September 1995 (continued):
From Warsaw I flew to Hamburg, Germany, and then took a taxi to Ahrensburg…a 25-minute ride to the airport. (Actually, it’s a 45-minute ride, but my taxi driver was eager to get there.)
The next day I spoke with the department managers for Radio Hamburg, thanks to General Manager Wilfried Sorge and PD Rainer Cabanis. Like all of the German hotels I stayed at during this trip, this one (The Parkhotel) was quite nice and very modern. (Well, one of the hotels — in Kiel — was much smaller and more modest. But still nice.)
Some people always manage to spend a day or two of their travels sightseeing; I am lucky if I find an extra hour in which to wander around. This time I had one extra hour, so I used it to walk across the street and visit Ahrenburg Castle (Schloss Ahrensburg), which dates back to the 16th Century.
Schloss Ahrensburg
At this point I should have all sorts of fascinating details to share with you, but for some reason I didn’t make any notes…and the souvenir book I brought back with me is written in German (one of many languages in which I am illiterate).
A taxi took me back to Hamburg and an airplane took me to Nuremberg, where BCI’s Birgit Heinhöfer met me and, on the way to my hotel, took me to the very spot where Kaspar Hauser first appeared back in (if memory serves) 1838.
Kaspar Hauser
Although few North Americans have heard of Hauser, most Germans have. He was one of the most famous people in the world in the mid-19th Century, and his story has fascinated me for many years.
(I’ll tell you about it sometime if we ever have time to kill at some radio convention.)
The next day was spent with the air staff of Frankfurt’s FFH (they came to Nuremberg for the meeting). This was my third visit with them. We spent much of the time engaged in a pretty darn cool brainstorming technique that I teach radio programmers, jocks, and promotion people.
After the seminar I walked in the rain to Old Town, where they were holding their Alter Fest. As I was walking by one of the many merchant booths, a man waved me over and insisted I try a cup of their chicken soup. It worked. I bought a jar of the soup (comes in a paste-like mixture) to bring back to California.
Next: The perils of riding with a German disc jockey…and another unpleasant encounter with a German taxi driver.
