Sun., April 26, Habach, Germany, The Village-- On the way to our next destination, Joanna, Dede, Tony and I entertained ourselves with my laptop, reading the Darwin Awards I'd collected from my e-mail. Pretty hilarious, albeit pathetic (like the bored couple in a car who decided to create some excitement, lighted a stick of dynamite and threw it out the car window. Unfortunately the window was closed. The car blew up killing both of them). It was quite the adventure stopping at the roadside service areas. Instead of the gas pump and convenience store tackiness exploited in the States, these German equivalents sported artistically designed buildings, attendants for the restrooms, sparkling clean convenience stores where you can buy everything from baby formula to porno, and large gourmet-style buffets in stylish restaurants. Every one we stopped at was different from the one before, yet all provided the same elements. Gas prices were quite reasonable, contrary to what I had understood. A gallon of 94 unleaded went for 1.68 DM (about $1.20), they also had 98 octane unleaded for the highway sports enthusiasts who were in abundance on the autobahn. Driving on the autobahn is a heads-up activity as there are only "suggested" speed postings, usually around 70 MPH, but in the fast lane anything goes, and unless you're doing 90 MPH, stay out of that lane! BMW's, Mercedes Benz, Audis and VW's seem to be the cars of choice, with a smattering of Fords, Subarus and Peugots. No mini-vans or "sport utility vehicles", really, and all the Class C motorhomes I saw were compact 16-18 foot types, instead of the 24-26 foot behemoths common on US roads. The main highways are four-lane or six-lane with very uniform paving that is rarely bumpy, however, the Germans route major traffic right through large downtown areas (probably for commercial reasons) instead of giving the traveler a choice of an around the metro interstate-type detour common in the US. So, although you may be flyin' down the autobahn, you're jammed up in Munich or Stuttgart for at least an hour during weekdays, just getting through the city. There are no old cars in Germany, unless they're collector's items, and we hardly ever saw any roadkill. Everything's neat and tidy and the countryside is gorgeous. Rolling hills leading to bridges and tunnels in the more mountainous areas with tiny villages nestled purposefully in small valleys--all very well planned and obviously ancient. I was fascinated to see building dates of 1676, or 1843, or even 1435 on one old church. I was struck by how similiar the land looked to Western Oregon. As we approached our destination, Petra pointed out The Alps, rising up in jagged, snowy layers in the distance of Southernmost Germany. We arrived at "The Village" late in the afternoon. This is the home and offices of the Art of Music, Petra's booking agency she runs with her close friend Marion. It also happens to be a very happening tavern/bar with an active local live music scene. The place is really out in the country, though, but this doesn't seem to slow the locals down much. On a Thursday or Friday, Saturday or Sunday, the place can pack out. It is an interesting combination of restaurant/bar, inn and apartments. Four people are equal partners in the endeavor: Petra, Marion, Kelly and Dieter. They just recently bought this place, moving from the previous "Village" location in December. Petra and Marion live in the two single apartments on the third floor, while Dieter lives in the adjacent building. Kelly lives in Munich. We ended up in the rooms on the second floor, each room has a shower and sink, twin beds with down comforters. The restroom is separate and shared by all.