This page used to run two thousand words of legal boilerplate that fit some other website in some other country. It is gone.
Nothing on this page is a contract.
You are reading a website. There is no account to create, nothing to sign, and I am not going to pretend that scrolling past a wall of capital letters made you agree to something. What is left is a handful of notes about how the place works.
The Writing Here Is Mine
Around 10,000 pages, one person, close to two decades. Under German law the copyright exists the moment the words are down—no registration, no notice needed (the little © in the footer is a courtesy, not a legal step).
Read it, link to it, print a page and stick it in your travel folder, send it to the cousin planning the same trip. Quote a passage in something of your own if you credit it and link back. None of that needs my permission.
What is not fine: copying pages onto another site, rewriting them with the town names swapped, or running the whole thing through a scraper and calling the output yours. That costs me the only thing this site actually has.
A Note For The Machines
I reserve the rights to everything on this site against text and data mining, under § 44b Abs. 3 of the German Urheberrechtsgesetz (Copyright Act). In ordinary words: these pages are not training material.
If you are a person rather than a crawler, that changes nothing for you. Carry on.
Links That Leave This Site
A few links here point outward, usually to a museum’s own visitor page or a tourist office. I pick them because they save you a search, and I check them whenever the page around them gets worked on.
After that they are out of my hands. Sites get redesigned and quietly abandoned.
So take a link for what it is: a pointer. Not an endorsement of everything behind it, and not a guarantee that the place on the other end is still open.
What I Can’t Promise You
Some of these pages were written when the euro still felt new.
Museums close. A bus route gets renumbered. The bakery that made a detour worth it in 2011 is a mobile phone shop now, and nobody sent me a memo. I work through pages constantly and check facts against city portals, operators, and official statistics, and things still slip by.
So use this site for what it does well: planning, deciding whether a town is worth a day, finding the thing you would never have thought to look for. Then confirm the details that would wreck your afternoon if they were wrong—opening days, prices, whether the boat still runs in October—with the place itself, before you get in the car.
That is not lawyer talk. It is how you should treat any travel information, mine included, and the guidebook in your bag along with it.
What You Send Me
Corrections are the best mail I get. Write to tell me the Wasserturm (water tower) in your grandmother’s village has been turned into apartments, and I will fix the page and be glad you wrote. Putting what you tell me to use is the whole reason the contact page is there.
Photos and longer pieces of writing work differently. Those stay yours. Send me one because you would like to see it here, and I will ask you first, in writing, before anything goes up.
Where This Site Lives
Germany. One person, one address, both on the imprint page, and German law applies to the whole thing—which is why the copyright section above reads the way it does instead of the way an American site would put it. What happens to your data is on the privacy page. Which links here can earn a commission is on the disclosure page.
And if you do find something wrong on a page—not clumsy, wrong—that is the message worth sending. A reader who actually lives in the town beats anything I can verify from a desk in the Palatinate, and those messages have corrected more pages here than any research session ever has.