Marktredwitz is a little town close to the German/Czech border.  I’m sure I never heard of it before, but it looked like a reasonable overnight stop en route to Marienbad.  (Coming directly to the spa meant arriving in the middle of the night, as unacceptable to us as it would have been to our hotelkeepers.)  Chuck looked online and found a decent-looking hotel near the train station.

  “Near the train station” understated the proximity; we walked out of the Bahnhof, and there it was, just across the street!  The “three-star” Meister Baer (Master Bear)Hotel looked plain, but turned out to be a complete delight, and we got a room for 79 euros (about $105), including breakfast.  Neither quaint nor slick, it seemed to be a locally owned franchise of a chain, where each hotel was individual, and the Meister Baer was a true original.  This was clear when we opened the door of our modest sized room, and found the bed placed diagonally, with the triangular platform behind the headboard occupied by a gigantic Teddy bear, soft and plushy.  On the pillow were packets of Gummi Bears, and over the bathroom was a large model of a traffic light!  The place was absolutely immaculate, with good reading lights, extra pillows and blankets, nice soap, and birds painted on the ceiling.

  We’d seen a menu for the downstairs restaurant, and it included something we were in Central Europe to eat – white asparagus.  Every year in May, many restaurants in Germany and Austria feature a “Spargelkarte,” a special menu of the asparagus, served with eggs, sauces or cheese, or accompanying main-course meats like schnitzel, fish, roast beef or chicken.  After a walk through the old downtown, where we saw a Maypole and a church dating back to 1569, we decided to try the hotel's spargel.  Chuck chose the plate with schnitzel, and I had smoked trout.  Each came with potatoes and a big pile of the beautiful fat white asparagus covered with hollandaise sauce.  Mmmmmm.

Thursday, May 5

  The train trip to Marienbad, considering the short distance, less than an hour total track time, equaled the previous day’s difficulties.  Having only to cross the street from our hotel, we arrived at the station half an hour early, but used the time to purchase our tickets, bottled water (couldn’t resist the Elisabethen Wasser) and a good map of the Mitteleuropa countries we’re visiting this month.  The train would arrive on the first track, so no need to struggle down and then up flights of stairs.  We met three charming grey-haired German ladies, one of whom lives in Rochester, NY, and speaks American English fluently; she was visiting her sisters in Hof, just north of Marktredwitz, and they planned to spend the day in Marienbad.

  We boarded the train and rode the half hour to Cheb, across the border.  There, as on the previous day, we were told first one track and then another, always on distant platforms, but the German women helped us this time. 

  From the front of Hotel Pacifik, we can look straight down the main street of Victorian resort architecture, shops and hotels, all painted shades of cream, gold, mustard and yellow.  Fanciful tops with turrets and spires give the skyline an elegant but erratic look.  To our right the road leads past the City Theater gradually upwards toward a high street that overlooks the town, and then to the woods.  On the left is a short street to the Pavilion of The Cross springhouse, pristine and neo-Classical, adjoined to the Kolonade, a beautiful, wildly  ornate structure.  In this long building, open on one side, concerts, cafes and shops abound.  We entered some souvenir stores across the street, looking for the characteristic spa sipping cups, decorative vessels that feature the handle on the same side as a spout.  The cure-seeking fill their cups from a selected spring, and then stroll and sip at a leisurely pace.

Friday, May 6

  A week ago, our hotel was probably not open at all.  Our bellboy told us smilingly, “You are the first in this room!” Even as we lie in treatment rooms, we see workmen indoors and out, sanding, plastering, painting, even wiring.  The whole place looks newly painted; I’d love to have seen it before. It never could have had the dour 60’s-modern look of Sanatoria Lietuva (in Lithuania), interpreted as only the Soviets could do, with its lowering ceilings, slick surfaces and unremitting browns and beiges. No one with a smidgen of humor or whimsy designed that place! It is functional, no more and no less.  The technicians there, nearly all women (a fact I only just realized when I met the hot mud ‘master’ here, a genial male) are no-nonsense Brunhildes, sometimes brusk, not unkind, but curt enough to make us jump with embarrassment when we have the wrong clothes or knock at the wrong door…

  Mind you, we are fond of the Lietuva's elusive charm, and look forward to our next visit, but.......here everyone is smiling and helpful; I felt comfortable walking into the suite where I’d early had a mud treatment to ask the whereabouts of my sparkling bath.  Of course, speaking a common language helps a lot!

