=============
Friday 26 March
==========
Florence . . .
I wake up with one eye glued shut - pink eye. I can remember having it as a kid and being terrified when I woke up and couldn't see. This time, it is only one eye. I think my resistance is down, and I still haven't fully recovered from the "dry" earlier. And sanitation practices are suffering. Now where are those handi-wipes when I need them? Right in my ruck sack. Have I used any yet? Nope.
It is a sunny day. And on the cool side.
Have I mentioned the traffic? Everyone seems to practice a mutual yield policy. The traffic flows. Everyone takes turns. It looks chaotic. But there must be rules of the road. I see someone reading the paper and driving!
I am in antique heaven. My first full day here, and I happen down an antique row. There is art for sale in these stores that belongs in a museum. Some is better than I have seen hanging in some museums I have been in recently.
My first official sight is the Museum of the Duomo. It has some long name, but essentially it is behind the big church in town. This turns out to be another must see for me - or maybe I should say from me - it goes on my list of recommended things not to miss.
The item that made my list is yet another unfinished pieta by Michelangelo. This one has Mary, Jesus, and a third character above them. It is a biblical character. Michelangelo gave it his own face - so it is a self-portrait. The unfinished statue is shattered. It was shattered by Michelangelo himself. Something about a flaw in the stone. I think there was much more to it. An eye witness said that he was throwing himself at the statue with his hammer in hand. The plan for this piece was for it to be his own grave stone. Now remember, I also saw an unfinished pieta in Milano of his - one he was carving on when he died. And since coming to Rome, I learned that he completed the pieta that is at the Vatican here when he was only 24 years old. I haven't seen the Vatican one yet, but based on the pictures, the shattered one is much more active and dramatic.
I go into the Duomo itself. It is very long. Inside, it seems empty in comparison to other churches. Maybe this is because of its size - it is so large that all internal decorations are dwarfed. Or maybe it is because it is not as embellished as others I have seen recently.
Had I mentioned the transportation strike? Well it turns out that there are many sympathy strikes - as a way to show support - or as a way to get a day off. The next three or so sights on my list are closed. But of course, I can only find out by going there first. I get a lot of exercise.
The gelato is good here, supposedly it was created in Florence. So I cool my heels by trying some of the local stuff.
One place that I do find open is the Palace Vecchio - a museum that is near the river. It too has a Michelangelo. It makes sense. This is his home town. He later departed for Rome for good.
Then I check out the market areas. There are many. Lots of pedestrian areas, plazas. And many vendors.
Time for dinner. Before that, I see about staying over another night. No room yet, but they tell me to check in the morning, before 9:30.
I check out two other potential places for dinner, and decide to return to the one from the night before. Don't see how I could do any better.
This time as a solo I am seated at a very boisterous table of 8. Mostly working guys. Many of them have muddy boots. So this must be their place to stop off after work for dinner on a Friday night (payday?).
I have the minestrone soup - it has beans (just like the white ones from the night before) and pasta in it. Primo course: Tortelli pasta with pomodoro sauce (tomato sauce). Secundo course: something al forno - a pork loin with a core of rosemary and garlic. And with it, patate arrosto - roast potatoes - flavored with fresh rosemary.
It is very common for the people here to touch the other persons face when they talk. And it is very common to see people walk down the streets arm in arm - moms and adult children, girl friends, and sometime guys.
After the first group of guys clears out, my table is partially filled again with a series of couples. One just had a baby. He hopes to open a tobacco shop, since smoking is so popular here.
I ask them where Pietrosanta is, since I want to visit the marble carving school there. Turns out it is back past Pisa, close to La Spezia. Looks like I will be going back that way. So much for route planning. Details!
They recommend a whole slew of places to be sure to visit. First off Napoli, since that is where he is from. Good food there. Especially at his mom's!
They say Pisa - been there. And they say places that others have suggested - San Gimignano, Siena, Assisi. And some new ones - Arezzo (a good film was made there), Fittoce (in Umbria), Perugia, and Cannavali. I will have to stay the month in Italy to catch all these places.
The next couple I meet is Matteo and Chiara. They ask where I am going. I tell them Pietrosanta for the marble school. And I show them the list of other suggested destinations. They agree the food is great in Napoli (Naples). She adds Chianti and Montaliano as great places to go. Matteo disagrees about Pietrosanta. He says, no go to the best place. Go to Carrera! The best marble is from there and also the best carvers and schools.
He calls a friend to ask which school there is the best. Did I mention cell phones abound? Turns out his friend lives there in Carrera. Matteo writes down the name of the school, its location, and its web site. And he gives me his friend's name and number. Turns out they are best buddies, from school days - like brothers. And Matteo is from Carrera. He says, go there, visit, stay with his friend, go to the school, come over to his mothers for dinner, give him a call and he will visit too. We will all have dinner at his mother's together! Wow, the people here sure are friendly! And to think that visiting a marble school is a dream of mine. Now how could it be any better? To also meet some local folks, and to share some home cooking?
So yes, I made a mistake and missed stopping at Pietrosanta. But it seems to have worked out for the best. Everything in its time.
So my plan changes a bit - get to Rome, before the Easter crush. Don't know if I mentioned that April 10th will be the busiest time of the year there. Then back track to Carrera, perhaps checking out some of the suggested towns on the way. Then finish to loop (Venice, Vienna, Prague, Berlin, Frankfurt). I had planned extra days to be able to stay somewhere for a week on a whim. Maybe it will be Carrera. And just maybe I will be going to school (Nicoli). We will see.
I am full from dinner. Matteo and Chiara treat me to a special after dinner drink - called limon cillo - from Sorento. It had a nice strong lemon flavor, and it calms the stomach and aids digestion - and helps me feel less full.
When they depart, I get to say good bye the Italian way for the first time - kissing both cheeks. It is a great day. And a great way to end it.
I depart and on the way out settle the bill by saying what I had (very little menu pointing necessary this time). A great place. And a great meal. And serendipitous company.
They all could tell I really like the place. I am a confirmed regular after two visits. One waitress makes sure I know that they are closed on Saturday and Sunday - the next two nights. No, I didn't realize. Now isn't that great service? She recognized that I might return. And that perhaps I wouldn't understand the open hours information posted. So she saved me a trip. So this makes it the first must eat place on my list from this trip - Sabatino's in Florence (south of the Arno River - near Porta San Frediano).
Another great day I'd say. Gotta love this place.
Nite nite.
=============
A fool's journey
Wednesday, March 31, 2004
===========
Thursday 25 March (continued)
============
Florence . . .
I stay south of the Arno River. It is less touristy, and I can still easily walk to all the sights.
I get lucky finding a dinner place. It is jammed packed. A place for locals. I appear to be the only tourist. Most do not venture this far south. It is noisy. Some have their dogs with them. It is not too smoky.
I am "solo", so the waiter seats me at a table that has one free corner seat. Directly across from me is one half of a couple. And on my right, the other half. And to my left is another couple.
The traveler's dictionary does not help with the menu. So for the most part I am ordering blind. I can tell the Antipasti section from the Primi and the Secundi sections - so I know pasta vs. some kind of meat. But what kind of pasta, and what kind of meat? I will find out when it arrives.
I make an error. I try to order anti, primi and secundi all at once. This is obviously unexpected. Italians savor dinner - the entire process. They can spend the entire evening wandering through dinner. More good training for me - with my OK let's eat (and I mean eat) cultural training.
And to be fair her too. There are only a few menus to go around. I think most there glance at the menu, and get a general idea of what they might have. And then when the time comes, they ask the waiter about their few top choices, and what is good and fresh tonight, and then they decide. This doesn't work for my point to the menu ordering technique.
So between courses, in order to order I have to either hold on to a precious menu, or ask for one back (by saying menu).
So anyway, the ordering norm here is wait and see.
For the antipasto course I get a salami with fennel - something local. I pointed and asked "local". Si, si. And I get wine. Un quarto - which is a quarter of a liter. The book is handy for this. Note: a quarto is equivalent to a third of a bottle. The cost was 0.85 euro ($1). No wonder Americans have a reputation here for being rich and drunk and disorderly.
Now this is a great moment. One that matches the dreams and hopes for what might be found on a journey like this. This makes it all worthwhile. Wow! I really am in a different world here. And I am experiencing it up close and personal.
The entire place allows smoking, but it is not smoky.
For pasta (primo course), I have ravioli with meat sauce. They have a green stuffing - spinach and ricotta perhaps?
The waitress is fast. I think she is the owner. When an ambling patron who was leaving and talking blocker her way, she said quite loudly something which I am sure translated to essentially "move it".
Now this is the food I came for. For secundo course, I have a veal roll and white beans. Again local choices.
I notice a strange thing. Street vendors come into the restaurant and solicit the patron while they are eating. This seems very strange to me. Americans are more territorial I think, especially when it come to businesses. As in, this is my place of business, take yours elsewhere. Private property, etc. There is freedom of speech and expression, but it seems that commercial speech in someone else's establishment is restricted at home. Here, the restaurant seems to just be an extension of the common space outside - the street and plaza. So there is a steady steam - CDs (fac simile), roses. Luckily they are not too persistent or intrusive.
For dulce (the c is pronounced ch), I have a custard in a crust. The waiter names off what was available, and I pointed to my eye - I had to go take a look.
Now for il conti (the bill). In this place, you don't get a bill. You just get up and leave, and stop by the cashier on the way out. She asks what you had, she writes it down and rings it up. So if it wasn't a memorable dish, then it is forgotten and NOT paid for!
Well my turn. I did fine with quarto, ravioli, dulce, and then I got stuck. I needed to point to the menu. And of course they were all in use, being a scarce commodity. Well the waiter helped, and I did find a menu. It all got sorted out to everyone's satisfaction.
I was very satisfied. Off to bed, and a good night's rest. A great first night in Florence.
Nite nite.
=============
Thursday 25 March (continued)
============
Florence . . .
I stay south of the Arno River. It is less touristy, and I can still easily walk to all the sights.
I get lucky finding a dinner place. It is jammed packed. A place for locals. I appear to be the only tourist. Most do not venture this far south. It is noisy. Some have their dogs with them. It is not too smoky.
I am "solo", so the waiter seats me at a table that has one free corner seat. Directly across from me is one half of a couple. And on my right, the other half. And to my left is another couple.
The traveler's dictionary does not help with the menu. So for the most part I am ordering blind. I can tell the Antipasti section from the Primi and the Secundi sections - so I know pasta vs. some kind of meat. But what kind of pasta, and what kind of meat? I will find out when it arrives.
I make an error. I try to order anti, primi and secundi all at once. This is obviously unexpected. Italians savor dinner - the entire process. They can spend the entire evening wandering through dinner. More good training for me - with my OK let's eat (and I mean eat) cultural training.
And to be fair her too. There are only a few menus to go around. I think most there glance at the menu, and get a general idea of what they might have. And then when the time comes, they ask the waiter about their few top choices, and what is good and fresh tonight, and then they decide. This doesn't work for my point to the menu ordering technique.
So between courses, in order to order I have to either hold on to a precious menu, or ask for one back (by saying menu).
So anyway, the ordering norm here is wait and see.
For the antipasto course I get a salami with fennel - something local. I pointed and asked "local". Si, si. And I get wine. Un quarto - which is a quarter of a liter. The book is handy for this. Note: a quarto is equivalent to a third of a bottle. The cost was 0.85 euro ($1). No wonder Americans have a reputation here for being rich and drunk and disorderly.
Now this is a great moment. One that matches the dreams and hopes for what might be found on a journey like this. This makes it all worthwhile. Wow! I really am in a different world here. And I am experiencing it up close and personal.
The entire place allows smoking, but it is not smoky.
For pasta (primo course), I have ravioli with meat sauce. They have a green stuffing - spinach and ricotta perhaps?
The waitress is fast. I think she is the owner. When an ambling patron who was leaving and talking blocker her way, she said quite loudly something which I am sure translated to essentially "move it".
Now this is the food I came for. For secundo course, I have a veal roll and white beans. Again local choices.
I notice a strange thing. Street vendors come into the restaurant and solicit the patron while they are eating. This seems very strange to me. Americans are more territorial I think, especially when it come to businesses. As in, this is my place of business, take yours elsewhere. Private property, etc. There is freedom of speech and expression, but it seems that commercial speech in someone else's establishment is restricted at home. Here, the restaurant seems to just be an extension of the common space outside - the street and plaza. So there is a steady steam - CDs (fac simile), roses. Luckily they are not too persistent or intrusive.
