Then we headed to the city of Goslar. It is also on the UNESCO World Heritage list. Rumor has it there are exactly one thousand very old wooden houses in it and another five hundred old ones. I wonder where such round numbers come from - either they built the missing ones, or they tore some down.
It looks roughly like this:
My aunt's garden is still cooler anyway.
As luck would have it, my battery died, and I forgot the spare one in the bus. But that's okay, because there's Flickr. You can find out the author by clicking on the photo. I sacredly observe copyright according to the precepts of Creative Commons. By the way, all my creatives are always BY/NC/SA, unless stated otherwise.
A river flows right through the entire city. (A phrase straight out of a first-grade Russian textbook.)
You couldn't say the streets are narrow.
On the town hall to the right, at six o'clock in the evening, little figures ride out from behind the doors on rails and put on a sort of performance.
If you want to see colorful, pretty houses, a certain Elena Romera has them.
In the evening, we caught a glimpse of the center of some medium-sized city. For the life of me, I can't remember which one. I searched on Google Earth for half an hour, found and remembered all sorts of places we'd been, but I don't remember this one.
But at least they dry their boots on little ropes there.
I'm guessing that the very next day we moved on to Bodenwerder, a tiny town where Baron Munchausen was born and died. In the town, as you might easily guess, there is a museum dedicated to the baron, but for some reason I like ponds more than museums. In Latvia, by the way, there's also a Munchausen museum.
In the museum, we discovered this ancient barometer, in which a woman climbs out onto the street in bad weather, and a man in good weather.
An employee told no less than 4 stories about the baron and showed books in thirty languages, including Russian, Latvian, and Kyrgyz. The guide translated the stories into Latvian and Russian, as he had been doing throughout the entire trip. Truth be told, the Russian version was either shorter or differed in content, which turned out pretty funny. Fortunately, I more or less understand Latvian.
The hare is camouflaging itself, but shocking details are still visible - it has eight legs. We urgently need to call the ufologists.
Ordinary bicycle
This is what the very first bicycles looked like. Strictly speaking, it's more of a scooter.
A fishy.
One bullet - 5 ducks.
They say the Germans didn't like Munchausen before, but then the bestial grin of capitalism showed itself, and the town with a population of six thousand urgently opened a museum and started building statues.
It's funny, but in such a town there are more shops, the selection is wider, and prices are lower than in my native Daugavpils with a population of one hundred thousand. The fashies, as my boss calls the Germans, are completely spoiled. And these, judging by the size of the mushroom, are lovers of psychedelia.
