echte

Having arrived in Langenburg fairly early

in the morning, the first stop I made was

Cafe Bauer. There was a young woman

sweeping the steps on the side of the cafe,

and it was open, and I trotted in and was

overcome with nostalgia and brought out

my camera for the first time (on the trip).

(Clearly, not the last. Can I admit to having

a bit of a blogging hangover from the posts

yesterday? What was I thinking?)

Where was I? (Not doing the time-change

thing as swifty as my husband, who has it

down. Not sure I ever will. Okay. Onward.)

So. The young woman sweeping the steps

wasn't really very excited about me taking

pictures. Not at all. But before she could come

in, and sort of let me know that I was free to

buy something or maybe just leave and let her

get back to her business (fair enough)...I snapped

a few. And I did buy something, and got all fumbly

doing so and at the last minute had a tear in my

eye because darn it I missed my family. My

whole family, yes, but at that moment most

especially my little sister who had been -- with

me -- lucky enough to have an overnight at the

castle right down the street, with the very very

delightful family that lived there then (and a

few of whom live there still) and lordy I did

also miss my parents, who had joined us after

the weekend we stayed and had a lovely

barbecue (including corn on the cob, on the grill;

a rare treat at that time) with the family in the

courtyard around their sweetly chic pool

(if I recall correctly, everything Princess

Charlotte did was quietly and somewhat

amazingly chic, in the most subtle way).

Where was I again? Okay. I'm trying to tell

the young woman, as I buy the Wibele, that

my sister and I used to love them. Was also

going to tell her that my mom would put

out the Jagst Kiesel (candy, above, that

looks just like pebbles; serious heaven) in a

small elegant dish and how magic it seemed,

but the young woman didn't (or was just in

a hurry to get me out the door) seem to

understand a single word so I just gathered up

my small bag of goodies, took them to the car

and then ambled around Prince Kraft's auto

museum (which can be seen here) and the

palace grounds (which are open, outside the

gates) and took more photos and kept missing

everyone. Funny how strong a hold some

places have on our memories, and how

flooded the senses become when suddenly

you are there again. Wibele, now that I

think of it, taste a bit like crunchy tiny

slightly meringue-y madeleines.

There you go.