For dulce (the c is pronounced ch), I have a custard in a crust. The waiter names off what was available, and I pointed to my eye - I had to go take a look.
Now for il conti (the bill). In this place, you don't get a bill. You just get up and leave, and stop by the cashier on the way out. She asks what you had, she writes it down and rings it up. So if it wasn't a memorable dish, then it is forgotten and NOT paid for!
Well my turn. I did fine with quarto, ravioli, dulce, and then I got stuck. I needed to point to the menu. And of course they were all in use, being a scarce commodity. Well the waiter helped, and I did find a menu. It all got sorted out to everyone's satisfaction.
I was very satisfied. Off to bed, and a good night's rest. A great first night in Florence.
Nite nite.
=============
Tuesday, March 30, 2004
============
Thursday 25 March
============
Manarola (Italy - Cinque Tere) . . .
Stormy here - Thunder. Going to Florence by way of Pisa today. Will avoid the train strike Friday morning.
The train is packed. First time. Usually lots of room. I think it is because of every traveling before the strike like me. That may be, but later I find out this is the start of spring break!
At the La Spezia stop, it is rainy. Then it turns sunny, The terrain from the train looks like it could be the Willamette valley (when no stucco houses are in sight). The far hill are dark green with some kind of evergreen. At this distance, the fact that they are not 150 feet tall is not apparent. There is farmland with a backdrop of mountains. The fields are mostly flat. There are rolling hills.
At Pisa . . .
The tower really is leaning - quite a bit. So much so that it doesn't seem like it should still be standing. It is made out of a white marble with a grey hue. And it really shows the dirt. And there are weeds growing out of it - out of the sides where the stones join. Maybe for conservation they don't clean it. But for conservation, I would think they would weed it. An attraction like this is good for the economy, so I expected that it would be weeded.
Later in Florence I learn of the old rivalry between Pisa and Florence. They used to go to war against each other. Then it turned to being cultural competitors. The building of this dome was part of that. And, yes, it started to lean before completion.
People in Florence used to urinate into the Arno River with gusto, knowing that Pisa was down stream. It was an act of civic pride.
I think Florence won, with home boys like Leonardo and Michelangelo (and it wasn't for their urine production).
On the Church, some sections of the lower lifts of stone are brown. It appears they used sandstone instead of marble early on. Upon closed examination, it is marble. It must have a different mineral content - like some iron - that has caused it to discolor differently than the rest.
On the church, I can tell they were recyclers. On some of the blocks, there is evidence of prior use. There are sections of letter, and portions of some random images carved into the stone. This was done before placement. I would have expected that they turn these used faces inward. But perhaps this was the best face to use. And beside, from more that 20 feet away, these things blend into the whole, and do not detract.
Inside the church (the Duomo), there are candle offerings as usual. What is different is that these screw in - they are electric - make and offering, screw in a candle. It keeps the smudge off the art work inside.
The trip here is worth it for one sculpture in the Duomo. It is at the upper left inside corner of the cross shaped layout of the church - facing toward the bottom of the cross. No indication of who carved it. Something to research later.
Foccacia is the salty bread of choice here. I sure miss my Scwabian bretzels. I get some whole wheat this time - the first time I have seen it available.
Did I mention crowded trains? On the train to Florence, I scramble on to get a seat. There are some remaining standing. They could explore other cars in the train to find a seat, but they don't. Maybe they know it is unlikely to find a seat anyway. Do I give up my seat, and go try to find another? Then I notice the "1" indicator on the window of the car. I have a second class ticket. So I get to act chivalrous in order to avoid the embarrassment of being caught in first class with a second class ticket.
There are no available seats in second class. And to be fair, I have to point out that I cannot distinguish first from second, except by the number indicator. They seem the same to me. So maybe it is just that you get to travel with a different class of folks.
I end up in the jump seat section of the train - between the first and second class cars - and non-smoking, whew. I don't know if this means I traveled first and a half class, or if this means I traveled half-class.
Did I mention cell phones about. Even the street beggars seem to have them.
Arrive in Florence just fine. I even get off at the proper Florence station.
===========
Thursday 25 March
============
Manarola (Italy - Cinque Tere) . . .
Stormy here - Thunder. Going to Florence by way of Pisa today. Will avoid the train strike Friday morning.
The train is packed. First time. Usually lots of room. I think it is because of every traveling before the strike like me. That may be, but later I find out this is the start of spring break!
At the La Spezia stop, it is rainy. Then it turns sunny, The terrain from the train looks like it could be the Willamette valley (when no stucco houses are in sight). The far hill are dark green with some kind of evergreen. At this distance, the fact that they are not 150 feet tall is not apparent. There is farmland with a backdrop of mountains. The fields are mostly flat. There are rolling hills.
At Pisa . . .
The tower really is leaning - quite a bit. So much so that it doesn't seem like it should still be standing. It is made out of a white marble with a grey hue. And it really shows the dirt. And there are weeds growing out of it - out of the sides where the stones join. Maybe for conservation they don't clean it. But for conservation, I would think they would weed it. An attraction like this is good for the economy, so I expected that it would be weeded.
Later in Florence I learn of the old rivalry between Pisa and Florence. They used to go to war against each other. Then it turned to being cultural competitors. The building of this dome was part of that. And, yes, it started to lean before completion.
People in Florence used to urinate into the Arno River with gusto, knowing that Pisa was down stream. It was an act of civic pride.
I think Florence won, with home boys like Leonardo and Michelangelo (and it wasn't for their urine production).
On the Church, some sections of the lower lifts of stone are brown. It appears they used sandstone instead of marble early on. Upon closed examination, it is marble. It must have a different mineral content - like some iron - that has caused it to discolor differently than the rest.
On the church, I can tell they were recyclers. On some of the blocks, there is evidence of prior use. There are sections of letter, and portions of some random images carved into the stone. This was done before placement. I would have expected that they turn these used faces inward. But perhaps this was the best face to use. And beside, from more that 20 feet away, these things blend into the whole, and do not detract.
Inside the church (the Duomo), there are candle offerings as usual. What is different is that these screw in - they are electric - make and offering, screw in a candle. It keeps the smudge off the art work inside.
The trip here is worth it for one sculpture in the Duomo. It is at the upper left inside corner of the cross shaped layout of the church - facing toward the bottom of the cross. No indication of who carved it. Something to research later.
Foccacia is the salty bread of choice here. I sure miss my Scwabian bretzels. I get some whole wheat this time - the first time I have seen it available.
Did I mention crowded trains? On the train to Florence, I scramble on to get a seat. There are some remaining standing. They could explore other cars in the train to find a seat, but they don't. Maybe they know it is unlikely to find a seat anyway. Do I give up my seat, and go try to find another? Then I notice the "1" indicator on the window of the car. I have a second class ticket. So I get to act chivalrous in order to avoid the embarrassment of being caught in first class with a second class ticket.
There are no available seats in second class. And to be fair, I have to point out that I cannot distinguish first from second, except by the number indicator. They seem the same to me. So maybe it is just that you get to travel with a different class of folks.
I end up in the jump seat section of the train - between the first and second class cars - and non-smoking, whew. I don't know if this means I traveled first and a half class, or if this means I traveled half-class.
Did I mention cell phones about. Even the street beggars seem to have them.
Arrive in Florence just fine. I even get off at the proper Florence station.
===========
Monday, March 29, 2004
============
Wednesday 24 March
==============
Manarola . . .
There is a scheduled power outage this morning. The entire town. Shop keeper have candles lit so we know they are open for business. I get bread and meat and set off on my hike back to the Cinque Terre towns I passed on the train.
The streets here are steep. And are barely wide enough to accommodate two astride.
I see some land across the sea. I ask a local later and discover it is Corsica. Another local shows me the angle to look for a view of the French Alps. It is a clear day. Beautiful view.
As I depart the town, it is very busy out in the country. I guess it is a work day after all. People are out working in the vineyards. They are tiered to the extreme - one row of vines for each tier in most places. And the lift on each tier is taller then the tier is wide. So overall, the slope is steeper than 45 degrees.
As I get further up,there are trees. I ask a local man working on the trees what kind they are. He says "oliva". So olive trees too. Denny,you have likely been here. If not, you would like it.
I also like the occasional stone hut. No longer seem to be in use, at least not habitated. Maybe more of a working shed. Or places to get away from the sun and heat in the summer for a lunch break.
I meet Pat and Bonnie from Austin Texas up on the trails. I asked her if she asked the boss (him) for the time off,and if he said yes, if he could go along. Turns out it is the other way around. She's the President! Howdy!
Just then a local woman passed us on the narrow path. She had a bundle of cut sticks balanced on her head. And her purse in one hand. When I say balanced, that's what I mean. No hands. There was a cloth wrapped on her head to provide a cushion and a platform for the wood. Sturdy hardy folks here.
There are rain barrels scattered around. Rain runoff is channeled into them. Looks like it may be used for irrigation of the grapes later.
You know you might be a seasoned traveler when you can tell other tourists from the locals and can tell what country they hail from, including the one you are in (US, France, Germany, Italy, Japan). Yes, there are many Italian tourists. Especially now. Spring break just started or is about to start. Teenagers are out in swarms - some or all are with are organized school outings - with teachers as their guides.
There is heather up here, with small white, dryish flowers, a very faint scent. There are succulants. And I get a whiff of rotting grapes once in a while.
I get into the next town - Cornelia - or something like that. Check out the waterfront. And then head out to the next town. Share the last of those delicious almond cookies with a fellow traveler as we find the next section of the path together.
Just before I get to the next town (Vernazza), I get a splat on my back. Is it a bird? No, it is rain. A huge drop. Then the hail starts. It gets to be pea sized. And then both hail and rain. Now where is that umbrella hat when I need it? Frankfurt.
Well I scoot into town and hang out under an awning for a bit. Did I mention doing more laundry last night? I left it out to dry today. So I realize it is now getting a second rinse!
Some of the folks in town are zipping around, hauling there clothes in from the dry lines. Others, like me just accept the extra rinse.
I am still in my quick dry t-shirt. It was quick to dry even in these circumstances. I meet some other fellow travelers from the states - Dana and Shea from Santa Cruz - near the internet point. Howdy there!
I tour the town and the rain abates. Then we all get a third rinse. I climb an old tower. And watch the waves at the breakwater. Very dramatic. Quite a change form earlier in the day. I think of the Iliad and the Odyssey. This was the sea setting for those stories.
I am ready to go to the next town. Nice thing - the rain really concentrated all the hikers into the towns. It thinned out the crowd of kids on the trail. For this next section, I only run across a few other hikers.
The air is crisp an d cool. Ten to 15 degrees F cooler. I keep warm by hiking. Not to fast, just at a steady pace. The fellow from Hamburg that I met in Genova said his knees were sore from these hikes, so I am careful. It was good advice. On the way down to the next town, step by step, I can tell that one of my knees has had just about enough. The down hill is harder on them.
This trail would never exist in the US. In places, it is only a foot wide. There is a steep drop off. Sometimes there are stairs that stick out of a rock wall. The stairs are just six inches wide. No hand rails. I like it.
I smell some blooming rosemary - small purple blooms. And I go by some gushing streams on the way down into town. Now why is it that bladder distress increases exponentially when hiking past a stream?
I get into town pretty quickly. This one actually has a beach.
My plan is to go back to Vernazza for dinner, then go home to bed. I have two options - walk or take the train. I decide to take the train. The fare is 1.1 euro to home (and I can stop in Vernazza as long as my total trip does not exceed 6 hours). Great system here.
Well the train only runs each two hours. I decide to take it anyway. Walking might be faster, but I do not want to stress my knees. And this gives me more time to spend at the beach here.
Good thing I didn't walk. It did get dark. And it rained more. It would have taken longer to walk back, with being tired, and finding my way along a wet and darker trail. Did I mention those narrow, steep stairs with no hand rails?
Well, I had checked out Trattoria de Capitan in Vernazza earlier, to try to make a reservation for later. It wasn't open yet. When I go back on the train and get there, it is still closed. So I guess that means the Italian on the door means open Thursday through Tuesday. So I don't get to try this per a recommendation from the Boston traveler. Maybe next time.
