July 18, 2022. I slept in till 10. It took me a while to get moving—washing clothes, showering, making breakfast and lunch, clearing out the car, tidying up the house. Once I was ready, I headed back into Schwäbisch Hall. I was in the mood for a good latte and found a coffee roasting place I’d read about. The road was blocked due to construction, so I parked and walked the rest of the way.

The coffee was great, and I treated myself to a Kinder raspberry whipped cream cake that was absolutely delicious. Cakes and pastries are so much cheaper here than in the US—it still surprises me. I read a bit of The New York Times while enjoying my treat, but most of it was depressing: Ukraine, climate change, heat waves… eventually, I put it down and went in search of cooler air.

I wandered around Schwäbisch Hall’s old town and came across a “bio ice” shop. I got mango, strawberry, and vanilla scoops and chatted with the kind woman behind the counter. She had lived in northern Ireland for six months and really loved the people there—said she felt genuinely welcomed. Her colleagues now look at her oddly for speaking such fluent English, which I thought was funny.

I crossed the bridge and remembered Ursula telling me the Kunsthalle Würth was open. The church wasn’t, but the art hall was, so I went in and grabbed an audio guide. The exhibit was centered on leisure—sports, games, and their importance in creativity and the artistic process. It explored the evolution of free time, from ancient Greece and Rome to paid vacations in 1930s France. The whole thing was thoughtfully curated and surprisingly engaging. And best of all—it was cool inside. I stayed from 2 to 4:30 PM, grateful for the escape from the 93°F heat.

Later, I walked along the river, trying to recall familiar spots. I eventually reached the base of the cloister. A co-counseling friend called and asked to do a session. I talked about how torn I’ve been between wanting to travel far and wide—to Croatia, Greece, Spain—and wanting comfort, vitamins, sleep, and a slower pace. I want both: deep exploration of one region and the freedom to roam.

The heat was oppressive. Despite that, a group of people were protesting government regulations about COVID. I couldn’t tell if they were anti-mask or something else, but I was honestly shocked they were out there in that heat.

July 19. I had a feeling I’d regret offering to help Ursula move her office—and sure enough, it started unraveling almost immediately. She was supposed to be back on the 11th, so I prepped, but then she returned and suddenly suggested I paint every room in her new home-office. I hesitated, said okay, but quickly admitted that painting really isn’t my thing. Thankfully, she decided to handle it herself—turns out she was very particular about the shades (a very specific green, of course), and honestly, I probably would’ve messed it up and we’d both have been unhappy. Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was being given the dirty work, the stuff she didn’t want to do herself.

There’s this old pattern in me that gets triggered—wanting to be helpful, to pull my weight, especially when someone’s offering me a place to stay. Even after I’d already paid for an expensive meal, I still felt like I had to do more. So I hung around, tried to be useful, gave her feedback, waited. Finally, around 2:30 she was ready to go to the office. At one point earlier, around 1:30, I told her I was going for a short walk while she finished painting, and she said, “Why don’t you pick up ice cream and cream for coffee?” It was 95 degrees out. I walked anyway, stressing the whole time about whether the ice cream would melt.

We met Wade and drove into town. I asked her what she needed me to do, and she wasn’t very clear—just sort of snapped at me here and there. So I started boxing things up on my own, asking questions, trying to stay out of the way. But I was getting more irritated. I don’t enjoy moving people—it’s stressful, it’s chaotic, and in this case, I felt like it was all last-minute and poorly planned. Because her English isn’t great, some of what she said I misunderstood, which only added to the tension.

Around 4:30, I said I was done. She kept going for another hour. I offered to walk back but she insisted I stay, then worked in this frenetic way, clearly trying to squeeze every last bit of help out of me. By the time we finally left, it was around 6. She suggested getting ice cream—some sort of peace offering, maybe? But it felt more like a bribe. I’d already bought her a $33 meal earlier, and this “bio” ice cream was terrible.

Back home, I helped unload the car, then made my escape to Starkholzbachersee. I needed water, needed space. I jumped in just enough to cool off—the lake was only about a foot deep, too shallow for a real swim. I wandered along the paths, then made my way to the Comburg Cloister. I parked near the Circus Montréal and saw people building fires and camping out, which made me nostalgic for my own camping nights. I walked the cloister walls, thinking I might be trespassing, but apparently it’s open to the public. It was beautiful. Quiet. Exactly what I needed. When I got back, Ursula and I had a nice evening chat and my resentment softened. She really is a kind person.

July 20. I was woken by the loud clatter of movers. Ursula had to move my car so they could park. I tried to sleep a bit more, but it was a restless kind of sleep. Got up around 9:45, made eggs, and went off to wash my car. Found a great place—classic German efficiency: powerful machines, long vacuum hoses, cheap. While out, I thought I’d lost my sunglasses, hunted for a long time, gave up, and was about to buy a new pair when—of course—they turned up.

