“Today we’re going to Potsdam,” announced my friend Christian.  “It’s, uh, very romantic.”

We could have been going to the nearby Aldi Markt … and if Christian said it would be romantic, I would have gladly gone along.

Potsdam is a city outside of Berlin by about 45 minutes.  It’s one part tourist village, one part giant movie studio and one part fairy tale — complete with breath-taking castles.   It’s easily accessible by train, but it’s a hidden gem of a place.  Berliners either haven’t discovered it or forget it’s there.

Potsdam’s claim to fame is its Über-royalness.  The entire city was built for the German emperors that resided there.  (If England has Windsor … Germany has Potsdam.)  It’s posh, decadent and humbling at the same time.

In the middle of all this luxury resides the Sanssouci Palace.   Wikipedia describes it as a “relatively modest castle”.   If this is modest, I’d hazard to guess what Wiki thinks is elaborate.   The back-story of this palatial arena plays like a lurid Harlequin romance gone horribly askew.

Prince Frederick the Great built Sanssouci (which means “without sorrow” or “without concerns”) for his gay lover, who, as legend has it, was murdered by the King (a.k.a. the Prince’s father).   Prince Frederick was understandably devastated and built this Prussian-style castle as a living monument to his boyfriend.  (You won’t find one iota of this story in Wikipedia, but the tale exists out there via internet lore.)

The grounds fell in to ruins after the WWII.  In the early ‘90’s, Germany got wise and decided to resume the palace and surrounding buildings back to their original splendor.  And voilá, a tourist attraction was re-created.

Despite signs everywhere that state “Fahrad verboten”, Christian and I road our bikes through the grounds.  “If we get busted, you can pretend to be a stupid American,” Christian said.  “Well, actually, you won’t have to pretend, come to think of it.”

The Prince didn’t miss a beat in his design.  There’s a garden that welcomes visitors to the main garden entrance … a sort of tasteful stair-step design that has gay written ALL over it.  To the right, the Orangerie is a kitschy-fun guesthouse that resembles an enormous gold-plated nectarine.  If Sunkist were smart, they’d be the corporate sponsor.  And off to the left, the Prince built a Chinese Tea House and Dragon House that honors the far-away Orient.  I can hear the Prince now.  “So, like, this place is TOOOOOO Prussian.  We need some culture around here.  Throw in a couple Asian-themed buildings and maybe a dim-sum restaurant and we’re good to go.  Deal?”  Heck, there’s even a Greco-Roman style bathhouse.  (Insert pithy/catty comment here.)

On the way back, Christian and I stopped at his favorite outdoor café in Potsdam.  He ordered soup.  (He always orders soup.)  I ordered Apfelstrudel.  (I always order Apple Strudel.  I’m in Germany, for Chrissake.)  On the way out of the restaurant, there was a HUGE bowl of Gummibears in place of the usual peppermints.  I popped a big handful and started to chew.  Christian turned to me and asked, “Good day, huh?  Didn’t I tell you it would be romantic?”

“Mmmph, feeh ssgsss blug,” I said, trying not to choke on the 85 Gummibears encased in my mouth.  Several fillings had been pulled loose by that point too.  I smiled.  Christian smiled back (after rolling his eyes.)

Nice to know some things aren’t lost in translation.