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.
