To Stuttgart

4/13
4/24

To Stuttgart
In my 4/12 entry I mistakenly described Stuttgart as the capitol of BMW. It’s actually where Mercedes is headquartered. My confusion was immediately cleared up as we approached the city by rail and were welcomed by that Mercedes propeller-logo, twenty feet across and rotating from the highest tower in the city.
In all of these medieval towns we’re visiting or passing, one can see the ancient fortress tower looming overhead to impress the locale with the lord’s political or military might. Other towns’ center around a church steeple impressing all around with the local variety of Christian spiritual (and political and military) might. In Stuttgart it’s Mercedes-Daimler who has declared lordship over the populace. Most of the town either works directly for the plant, or in a sub-contracting business.

Our host Thomas was in New York with his lovely girlfriend Regina a few months ago. We’d connected online before that, and when he asked if there was any good improv in NY during his visit, I confidently replied that he should come experience the premiere performance of “Vicious Pimpery”, which is the new group I perform with. Thank the goodness that our show went off well, or this whole leg of the German trek may not have panned out at all.

 

Thomas’ first treat was to bring us to the top of the Mercedes logo tower, where we caught a panorama of Stuttgart under the silent rotation of a perfectly engineered gargantuan hood ornament.

 

We picked up Regina, and had an even nicer treat as they walked us around her nearby town of Tübingen. It’s a small college town that I must admit I’d never heard of before. Its small, winding cobblestone streets and ancient plaster-beam houses retain the old-world charm of a medieval village without feeling cheesy or tourist-trappy.

The evening finished at a hamburger barbecue with some friends of Thomas and Regina’s. Apparently the three couples gather periodically to try different recipes, and they’d already decided upon a hamburger evening before they knew there were Americans coming. Teenage student Marie adorably insisted on practicing her English with us, though in fact her parents have a very good grasp of the language. Even funnier was Marie’s friend, whose name we never learned, since she was too shy to try her own English on us and simply whispered topic suggestions in Marie’s ear.

The gourmet evening progressed into some tasting of differently aged balsamic vinegars, which degenerated into a mocking taste test of different brands of Worcestershire sauce. This was all in fun, of course, but even more fun for me will be to start the rumor that all Germans sit around after dinner and taste teaspoons of Worcestershire sauce.

And as long as we’re starting generalized rumors about Germans:
Apparently all Germans have an intense Steely Dan fetish. They can’t get enough of those guys.
Seriously, all Germans LOVE Steely Dan!