  After breakfast we headed in different directions, I to six treatments, and Chuck to seven, all before lunch!  I began by dashing outside and up the hill to a small hotel where the pool is already open; ours will open Monday.  There I had a private half-hour water exercise session, many of the usual movements but ending with a ‘water massage,’ with Jacuzzi-like jets around me as I lay on a curved ledge near the surface of the water.

I had about two minutes then to get back to the hotel for the next one, mud!  We love the warm oozy black mud at Druskininkai, and looked forward to it here.  The Marienbad style is not as generous as in Lithuania, and the middle-aged attendant packed it rather sparsely around my knees, wrapped me up, and left me, bidding me in sign language to take a nap for twenty minutes.  I looked around, up at the ceiling, and thought how pristine it all was.

  The black mud was anything but pristine, sticky and dark as I got in the shower and scrubbed it away.  Woe betide anyone who gets it on clothing; it makes ugly stains.

“Air jet” was my next treatment, and I wondered what that could be, but it was simple; the air jets were in the bathtub, and it is what’s known to Germans as a “Perlenbad,” or pearl bath, like a Jacuzzi.  I lay in the blue tub for twenty minutes (apparently a magic length of time, both here and in Druskininkai), as the warm water bubbled along my back, under my feet, behind my neck, ahhh….

  Something darkly called “gas injection” was the fourth treatment, and indeed, it did involve needles.  The local substance called ‘Mary’s gas” which is of volcanic origin and is mostly CO2 plus some trace elements is placed subcutaneously near afflicted large joints and the spinal area (in my case, one in each knee, two below the neck, and one atop my bursitic shoulder). It felt like any shot just under the skin.

  My next adventure was the “gas envelope,” whereby a plastic bag is placed over the entire lower part of the body, and an elastic band tied around the waist.  A hose is inserted into the bag, and the Mary’s gas stuff is pumped in.  When the bag is quite inflated, a blanket is wrapped around it, and one is left to ponder the experience.  The sensation is odd, somewhat warm and not unpleasant….and twenty minutes long!.

The last treatment of the day is called “phyaction,” a low-level electric current running through an afflicted area.  For me, this was the sore shoulder and the tight muscles in my upper back.  It feels funny but rather good.  And the joint is more limber afterwards.

  Music plays an integral part on the European spa culture, and Marianske Lazne is no exception. Upon arrival, we found placards and handbills everywhere, indicating concert schedules.  These ranged from the Dixieland and “Boogie Wogie”(sic) group playing at our hotel Monday, to a children’s folk ensemble at the pavillon Saturday, to an organ recital with professional singers from Prague at a church on the weekend.  Each day offers three or four, at least. 

  To inaugurate The Season, the grand opening concert, we saw, would be performed at the lovely old Casino on Friday evening, and include pieces by Czech composers Smetana and Dvorak, and a Mozart symphony.  Chuck hiked through the rain to the grand casino to get us tickets, and by 7:15 we were in the sumptuous lobby, hobnobbing with champagne-sipping German and Czech music lovers. 

 The concert kicked off with numerous introductions of local and visiting stars, including the Argentinean ambassador, in first Czech and then German.  The mayor of Marienbad’s sister city in Germany, Bad Homberg, also was presented.

  Founded in 1821 and developed from a small ensemble throughout the 19th century, the West Bohemian Symphony Orchestra has been offering year-round concerts for over 50 years, and also gives performance tours. The two-hour concert was very pleasant, and we dashed home through a driving storm.