I eat at Trattoria da Sandro. Only tourists here. The very best part of the meal is the anchovies pickled in lemon and olive oil. I have toffie (a fresh pasta - little squiggles really). And a local dish called Tegame Nernazza (a combination of anchovies, potato, and tomato). The prefer the raw anchovies (antipasto). The local wine is nice and tart (a white called DOC Sassarini).
And for dessert I try the wine made from old dried out grapes. It takes a lot of grapes to make a bottle of this stuff. It is called sucacchetea. It is sweet thick with a hint of raisin. Makes sense.
Well the couple from Minneapolis at the next table suggested I not skip Rome. I said I was worried about the Easter crowd. She asked what my goal was - to see old things - they said go go. [Well, just to let you know, here I am. I arrived in Rome today. I will depart when it gets too crowded.] Howdy!
I scoot off to my train. And get home and get a good night's rest.
My plan is to travel tomorrow, since there is a planned and publicized strike Friday morning. This will put me in Florence before the strike. Nice that they let us all know.
This was a great place to rest up, if you call hiking resting. It was a needed break from the sightseeing in cities. I read some in the guide book, and it suggested avoiding jumping into Italy by starting with Milano. Well, I didn't have the book yet, so I did the leap into the frigid waters approach. Now I am ready for more. Tomorrow to Florence, with a stop at Pisa on the way to see the leaning tower.
Nite nite.
===============
Wednesday 24 March
==============
Manarola . . .
There is a scheduled power outage this morning. The entire town. Shop keeper have candles lit so we know they are open for business. I get bread and meat and set off on my hike back to the Cinque Terre towns I passed on the train.
The streets here are steep. And are barely wide enough to accommodate two astride.
I see some land across the sea. I ask a local later and discover it is Corsica. Another local shows me the angle to look for a view of the French Alps. It is a clear day. Beautiful view.
As I depart the town, it is very busy out in the country. I guess it is a work day after all. People are out working in the vineyards. They are tiered to the extreme - one row of vines for each tier in most places. And the lift on each tier is taller then the tier is wide. So overall, the slope is steeper than 45 degrees.
As I get further up,there are trees. I ask a local man working on the trees what kind they are. He says "oliva". So olive trees too. Denny,you have likely been here. If not, you would like it.
I also like the occasional stone hut. No longer seem to be in use, at least not habitated. Maybe more of a working shed. Or places to get away from the sun and heat in the summer for a lunch break.
I meet Pat and Bonnie from Austin Texas up on the trails. I asked her if she asked the boss (him) for the time off,and if he said yes, if he could go along. Turns out it is the other way around. She's the President! Howdy!
Just then a local woman passed us on the narrow path. She had a bundle of cut sticks balanced on her head. And her purse in one hand. When I say balanced, that's what I mean. No hands. There was a cloth wrapped on her head to provide a cushion and a platform for the wood. Sturdy hardy folks here.
There are rain barrels scattered around. Rain runoff is channeled into them. Looks like it may be used for irrigation of the grapes later.
You know you might be a seasoned traveler when you can tell other tourists from the locals and can tell what country they hail from, including the one you are in (US, France, Germany, Italy, Japan). Yes, there are many Italian tourists. Especially now. Spring break just started or is about to start. Teenagers are out in swarms - some or all are with are organized school outings - with teachers as their guides.
There is heather up here, with small white, dryish flowers, a very faint scent. There are succulants. And I get a whiff of rotting grapes once in a while.
I get into the next town - Cornelia - or something like that. Check out the waterfront. And then head out to the next town. Share the last of those delicious almond cookies with a fellow traveler as we find the next section of the path together.
Just before I get to the next town (Vernazza), I get a splat on my back. Is it a bird? No, it is rain. A huge drop. Then the hail starts. It gets to be pea sized. And then both hail and rain. Now where is that umbrella hat when I need it? Frankfurt.
Well I scoot into town and hang out under an awning for a bit. Did I mention doing more laundry last night? I left it out to dry today. So I realize it is now getting a second rinse!
Some of the folks in town are zipping around, hauling there clothes in from the dry lines. Others, like me just accept the extra rinse.
I am still in my quick dry t-shirt. It was quick to dry even in these circumstances. I meet some other fellow travelers from the states - Dana and Shea from Santa Cruz - near the internet point. Howdy there!
I tour the town and the rain abates. Then we all get a third rinse. I climb an old tower. And watch the waves at the breakwater. Very dramatic. Quite a change form earlier in the day. I think of the Iliad and the Odyssey. This was the sea setting for those stories.
I am ready to go to the next town. Nice thing - the rain really concentrated all the hikers into the towns. It thinned out the crowd of kids on the trail. For this next section, I only run across a few other hikers.
The air is crisp an d cool. Ten to 15 degrees F cooler. I keep warm by hiking. Not to fast, just at a steady pace. The fellow from Hamburg that I met in Genova said his knees were sore from these hikes, so I am careful. It was good advice. On the way down to the next town, step by step, I can tell that one of my knees has had just about enough. The down hill is harder on them.
This trail would never exist in the US. In places, it is only a foot wide. There is a steep drop off. Sometimes there are stairs that stick out of a rock wall. The stairs are just six inches wide. No hand rails. I like it.
I smell some blooming rosemary - small purple blooms. And I go by some gushing streams on the way down into town. Now why is it that bladder distress increases exponentially when hiking past a stream?
I get into town pretty quickly. This one actually has a beach.
My plan is to go back to Vernazza for dinner, then go home to bed. I have two options - walk or take the train. I decide to take the train. The fare is 1.1 euro to home (and I can stop in Vernazza as long as my total trip does not exceed 6 hours). Great system here.
Well the train only runs each two hours. I decide to take it anyway. Walking might be faster, but I do not want to stress my knees. And this gives me more time to spend at the beach here.
Good thing I didn't walk. It did get dark. And it rained more. It would have taken longer to walk back, with being tired, and finding my way along a wet and darker trail. Did I mention those narrow, steep stairs with no hand rails?
Well, I had checked out Trattoria de Capitan in Vernazza earlier, to try to make a reservation for later. It wasn't open yet. When I go back on the train and get there, it is still closed. So I guess that means the Italian on the door means open Thursday through Tuesday. So I don't get to try this per a recommendation from the Boston traveler. Maybe next time.
I eat at Trattoria da Sandro. Only tourists here. The very best part of the meal is the anchovies pickled in lemon and olive oil. I have toffie (a fresh pasta - little squiggles really). And a local dish called Tegame Nernazza (a combination of anchovies, potato, and tomato). The prefer the raw anchovies (antipasto). The local wine is nice and tart (a white called DOC Sassarini).
And for dessert I try the wine made from old dried out grapes. It takes a lot of grapes to make a bottle of this stuff. It is called sucacchetea. It is sweet thick with a hint of raisin. Makes sense.
Well the couple from Minneapolis at the next table suggested I not skip Rome. I said I was worried about the Easter crowd. She asked what my goal was - to see old things - they said go go. [Well, just to let you know, here I am. I arrived in Rome today. I will depart when it gets too crowded.] Howdy!
I scoot off to my train. And get home and get a good night's rest.
My plan is to travel tomorrow, since there is a planned and publicized strike Friday morning. This will put me in Florence before the strike. Nice that they let us all know.
This was a great place to rest up, if you call hiking resting. It was a needed break from the sightseeing in cities. I read some in the guide book, and it suggested avoiding jumping into Italy by starting with Milano. Well, I didn't have the book yet, so I did the leap into the frigid waters approach. Now I am ready for more. Tomorrow to Florence, with a stop at Pisa on the way to see the leaning tower.
Nite nite.
===============
========
Tuesday 23 March (continued)
============
to Chinque Terre . . .
I like Nervi. It is a complete town. With a main street. I need a smaller place like this for a time. It is tempting to stay - very inviting, but I continue on to Manarola, with hopes it will be as good or better. The sea is part of it. And maybe, just maybe, I am getting used to the chaos.
I am leaning how to shop better. Even rolls are by the kilogram. When asked how much, I don't know how to say weights. So it has been working for me to just show them the money. Then they know how much to give me. And I know I have enough money on hand.
Blue Blue here . . . the sky and the sea. There are citrus three with ripe fruit on them - looks like lemons. The shore is rocky. A sturdy rugged coastline
The train arrives at Manarola. I hike up the hill to my place. I am a bit early. It isn't open yet. I meet a woman from Boston. I take her picture for her. Howdy there. I tried going to your recommended dinner place - the Trattoria al Capitan in Vernazza. But alas, I got there on a Wednesday evening, and they were closed. So maybe next trip.
I meet Timo from Leipzig. He may come to Seattle to visit Jimi Hendrix (grave site). It is actually in Renton, at the Mt olive Cemetery, on cemetery road. I go by there all the time on my way to Laura Lee's and my moms. So when you come to Seattle Timo, let me know. And I'll give you a tour.
I realize we all know some Italian words already - like arrivederchi, capiche. These prove useful. Especially "no capiche" to the man I bought stamps from who I thought was the postmaster in town.
Dinner is at Trattoria Billy. Have many local dishes. Antipasti from the sea. Squid. And some fresh pickled anchovies. These are excellent - caught two days ago, soaked in lemon juice and olive oil. That's it. Mmm good. A must try on my list.
I have the pesto pasta. Pesto was created here. The basil is fresh fresh and just bursts with just picked flavor in my mouth. And now I can say I have had pasta al dente - very firm. I get a fresh fish broiled. Instead of trying to explain my choices, the waiter brings me the raw fishes for me to choose one. Yes, fresh fresh. Caught that day. Branzino is the king of the sea. Next time I will have to try the queen - the orata. The taste is a cross between trout and halibut.. It is served with oregano, lemon, tomatoes, and olive oil. And all this in a smoke free dining environment. A great day!
Meet Professor Renzol on the way back home. He is an Italian tourist. On tour with his class. Actually, I think he is the principal, and his teachers are on tour with their classes. Italian are a fun bunch. And warm, open, hospitable.
Nite Nite.
==============
Tuesday 23 March (continued)
============
to Chinque Terre . . .
I like Nervi. It is a complete town. With a main street. I need a smaller place like this for a time. It is tempting to stay - very inviting, but I continue on to Manarola, with hopes it will be as good or better. The sea is part of it. And maybe, just maybe, I am getting used to the chaos.
I am leaning how to shop better. Even rolls are by the kilogram. When asked how much, I don't know how to say weights. So it has been working for me to just show them the money. Then they know how much to give me. And I know I have enough money on hand.
Blue Blue here . . . the sky and the sea. There are citrus three with ripe fruit on them - looks like lemons. The shore is rocky. A sturdy rugged coastline
The train arrives at Manarola. I hike up the hill to my place. I am a bit early. It isn't open yet. I meet a woman from Boston. I take her picture for her. Howdy there. I tried going to your recommended dinner place - the Trattoria al Capitan in Vernazza. But alas, I got there on a Wednesday evening, and they were closed. So maybe next trip.
I meet Timo from Leipzig. He may come to Seattle to visit Jimi Hendrix (grave site). It is actually in Renton, at the Mt olive Cemetery, on cemetery road. I go by there all the time on my way to Laura Lee's and my moms. So when you come to Seattle Timo, let me know. And I'll give you a tour.
I realize we all know some Italian words already - like arrivederchi, capiche. These prove useful. Especially "no capiche" to the man I bought stamps from who I thought was the postmaster in town.
Dinner is at Trattoria Billy. Have many local dishes. Antipasti from the sea. Squid. And some fresh pickled anchovies. These are excellent - caught two days ago, soaked in lemon juice and olive oil. That's it. Mmm good. A must try on my list.
I have the pesto pasta. Pesto was created here. The basil is fresh fresh and just bursts with just picked flavor in my mouth. And now I can say I have had pasta al dente - very firm. I get a fresh fish broiled. Instead of trying to explain my choices, the waiter brings me the raw fishes for me to choose one. Yes, fresh fresh. Caught that day. Branzino is the king of the sea. Next time I will have to try the queen - the orata. The taste is a cross between trout and halibut.. It is served with oregano, lemon, tomatoes, and olive oil. And all this in a smoke free dining environment. A great day!
Meet Professor Renzol on the way back home. He is an Italian tourist. On tour with his class. Actually, I think he is the principal, and his teachers are on tour with their classes. Italian are a fun bunch. And warm, open, hospitable.
