"He was Born in Kreuznach" -- Bad Munster, Germany

The surest way to corrupt a youth is to teach him to hold in higher esteem those who think alike than those who think differently.

~Friedrich Nietzsche 

Yesterday was our first full day off. Joe and I told our host that we would be happy to clean up after the alpacas before we went exploring, but Billie was very adamant that "a day off is a day off" and asked Julia to feed and water the fluffy herd. Billie had given us many ideas for how to spend our day off, but as Joe and I are both budget travelers, we decided to just wander around the nearby town of Bad Kreuznach. 

Like most of their American volunteers, I cannot pronounce this name at all. In fact, the very act of looking at it makes the right side of my mouth go numb. So like most of the American volunteers, I have taken to referring to the spa town as "BK".

BK is old. Seriously old. There's evidence that it was settled by a Celtic tribe as early as the 5th century BC. It then passed to the Romans (as most towns/gods/virgin women had a habit of doing) in 58 BC and did a fair bit of prospering in the form of building decent roads and extravagant temples under Roman governance. However, with the downfall of the Roman civilization (surprise), BK became a royal estate of the Frankish Empire. It seems to have done a pretty stellar job hopping from one civilization to another. Under Frankish rule, it built churches and engaged in many squabbles over which saint should patron which church. Most of the town burnt to the ground in 1183, so I'm assuming that the squabbling stopped for a time as the families (the surviving ones) relocated to the Old Town. Following the fire, castles were built (every self-respecting town must have at least one) and the remaining residents constructed a New Town (so that Old Town would have context). 

Uprisings and lordly family angst riddled the town (Old and New alike) in the thirteen and fourteen hundreds, resulting in many lordly beheadings and maimings.

Quarrel after skirmish after battle after war tormented the town of BK from the 1620s on, it seems. They fought against Spain, the plague, Sweden, France, the plague, Croatia, France, Bavaria, flooding of the Nahe River, France... the residents of this town faced so much hardship that people started to say "er ist zu Kreuznach geboran" (he was born in Kreuznach) when referring to an especially unlucky individual.

BK was completely destroyed by the French during the Nine Years' War and was occupied by the aggressive country during the Napoleonic Wars. Then the Austrians took over. Then the French returned (France really wanted BK).

Prussia got a hold of it in 1815. Somehow. 

Then there was Hitler. You know how that went down. 

Then America built a military base that stayed for almost sixty years. 

And now BK is a spa town where old people go to breathe in radon, sit in hot springs and feel better about life. And death. Both. 

It is also an area famous for its vineyards. BK produces some fantastic Riesling, should you want to visit, inhale radon and imbibe white wine.

Of course, you could also visit and just walk around. Which is what Joe and I did yesterday morning. 

A cannonball from 1632. As an American, I'm still very much awestruck by this type of history.

So if you ever run into someone incredibly down on his luck, you can smile sympathetically, turn to your friend and say, "He was born in Kreuznach."

Of course, if you're American it'll probably be much easier to wrap your tongue around, "He was born in BK."

I spent the rest of the day knitting, cooking, reading, shopping and talking to my dear friend Janet. So not a lot about which to write, but another beautiful, simple day in the German countryside.

Preconceptions: I do believe that most Germans own dogs. I've seen them all over Frankfurt and all over BK and all throughout the countryside. And unlike in France, most Germans clean up after their dogs.

Challenges: none today