   As we finished eating breakfast, we heard march music, and looked out to see, coming up the street and turning into the spa park and pavilion, a brass band complete with pompon-waving majorettes.  Their gold and blue uniforms match the local flag and harmonize with the gold, cream and yellow buildings.  

  We ran out the street to ascertain exactly where they were headed, came upstairs to change, and a couple of marches later were on our way up to the Kolonade, where they were performing.  Once the music ended, the mayor, aided by a German translator, officially opened ‘the season.’ We took our cups inside to have another sip of Rudolph water, and strolled around looking at maps.  I used a blood pressure machine that read height, weight (of course, as Calvin Trillin suggests, I allowed 14 pounds for clothing), blood pressure and fat index.  Hmm. 

  As we began to walk away, we heard more music, and found, in the colonnade a wonderful chorale singing folk music.  One tune sounded a bit familiar, as though it probably showed up in some Czech composer’s symphonic works, and the next one I knew!  I learned this song, in English, in elementary school, and still remembered some of the words.  It was probably termed a “Czechoslovakian folksong,” in our music book. 

  A small market had opened just down from the pavilion, with mostly local wares, some string cheese, pottery, wooden toys, jewelry. We strolled over to the main street and found, in the “Chopin House,” where he stayed during a visit, a little ceramics shop and bought a pair of earrings and some handmade buttons. Chopin was not the only celebrity to visit Marienbad; kings and emperors, artists and writers all visited here.  Goethe loved it, coming near the end of his life, when the spa was new.  King Edward VII of England was a regular visitor, and commissioned the first golf course in the country here! 

  After lunch and a rest we wandered in dismal drizzle over to the Spring Pavilion and filled our bottle for our pre-dinner drink. We walked along the long Kolonade next to it, and heard a bit of “Crazy Lady,” a local girl rock group, imparting such classics as “It’s In His Kiss,” and “Jailhouse Rock.” The mini-skirts, dyed black hair and exaggerated make-up did not add to their attractiveness, and the singing, amplified to full volume, dismayed our elderly ears. Upstairs a huge souvenir shop’s most desirable offering was heat, wonderfully, and miles of discounted souvenirs.  We needed a coffee shop!  They were packed, as it was Kaffeestunde, and we notice that the Germans do everything on schedule.

  After a few minutes at the Info Center for internet, we heard about another performance, and hastened across the street to hear a short concert by an American band!  Since this week is the 60^th anniversary of the liberation of Bohemia by the American Third Army with General Patton , there are many observances around the Czech Republic (which today includes Bohemia and Moravia), and the US Army band based in Mannheim, Germany, is spending the week touring the country.  The previous night they had played in Pilsen (home of the famous Pilsner Urquell beer) in pouring rain, reported one with whom I spoke, and the park there was packed!

  They played some Sousa and other familiar marches, and, when dignitaries laid wreaths at the Patton monument, where an American flag always flies, they played both the Czech and the American national anthems.  Chuck told me later it was a good thing we’d gotten separated at that point, as, standing in the crowd of middle-aged and elderly Czechs, he audibly sang The Star-Spangled Banner! 

  Considering the cold wet weather, the size of the umbrella-toting crowd amazed us, and when one of the American attaches spoke to the group in Czech (reading from a paper), they seemed gratified. We were quite soaked when we returned to our room, but it was a memorable occasion, and we were glad to be on the spot.

  In the dining room, we seated ourselves at our assigned table, and our tablemates came in.  Sometimes, in the rather liberal hours for meals, we miss them, but manage to show up together nearly half the time.  They are a lively German couple, retired although probably a few years younger than we are.  He was a “Diplom Ingenieur,” a building engineer, and these avid travelers are from a small town near Dusseldorf.  They stay home and work in the garden in the summer, take a big trip in the fall (last year was South Africa, and in October they’ll go to China.) and a European one with the car in spring.

