American Archipelago

I’m in Germany…sort of. Here on base, it feels like I’m home in the States. I can shop for all my favorite brands at the Commissary, eat at Pizza Hut or Taco Bell, mail something home for a single US stamp, and pay for everything with US Dollars. The electrical outlets and road signs may be different, but a lot is the same. Head off base, though, and it is clear that we’re not in Kansas anymore. The base is merely a little American outpost floating in a vast Germanic sea.

Here at Spangdahlem Flugplatz (Airbase) in the Eifel region of southwestern Germany it’s a cool, cloudy, and damp sea with fields and forests floating atop the gentle waves. Close by is the Mosel river, famed for it’s wine and scenic beauty. Of course we visited, making Bernkastel our port of call. Standing in the market square surrounded by charming and well-preserved half timber houses with slate-covered vineyards on the hillsides above, it’s easy to believe in fairy tales. Add the medieval castle standing watch high above the river and a plethora of tasty local wines and even the coldest of souls will begin to thaw. If only it hadn’t been raining the day we went. But there’s nothing a little Jägerschnitzel, Riesling, and a riverside drive homeward won’t fix.

Our second port of call was Manderscheid, a small village about 30km north of the base. There are two castle ruins there, perched on opposing rocks in a narrow valley just a stone’s throw apart. Apparently, despite their close proximity, the castles’ occupiers were fierce rivals and at war many times. We hiked up to the higher of the two and took in the view. Those castle builders always knew how to pick the best spots.

Continuing back in time, we catapulted to ancient Trier which claims to be the oldest city in Germany. Once a powerhouse in the Roman Empire and the seat of power for the emperor Constantine, it still holds fragmentary reminders of its important past. The amphitheatre there is large enough to hold 20,000. Beneath the arena floor are the subterranean chambers used to hold the gladiators before they met their doom; along the walls are alcoves used to hold wild beasts; and facing the city are the vomitoria used by eager citizens coming for their bread and circuses. On our way towards the city center we passed the Imperial baths, one of the largest baths in the Empire, and the Basilika, the largest single inner room that remains from antiquity. The Basilika was used as the throne room in Constantine’s palace complex, but now houses a Protestant church, the cross taking the place of the Emperor’s throne.

The Catholic cathedral in Trier is another vast building famed for the Holy Tunic housed in a reliquary in the apse. Said to be the seamless robe worn by Christ and taken by the soldiers who crucified him, it was allegedly brought to Trier by St. Helena, the mother of Constantine. Whether or not the claim has a shred of validity, it certainly has created a beautiful chapel. We ended our visit at the Porta Nigra, the stalwart gate of the old Roman city, fitting we should say goodbye here.

In 12 hours we should be in Frankfurt, checking in for our flight to London. Next week we’ll be in Alconbury, near Cambridge, the next island in our American archipelago. I’m looking forward to a fourth visit to Britain, I’m sure it will feel like coming home in some small way. At least I’ll speak the language. Guten Nacht!