Sledding on the Schauinsland

January 5, 2010

New Year’s was a simply wonderful time, steeped in memories, as there was a big reunion with my friend’s sister, her husband and children in Heidelberg. The children provided us with ample entertainment, including puppet shows and gymnastic feats, and when we had all slept as long as we possibly could the next day, we went downstairs following the aroma of divine coffee and Broetchen, crispy rolls. We then steeled ourselves against the cold to walk along Heidelberg’s famous Philosopher’s Walk with its lovely views of the city, the Neckar River, and even some extraordinarily dedicated New Year’s canoeing enthusiasts.

This simple path through the vineyards used to have a much more prosaic name (something involving lentils, if I am not mistaken), but during the late Romantic period the name was changed when Heidelberg University profs discovered just how inspiring it was to congregate there, drink in the view and debate).
We soon left one beautiful part of the country for another, as we had a mission to fulfill: we had promised a certain young man that we would go sledding, so we returned to the Black Forest region and decided to hit the Schauinsland, a majestic mountain with panoramic views at 1284 m plus a challenging sled run for the little ones. Snow hung heavily on the evergreens, the scenery was dramatic and beautiful, and everything was blindingly white except for the children’s colorful snowsuits and our own red cheeks.
I have never seen such a selection of sleds, from the stable big wooden one I used to tiny little plastic trays with just enough room for a child’s bottom, and I must confess that I’d forgotten just how much speed a sled can pick up even with a well-fed adult weighing it down. It was bumpy going there for a while, particularly as I had all but forgotten how to brake… It was exhilarating and cold and sunny all at the same time, my nose was running and my eyes were streaming, yet I savored the air as the most amazing thing I had inhaled for some time, coming as I do now from the industrial center that is Dortmund.

Besides its gorgeous mountains and forests, Freiburg is also awash in gently sloping vineyards, and my friends have the great good fortune to live almost right in the middle of them, so that wine tasting has become a favorite pastime of theirs. The local Grauburgunder (literally ‘gray burgundy,’ but more commonly known as pinot gris or pinot grigio) we had with my favorite garlic-laden supper literally made my tastebuds dance, and it was somehow even more delightful to realize that it was produced locally by the Baumann family just a stone’s throw away: http://www.baumann-weingut.de/Weingut/weingut.html
It is hardly to be imagined that the rest of the year can continue on such an absolute high note, but perhaps the important thing is to recognize these very special moments as they appear, and to remember them even when piles of corrections mount to terrifying heights and it is chalk dust instead of dazzling snow that covers my entire right side….

About the Author : Tamara-Diana Braunstein brings us her stories from Senegal every week. She was born in Brooklyn, New York. She is a restless wanderer who earned an MA from the University of Freiburg and has worked in a youth hostel in the French Alps, a law firm in Montreal, the Metropolitan Museum of Art as well as in university press publishing. At the moment her home base is Dortmund, Germany after recently returning from teaching in Dakar, Senegal. You can follow learn more about Tamara’s experiences at her blog senegalschoolmarm.blogspot.com