Sunday, May 8

  What weather!  We awoke to rain and saw sun during breakfast. When we went out this morning to the springs pavilion it sleeted as we walked back.  Later it was snowing!  Between storms, the sun comes out, the sky is bright blue, but the air and breeze still chill.  We decided to go swimming in the new hotel pool, that just opened yesterday.

  Popping in to have a gander, we found no one else there besides the pool man.  We excitedly ran upstairs to change.  Not only did we have exclusive use when we got back there, but no one else showed up at all, a mystery on such a gloomy day.  But no complaints from us! 

  It’s gorgeous!  The whole area is mosaic-tiled in white, blue and aqua, and the pool has all sorts of bells and whistles, which the pool man wanted to play with.  So we had Jacuzzi in one corner, mineral shower in another, waves and spouts and lights from every which direction.  He had fun, and so did we.

  The sun came out during lunch, but by the time we were ready to go out, it was sleeting again.  Soon however it was bright, and we walked up a steep hill to a spot overlooking the main street and hotels.  There perches the beautiful Russian Orthodox Church of St Vladimir, full of golden icons and lovely shrines. Built in the late nineteenth century with support from Weimar, it gave Russian cure-seekers their own place of worship. The church is barely visible up one side street from down below, so we were glad to see it better. We followed a steep cobblestone path downwards and got back to the main street, investigating interesting buildings along the way.

  Some buildings here have not yet been renovated, and we’re able to see something of how Marianske Lazne appeared during the Cold War, and indeed until just a few years ago.  Crumbling exteriors, boarded doors and broken windows indicate decades-long neglect, even here in the center of town. 

  Starting up the sloped main street toward the Pacifik, we thought a coffee would be nice, and dropped into the Hotel Cristal Palace coffeeshop.  Unlike the Victorian ornate elegance of so many other hotels, the CP is slick modern with a touch of Art Deco and a lot of glass. This one was built in 1996, on the foundation of an older hotel by the same name.

  We selected some cakes and found the last tiny table next to the front window.  A German couple, small and slender, about our age, immediately sat behind us.  When the waitress came over, we ordered coffee, a Koenigstorte for Chuck, and a Nusstorte for me, and the other couple beckoned, and ordered their fare as well.  Five minutes later, another server returned with coffee for them along with a plate with two astonishingly large pieces of cake, and a big wedge of the Koenigstorte.  We were somewhat surprised, since we’d ordered first, and assumed that there was some confusion; Chuck jumped up and said (in German), “I think that Koenigstorte is for me,” and they gave it to him.  We were also amazed that the man was having two huge desserts! 

  Chuck said to the lady, “What did you order?” And she answered, “Well, the strawberry pie, …..AND some Koenigstorte!!?  Of course, astounded, Chuck returned the cake with profuse apologies, and soon her strawberry tart appeared, along with our now not-so-enormous-looking single cakes.  I left the buttercream rosette and a couple of bites of my delicious nutcake, but our slim innocuous neighbors finished every crumb.  We wondered whether they would have room for supper!

 The sun continued to shine brilliantly, although all around the horizon, black clouds promised more precipitation and the wind was frigid. Marienbad's altitude is two thousand feet, so when it’s sunny, overhead is the bright almost royal blue of mountain skies.

Monday

Breakfast here at the Pacifik is a buffet affair.  Along with the hot coffee (no decaf that we can see!) and a selection of bag teas, there is hot and cold milk, buttermilk (kefir) and about four kinds of juice.  On one side of the food line we can find wonderful breads and rolls, jams, good runny yoghurt, plain and sweetened, cereal flakes and granola/musli, fruit cocktail and fresh fruits.  The steam table holds fried and scrambled eggs, yummy “English” bacon and sausages, and we can make our own toast.  Along the other wall are trays of cold cuts, cheese, fish (usually sardines, no wonderful Baltic herring!), cucumbers and tomatoes.

