Friday, June 28, 2013

Sarly goes to Gupf



To be honest, Switzerland jumped upon us before I wrote about our time in Gupf, and although we left nearly a week ago, I don't want to leave out its crucial role in our trip. Frankly, we were so busy relaxing and enjoying the family time we had with Mark and Maria Walker that I neglected my writing! Gupf, a tiny village in the southwestern corner of Germany, is surrounded by rolling farmlands and vineyards. Wheat, barley, rye, strawberries, asparagus, canola, grapes...the variety is endless. The town itself is barely two blocks, but even then, half the buildings are barns for milk cows and yards with chickens. Every morning we woke to the sound of lowing cattle; every evening we went to sleep with the same lullaby in our ears. The Walker's house was built as a barn over a hundred years ago, and the burly, thick stone walls still add their character to the cozy dwelling.

Our time here cannot be understood without first explaining our hosts. Mark is an American who grew up in Germany while his father smuggled bibles into communist Europe. Maria is all German, the daughter of a seminary professor (slash renaissance man) - and she carries his insatiable love of learning onward. I don't think my mind can hold all the things I learned while working at her side. Several days in a row, we pulled up stinging nettles from the property - tall, leafy stalks that burn like acid when you touch them. Even with rubber gloves to my elbows, I was hit - and Maria turned to pluck a ribbed leaf from a plant in the grass. "Ribwort," she said. "Mash and rub until the juice is in your skin." The remedy gave instant relief. I memorized the plant and by the end of the day, my shins and elbows were stained with dirty-looking ribwort juice. Maria, with boundless energy and endless stories, also taught me how to wield a scythe as tall as a man, manage a pasture, make lemon-balm spearmint tea and cook white asparagus. We ate our dinners on solid wooden discs with cheese and bread as ever-present condiments, family-style.




Mark has a burning passion to do Gods work here on earth, and has a lifetime calling of collecting, packing, and driving clothing and other necessities to the poor in Romania. When our activities slowed down enough for us to quiet ourselves, Mark would tell us in his soft, wise manner stories of smuggling bibles before the wall came down, of evading communist authorities, of God-ordained meetings and miraculous provision. I could sit at his feet for hours. He asked Maria if she would make dumpf noodlen (phonetic spelling) for us, and after the dinner of sweet rolls caramelized in sweet milk and covered with rich vanilla sauce, he told us that that particular meal would keep their marriage strong for a lifetime. The Walkers invited us into their life with such open arms I felt as if I could have been their daughter. Besides uprooting nasty nettles, I helped feed horses, muck poop, and carry items during shopping trips. To my delight, the grocery proudly displayed its own, in-house brewery!

We saw the sights too, of course - Maria was extremely gracious about that. Several nights we were treated to a dip in the public pool (more like a mini-waterpark) where men are required to wear speedo-like boy shorts for sanitary purposes. We visited the ruins of Rötteln castle (dating back to 1259), and Maria told us the story of a siege long ago, showing us the high tower window through which a messenger and his faithful horse jumped to fetch help from a neighboring town. The horse died, sparing the rider, and the castle was saved. We also visited the nearby Roman ruins (which were recently discovered and are still being unearthed) and the amphitheater, temple, and coliseum stood as eery monuments in the middle of a modern town.



Our last day in Gupf perfectly summed up our visit. Maria hosted a celebration for two of their girls' summer birthdays, and the scene was so perfect it nearly burst my heart. A tree shaded a picnic table serving coffee and cream, adults chatting across its planks. A hammock-seat spun energetic children in wild circles like a silk cocoon hung from a thread. A baby played with the family dog on a quilt laid out at the foot of the table, sharing a small piece of bread with her inquisitive friend. Sunlight streamed across the wooden steps as guests came out carrying sweet breads, melons, fruit dip, and ice cream. We were introduced to a shepherdess and learned that sheep are wise, in their own way. It didn't matter that we didn't speak the language - love and celebration are universal words to the soul.

Gupf was the perfect mid-trip relaxation we needed. The Walkers and their quaint town rejuvenated us and sent us off to Switzerland with overflowing hearts and full minds, ready to lose the extra pounds we'd gained at Maria's table on the daunting slopes of the Alps.


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