YOUTH HOSTELS

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXXV, Issue 23085, 9 July 1938, Page 26

YOUTH HOSTELS

TRAMPING IN GERMANY BEER GARDENS AND CAFES THROUGH THE BLACK FOREST BY ELIZABETH MACCOHMICK "Aufstehen! Ans!"—and then a further torrent of German, not all intelligible, but the obvious meaning being "Get up and out of here!" This is at 6 a.m. from a close-cropped Brown Shirt, the Hostel Father, and no one disobeys. We tumble out dutifully, wash in cold water, fold the blankets on our bunks and go down to breakfast—coffee and rolls. As we are English and privileged, we can buy butter. We eat both it and marmalade and feel greedy, watching these lean young Germans living on sour rye bread and poor jam.

The common room is rather full of Hitler Jugend, so wo take our meal out on the terrace and watch the Rhine through the morning mist. A student asks us if we are not cold, but finds the answer himself in a German proverb which we translate rather doubtfully as "Warm maidens do not freeze!" A company of Hitler Youth girls lines up. They repeat the morning watchword then set off for their, trot before breakfast. This exhibition is watched with some disgust by the student. "A fine sight," he says with scorn.

Inside, the little Brown Shirts have sung their song for grace, repeated the oath, and fallen to. Now they sing again, pack their kits (which are exact imitations of army equipment) and line up for the march. There is no trace of the pleasant Wandervogel here, no strollers through the fields strumming mandolins. Troop marching in formation is the order of the day. The captain of the gioup is ahead, and at appropriate moments leads them in song. Tliero is nothing spontaneous m their music, though. Surly Guardian We collect our cards from our Nazi, in his office where Napoleon and Charles the Great hang on the walls beside Hitler and Bismarck. The night before he had issued instructions that no one was to wash that evening; but this command so manifestly absurd to hot and dusty us, that we lound it convenient not to understand the language. So we were not sorry to leave. Never before had we met such a surly guardian ol a Youth Hostel. Usually tbev were kind and fatherly.

All this happened one morning after three weeks' walking in southern Germany, by Lake Constance, through the Black Forest, and now we journeyed down the Rhine in the traditional way, by boat. We slept in Youth Hostels, or where we could when they were full. There are 2000 in Germany, offering a bed for Gd a night (.'3d if you are under 18), anil simple meals at cheap prices. Standing by lake or river, or on a hilltop, they are clean and beautifully kept; you may sleep one night in a castle and the next in what was a convent. At the castle you will wash in the open air at the common trough, but in a new, specially designed hostel there is the luxury of running water and showers.

As we were there in August, during the school holidays, the place was usually full of Hitler Jugend boys and girls from eight to 18, an efficient, sturdy crowd. The girls are lovely; brown and bland, every second one a perfect Marguerite, for llaxen plaits are the rule, and short hair the exception. Their gay peasant frocks become them, too. Hitler disapproves of shorts, so they tramp or cycle in skirts, it is not surprising that our Jane, with her green shorts and red hair, caused something of a stir in the forest villages. Happy Memories

Certain memories will remain: blue clays when we bathed in the soft water of Lake Constance, watching the mountains of Switzerland on the other side; the unfortunate day when we were given Ivalbskopf for dinner: Burg Wildenstean, an old castle high above the Danube, looking like a piece of pantomime scenery; cuckoo clocks and wayside shrines; soup with sausages in it; Freiburg with its red cathedral and the forest sweeping down to shelter the town; the forest itself, with cornland in the valleys and age-old tracks —our tracks —on the ridges. There are three main ways from nortli to south, all clearly marked by signs on the trees, and if you wish you can walk from Pforzheim in the north to Basle in the south without touching a main road. Then there was the unforgettable night when wo were turned away from every door in Donaueschingen, where we were unlucky enough to strike the equivalent of a German bank holiday. Every inn was full. At 11 p.m. we set out for Titisee, hoping to shelter in hay or the forest. But 10, there arose a great thunderstorm, with rain and wind, so that night was spent rather miserably, partly in a ditch, nartly in a shrine built by some kindly benefactor by the wayside.

Prussian Militarism But though the country has my heart for its beauty and I know and like individual Germans, this Prussian militarism is overwhelming to a "freeborn Englishman." The worst side of the Nazi spirit is exemplified in the behaviour of our bully Brownshirt at Andernach. And in every village you see notices—"The Jews are your misfortune," "Who sells to a Jew is a traitor," and crude cartoons against them.

This parading in uniform, obeying orders and marching is suicidal. Even though the bulk of the nation do want peace, if these poor youths and giris are accustomed to obey, to exult in physical strength and pride in the Fatherland, they will bo ready tools for the foolish or stupid in high places. We did not always encourage such gloomy thoughts. Here are two ideas worth fostering in New Zealand—forest paths through the bush, and consequently more youth hostels, and secondly, more wine-drinking. Why not tracks down the West Coast, along every possible ridge and somehow a meandering track from Spirits' Bay to Wellington? There must have been patlis known to the Maoris, and what, about Bishop SelwvnP And let ns build huts, if not hostels, for shelter; or farmers could take up hostelling as a side line. Let ns have more grape-growing in the country, and beer gardens and open-air cafes for the drinking of wine. New Zealand has the climate. Import some of the best vine • plants from Germany, and, if necessary, some of the Rhinelanders to tend them, and to teach us the art of cheerful living.