I wandered the town a bit, had coffee and a mediocre streusel at Samocca, a place that employs folks with disabilities—super sweet people. Then I ended up at St. Nicholas Church, where I met a restorer who told me about their work: marbling wood, restoring papier-mâché ornaments, all of it so intricate and time-consuming. She talked about Johannes Bruns, who saved the church’s interior from iconoclasm by persuading the reformers not to destroy it. Amazing what good leadership can do.

From there, I wandered to the Hohes Fränkisches Museum and spent a solid two hours there. Later, I tried out Café Ableitner—ice cream and a slice of cake to go. Found a quiet spot by the river away from the dust and just enjoyed being still.

I walked to Comburg again, this time on the opposite bank, read the signs about the town’s history, and ran into Bernard—the artist who makes the automat machines. Ursula knows him. He told me about being pushed out of town due to real estate prices, how he lives on the edge now. Fascinating guy. I made my way back via the old salt boiling pit, learning about the town’s wealth from brine. A storm rolled in as I was walking—wind, sand in my eyes, dramatic thunder. I loved it. I wish it had lasted all night, but it fizzled out quickly.

July 21. Today was a slow start. I slept until 10:30, just drained. Took an hour to get out of the house, made a salad, cleaned up, and then went back to Café Ableitner for a cappuccino and cake. Everything was more expensive for sit-down service, which I found a bit annoying. Then I revisited Johanneskirche—beautiful art, and this time there were translations so I could really appreciate what I was seeing.

I headed back to the Hallisch-Fränkisches Museum to read more about the Jewish history of the area. I noticed white lines on my phone screen—did some research and found a repair guy named Ismail who confirmed it needed a new LCD. He replaced it for €100 in an hour, and it was totally worth it.

To kill time while he worked, I wandered through the nearby forest and greenhouse gardens, bought some vegetables, enjoyed the quiet. After I picked up my phone, I drove to Kirchberg an der Jagst and walked the lovely walled town for a while, then continued to Langenburg, which had a schloss and a car museum with some very fancy cars—Lotus, Corvette, Porsche. Walked around the outer wall, took in the views of the valley below, spotted a woman working in her garden—it was all so picturesque. Drove back through Untermünkheim, where the storks were nesting on the Rathaus. I saw the chicks, ready to fledge. Next day, they were gone—probably from the heat.

July 22. I slept in and grabbed a big cappuccino at Samocca, where I met Vanya, a kind server who was leaving the next day to study elder care in Kiel. We became Facebook friends. I met Ursula for lunch at Nedi’s Kitchen—amazing Turkish vegan food. Then back to the museum till it closed. I still didn’t finish everything—ended in the Baroque section, somewhere in the 1600s.

A marionette display fascinated me.

I drove out toward Schöntal Cloister, stopping at Villberg on the way. Loved the moated castle there—turns out Ursula’s friend Iris used to live there. Got a hot spinach-and-feta pita. Then spent the evening at Schöntal, talking with Kanfa about big life stuff, like how to help Mike get out of his situation and how I felt about Tom. I also talked briefly with Shawn—he’s planning to move to Europe and wants to keep in touch. The cloister was stunning—Baroque/Rococo, ornate, with a fruit barn, a bathhouse, and a mill run. The Jagst River was lovely. It was tempting to jump in, but I was mid-conversation and didn’t have a suit. Walked until dark, then headed back.

July 23. I had a nice morning and finally had time to finish the seeing the museum. I got ice cream again at Café Ableitner, then drove to Crailsheim where Ursula had told me about a wonderful fair. Summer in Germany is a wonderful thing. There are big fairs with all kinds of interesting performances. I’ve never seen one like it in the US. It took me a while to find Crailsheim old town, but it was worth it—I came upon a trio of women performing jazz/swing with trombone, drum, and bass, funny and charming. Then I saw a clown act, all physical comedy, no words. At 8:30, I watched a Cirque du Soleil–like performance with French drummers and aerial dancers suspended from a crane. Surreal and beautiful. On the way back I stopped in Untermünkheim again—the storks were gone. Can’t blame them in that heat.

July 24. I met Iris in the morning—she told me about Rosenheim—then I headed to the Fränkisches Freilandmuseum, the open-air museum with 70 buildings. I spent the whole day, as I had to translate every sign from German. It was especially interesting to learn about the Roma and Sinti people (called “Jenti”), their itinerant lives, metalworking, music, and showmanship. I stayed till 7:30, long after I thought I’d have to leave. The cooper’s house, the architectural exhibits, the medicinal garden—I loved it all. Even said hi to the local cat, who vomited gracefully, as cats do.

Met Ursula again that night for ice cream—this time at Eis Sonetti. She got tartufo, rich with chocolate and cherry. We hung out, then walked over to Circus Montréal. It was packed with loud rides and teenagers, right by the river. 96 degrees. A scorcher.

