Last week, we rented a tiny red stick shift car and headed north out of Berlin to places where I'd read, "They don't welcome outsiders." Finding this to be true, we persisted onward in our journey, hoping to run into some long-lost relatives who were rumored to be from this region of Germany. Mecklenburg-Pomerania is reminiscent of North Dakota, with its gently rolling hills and shelter belts of trees. Nary a soul in sight in the tiny towns made for a bit of a spookiness. Then after a particularly unfriendly run-down seaside town on Rugen Island, we came to an equally scary but oppositely overdone, whitewashed, geriatric tourist haven in the town of Binz, where we had to beg to be allowed to stay for just one night (strict minimums of 2 nights or more). Added to the fun was a short waylay into Poland (though not too long, since technically the car was not allowed there. It was just long enough to see where the Germans go to buy their cheap cancer sticks.
(Remote: when portables qualify as a rest stop.)
(The building across the street from our Zimmer.)
(The infamous Hyperdome, with commie relief on the front. No not comic relief, commie relief.)
(In this tiny diner which has been open for over 100 years, I think. Locals only.)
(These were at a uber-fun Pirate tourist trap off the side of our road trip. I did not allow myself one, and saved 1.95E.)
(Binz. It had a massive rainstorm while we were there, perhaps why everything was so sparkling clean white.)
(I think this was Stralsund. Which I kept wanting to call Straslund.)