The ghost of electricity howls in the bones of her face

Inside the museum, infinity goes up in trial
Voices echo, "This is what salvation must be like after a while,"
But Mona Lisa musta had the highway blues
You can tell by the way she smiles
-"Visions of Johanna," Bob Dylan


So, Monday will be my 9th week in Germany and I will have 10 weeks until I push off for Never-never-land. I started my internship last week, which promises to be very rewarding for my written German, in particular. Indirekte Rede and so forth.

Last Saturday I went to Zugspitze, which is Germany's highest mountain. It was quite the random, spontaneous moment (reminding me of a line said by Dr. Joel Fleischman in Northern Exposure: "Premeditated spontaneity is about as fun as getting the measles twice." Which explains me. So this was quite the departure from my M.O.). I had originally planned on going to Garmisch-Partenkirchen (the two towns at the base of the mountain), but then I thought it might be too crowded and I should perhaps save that for a Friday travel day. I decided on Nürnberg (Nuremberg) instead, to continue the Dachau train of thought and see Dürer's house in addition to the War Crimes Museum. I headed over to Hauptbahnhof, but the next train to Nürnberg was not leaving for over an hour, so I asked the lady, "OK--what about Garmisch?" she looked at me in a particular way. Hey, I'm a student. Do I look like someone who has Fixed Plans?

Waiting in line for my tickets, I had an interesting What Americans Should Not Do Abroad (WASNDA) experience. In the line parallel to mine was an older, mid-50s American couple with their luggage, and I heard them at the window, saying, "We need 2 train tickets to Salzburg, no stops." The ticket lady responded to them in English, but I don't think the American woman understood the accent, and was--not rude, but not exactly polite either--saying, "I don't speak German. Do you speak English?" An American woman behind me, who had obviously done her homework, piped up and said, "Sprechen Sie Englisch?" which the first American couple parroted back to the Deutsche Bahn rep, rather badly. The DB rep was a well-heeled woman in her late 20s at the most. Of course she speaks English, you dolts! And besides, have you realized you are, in fact, in another country? I hate to break it to you, but, despite what Warner Brothers led you to believe, The Sound of Music does, in fact, take place in a German-speaking country, not an annexed part of America with yodeling and dirndls.

They eventually did work out their communication problem, though, and the nice, I Did My Homework Before I Came American lady behind me asked me her line, "Sprechen Sie Englisch?" (Insert my current favorite movie line from A Good Year: "Oh, you speak English." "Like a native.") "Yes," I replied, and she asked me about her U-Bahn ticket. I answered it and sent her on her merry way. I often wonder if these Americans who find me in chance encounters realize I'm American, or they think I'm a German with an impeccable grew-up-watching-American-TV-accent. I should collect addresses and send out surveys.


So, I was off to Garmisch-Partenkirchen on a whim chance. Good thing I brought my trusty guidebook. The I.C.E. (Inter-Citi-Express, primo, primo train) whipped us off into the mountains. There was almost no one in my entire compartment, I had some ice tea I had purchased at the kiosk in StuSta, had a clean restroom nearby, was looking out from my window seat to the mountains--pretty awesome.

I stiege aus at Garmisch-Partenkirchen, to lovely, clear skies, and headed directly over to the adjacent Zugspitzebahn, the train that goes up to the "base" of the Zugspitze from G-P, from which you can take the cable car. I paid a pretty penny for the Zugspitzebahn (it's 48 euro in the summer, 37 in the winter, I believe), but you know, I'm only here, just an hour and a half away once, and have already paid for that plane ticket over here. Carpe diem, eh? I sat near two very nice older German ladies who took my photo on the bahn, which was nearly empty. I positioned myself just in front of these nice flat screens which outlined our itinerary, and the options for getting to the top of the mountain, and the train chugged slowly up and upward to Eisbee, affording beautiful views of the villages around G-P as we passed through. At Eisbee I got off and got on to the cable car. I took one look up from the stationary cable car up the cables at the top of the mountain and gulped. It was. . . . STEEP. But I was determined to be courageous. Only a couple of other people were on the car up with me, and a Zugspitze official, which made me feel better. He seemed quite nonchalant about our 45-degree ascent up to Snowy-Mountain-Land.

The cable car went higher and higher, occasionally passing through these towers which adjusted the angle of the car's movement. I took some fantastic shots of Wernfeldsee and of Garmisch-Partenkirchen, then I saw the mountain to my left and right was getting whiter and whiter. I hadn't really thought about snow. A window had been left open and I could feel the draft. As we climbed higher and higher I was certain death was imminent, but soothed myself by pretending it was just a dream, and I was just going to enjoy it and not think about my impending demise. Besides, I told myself, what an epic way to die.

I did survive, however, with little incident. As we approached the landing area, we stopped for a couple of seconds, or long enough to convince me that perhaps we had to climb out the car and abasail up the mountain platform? Was I supposed to bring my climbing boots? But we chugged up to the platform and my simple shoes were fine for getting off and going into the main building.

Every other person in the area was wearing a ski coat at least. Me? Three-quarter length shirt from Eddie Bauer, not Jack Wolfskin or The North Face. I looked at them, supposing them to be judging me, and glared back, "Hey! I was supposed to be going to Nürnberg today, OK? Lay off!" I went out to the large viewing platform at the top of Zugspitze. I hadn't really thought about "Germany's Highest Mountain" and its implications. Germany has a lot of mountains. Really big ones. Which means the highest one is really high. Somehow, this had remained an abstract conclusion for my time here (and my previous visit), and I hadn't actually followed it down its little path until now. It was cold outside, but not as cold as I thought for being surrounded by tons and tons of snow. To the south were reams of snow-capped mountains. It was so beautiful that it was hard to take in. (Actually, my first thought was of those Snow Caps? You know? That neat little candy with chocolate chips and granulated sugar particles on top to resemble snow on a mountain? I loved getting those at the movie theater.) To the north was Garmisch-Partenkirchen and mountains, but not as much snow, greener, pristine-r. The contrast was astounding. Weather patterns and geography. Amazing. The view was gorgeous, and worth every penny and every thought of death knocking at my door. I did, however, very much want to be at the bottom of the mountain before 5 o'clock, as I know how the Alps can be--sunny one second, forbidding another, and I didn't want to be careening in the cable car on the way down. Also, I wasn't entirely certain when the mountain "shut down," so to speak, and had visions of myself getting stranded, being handed skis for transportation back and being told, "Viel Glück!"

I had cake in the restaurant below the platform, and it was quite good, and not a ripoff at all. (Insert economics tangent here about high entry costs and low cost-per-unit. Kind of like telephone service.)

I headed back down the mountain ("she'll be coming round the mountain, she'll be coming round the mountain when she comes"--I have a memory as a child of singing this with Dad while playing around with my yellow toy camera in the car. Shout out to you, Dad.) in the crowded cable car. No other eventful things--got back on the crowded Zugspitzebahn (crowds always de-romanticize experiences, so it goes) and went back to Garmisch-Partenkirchen Hauptbahnhof and got on the regional train, which was way more ghetto than the classy I.C.E., but the last I.C.E. that day had left shortly after my arrival. Sad. I had my own booth area for a while, and was absentmindedly staring out the window and half-eavesdropping on the two squeaky-voiced teenage males sitting across from me. I heard a strange, repetitive clicking sound and looked over briefly, only to realize to my horror they were both playing with switchknives! I had visions of being stabbed, ala vampire, on my left neck. This was Not Done. Luckily, they didn't seem agitated or anything, and they got off a couple of stops later much to my relief. Then the train crowded up and we all collectively headed back to München.

Photo: View toward south from Zugspitze.