” And there’s everything one expects at a beer hall: sturdy beer maids, grilled chicken and pig knuckles, and plenty of Salvator, of course.

Paulaner isn’t the only beer hall that celebrates Starkbierzeit. Across town, the enormous Gothic-style Löwenbräukeller (Nymphenburger Strasse 2) has been welcoming guests since it opened with pomp and fanfare in 1883. Löwenbräukeller pours sweetish, but potent, Triumphator Doppelbock; serves traditional comfort food; and puts on a nightly Bavarian variety show featuring yodelers, handbell and spoon players wearing traditional Lederhosen; and, the highlight of the evening, a stone-lifting competition.

Each night, the area’s strongest men fortify themselves with a mug of Triumphator and try to hoist a 500-plus-pound (226 kg) stone and keep it aloft. Legend has it that Hans Steyer, the “Bavarian Hercules,” picked the stone up with one finger, a record likely to stand for all time.

Other beer halls join in the fun as well. Unions-Bräu Haidhausen (Einstein Strasse 42), owned by Löwenbräu, turns out a version of Doppelbock called Unimator and serves it in a downstairs brewpub. At Weisses Bräuhaus (Tal 7), which has been linked to brewing for centuries, the Starkbierzeit offering is Aventinus Weizenstarkbier, an extra-strong version of wheat beer. Another downtown location, Augustiner Keller (Arnulf Strasse 52), a downtown beer hall decorated with dark, wood-paneled walls and deer antlers, serves up Maximator — a good accompaniment to the reasonably priced food served there.

The Munich skyline at dusk.

But the most intriguing Starkbierzeit venue might be Forschungsbrauerei Jakob (Unterhachinger Strasse 76), which means “research brewery” in English. By tradition, it’s allowed to serve its strong beer, St. Jakobus, a week before the festival officially opens. Forschungbrauerei is a small, family-run establishment whose entire production is consumed on the premises. The brewery takes a bit of an effort to find — it’s in the suburbs, about a 10-minute walk from the commuter rail station — but worth the trip.

Starkbierzeit isn’t widely publicized, which is fine with Münchners. It’s their time of year to revel in Bavaria’s culture and traditions. The festivities are a mini-Oktoberfest without the crowds, a chance to enjoy the local color without scrambling for a hotel room or dinner reservation. If you’re coming, be sure to bring a smile, a hearty appetite, and a taste for strong beer.

If You Go

City of Munich

www.muenchen.de