Vicki and I found two seats among the group. It was a warm crowd, members of a Methodist congregation from somewhere in the deep South, just a peach short of the Georgia line.
It was a short drive from Oberammergau to the village of Bad Kohlgrub. There, at the base of Hörnle Mountain, Marcus delivered Vicki and me to the Hotel Shillingshof. We pulled our rollybags out of the bus and waved goodbye to Marcus and the driver.
We walked into town dragging our rollybags. Across the river we found the village of Oberammergau rimmed by mountains as full of boutique hotels, galeries, and kitschy shops. I fingered my phone hoping to find an open wifi signal and a message with further instructions.