Reutte, Austria

Füssen, Germany marks the end of the Romantic Road, but is a touristy border town serving as a busy gateway to King Ludwig's castles. With that in mind I drove mom the extra 5 miles to Reutte, Austria, where we thought we'd see some castle ruins and have a quiet evening.
Before heading to the ruins we stopped at a nice looking little guest house and made our evening reservation; a cute old couple said they'd wait up for us. We were off. I drove a back way (I guessed it was a back way and got lucky) to the ruins, ending on a small road from which we could see our end goal. We parked right there.

Hiking up, we were rewarded with an up close and personal self-guided tour of an old fortress; one of a pair that guarded a steep mountain pass. The ruins are falling apart but in general are safe enough for the public (things are different in Europe as far as safety and lawsuits).

As the sun dipped behind the Austrian Alps we headed down to the car. Just before we were to the little road, a mountain biker zoomed past us. Mountain bikes are common here, we ignored him until WHACK, I looked and saw the bike about 15 feet high flipping through the air as the young rider was rolling his way towards the windshield, then ragdolling to the road. I handed Mom my camera and ran to help.

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The kid was instantly up, but very dazed. The driver of the small grey car was pretty well in freak out mode, while I struggled in German to ask the kid how he felt. "Are you Ok?" He replied simply, "Yeah, I'm fine, shook up, but fine."

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Turns out the 17-year-old races on a circuit; with the exception of a few rips in the shoulder of his protective raincoat (it was sunny, therefore a weird but fortunate choice of clothing) he and his $2,000 bike - the one that flew about 15 feet high and traveled a distance of about 30 feet before colliding with a pasture - showed zero harm. The insurance man came - no police though - info was exchanged, then the kid said, "My mom will go crazy when she hears about this." Unclimactically, he rode home.

By this time Mom and I had missed our window to visit any traditional restaurants so we grabbed some dönar kebab and headed to the homestead. The guest house was nice, but was an extension of the elderly couple's home. As I headed to the room the Grandma-ish proprietor asked what time that we wanted breakfast. Eight o'clock sharp.
7:58 am: I'd been up for a while and was showered when the Grandma called, "Frühstück ist fertig! Frühstück ist fertig! Frühstück ist fertig! Frühstück ist fertig!" "Ok, Ok, coming, coming" I replied. She invited us into her kitchen and sat us at her table. It was covered with breads and rolls and meats and homemade jams and, best of all, homemade juice. She also was preparing a scrambled egg extraordinaire - 8 eggs for the two of us, complete with peppers, onions, Austrian bacon, and cheese.

After finishing cooking she sat with us at the table, not to eat, but to chat. We struggled for at least an hour in non-stop thick accented German confusion, with poor mom sitting lost asking for constant interpretation (which I could not easily give as I was nodding more than I was understanding). After insisting we had to leave, I spent 45 minutes fixing the Grandpa's computer before failing to teach him how to say the English phrase, 'We have vancancy.' Picture an old Austrian man kind of leaning intently forward saying, "Vee hab fakancy."

We finally escaped. As we pulled out of the driveway, the couple waived and waived goodbye. Just my luck I couldn't find a break in traffic. Looking in the mirror, they were still waiving.

Mom was laughing as we finally hit the freeway. She commented that you can't help but picture Billy Crystal, in the Princess Bride, smiling and waiving, "Have fun storming the castle!" Ironically, we were driving to Neuschwanstein, credit card in hand, intent on do just that -storming the castle.