  We’ve been exploring the other hotels by having coffee each afternoon in their cafes.  Some are nicer than others, but all have tiny cups of strong, good coffee, and a mind-boggling array of tortes, cakes and other desserts.  Of course there’s the schnapps, too, in many flavors and varieties.  We like the cafes best that are a bit shabby, full of old people who look as though they do this every day of their lives.  The waiters are pros, often older men, who may not speak English, but understand exactly what we want, and whisk our desires onto the tables with a flourish.  The demitasses come on a miniature tray, along with a small pitcher of cream, some paper-covered sugar, and often a chocolate. 

Tuesday, May 10

  Our tablemates are leaving this morning, and brought their camera to breakfast, to take our pictures all together.  They will take a few days to drive home to Borken, winding through the Erzgebirge(The Ore Mountains north of here) to Dresden, then perhaps the Weimar area.  Listening I felt some envy, proof of our travel addiction, as we ourselves still have a wonderful trip ahead, and indeed, Marienbad is so beautiful that it is a worthy destination on its own.

  This morning we have three treatments, and then a few more in the early afternoon.  Some days we (and many others) spend most of the morning in our white bathrobes, rushing from one therapy site to another, but we do dress for breakfast and again for lunch.  Although people here wear elegant apparel and jewelry for the evening meals, they come to the other meals very casually dressed, even in running suits.

  Afternoon

  Our treatment schedule was complex enough this morning that we ate an early lunch before the last few.  I experienced today for the first time, the ‘mineral bath,’ in which I sat about 35 minutes in a deep stainless steel tub filled with rather hot murky water that, as it turns out, leaves one’s skin looking jaundiced.  So we have, by lunchtime, black-stained legs from the mud treatments, and amber necks where we missed scrubbing.  Fortunately we know no one here!  The “classical massage” (a 20-minute spine and neck job) was given today by a man, much more vigorous than Friday’s feel-good edition by a petite brunette.

  Just up the street is a salon offering hair cuts and coifs, pedicures and manicures, Thai massage and other procedures, so we decided to get our hair trimmed. Chuck went first, got only a haircut, no wash, and was charged 2 euros ($2.60), and my wash, cut and blow-dry cost 9 euros (almost $12). 

  After dinner we went out strolling, although after the sun sets, it gets quite chilly.  The night was supposed to get down to 29 F.  We stayed in the neighborhood, dipping into the lovely woods for a few moments, admiring a sparkling stream there, and another small pavilion for the Forest Spring.

Wednesday, May 11

  I don’t think it got above 47 degrees F today.  The sun shone most of the day, though, and the afternoon was lovely, all bright flowers and clear air, against the brilliant blue and gold of sky and buildings.

At breakfast we struck up a conversation with an attractive middle-aged German blonde at the next table, whom we’d heard speaking very good American English.  She said that as a teenager she was an au pair in the US, “out in the middle of nowhere, near Kansas City!”  We quickly informed her that it was not the middle of nowhere for us!  We enjoyed speaking some English for a change, and she and her husband are very pleasant.

  We finished our spa treatments by lunchtime, and visited the local history museum in the afternoon.  While Marienbad is not so old, only becoming a town in 1812, it has had a rich history since then.  Goethe spent time here in his late years, in the 1820s.  The museum was actually the house he stayed in, and we toured his rooms, and saw a desk at which he wrote some poetry about Marienbad and a failed autumn-to-spring romance.  He was highly interested in all sorts of science, and he and a local count assembled a big collection of rocks and minerals, some of which is displayed here and more in Prague. 

  On our last evening in this enchanting place, we took a few steps to the sweet little City Theater, all blue and gold inside, with two tiny balconies.  We recognized a few of the musicians in tonight’s ensemble from the West Bohemian Symphony, but the program was decidedly lighter, mostly Johann Strauss waltzes, polkas and marches.  The place was packed, largely with our elders, who smiled, nodded, and sometimes even clapped to the rhythms.  Two soloists sang arias from Die Fledermaus, with exaggerated expression and gesture, and I thought how similar it must have been a hundred years ago.