Nite Nite.
==============
laundry
===========Tuesday 23 March
============
Genova . . .
Well I actually read my Italy guide book. He recommends not entering Italy via Milano. Too much of a shock. Too late for me. He recommends Chinque Terra for the culture adjustment. So I decide to head there. I need a break from sights. Beautiful scenery and nature are just the ticket. Sorry Genova. Thought we would get to know each other better.
Based on a conversation with a fellow traveler from Hamburg, I choose Manarola as my home town in the Chinque Terra.
t is cooler today, windy, clearer. My laundry is almost dry.
Sometimes when you use your swimsuit as a substitute for a second day, you just turn it inside out. Only sometimes.
I take the bus as far as I can. All of a sudden, there is a flurry of activity on the bus. People are diving for their wallets. Yes, it is a ticket checker. The first time for me on a bus. Then I realize there are two checkers. I ask him, due (two)?. He says no, quarto (four). Meaning, they caught four without tickets. Turns out there were three checkers.
I get off the bus in Nervi. Nice town. Train ride is next. Short trip to the Chinque Terre.
============
=======
Monday 22 March
===========
Genova . . .
Sunny, wonderful Med. view. Narrow streets. Seem even more so since the building are high. At home I would call them alleys.
One problem today. No more clean underwear. What to do. Good thing packed some swim shorts.
No lanes marked on the roads. There is just a flow of traffic. Reminds me of red blood cells going through arteries. Pressure keeps the flow. A few get pushed aside until there is an opening. Only these have curves! The buses go around them with ease. With only inches to spare. All seems well timed. Other drivers know to yield - and they do so ahead of time - a good block length back. They anticipate well when there is not enough room for two to squeeze by.
This city is a bee hive of activity. And parking? Seems like anywhere and every where. Seems to be no apparent rules. There must be some conventions though. Sidewalks are used. Sometimes the car sticks out. One time the bus couldn't get by a parked car. He waited. Within 15 seconds, a woman came out and moved the car. She knew to keep an eye out.
My goal for today - go into town, do laundry, get something to eat. I did well in the food department. Jana's phrase book came in handy for "where is" ("Do ve") and lavanderia. I actually got directed to one. Machines were going. But it was locked with no one in sight. Open hours have their own conventions here too.
After looking for another for a time, I realized at this rate, it would be quicker to just hand wash everything. So I went back to my place and did so. It wasn't so hard. I decide to keep up with it from this point on - to not save it up. Based on this, I learn that next time, I can get by with bringing even fewer clothes. Yes, two pairs of pants is enough. So it is good that I left those blue ones by mistake.
I do the laundry and get some rest.
Then I go back to town. And of course on the way, I see without trying a lavenderia, then a second, and then a third. So now I was tuned in, and even though I didn't need one anymore, they kept appearing.
This is a harbor town. Home town for Columbus.
The standard bread fare is foccacia - yum - fresh baked with olive oil.
I like the grocery carts - the wheels go in all directions - all four of them, not just the front two. So you can swing the cart around a corner. Makes it easier to navigate the narrow aisles.
I am still in the enough already mood. No sights for me. Not even dinner out. I get some seafood salad and head for home. They serve pasta there. So I get some and combine it with my sea food.
Early to bed. For more rest.
Maybe I would be ready for Genova sights tomorrow.
==============
Monday 22 March
===========
Genova . . .
Sunny, wonderful Med. view. Narrow streets. Seem even more so since the building are high. At home I would call them alleys.
One problem today. No more clean underwear. What to do. Good thing packed some swim shorts.
No lanes marked on the roads. There is just a flow of traffic. Reminds me of red blood cells going through arteries. Pressure keeps the flow. A few get pushed aside until there is an opening. Only these have curves! The buses go around them with ease. With only inches to spare. All seems well timed. Other drivers know to yield - and they do so ahead of time - a good block length back. They anticipate well when there is not enough room for two to squeeze by.
This city is a bee hive of activity. And parking? Seems like anywhere and every where. Seems to be no apparent rules. There must be some conventions though. Sidewalks are used. Sometimes the car sticks out. One time the bus couldn't get by a parked car. He waited. Within 15 seconds, a woman came out and moved the car. She knew to keep an eye out.
My goal for today - go into town, do laundry, get something to eat. I did well in the food department. Jana's phrase book came in handy for "where is" ("Do ve") and lavanderia. I actually got directed to one. Machines were going. But it was locked with no one in sight. Open hours have their own conventions here too.
After looking for another for a time, I realized at this rate, it would be quicker to just hand wash everything. So I went back to my place and did so. It wasn't so hard. I decide to keep up with it from this point on - to not save it up. Based on this, I learn that next time, I can get by with bringing even fewer clothes. Yes, two pairs of pants is enough. So it is good that I left those blue ones by mistake.
I do the laundry and get some rest.
Then I go back to town. And of course on the way, I see without trying a lavenderia, then a second, and then a third. So now I was tuned in, and even though I didn't need one anymore, they kept appearing.
This is a harbor town. Home town for Columbus.
The standard bread fare is foccacia - yum - fresh baked with olive oil.
I like the grocery carts - the wheels go in all directions - all four of them, not just the front two. So you can swing the cart around a corner. Makes it easier to navigate the narrow aisles.
I am still in the enough already mood. No sights for me. Not even dinner out. I get some seafood salad and head for home. They serve pasta there. So I get some and combine it with my sea food.
Early to bed. For more rest.
Maybe I would be ready for Genova sights tomorrow.
==============
=========
Sunday 21 March
===========
Milano . . . . overcast.
Did I mention I was low on clean clothes. I hand wash socks and dry them out with one of those (up to now useless) air driers. They don't do much for drying hands, but they are great for drying laundry!
Laura Lee, by the way, the swimmer's towel works great. It does dry quickly. So quickly, that water evaporates as I use it, which provides a cool wake up. Bracing.
I go to the station to check my bag. There are no nice self-serve lockers like in Germany. I have to wait in line to check my bag. Then it is searched by a policeman. Then put into storage. Looks like no quick exit to leave, so I plan an extra 15 minutes before my train leaves in order to wait in line to get my bag back. Seems very inefficient. May it is done this way to create work (three people there to handle the transaction).
There are many more smokers here in Italy. Everywhere. On the streets. In stores. Tobacco stores everywhere. Must not be taxed much. They must have quite a national health problem.
I go back to the Monumental Cemetery. The sculpture is great. Very concentrated. These are not simply grave stones. They are monuments. Some are buildings. As big as small houses. Al packed together. I wonder what the belief is that would cause someone to do this. If you believe in salvation, all this display is not necessary. Maybe it is for those left behind, to give reassurance that their loved one did go to heaven. But again, I wonder, if that is the firm belief, all this seems necessary. Maybe it is a king of insurance, just in case. In any event, it creates some great art. And yes, it appears to create quite a bit of work. Too bad that work isn't directed toward building the economy. I pass a bust of Guiseppe Verde (opera composer). I do not find the Toscanini (opera conductor) family monument.
Steve, I did go to the Opera house earlier about a show. Tosca doesn't open until March 26. So my opera show will have to wait.
I actually get lost inside the monuments. I find a map, but alas, it does not indicate "you are here". SO I resort to heading for the tallest I can see. I climb up its stairs. And in the distance, I can spy the wall, and I find the general direction of where I entered. This place is quite a spread. 300 acres plus, I would guess.
I get a crepe (savory/salty). And think of Jana. They are good here.
Have I mentioned plumbing problems? I get to the hand washing step and I cannot figure out how to turn on the water. Then the lights go out! I think power outage. I open the door, and no, it is just me. Had I mentioned those nice timed switches that turn off automatically, as an energy saver. A little disconcerting when it happens unexpectedly. And this one didn't have a nice orange glowing switch for easy location on the dark. So I get the light back on, and finally figure out that the water is controlled by a foot pedal on the floor. Actually quite nice. Makes for hands free and sanitary operation.
Later I run across one that had two foot pedals - one for cold, one for hot - and by tilting my foot one way or the other I could adjust the temperature.
Go to the Museo Risorgimento. They have great marble busts.
Then time for another crepe. This time a sweet one, filled with fresh fruit. In the process, I end up at the back of the church. The one I saw yesterday encased in scaffolding. The back is spectacular. There are life sized sculptures all over it. Turns out there are over 3400 in all. This place was built from 1386 until 1774. It is huge. Can you imagine a project that spanned lifetimes. What happened to our project sponsor? He died. What about funding? Oh, and the new guy wants a design change. Oh, and technology had improved. So we must incorporate this and that.. Well, the result is a work of art. So worth it. The marble is pink with grey blotches. Quite attractive. The entire inside is carved everywhere. So much work. Craftsmen came for all over Europe, Germany included.
Oh, by the way, the unfinished Pieta from yesterday is at the Sforza Castle Museum. A must see for you here in the future.
Annie, had my first gelato. Coconut, mango, and pistachio. All good.
Went to the San Maurizo church. There was left over incense for the morning services. The entire inside is painted. Walls, ceilings.
I go back to the archeology museum - since I got kicked out yesterday. Glad I did. Downstairs was an exhibit with pieces from 300 to 500 BC. And Grecian urns. It was worth it just to go back and see the marble pieces again.
I was forming a favorite artist - named Anonimo. He had great marble sculptures. And some great painting. Very versatile. I was surprised he wasn't well know. His stuff was great. Then I ran across a violin made by him. That caused me to stop and ponder. Who could sculpt, paint, and make violins? Oh, of course, anonymous! Well, chalk up another Italian word learned.
Went to the Scalia Museum. And then my sight seeing was done. Back where I started, just outside the Leonardo. No time for the planned stop at the Science Museum.
Time to get ready to travel. Stop at a pastry shop for later. Get pizza fast food (Spizzico). I learn that in Italy, you are not considered to be inline unless you are pressed up against the back of the person being served. People were taking cuts on me. For them, I was not in line. I wasn't pushing up against the first person in line. Well, it isn't a bank, so no need for privacy.
The eating area is on an upper floor, so I watch folks in the plaza.
I go to the station. Get my bag out of storage. There was plenty of time. I leave with a pang. Here was a place that completely overwhelmed me upon arriving. Now in a few days, it was a bit familiar - so now it was hard to leave. I actually was liking it much better. Except for the grime and the graffiti. So off I go, to the next city. This one was a challenge. The challenge created some kind of bond. A success. A great stay.
On the train to Genova, the conductor held up a 50 Euro bill. Anybody lose this. No one was claiming it. Not like the US, I thought. Then later, when she found a 5 and was waving it around, I realized that the was asking for change! Not for who might have lost it.
The pastry choice was excellent (from earlier). They are these chewy cookies, made from almonds (mazipan). Crunchy outside. Mmm good. Wish I had gotten more. Will keep an eye out for them.
Get to Genova, go directly to my place to stay. I am not ready for another city. Enough sight seeing already. Enough figuring out a new place. Enough of finding my way around, figuring out what to see, etc.
Respite time for me. Rest for me. And my goal for tomorrow - get my laundry done. That's it!
==============
Sunday 21 March
===========
Milano . . . . overcast.
Did I mention I was low on clean clothes. I hand wash socks and dry them out with one of those (up to now useless) air driers. They don't do much for drying hands, but they are great for drying laundry!
Laura Lee, by the way, the swimmer's towel works great. It does dry quickly. So quickly, that water evaporates as I use it, which provides a cool wake up. Bracing.
I go to the station to check my bag. There are no nice self-serve lockers like in Germany. I have to wait in line to check my bag. Then it is searched by a policeman. Then put into storage. Looks like no quick exit to leave, so I plan an extra 15 minutes before my train leaves in order to wait in line to get my bag back. Seems very inefficient. May it is done this way to create work (three people there to handle the transaction).
There are many more smokers here in Italy. Everywhere. On the streets. In stores. Tobacco stores everywhere. Must not be taxed much. They must have quite a national health problem.
I go back to the Monumental Cemetery. The sculpture is great. Very concentrated. These are not simply grave stones. They are monuments. Some are buildings. As big as small houses. Al packed together. I wonder what the belief is that would cause someone to do this. If you believe in salvation, all this display is not necessary. Maybe it is for those left behind, to give reassurance that their loved one did go to heaven. But again, I wonder, if that is the firm belief, all this seems necessary. Maybe it is a king of insurance, just in case. In any event, it creates some great art. And yes, it appears to create quite a bit of work. Too bad that work isn't directed toward building the economy. I pass a bust of Guiseppe Verde (opera composer). I do not find the Toscanini (opera conductor) family monument.
