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A Summer Visit to the Island of Rügen on the Baltic Sea WHEN THE WEATHER IS HOT AND HUMID in Charleston, the question often arises as to where to go for a cool and refreshing visit. Many Charlestonians flock to Flat Rock, Saluda, Blowing Rock, Aspen, or Maine. If the goal is to practice a foreign language and take in a different culture, northern Germany, and especially the island of Rügen, should be considered. A flight into Berlin brought us within easy reach of the Mecklenburg-Vorpommern region. Not long ago the entire region had been behind the Iron Curtain. The island of Rügen is dotted with fishing villages on the Baltic Sea. By 1880 it had become a European summer watering spot for the Belle Epoque era. The wonderful resort town of Binz is on the Ostsee, that is, the Baltic Sea. Our temporary home, now called the Grand Hotel Binz, is a preferred destination for fashionable Europeans . In the parking area before the hotel were two Lamborghinis whose proud owner was wearing not one but two diamond studs in his ears. The hotel is elegant with a spa swimming pool and two types of saunas. With hotel bikes we set out to explore the town. Gingerbread-style balconies adorn summer houses that flank the boulevard along the sea. The town is in the German “Bader Architektur” style. Turreted roofs have fanciful wind vanes, and scalloped windows adorn houses. Pediments are burnished with swans, gargoyles, and other fanciful creatures, and iron scrollwork laces balconies. The new construction echoes the past, and the totality is splendid. The crowning hour of the day was a hike through the towering beech forest along the high cliffs over the sea. The word lapping rightly describes the sound wafting up from the blue sea below. In places the sea is three hundred feet below the sheer white cliffs for which the Akona highland is famous. Within the woods we walked silently through deep leaves from many previous falls. The lower limbs have been trimmed by some unseen forester. Light filters through the green leaves and onto enormous gray trunks. Here and there we saw signs of some unknown lurking creature. At the highest point we stood facing the ocean with cool breezes blowing in our faces. The beach is lined with Strandkorbe (bathing huts) for days when the wind might be blowing. This day the sun was hot and shining, and people were doing what is best done on beaches everywhere: building sand castles, sunning, playing ball in the water, and swimming. There were no waves, and the white sand was soft between our toes. There did not appear to be deep water unless one walked all the way to 130 Germany Sweden. To my surprise a man disrobed right in front of me. I quickly turned my head only to discover that there were many naked men and women swimming and sunning. The true reason to come to the island of Rügen is biking. In the high Alps of the Bernese Oberland, there are endless bikers, all of whom must eat nails for breakfast . Each longs to be a Lance Armstrong. The Alpine challenge is not found on the gentle hills of Rügen. In deep beech and fir forests, wonderful biking trails lead from one sea village to another. As I sailed downhill at top speed, I imagined that I was a youngster. What freedom! The trails are beautifully maintained and lead over hill and dale through managed forests. Even though I speak German, it was very clear the minute I opened my mouth with a Charleston accent that I am not German. The Germans were totally puzzled as to my origin. They suspected Holland, but definitely not the United States. I asked one willing native why he thought I was a foreigner. He responded, “Why Frau, you do not have the melody.” And I thought, “Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard are sweeter.” A German breakfast is a treat to anticipate. Once, when I was a camper at Camp Green Cove in Tuxedo, I consumed eight doughnuts at one sitting. I was reminded of that as I ate eggs, bacon, potatoes, salmon, mushrooms, baked tomatoes, every type of bread, jam, yogurt, and endless cereals for breakfast on Rügen. No amount of biking, walking, and swimming could counteract this overindulgence. There is a strange sensation while on vacation in a foreign land that time stands...

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