Insignificant and Magnificent

How do I describe a place like Amberg? It isn’t enough to state merely that the people are friendly and the scenery is nice. There is so much more to it than that—so much more to any place, any culture. To describe Amberg, many more words are needed. I have to mention the way the air smacks of musty stone and pastry and smoke and meat all at the same time. I should also talk about the view from the windows—rolling green hills, a patchwork of farms and walking paths, the red roofs of the city pointing upwards to the church on the hill, drizzly clouds shattered by the glint of a winter’s sun off of green bronze spires. I would have to speak of the food—the hearty meats and cheeses, the delicate pastries, the chill-thawing soups—the Sauerbraten, Spezi, and Käsespetle infusing the air with their rich odors. I could add a little more about the older gentlemen bundled in scarves and thick coats, out walking their dogs along the Vils River—or about the store clerks’ quiet grins as they realize you are at least attempting to speak their language. The bakeries on every corner should be included, as should the countless book shops, the fresh fruits and vegetables stands, and the innumerable cafés. Finally, I would have to mention the clomping of black boots upon the cobblestones. These things are only a few of the myriad of tiny, insignificant details that make a place like Amberg a magnificent and endearing city.