Steve, I did go to the Opera house earlier about a show. Tosca doesn't open until March 26. So my opera show will have to wait.
I actually get lost inside the monuments. I find a map, but alas, it does not indicate "you are here". SO I resort to heading for the tallest I can see. I climb up its stairs. And in the distance, I can spy the wall, and I find the general direction of where I entered. This place is quite a spread. 300 acres plus, I would guess.
I get a crepe (savory/salty). And think of Jana. They are good here.
Have I mentioned plumbing problems? I get to the hand washing step and I cannot figure out how to turn on the water. Then the lights go out! I think power outage. I open the door, and no, it is just me. Had I mentioned those nice timed switches that turn off automatically, as an energy saver. A little disconcerting when it happens unexpectedly. And this one didn't have a nice orange glowing switch for easy location on the dark. So I get the light back on, and finally figure out that the water is controlled by a foot pedal on the floor. Actually quite nice. Makes for hands free and sanitary operation.
Later I run across one that had two foot pedals - one for cold, one for hot - and by tilting my foot one way or the other I could adjust the temperature.
Go to the Museo Risorgimento. They have great marble busts.
Then time for another crepe. This time a sweet one, filled with fresh fruit. In the process, I end up at the back of the church. The one I saw yesterday encased in scaffolding. The back is spectacular. There are life sized sculptures all over it. Turns out there are over 3400 in all. This place was built from 1386 until 1774. It is huge. Can you imagine a project that spanned lifetimes. What happened to our project sponsor? He died. What about funding? Oh, and the new guy wants a design change. Oh, and technology had improved. So we must incorporate this and that.. Well, the result is a work of art. So worth it. The marble is pink with grey blotches. Quite attractive. The entire inside is carved everywhere. So much work. Craftsmen came for all over Europe, Germany included.
Oh, by the way, the unfinished Pieta from yesterday is at the Sforza Castle Museum. A must see for you here in the future.
Annie, had my first gelato. Coconut, mango, and pistachio. All good.
Went to the San Maurizo church. There was left over incense for the morning services. The entire inside is painted. Walls, ceilings.
I go back to the archeology museum - since I got kicked out yesterday. Glad I did. Downstairs was an exhibit with pieces from 300 to 500 BC. And Grecian urns. It was worth it just to go back and see the marble pieces again.
I was forming a favorite artist - named Anonimo. He had great marble sculptures. And some great painting. Very versatile. I was surprised he wasn't well know. His stuff was great. Then I ran across a violin made by him. That caused me to stop and ponder. Who could sculpt, paint, and make violins? Oh, of course, anonymous! Well, chalk up another Italian word learned.
Went to the Scalia Museum. And then my sight seeing was done. Back where I started, just outside the Leonardo. No time for the planned stop at the Science Museum.
Time to get ready to travel. Stop at a pastry shop for later. Get pizza fast food (Spizzico). I learn that in Italy, you are not considered to be inline unless you are pressed up against the back of the person being served. People were taking cuts on me. For them, I was not in line. I wasn't pushing up against the first person in line. Well, it isn't a bank, so no need for privacy.
The eating area is on an upper floor, so I watch folks in the plaza.
I go to the station. Get my bag out of storage. There was plenty of time. I leave with a pang. Here was a place that completely overwhelmed me upon arriving. Now in a few days, it was a bit familiar - so now it was hard to leave. I actually was liking it much better. Except for the grime and the graffiti. So off I go, to the next city. This one was a challenge. The challenge created some kind of bond. A success. A great stay.
On the train to Genova, the conductor held up a 50 Euro bill. Anybody lose this. No one was claiming it. Not like the US, I thought. Then later, when she found a 5 and was waving it around, I realized that the was asking for change! Not for who might have lost it.
The pastry choice was excellent (from earlier). They are these chewy cookies, made from almonds (mazipan). Crunchy outside. Mmm good. Wish I had gotten more. Will keep an eye out for them.
Get to Genova, go directly to my place to stay. I am not ready for another city. Enough sight seeing already. Enough figuring out a new place. Enough of finding my way around, figuring out what to see, etc.
Respite time for me. Rest for me. And my goal for tomorrow - get my laundry done. That's it!
==============
Sunday, March 28, 2004
==============
Saturday 20 March
============
Milano . . .
Things are better in the morning, of course. A good night's rest does wonders.
Yesterday, I came into Milano blind. Jana leant me a nice guide book for Germany, Switzerland, Austria, and Prague. I finally got to look at it upon arrival in Frankfurt. I like it because instead of covering every possible site, it focuses in on those that most people would appreciate. This helps to prioritize. And leaves room for me to discover items of my own particular interest.
I have no such guide book for Italy. So no information of what to see, where to stay, what to eat, where the train station is, where internet and laundry services are available.
So last night, I pieced together a solution for at least where to stay. Now if I had planned ahead just a little bit, I would have done this before leaving Bern. But no, I just proceed, and walk off the cliff. Oblivious is its own form of bliss, until I hit the ground. Luckily that rarely happens.
One piece of last night's solution was getting a phone number and address. Since the borrowed phone book was no use, I eventually found an internet point, and found a place using the web. That is how I got a number and address. Using the number didn't work out. So then with the address, and finding the bus map, and using my mini-flashlight, I figured out to use the subway. Up to now, the guide book gave me all this background. It's good to know I can manage if I have too. But it eats up time.
So the top priority today is to find an English guide book for Italy. And hopefully Rick Steves 2004. I even considered going to the train station and asking departing travelers if they would part with their copy. I looked on ricksteves.com to see if they listed where to get the books once in country, but no such help there.
In February, I was in his store in Edmonds, Washington getting a train pass. And got a 20% off coupon. Didn't have time to look over all the books. Wish I had picked up Italy then, but I didn't know. So a prime goal for today - get a guide.
And I am getting low on clean clothes.
Well, I also determine that the top site for me in town is "The Last Supper". I attempt to make a reservation over the phone, and get a phone tree in Italian. There is probably a way to et through to an English speaking person, but since it is also hard to hear with all the traffic noise, I give up. I determine to go there directly to make a reservation if possible.
On the way there, I check out the book stores. No such luck. Then in a square, I see one called the American Bookstore. I make a bee line. Ask if they have a Rick Steves Italy guide. She says, I think we sold out, but I will check. She finds a 2003 version on the shelf. I take it without hesitation, feeling lucky.
I get to Leonardo's and ask about a reservation. Turns out they had a group of 12 entering just at that moment. There was room for 15. So I got right in.
The Last Supper: it is on a wall at the end of room. Very faded, especially at the bottom. And at one point, someone cut a door through the middle if it, taking out part of the image at the bottom. The sky in the background really glows with light. And the folds in the table cloth look three dimensional. Like Dan Brown says in his book, there are many cups on the table, and there is a disembodied arm in the left side of the painting.
All in all a good morning. And it is before 10 AM.
Then the Duomo - the main church in town. It is absolutely huge inside. Long, wide and high. The bishop portraits indicate that each served for 30 to 45 years. So it must be a prestigious post, for a lifetime.
I go to the old defensive towers. And I get to walk the wall along the top. I like these old fortifications.
I find a nice neighborhood area. Go into a shop, and without any English spoken, I get two types of pizza, and a pastry (of course). In another shop, I get artichokes, fresh cheese balls (smoked), and ham (prosciutto). Makes a great lunch, sitting in the piazza (square) in the sun.
There is a remote controlled traffic post at the intersection. It pops up when a tram is on the way. It is about a foot in diameter, and it raises up from a flush position to about two feet high. Then it silently retracts back into the street. Cool. Another great idea.
In Germany and Switzerland, steeple were prominent. Here it is more built up. The churches are islands in a sea of buildings, with a nice lagoon (plaza) out front.
I run across an antique furniture sale at one of the churches. Must be a fund raiser for the Maria del Carmine church. One of the rooms being used for the sale had wood carved walls. That alone was worth seeing. And I doubt I would have had access, except for the sale in progress.
Next is the museums that made my list. The Brera Art Gallery, the Museo Teatrale alla Scala. Lots of art. The museum at the castle has sculpture and armor. One sculpture in particular made the visit to Milano worthwhile - it is an unfinished Pieta by Michelangelo. It is great to see a work in progress. He was working on it when he died. Sculptors worked some every day in order to keep strong. The sculptors lived a relatively long time back them. Some postulate that it is because of the upper body and cardio vascular workout that came with the job. The sculptors knew they had to keep at it or they would loose their form.
I love seeing the rough cuts - the initial sketching of the forms, and the later finer work. What makes this piece especially interesting is that there is a finished arm that is not connected to a body. During the creative process, Leonardo shifted Jesus to the right. What was Mary's should became the mass of stone for Jesus head. The legs were finished too, and they would remain. For Michelangelo, the sculpting was a dynamic process. Parts were completely finished, parts were finished and then to be removed as things shifted. I tell you, If I made an arm that beautiful, it would be hard to chip it off. But if you are that good, I guess it goes with the creative process. As the vision changed, all the invested work in unnecessary parts became irrelevant. A lesson here for me. Shift, move ahead toward the new vision.
Note: later I will see other unfinished (abandoned) works by Michelangelo in Florence. Similar characteristics. And some of his finished pieces have parts that are sketched, and not polished. And I see another unfinished Pieta. One that was intended for his own tomb. He smashed it with a hammer. Quite a story. There was something in the image for him. Together, these tell a story of the artist, and how and why he worked. I like that.
Also, I see an Egyptian exhibit. Very satisfying. Mummies included.
I run across the peace arch in town. There is a display of old dug up Roman marble pieces, found when excavation for a foundation. So there is quite a history here.
I go tot he Archeology Museum. And am kicked out at closing.
I see some great antique stores on the way to my next stop - the cemetery. It is called the Monumental Cemetery. Not in the guide book. But I want to see the sculpture. It is closed.
So I head back for the center of town, with some bladder distress. Now where is one of those pesky McDonalds when I actually have need for one?
There is a statue of Leonardo in a square. And a glass dome over a big long pedestrian area. It turns out that this was built by grateful citizens to the emperor for having won Italian independence from France.
The church front in the square is encased in scaffolding. The pedestrian area is expansive. No cars at all. Full of people.
I head home for dinner - to try the place that was closed the night before. I hear singing. A crowd singing. It is Saturday night, so I think it is the spectators at the soccer game. It is quite loud. They are all singing together. Must be a way to root for their team.
The dinner place is full - no seat without a reservation. SO I go to an alternate place. Have a calzone from a wood fired brick oven. They have a cover charge for dinner. It is the practice here.
On the way home, there is traffic, and lots of honking. Milano must have won the game.
Nite nite.
==============
Saturday 20 March
============
Milano . . .
Things are better in the morning, of course. A good night's rest does wonders.
Yesterday, I came into Milano blind. Jana leant me a nice guide book for Germany, Switzerland, Austria, and Prague. I finally got to look at it upon arrival in Frankfurt. I like it because instead of covering every possible site, it focuses in on those that most people would appreciate. This helps to prioritize. And leaves room for me to discover items of my own particular interest.
I have no such guide book for Italy. So no information of what to see, where to stay, what to eat, where the train station is, where internet and laundry services are available.
So last night, I pieced together a solution for at least where to stay. Now if I had planned ahead just a little bit, I would have done this before leaving Bern. But no, I just proceed, and walk off the cliff. Oblivious is its own form of bliss, until I hit the ground. Luckily that rarely happens.
One piece of last night's solution was getting a phone number and address. Since the borrowed phone book was no use, I eventually found an internet point, and found a place using the web. That is how I got a number and address. Using the number didn't work out. So then with the address, and finding the bus map, and using my mini-flashlight, I figured out to use the subway. Up to now, the guide book gave me all this background. It's good to know I can manage if I have too. But it eats up time.
So the top priority today is to find an English guide book for Italy. And hopefully Rick Steves 2004. I even considered going to the train station and asking departing travelers if they would part with their copy. I looked on ricksteves.com to see if they listed where to get the books once in country, but no such help there.
