Alaskan Expatriate

There are strange little towns scattered across the U.S. that look like little towns scattered across Europe. There is Solvang in California, a little Danish in America. In Washington, there’s Leavenworth.

Leavenworth is three hours east of Seattle, where Washington starts to look like Alaska (just a little bit). There was still snow on the mountains, which reminded me of the drive to Seward with a few differences – the inlet is replaced by lakes and reservoirs; the fireweed with lupine; the marsh areas with meadows. As you drive east, the land opens up into fields with bison grazing and orchards of pears, apples, and cherries.

With beginnings as a small railroad community, railroad construction in the 1890s established Leavenworth as the headquarters for the Great North Railroad. In the late 1920s, the railroad relocated to Wenatchee, throwing their economy into a draught. It wasn’t until 1962 that the city formed a committee to revitalize the economy and attract commerce.

The faux Bavarian village concept took off and slowly began to draw tourists. It was a muggy Saturday afternoon when I drove into town, giggling at the little signs dressed up in calligraphy. Add a fancy font and Das to the beginning of your store name and you’ve got yourself a little bit of Bavaria. Or so they’d like you to think.

It’s a bit of a novelty to see the 76 station sign dressed up with embroidery style flowers and made to appear hand painted. The chain stores all seem out of place, but you soon realize that “Bavaria” has to support everyday life as well. So despite that lack of imagination, “Das Copy Shoppe” has a purpose to fulfill.

A three-block strip just off the main street serves as the tourist destination. Most of the commerce is meant to insinuate Bavaria, but harshly falls short. Everything feels contrived and unconvincing.

I won’t even go into the food, but I eventually found something that slightly resembled something German. I’m going to blame the hordes of tourists and heat for my grumpiness, but to be honest, I was probably just disappointed that this chuck of Bavaria was such a poor excuse for the real thing. Sure, if you’re in the area, you should stop. Get a sausage at the Munchen Haus. Drink a beer.