July 25. With all that heat, it finally rained. Relief. I spent the day at Schwetzingen Castle, touring the gardens and joining a last-minute German-language tour of the palace (the guide was going to do it in English, but a crowd of Germans showed up). The gardens were absolutely stunning—temples, the mosque, orangeries, all beautifully laid out with long sightlines toward Heidelberg and Mannheim. Carl Theodor’s summer palace, simple but grand. Then I drove to Heidelberg, parked in my usual spot, got too much gelato (no regrets), and walked up to the castle. Snuck in past the gate, took photos, wandered. The nymph grotto was gone—sadly. The castle’s under heavy restoration. Still, the views were amazing.

My phone died, so I ducked into Hotel Europa to sneak a peek at the bathroom—it was one of those ridiculously fancy ones with separate rooms for sinks and toilets, auto doors. Pure luxury. I drove back through Schwäbisch Hall, took another nighttime wander through town, and finally collapsed into bed. What a week.

July 26. It was the first comfortable day in weeks—blue skies, puffy white clouds, warm but not oppressive. I left around 11 and headed to Waldenburg, a small walled town perched on a hill with a sweeping balcony view over Hohenlohe. The clarity of the air made the view feel almost surreal, like I was standing on the edge of a painting. I walked the entire perimeter, reading every historical plaque—something about soaking in all the context makes a place come alive in a different way.

After a couple of hours, I drove to Schloss Neuenstein. The museum was closed—apparently still due to lingering COVID policies—which was disappointing, but I walked around the grounds and the town anyway. I ducked into the church because there was a funeral going on, and normally it’s locked up due to vandalism, but the mortician kindly let me take a few photos. I love that people can still be generous with strangers. Picked up some baked goods (of course), and when a mobile ice cream truck rolled into the square, I didn’t hesitate—three scoops, totally worth it. Really liked the feel of the place—quiet, lovely, understated.

From there I continued on to Öhringen, and was surprised by how much I liked it. I checked out the reconstructed Limes gate and the Roman watchtower up on the hill—part of the UNESCO-listed Roman frontier line. There was a beautiful palace garden and so many stately historical buildings woven into the modern town. Everything had this balanced charm—historic, but alive. Definitely one of the more memorable stops. On the way back, I swung through Untermünkheim again, walked around the museum courtyard and the ruins, videoed the storks who’d finally fledged, and admired the stillness of the well. I thought about getting another ice cream but reminded myself I’d already had some earlier—and shockingly, I actually managed to say no.

July 27. I woke at 8:30 as I knew Ursula was meeting Arnie to pick up a dresser in Künzelsau. She’d asked me to help the day before, but I said I couldn’t. I felt guilty, but also proud for setting a boundary. I think I’m getting better at that.

I had a two-shot latte macchiato at Samocca, grabbed some chocolate for the road, then headed off toward Bad Wimpfen. I’d originally planned to go to Bad Rappenau for the baths but ended up skipping it because I knew I’d run out of time. I’m glad I spent the day in Bad Wimpfen instead—a real gem. I explored the old stone house museum and the massive tithe barn, learned about its Roman past and the first king who built up the settlement. I walked the perimeter of the old city wall and looked down at the Neckar River winding below. It was one of those places that just pulls you into its rhythm.

From there I made my way to Burg Guttenberg for the raptor show. I arrived late—the performance had already started and was in German, so I wandered the grounds a bit but didn’t linger. Then it was on to Schloss Hornberg and the town of Gundelsheim. Read the plaques, picked up a few more truffles (non-alcoholic this time), and then figured I’d keep pushing onward.

I tried to stop in Hirschhorn again, but a long wait at the train crossing delayed me and I decided to check out Heilbronn instead. I didn’t stop though— too much traffic, too industrial, not much charm. I skipped the old Rathaus and headed to Weinsberg instead, which was a totally different story.

Weinsberg was lovely. I walked up through the vineyards to the old castle ruins on the hill, then down into the village to see the very old church with carvings of heads and animals above the door. People were having a picnic outside, and the whole place felt soft and human. I saw the Latin church, the Rathaus, the fountain dedicated to the loyal women of Weinsberg, and an old tower near what used to be the city wall. There was so much poetry in the layout. I wanted to visit the Kernerhaus, the home of the German poet Justinus Kerner who hosted salons and literary gatherings, but I didn’t make it. Still, it’s on my list now—I really liked that town.

As the sun began to set, I made my way to Löwenstein and walked up to the forest cemetery. The light was golden and hazy, filtering through the trees. It felt a little romantic, a little haunted. I remembered the forest walk from above that I took with Anne and her sister-in-law once. That whole mountain area still speaks to me—I love the feeling of being tucked between forest and sky.

I looked for ice cream again but struck out. Found some empty cream tubes near the church though, and someone had sprayed graffiti in whipped cream across the wall—oddly artistic, in a weird way. Then I drove the long winding way back through the Mainhardt Forest, through the mountains, all the way home to Schwäbisch Hall.

That night, Ursula and I had our last talk. I told her I’d miss her. We cleaned out the compost bucket, shared a meal, and reflected a bit. I told her how much I appreciated the work and progress she’d made with the move, and with herself. Then I sat down and tried to capture it all in my blog. So much had happened in the last few days, but I could feel the end of this leg of the journey starting to settle in.