In February, I was in his store in Edmonds, Washington getting a train pass. And got a 20% off coupon. Didn't have time to look over all the books. Wish I had picked up Italy then, but I didn't know. So a prime goal for today - get a guide.
And I am getting low on clean clothes.
Well, I also determine that the top site for me in town is "The Last Supper". I attempt to make a reservation over the phone, and get a phone tree in Italian. There is probably a way to et through to an English speaking person, but since it is also hard to hear with all the traffic noise, I give up. I determine to go there directly to make a reservation if possible.
On the way there, I check out the book stores. No such luck. Then in a square, I see one called the American Bookstore. I make a bee line. Ask if they have a Rick Steves Italy guide. She says, I think we sold out, but I will check. She finds a 2003 version on the shelf. I take it without hesitation, feeling lucky.
I get to Leonardo's and ask about a reservation. Turns out they had a group of 12 entering just at that moment. There was room for 15. So I got right in.
The Last Supper: it is on a wall at the end of room. Very faded, especially at the bottom. And at one point, someone cut a door through the middle if it, taking out part of the image at the bottom. The sky in the background really glows with light. And the folds in the table cloth look three dimensional. Like Dan Brown says in his book, there are many cups on the table, and there is a disembodied arm in the left side of the painting.
All in all a good morning. And it is before 10 AM.
Then the Duomo - the main church in town. It is absolutely huge inside. Long, wide and high. The bishop portraits indicate that each served for 30 to 45 years. So it must be a prestigious post, for a lifetime.
I go to the old defensive towers. And I get to walk the wall along the top. I like these old fortifications.
I find a nice neighborhood area. Go into a shop, and without any English spoken, I get two types of pizza, and a pastry (of course). In another shop, I get artichokes, fresh cheese balls (smoked), and ham (prosciutto). Makes a great lunch, sitting in the piazza (square) in the sun.
There is a remote controlled traffic post at the intersection. It pops up when a tram is on the way. It is about a foot in diameter, and it raises up from a flush position to about two feet high. Then it silently retracts back into the street. Cool. Another great idea.
In Germany and Switzerland, steeple were prominent. Here it is more built up. The churches are islands in a sea of buildings, with a nice lagoon (plaza) out front.
I run across an antique furniture sale at one of the churches. Must be a fund raiser for the Maria del Carmine church. One of the rooms being used for the sale had wood carved walls. That alone was worth seeing. And I doubt I would have had access, except for the sale in progress.
Next is the museums that made my list. The Brera Art Gallery, the Museo Teatrale alla Scala. Lots of art. The museum at the castle has sculpture and armor. One sculpture in particular made the visit to Milano worthwhile - it is an unfinished Pieta by Michelangelo. It is great to see a work in progress. He was working on it when he died. Sculptors worked some every day in order to keep strong. The sculptors lived a relatively long time back them. Some postulate that it is because of the upper body and cardio vascular workout that came with the job. The sculptors knew they had to keep at it or they would loose their form.
I love seeing the rough cuts - the initial sketching of the forms, and the later finer work. What makes this piece especially interesting is that there is a finished arm that is not connected to a body. During the creative process, Leonardo shifted Jesus to the right. What was Mary's should became the mass of stone for Jesus head. The legs were finished too, and they would remain. For Michelangelo, the sculpting was a dynamic process. Parts were completely finished, parts were finished and then to be removed as things shifted. I tell you, If I made an arm that beautiful, it would be hard to chip it off. But if you are that good, I guess it goes with the creative process. As the vision changed, all the invested work in unnecessary parts became irrelevant. A lesson here for me. Shift, move ahead toward the new vision.
Note: later I will see other unfinished (abandoned) works by Michelangelo in Florence. Similar characteristics. And some of his finished pieces have parts that are sketched, and not polished. And I see another unfinished Pieta. One that was intended for his own tomb. He smashed it with a hammer. Quite a story. There was something in the image for him. Together, these tell a story of the artist, and how and why he worked. I like that.
Also, I see an Egyptian exhibit. Very satisfying. Mummies included.
I run across the peace arch in town. There is a display of old dug up Roman marble pieces, found when excavation for a foundation. So there is quite a history here.
I go tot he Archeology Museum. And am kicked out at closing.
I see some great antique stores on the way to my next stop - the cemetery. It is called the Monumental Cemetery. Not in the guide book. But I want to see the sculpture. It is closed.
So I head back for the center of town, with some bladder distress. Now where is one of those pesky McDonalds when I actually have need for one?
There is a statue of Leonardo in a square. And a glass dome over a big long pedestrian area. It turns out that this was built by grateful citizens to the emperor for having won Italian independence from France.
The church front in the square is encased in scaffolding. The pedestrian area is expansive. No cars at all. Full of people.
I head home for dinner - to try the place that was closed the night before. I hear singing. A crowd singing. It is Saturday night, so I think it is the spectators at the soccer game. It is quite loud. They are all singing together. Must be a way to root for their team.
The dinner place is full - no seat without a reservation. SO I go to an alternate place. Have a calzone from a wood fired brick oven. They have a cover charge for dinner. It is the practice here.
On the way home, there is traffic, and lots of honking. Milano must have won the game.
Nite nite.
==============
======
Friday 19 March
==========
Bern . . . Lucerne . . . Milano . . .
Sunny and warm.
And I remember the lesson from yesterday: get there and make a plan for getting back.
I am getting better. I managed to comprehend a track change on one of my train connections and I got to the revised train on time. I am starting to understand more of what I hear over the loudspeaker (all in German). Just in time too, since I am headed for Italy!
I go two pastries - used up all my Swiss Francs.
Of the three routes available, I take the middle one - the slow one - the scenic one. Bettina printed some trip plans she got off the internet the night before. These help me communicate with the ticket people. I get my supplement for the Italian section of my trip (since my pass does not include travel in Italy).
I make breakfast on the train, making first use of my new trusty Swiss knife - I cut bread and smoked sausage with it. Sure comes in handy. Thanks Bettina and Jonas.
The scenery from the train is picture postcard. Just as I had imagined Switzerland would be. There are farms on the hillsides, villages, steeples, alps, cows, and goats.
I have my Swiss pastry with the Swiss milk. It is another great day.
I stop and see the sights in Lucerne. There are swans on the river. Lots of mediaeval structures. There are multiple pedestrian bridges - no cars allowed. Cafes along the river. The water is clear. An Alpen view for 180 degrees. A beautiful city.
I go see the lion carved in a sandstone wall. The sandstone was lifted 10 million years ago. The visible layers are at a 45 degree angle.
There is along wall with towers. No walkway on the wall however. Not for defenders, or subsequent tourists.
As I was walking around the walls, I let a truck by, and leaned up against a cord fence. About 10 steps later I see a sign - something about caution, electric fence. So I leaned up against an electric fence. It is used to keep the Scottish Highlanders in the field within the walls. Luckily I didn't get a jolt.
I got back to the train station 10 minutes before the departure time (all determined before setting out for the city tour). I had a few times written down, and a must catch time - in order for me to get to my destination at a reasonable hour.
As I go on the train, I realized that I am entering the land of strong aftershave. Things are shifting, even before getting out of Switzerland.
The scenery continues to be nice. There are flat meadows with cows. We must not be as high, since there is no snow.
We pass one big peak. Very pointed. I don't think it is the Matterhorn, but something very much like it, further to the east.
We are going up in elevation. There are many avalanche scars in the mountain walls. With tailings of piled snow and soil. There are some concrete walls built to contain these tailings - meant to contain the flows after they have made their descents. And I see a few that have turned into gravel pits. Replenished each winter by further flows. And conveniently located near some train tracks. Good thinking.
I looked over the map of Italy. Then when someone spoke to me, I automatically answered "grazzi" - "thank you" in Italian. Thought that was a pretty good shift. Lets hope it stays this easy.
There are many thin waterfalls up in the mountains. Now we are really climbing. We go through many short tunnels. The mountainsides are steep here, with short valleys - not the wide flat ones. There is valley after valley, each a bit higher, after we go through a tunnel. Now there is standing snow all around.
Then we start down. The Swiss Italian side is more industrial. And sorry to say, dirtier. And less well maintained. It is warmer though.
The graffiti is no longer contained to the railroad way walls. It seems to be everywhere.
I stop in Lugano, and decide to take the next train out. Lucerne would be hard to beat. I do meet a nice French Swiss woman on the train. She is headed for Lugano for a holiday. It appears to be a nice laid back resort kind of town. I continue on to Milano.
As we enter Italy, the train stops. A uniformed man speaks to me. I show him my ticket. Not what he wanted. There is an immigration and customs check by the Italians for entry into Italy. I keep forgetting the Switzerland is not part of the European union. They say it is only a matter of time.
So I show my passport, and I am in. Back in actually, since I was in the EU upon entry into Germany. There was no check upon entry into Switzerland. No Swiss visa stamp on my passport.
I get to Milan. It is a huge city. Chaos abounds.
OK, now what? Find a place to stay. OK. Call. OK. How to use the phone. I am like an alien dropped of on some distant planet. New location, new language. At least not new money.
I figure out that I need a phone card for the phone. I buy one from a machine. There are no phone books. The tourist information desk just closed at 7 pm. I find a shop that is willing to let me look at their phone book. I call for a place to stay, after many tries (dialing with the 02, without, etc). And I get a recording in Italian. So I will just go there. The bus map helps - that I could only read with my trusty flat frog flashlight. I figure out that the subway goes near there. Then which line, how to get a ticket. I actually have to transfer at a crossing point. Graffiti is literally every where. On every building, sign, lamppost, wall. Dirty. Noisy.
I get there fine. And they have room. Whew.
Have I mentioned plumbing problems? OK, picture this. I finally get to my place after a day of travel. I scoot along to the toilet. And what do I encounter? No seat. No where to sit and relax. Squat? OK, I try that. There are no hand rails. I manage, but with difficulty. I am glad I have strong legs. And I wonder how older folks manage.
Then I go back top a place I had passed for dinner. They had just closed to new customers.
Well, I was no longer in a holiday mood. This place seemed too big, too dirty, too busy, and too foreign.
Later on I read in my guide book that plunging into Italy via Milan is not the way to go. It can be quite a shock. And it was.
I am homesick for Germany. I want my brezel mit butter.
================
Friday 19 March
==========
Bern . . . Lucerne . . . Milano . . .
Sunny and warm.
And I remember the lesson from yesterday: get there and make a plan for getting back.
I am getting better. I managed to comprehend a track change on one of my train connections and I got to the revised train on time. I am starting to understand more of what I hear over the loudspeaker (all in German). Just in time too, since I am headed for Italy!
I go two pastries - used up all my Swiss Francs.
Of the three routes available, I take the middle one - the slow one - the scenic one. Bettina printed some trip plans she got off the internet the night before. These help me communicate with the ticket people. I get my supplement for the Italian section of my trip (since my pass does not include travel in Italy).
I make breakfast on the train, making first use of my new trusty Swiss knife - I cut bread and smoked sausage with it. Sure comes in handy. Thanks Bettina and Jonas.
The scenery from the train is picture postcard. Just as I had imagined Switzerland would be. There are farms on the hillsides, villages, steeples, alps, cows, and goats.
I have my Swiss pastry with the Swiss milk. It is another great day.
I stop and see the sights in Lucerne. There are swans on the river. Lots of mediaeval structures. There are multiple pedestrian bridges - no cars allowed. Cafes along the river. The water is clear. An Alpen view for 180 degrees. A beautiful city.
I go see the lion carved in a sandstone wall. The sandstone was lifted 10 million years ago. The visible layers are at a 45 degree angle.
There is along wall with towers. No walkway on the wall however. Not for defenders, or subsequent tourists.
As I was walking around the walls, I let a truck by, and leaned up against a cord fence. About 10 steps later I see a sign - something about caution, electric fence. So I leaned up against an electric fence. It is used to keep the Scottish Highlanders in the field within the walls. Luckily I didn't get a jolt.
I got back to the train station 10 minutes before the departure time (all determined before setting out for the city tour). I had a few times written down, and a must catch time - in order for me to get to my destination at a reasonable hour.
As I go on the train, I realized that I am entering the land of strong aftershave. Things are shifting, even before getting out of Switzerland.
The scenery continues to be nice. There are flat meadows with cows. We must not be as high, since there is no snow.
We pass one big peak. Very pointed. I don't think it is the Matterhorn, but something very much like it, further to the east.
