Our navigation app instructs us to turn left right in the middle of Cochem village.

“That ain’t happening,” my husband mutters and continues forward despite how narrow the road is because it’s our only other option. The left turn the app wants us to take leads into a market square. Not only is the road narrow, but there are café tables, vendor carts, umbrellas offering shade, and lots and lots of people.  

Once we find parking, then we wander on foot back to the Marktplatz of Cochem. Last week I wrote about the castle, but in my opinion, the village is just as fascinating and far more quaint. Where the castle is like a stately old man, Cochem village is his elegant, vibrant wife. She’s colorful and full of life despite her age. 

We spent a day wandering. Passing wine cellars that in fact lead down into cellars with stone steps and curving walls older than anyone alive. The buildings rise in walls around alleys and tucked-away markets and house balconies, decorative windows, and odd doorways. 

My mind runs on overload. Wondering about the people who built these places. Picturing new stories that incorporate the city hall with its collection of miniature bells tucked into its edifice. Soaking in the organized, but somehow peaceful, chaos of the market cafés. 

In Germany, it’s common for restaurants to close their kitchens around 2 in the afternoon and then reopen them around 5. In this gap of down time, you can order coffees or teas and maybe cakes but no meals. It’s a time to sit and be social. Since our drive to Cochem and our subsequent adventure to find parking had taken longer than we’d expected, we found ourselves looking for a late lunch in this gap of down time. Oops. 

So instead, we sat in Cochem’s Marktplazt, or main square, and ordered drinks and small cakes. Three or four cafés shared the outdoor seating. How they knew which tables belonged to which café, I have no idea. But they don’t care how long you sit there. There’s no pressure or rush to move along. People wander and window shop, drink their coffees, chat quietly, and sometimes, a brave soul will inch a vehicle through the scattered tables. 

It felt like a village that time forgot. A bit of the old country still breathing with life. We found an Italian restaurant for dinner that one of the shopkeepers recommended in her very limited English. It was complete with a restaurant owner grumpy with us for not having a reservation. He still found us a small table and served us delicious food. 

So much here is unfamiliar. It feels not only like another country but another time. And it’s beautiful. The old city wall snakes its way through the village, serving as a wall along one of the roads and speaking to the past that built the village. It’s normal here. I’m sure like Pikes Peak was for me growing up in Colorado, it’s not even noticed by many of the locals beyond it just being there. 

That’s one thing I love about moving around. Now when I return to Colorado, Pikes Peak takes my breath away. She’s such a beautiful mountain. And here, the castles and villages do the same. They each have their own character but the pause and wonder they instill in me is the same. 

What do you take for granted that an outsider would pause and wonder at? 

Blessings,

Jennifer

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