BLACK FOREST.

Auckland Star, Volume LXVIII, Issue 120, 22 May 1937, Page 1 (Supplement)

BLACK FOREST.

HOLIDAY IN GERMANY.

DODGING THE TOURISTS.

(By D. A. CARR.)

Much of the Black Forest has now become too fashionable. Places like Heidelberg and Baden-Baden indulge in rich Amerieane, monarchs and tennis stars, and anyone not in the "best of clothes feels like a poor relation. But there are still -many parts of that great mountainous area stretching from Heidelberg almost to the Swigs frontier, where an ordinary human being can spend a holiday without risk of meeting more than bands of Hitler youths marching along the forest paths, and unburdened by either a heavy wardrobe or a too full puree. That was what we sought. There, on Sundays and holidays, in the more remote villages, the ancient peasant costumes come out, varying from valley to valley, and the old <lialecte can still be heard. It is sad that modern conditions are gradually putting an end to both of these. The people buy the material and do all the making, and the elaborate embroidery on the clothes of both men and women; but in the past they could be handed down from father to son and from mother to daughter, often for generations. Now the cloth, not eo good, fnon wears out, and thus the people are slowly being forced from considerations of rost to wear the standard rlothes of civilisation. The dialorts, with all their picturesque turns of word and phrase, are going also, before the spread of education, though in one secluded valley we asked the way of an old peasant, and my German friends understood just as much as I did of the reply—two words. Fortunately his gestures supplied tht necessary information. No Longer "Black."

Tt fa rather disconcerting to one's preconceived ideas, nurtured by the ramshackle geography of New Zealand echnols, to find that the Black Forest is now very far from black. The name remains from times when bear* and wolves were practically the only inhabitant* of the woods as yet innocent of the hand of man. Generations of men and women—for nobody can afford to lie idle here —have beaten the forest back, cutting the timber in primitive mills worked by the abundant water, until all the fertile bottoms of the valleys have been cleared. Seen from the mountains above, these show as long, narrow strips of vivid green, lying between the dark green of the fire that still clothe the upper elopes. During the summer the peasants cut and dry the grass for winter feed—all by hand —gather cherries from the trees that grow everywhere in order to make the famous "kirchwasser" liqueur, bring in fuel, and carry on other occupations that help to bring in a scanty living. They work terribly hard, men, women and even the children (in the holidays), for very little, return.

We came one summer evening, my German friends and I, from Freiburg in Bresgau over the mountain called Schauineland to the little village of Aftersteg, some 2500 ft above the eea. It is in the very centre of the highest part of the forest, but rather off the main tourist routes, and so little known. "We had set off in the only proper manner, without definite plans, and decided that it was just the place in which to stay for some days. While we were drinking coffee in the parlour of the only inn, we asked whether any roome were vacant. No, the inn was quite full, as it was Saturday, but the maid went off to find the hostess to see what could be done. The hostess herself came out to speak to us, one of the most charming women one could hope to meet. Like most German innkeepers, she had at her disposal rooms in some of the better houses of the village where she could eend gueste when her own place was full, thus I lived for some days in a peasant's house and had meals at the inn, all for the sum of 4/6 a day.

These peasant cottages, with their steep thatched or shingle roofs to throw off the snow, look enormous from the outside. But the eaves overhang about six feet, providing a shelter for the piled up firewood; and by the time everything else is provided for, there is not much room for the human beings. The whole of the top under the roof ie one great hay-loft, usually entered straight from the mountainside by a ramp on which are wheeled the hand or ox carts laden with grase to lip dried; for in this uncertain mountain climate they can seldom risk cutting much at once or drying it in the open on the ground. Hay is normally dried by being spread over great wooden frames, during the day, and a« soon os one lot is finished another is out and brought in. Underneath this loft, are the living quarters where the cows and gr>at« and poultry shelter at night, and during the winter when the enow is deep on the ground. The peasant and his family have to fit as well as they can in to what i« left. Where I stayed there was a email entrance hall which served, also as a "kitchen, with the cows' quarters on the left and the sitting room on the right, narrow wooden stairs, where one had to duck from the beams above, and a few low rooms on the second storey. A Sturdy Race. The family I was with were worthy representatives of the folk of this region; sturdy, independent men and women, making a scanty living from the soil, or from the secondary industries that have long been based on the abundant water power. More than once in the past they have repelled the foreign aggressor, and maintained their political and religious rights against what seemed impossible odds. And now they are the part of Germany least affected by the Nazi regime. In many ways it has brought them benefits, though they are still in most cases too poor to eat any of the butter they make for the city markets. But they keep their independence of judgment, admldng what they think good, like the Labour camps, which my peasant friends regarded as a much less wasteful eolution of much of the unemployed problem than the dole, but not so happy about other matters. It is notable that the "Heil Hitler'" greeting is comparatively rare here, having never replaced at least among the older people the traditional "Gruss C.ott" of their intensely religious ancestors, or the simple '"Good day." Like all Germans I met, these were friendly and hospitable, and while they were keen to learn all they could of the world outside their country, and especially of the land from which I came, they were also most anxious that I should see and know all that was possible of their own neighbourhood. With their advice and directions we could not have had a better centre for walks into this beautiful country of deep valley and lakes, of" forests and mountains. We sat on the summits eating lunch in the sun, and looked down to the valleys beneath t or away to the upper Rhine Plain,itt"tbe west or the Alps in the south, end felt it was good to be alive.