We are going up in elevation. There are many avalanche scars in the mountain walls. With tailings of piled snow and soil. There are some concrete walls built to contain these tailings - meant to contain the flows after they have made their descents. And I see a few that have turned into gravel pits. Replenished each winter by further flows. And conveniently located near some train tracks. Good thinking.
I looked over the map of Italy. Then when someone spoke to me, I automatically answered "grazzi" - "thank you" in Italian. Thought that was a pretty good shift. Lets hope it stays this easy.
There are many thin waterfalls up in the mountains. Now we are really climbing. We go through many short tunnels. The mountainsides are steep here, with short valleys - not the wide flat ones. There is valley after valley, each a bit higher, after we go through a tunnel. Now there is standing snow all around.
Then we start down. The Swiss Italian side is more industrial. And sorry to say, dirtier. And less well maintained. It is warmer though.
The graffiti is no longer contained to the railroad way walls. It seems to be everywhere.
I stop in Lugano, and decide to take the next train out. Lucerne would be hard to beat. I do meet a nice French Swiss woman on the train. She is headed for Lugano for a holiday. It appears to be a nice laid back resort kind of town. I continue on to Milano.
As we enter Italy, the train stops. A uniformed man speaks to me. I show him my ticket. Not what he wanted. There is an immigration and customs check by the Italians for entry into Italy. I keep forgetting the Switzerland is not part of the European union. They say it is only a matter of time.
So I show my passport, and I am in. Back in actually, since I was in the EU upon entry into Germany. There was no check upon entry into Switzerland. No Swiss visa stamp on my passport.
I get to Milan. It is a huge city. Chaos abounds.
OK, now what? Find a place to stay. OK. Call. OK. How to use the phone. I am like an alien dropped of on some distant planet. New location, new language. At least not new money.
I figure out that I need a phone card for the phone. I buy one from a machine. There are no phone books. The tourist information desk just closed at 7 pm. I find a shop that is willing to let me look at their phone book. I call for a place to stay, after many tries (dialing with the 02, without, etc). And I get a recording in Italian. So I will just go there. The bus map helps - that I could only read with my trusty flat frog flashlight. I figure out that the subway goes near there. Then which line, how to get a ticket. I actually have to transfer at a crossing point. Graffiti is literally every where. On every building, sign, lamppost, wall. Dirty. Noisy.
I get there fine. And they have room. Whew.
Have I mentioned plumbing problems? OK, picture this. I finally get to my place after a day of travel. I scoot along to the toilet. And what do I encounter? No seat. No where to sit and relax. Squat? OK, I try that. There are no hand rails. I manage, but with difficulty. I am glad I have strong legs. And I wonder how older folks manage.
Then I go back top a place I had passed for dinner. They had just closed to new customers.
Well, I was no longer in a holiday mood. This place seemed too big, too dirty, too busy, and too foreign.
Later on I read in my guide book that plunging into Italy via Milan is not the way to go. It can be quite a shock. And it was.
I am homesick for Germany. I want my brezel mit butter.
================
========
Thursday 18 March
============
Bern . . . Alps . . . Bern . . .
Another very clear day. There were stars over head during the night. I could see them through the sky light.
The plan for the day is to visit the Alps (train to Murren, walk to Gimmewald). And then return for a family dinner at Jonas' mother's.
You know you have lost at least part of your tourist aura when you can go to the bakery and handle the entire transaction in German, street vendors speak at you in German, and other tourists ask you for directions.
On the train ride up to the Alps, there are clusters of houses, with a few scattered ones.. Not too many. Lots of green fields. As we go up in elevation, there starts to be snow on the ground.
Part of the train ride is taking a lift up to Murren (at a 45 degree angle). From Bern it takes 2 hours to get to Murren. The valley here reminds me of Yosemite, except there is an added backdrop of even higher snow covered Alps - waterfalls included - with avalanche controls added. One waterfall is so high, that the entire flow disperses into mist before reaching the ground. Must be at least a 1500 foot drop. The basic scene is sheer cliffs down into a mostly flat green valley.
On the lift, we passed the descending car, and then our car moved back over to the common track. There were only two tracks at the crossing point. Very efficient.
After the lift, there was another train. Good thing I got a trip plan - in order to make all the changes and connections.
You know you are getting high in the Alps when everyone else in the car has skis. The snow is two feet deep. I start to wonder about my great rip plan. How am I going to hike to the next town over without my boots. Will the trail even be open? Somehow I just wasn't thinking snow. But wouldn't that be the association - Alps . . . snow. Especially in March! I am going to need to get some snowshoes.
I can see blue ice in the glaciers across the way, on the opposite wall of mountains.
After getting off the train, I venture off toward the next town - my destination - Gimmewald - to see if it is even possible to get there. I am in luck. There is a one lane road. And it is kind of plowed. One inch of ice in places. Some asphalt in others.
There is no one else on the road. One thing about this kind of journey. I do find myself off the beaten path. Or if on it, then on it at times when no one else is there.
Until the snow plow came . . .
To my right, a vertical snow bank. To my left a vertical drop off. The road is only wide enough for the plow. Not for both of us. So I do the practical thing and jump onto the wall of the snow bank - kind of a spiderman move. I cling to the wall as the plow passes. It seemed like the routine for the driver. It's a good thing that the icy snow bank was soft enough for me to form a grip. Worked quite well.
With icy fingers and an empty stomach, I checked my pockets. Found that bittersweet chocolate. A nice treat for the hike. It sure tasted good up there in the Swiss mountains. Thanks Frau Lang!
Then I found a path - snow covered - with straw dust scattered over it. The sign said to Gimmewald. It looked well traveled, so I took it. Continued my walk and got into town within the time posted on the road sign - it didn't declare kilometers, but hours and minutes walking time.
I was surprised that as I walked I was descending. I thought that Gimmewald was higher, but no, it is lower than Murren. After I got there, I noticed the walking time back to Murren was posted as being longer than the trip from there. So they every adjust the times for going up hill instead of down.
I had thought about hiking to the top - to Schilthorn. The sign said 5 something 20 min. The something must mean hours. So that was out for today. Dinner plans at 6. Besides, I doubted there would be a road to Schilthorn - would likely require snowshoes for sure.
Had lunch in Gimmewald. At a place that advertised rachlette. I ordered it, and I think I got the off season version. The dish was ham and pears on toast smothered in melted cheese. They assured me that it was the same cheese as was used for rachlette. Bettina later confirmed that the dish I had was something local - to keep warm energy - and yes, it wasn't rachlette. It was good. And I did stay warm and full.
The view for my table was great - mountains for 180 degrees around me. And I had to crane my neck up 40 degrees to see the peaks. Laura Lee, this looks like the best skiing I have ever seen. Long long runs. And big overall drops - a couple of thousand meters?!!
I heard some thunder during lunch, or what sounded like thunder. Upon looking up at a perfectly clear sky, I realize that no, it can't be. It must be an avalanche in the mountains opposite. I look for movement, but don't see any - there is simply too much area to scan. There are avalanche brochures handy for the skiers.
After lunch I did some local shopping. This consisted of ringing a bell, entering the store (really a hallway), helping myself, adding up the total, and making change. I depart with a pack full of goods and never talked to a soul. A kid did depart. And as he did so, he hid the house key in the drawer! As secure as need be. No one would get very far very fast.
I got some local vollmilch (whole milk) from a Gimmewald farm. Fresh fresh Swiss milk. Can it get any better than this?
I mail a post card. And I see the local PO Box system. It consists of mail in separate stacks under rocks on a bench by the side of the post office. Under an eave of course, to keep the snow off.
I walk back to Murren. Met one woman on the road with two kids in a stroller. She asked me to leave any sun glasses I might find at the lost and found in Murren. I did find them and deposited them when I got to Murren. Howdy. Hope you picked them up just fine.
Decision time - to take the ski lift up to Schilthorn? I ask about when the trains depart, and the woman tells me every 15 minutes. So I figure two and a half hours for my return trip. OK, up I will go, since I am not walking it this time.
It is a ski lift where everyone gets in a big glassed in cage. Everyone else has snowy skis - like they had just finished a run. Up we go. I look down, and cannot believe that people can actually ski on the steep terrain.
Up top, there is an even better view of the glaciers. There is a 225 degree panorama of mountain views. And now I only have to tilt my head up 10 degrees.
The thermostat says 12 degrees Celsius. Quite warm for this height. I am in my shirt sleeves.
To get to the top of Schilthorn, I had to take a second ski lift - it is in two stages. At the top, there is a cafe that turns. I had an apfelwine and let the mountains spin by. In one direction, the mountains were lower, and we could see over into the valleys beyond. This was toward Bern, Paris and London - all of which were in the same general direction form here.
The tallest peaks were in the opposite direction - one was 3938 meters, the tallest is 4158 meters (called Jungsfrau). All the tallest ones were the ones that were in front of me during lunch in Gimmewald - so yes, it was a good view from there.
Some of the folds in the rocks doubled back on themselves - like S shaped kinks that formed in order to relieve some of the pressure that was lifting the mountains. Over time, the rock was plastic. Great pressures and long durations.
Saw a stuffed ibex - the local mountain goat with large straight horns - one meter long.
Then I headed back down. Had to wait for the lift down. And then just missed the next stage down. So I had to wait for that car to get to the bottom, and the other to get to the top.
Here's the stats - the valley floor is at 796 meters. Schilthorn was at 2971 meters. Gimmewald is at 1367 meters. Murren is at 1650 meters. So no 200 meter run for the skiers - but over 1000!
My trip plan going back was not going smoothly. Instead of 5 minutes between connection, it was 45 minutes. So I called Bettina, with regrets about making dinner.
Now why did I come on this trip. To see sights, yes. To have adventures, yes. But most importantly, to experience how life is here. So missing out on a family dinner is a big disappointment for me. Especially when it was preventable - with better trip planning. Not American style - where travel time is based on driving time (you are in control). But European style - where you make a train trip plan for the return trip before departing. I didn't do that. The services to help me with that were in Bern. Up here, there were no train service offices. I was so intent on getting up here in the morning, that I didn't take the time when I was in Bern to get a plan for my return. Kind of like getting on horse without knowing the command Whoa!
Well I am learning. And the sharp disappointment of missing out on a family gathering makes it something hard to forget.
Frustration set in too - if only I had etc. . .
So here I am, after a wonderful day, in a pouty mood. How can that be? I realize I created the entire thing. So I let it go as well as I can. Things could be worse, for sure.
I make my Jegesnstorf connection, on an SE line "mit halt". And get there at about 8 pm. Four hours to get back. I didn't intend to spend so much of the day traveling, but it turns out I did.
Bettina, Jonas, and Lorenz picked me up as I was walking from the train station. They knew the train times, and were just leaving the dinner party.
Then I found out what Frau Furrer had prepared - wild deer. Oh great, I not only missed a great gathering, but I missed having a treat of wild game - prepared in Germany, by a German. Bummer.
Off to bed. Head off for Italy tomorrow, through Lugano. Rains are headed this way, and I am feeling behind schedule, since my original plan had me here a week earlier.
=================
Thursday 18 March
============
Bern . . . Alps . . . Bern . . .
Another very clear day. There were stars over head during the night. I could see them through the sky light.
The plan for the day is to visit the Alps (train to Murren, walk to Gimmewald). And then return for a family dinner at Jonas' mother's.
You know you have lost at least part of your tourist aura when you can go to the bakery and handle the entire transaction in German, street vendors speak at you in German, and other tourists ask you for directions.
On the train ride up to the Alps, there are clusters of houses, with a few scattered ones.. Not too many. Lots of green fields. As we go up in elevation, there starts to be snow on the ground.
Part of the train ride is taking a lift up to Murren (at a 45 degree angle). From Bern it takes 2 hours to get to Murren. The valley here reminds me of Yosemite, except there is an added backdrop of even higher snow covered Alps - waterfalls included - with avalanche controls added. One waterfall is so high, that the entire flow disperses into mist before reaching the ground. Must be at least a 1500 foot drop. The basic scene is sheer cliffs down into a mostly flat green valley.
On the lift, we passed the descending car, and then our car moved back over to the common track. There were only two tracks at the crossing point. Very efficient.
After the lift, there was another train. Good thing I got a trip plan - in order to make all the changes and connections.
You know you are getting high in the Alps when everyone else in the car has skis. The snow is two feet deep. I start to wonder about my great rip plan. How am I going to hike to the next town over without my boots. Will the trail even be open? Somehow I just wasn't thinking snow. But wouldn't that be the association - Alps . . . snow. Especially in March! I am going to need to get some snowshoes.
I can see blue ice in the glaciers across the way, on the opposite wall of mountains.
After getting off the train, I venture off toward the next town - my destination - Gimmewald - to see if it is even possible to get there. I am in luck. There is a one lane road. And it is kind of plowed. One inch of ice in places. Some asphalt in others.
There is no one else on the road. One thing about this kind of journey. I do find myself off the beaten path. Or if on it, then on it at times when no one else is there.
Until the snow plow came . . .
To my right, a vertical snow bank. To my left a vertical drop off. The road is only wide enough for the plow. Not for both of us. So I do the practical thing and jump onto the wall of the snow bank - kind of a spiderman move. I cling to the wall as the plow passes. It seemed like the routine for the driver. It's a good thing that the icy snow bank was soft enough for me to form a grip. Worked quite well.
With icy fingers and an empty stomach, I checked my pockets. Found that bittersweet chocolate. A nice treat for the hike. It sure tasted good up there in the Swiss mountains. Thanks Frau Lang!
Then I found a path - snow covered - with straw dust scattered over it. The sign said to Gimmewald. It looked well traveled, so I took it. Continued my walk and got into town within the time posted on the road sign - it didn't declare kilometers, but hours and minutes walking time.
I was surprised that as I walked I was descending. I thought that Gimmewald was higher, but no, it is lower than Murren. After I got there, I noticed the walking time back to Murren was posted as being longer than the trip from there. So they every adjust the times for going up hill instead of down.
I had thought about hiking to the top - to Schilthorn. The sign said 5 something 20 min. The something must mean hours. So that was out for today. Dinner plans at 6. Besides, I doubted there would be a road to Schilthorn - would likely require snowshoes for sure.
Had lunch in Gimmewald. At a place that advertised rachlette. I ordered it, and I think I got the off season version. The dish was ham and pears on toast smothered in melted cheese. They assured me that it was the same cheese as was used for rachlette. Bettina later confirmed that the dish I had was something local - to keep warm energy - and yes, it wasn't rachlette. It was good. And I did stay warm and full.
The view for my table was great - mountains for 180 degrees around me. And I had to crane my neck up 40 degrees to see the peaks. Laura Lee, this looks like the best skiing I have ever seen. Long long runs. And big overall drops - a couple of thousand meters?!!
I heard some thunder during lunch, or what sounded like thunder. Upon looking up at a perfectly clear sky, I realize that no, it can't be. It must be an avalanche in the mountains opposite. I look for movement, but don't see any - there is simply too much area to scan. There are avalanche brochures handy for the skiers.
After lunch I did some local shopping. This consisted of ringing a bell, entering the store (really a hallway), helping myself, adding up the total, and making change. I depart with a pack full of goods and never talked to a soul. A kid did depart. And as he did so, he hid the house key in the drawer! As secure as need be. No one would get very far very fast.
I got some local vollmilch (whole milk) from a Gimmewald farm. Fresh fresh Swiss milk. Can it get any better than this?
I mail a post card. And I see the local PO Box system. It consists of mail in separate stacks under rocks on a bench by the side of the post office. Under an eave of course, to keep the snow off.
I walk back to Murren. Met one woman on the road with two kids in a stroller. She asked me to leave any sun glasses I might find at the lost and found in Murren. I did find them and deposited them when I got to Murren. Howdy. Hope you picked them up just fine.
Decision time - to take the ski lift up to Schilthorn? I ask about when the trains depart, and the woman tells me every 15 minutes. So I figure two and a half hours for my return trip. OK, up I will go, since I am not walking it this time.
It is a ski lift where everyone gets in a big glassed in cage. Everyone else has snowy skis - like they had just finished a run. Up we go. I look down, and cannot believe that people can actually ski on the steep terrain.
Up top, there is an even better view of the glaciers. There is a 225 degree panorama of mountain views. And now I only have to tilt my head up 10 degrees.
The thermostat says 12 degrees Celsius. Quite warm for this height. I am in my shirt sleeves.
To get to the top of Schilthorn, I had to take a second ski lift - it is in two stages. At the top, there is a cafe that turns. I had an apfelwine and let the mountains spin by. In one direction, the mountains were lower, and we could see over into the valleys beyond. This was toward Bern, Paris and London - all of which were in the same general direction form here.
The tallest peaks were in the opposite direction - one was 3938 meters, the tallest is 4158 meters (called Jungsfrau). All the tallest ones were the ones that were in front of me during lunch in Gimmewald - so yes, it was a good view from there.
Some of the folds in the rocks doubled back on themselves - like S shaped kinks that formed in order to relieve some of the pressure that was lifting the mountains. Over time, the rock was plastic. Great pressures and long durations.
Saw a stuffed ibex - the local mountain goat with large straight horns - one meter long.
Then I headed back down. Had to wait for the lift down. And then just missed the next stage down. So I had to wait for that car to get to the bottom, and the other to get to the top.
Here's the stats - the valley floor is at 796 meters. Schilthorn was at 2971 meters. Gimmewald is at 1367 meters. Murren is at 1650 meters. So no 200 meter run for the skiers - but over 1000!
My trip plan going back was not going smoothly. Instead of 5 minutes between connection, it was 45 minutes. So I called Bettina, with regrets about making dinner.
Now why did I come on this trip. To see sights, yes. To have adventures, yes. But most importantly, to experience how life is here. So missing out on a family dinner is a big disappointment for me. Especially when it was preventable - with better trip planning. Not American style - where travel time is based on driving time (you are in control). But European style - where you make a train trip plan for the return trip before departing. I didn't do that. The services to help me with that were in Bern. Up here, there were no train service offices. I was so intent on getting up here in the morning, that I didn't take the time when I was in Bern to get a plan for my return. Kind of like getting on horse without knowing the command Whoa!
Well I am learning. And the sharp disappointment of missing out on a family gathering makes it something hard to forget.
Frustration set in too - if only I had etc. . .
So here I am, after a wonderful day, in a pouty mood. How can that be? I realize I created the entire thing. So I let it go as well as I can. Things could be worse, for sure.
I make my Jegesnstorf connection, on an SE line "mit halt". And get there at about 8 pm. Four hours to get back. I didn't intend to spend so much of the day traveling, but it turns out I did.
Bettina, Jonas, and Lorenz picked me up as I was walking from the train station. They knew the train times, and were just leaving the dinner party.
Then I found out what Frau Furrer had prepared - wild deer. Oh great, I not only missed a great gathering, but I missed having a treat of wild game - prepared in Germany, by a German. Bummer.
Off to bed. Head off for Italy tomorrow, through Lugano. Rains are headed this way, and I am feeling behind schedule, since my original plan had me here a week earlier.
=================
===========
Wednesday 17 March
==============
Bern . . .
It is a sunny day. Bettina shows me the photo album of the house construction - every stage. It is very well built - from the bottom up. Includes a wine cellar and a sauna.
We all go on a family outing in the afternoon - as everyone is off work or out of school. We go get Lorenz. I get to try his scooter. He is a whiz on it - jumps, wheelies.
We go on a day trip to Avenches - toward the French part of Switzerland. It is only a 30 minute drive. We have lunch at an old Roman amphitheater. It could seat 21,000 at one time. There are not even that many people now living in these here parts now. It is oval and the acoustics are great. You could hear the bones crunch, even from the top row. It is made from brick sized stones. I expected something so old to be made from the bigger blocks, but I guess this smaller uniform stone size was one of the Roman innovations. Made construction more uniform. And the materials more portable - both to the job site and around the site once there. One man could move a bunch of these stones. No big crew required.
Bettina used her handy Swiss army knife to cut the bread and cheese. And then she presented me with two of my own. A full sized 13 function one. And a mini-pocket variety that includes a pen and a knight light. So now Jana, I have two knives handy. And since having them, I have used them a lot. Goes to show that if you have the proper tool handy, it can be put to good use. So thus the practical Swiss tradition of having these gadgets so handy. With them virtually every where, lots gets done. And it shows. Everything seems clean and well maintained. Swiss pride.
After our picnic lunch, we hike out to an old theater - it could seat 9,000. The we go to the Oest gate tower (west). We climb to the top. In Roman times, the entire town was surrounded by a wall - six kilometers across. Instead of for defense purposes, it was more to substantiate the town - give it a presence. Romans were politicians. And show was part of the game.
Next stop, a local farm for an afternoon snack. Jonas enters the address into his in dash GPS system. It shows the best route, and how many kilometers remain. When we take a wrong fork, it recalculates the best route - we don't have to turn around.
We get to the farm in short order. It is called "Hibou Ferme" (means owl farm in French). Run by Willy and Nadja Gaillet. She speaks German, he speaks French, and they get along just fine. From the farm we have a view of Lac Murten and the Alps. There isn't a cloud in the sky.
Nadja brings out a local specialty, fresh from the oven - kuken - a cake with butter and cinnamon. And we have some of the local white wine (Vully region) - made from grapes grown on the bank in front of us.
They have a loft at the farm where people can stay over and sleep in the straw. This is where I would want to be. We peek into the barn at the cows. So it is a running farm in every sense of the word. The best part being the cook and the hospitality. As we thank Nadja for everything, as an ever gracious host, she says the lake and the mountains are God's doing. It was a great afternoon.
We go see the old town wall in Murten (German name) / Murat (French name). And we get some fresh bread from the bakery.
Hibou Ferme is where Jonas and Bettina had their wedding reception. I get to see all the pictures. And who did I see? Waltraud - in a very pretty dress - all flowery. Bettina has a great sense of design - the album has pictures, mementos, and note cards all mingled.
Another great day in paradise.
===================
Wednesday 17 March
==============
Bern . . .
It is a sunny day. Bettina shows me the photo album of the house construction - every stage. It is very well built - from the bottom up. Includes a wine cellar and a sauna.
We all go on a family outing in the afternoon - as everyone is off work or out of school. We go get Lorenz. I get to try his scooter. He is a whiz on it - jumps, wheelies.
We go on a day trip to Avenches - toward the French part of Switzerland. It is only a 30 minute drive. We have lunch at an old Roman amphitheater. It could seat 21,000 at one time. There are not even that many people now living in these here parts now. It is oval and the acoustics are great. You could hear the bones crunch, even from the top row. It is made from brick sized stones. I expected something so old to be made from the bigger blocks, but I guess this smaller uniform stone size was one of the Roman innovations. Made construction more uniform. And the materials more portable - both to the job site and around the site once there. One man could move a bunch of these stones. No big crew required.
Bettina used her handy Swiss army knife to cut the bread and cheese. And then she presented me with two of my own. A full sized 13 function one. And a mini-pocket variety that includes a pen and a knight light. So now Jana, I have two knives handy. And since having them, I have used them a lot. Goes to show that if you have the proper tool handy, it can be put to good use. So thus the practical Swiss tradition of having these gadgets so handy. With them virtually every where, lots gets done. And it shows. Everything seems clean and well maintained. Swiss pride.
After our picnic lunch, we hike out to an old theater - it could seat 9,000. The we go to the Oest gate tower (west). We climb to the top. In Roman times, the entire town was surrounded by a wall - six kilometers across. Instead of for defense purposes, it was more to substantiate the town - give it a presence. Romans were politicians. And show was part of the game.
Next stop, a local farm for an afternoon snack. Jonas enters the address into his in dash GPS system. It shows the best route, and how many kilometers remain. When we take a wrong fork, it recalculates the best route - we don't have to turn around.
We get to the farm in short order. It is called "Hibou Ferme" (means owl farm in French). Run by Willy and Nadja Gaillet. She speaks German, he speaks French, and they get along just fine. From the farm we have a view of Lac Murten and the Alps. There isn't a cloud in the sky.
Nadja brings out a local specialty, fresh from the oven - kuken - a cake with butter and cinnamon. And we have some of the local white wine (Vully region) - made from grapes grown on the bank in front of us.
They have a loft at the farm where people can stay over and sleep in the straw. This is where I would want to be. We peek into the barn at the cows. So it is a running farm in every sense of the word. The best part being the cook and the hospitality. As we thank Nadja for everything, as an ever gracious host, she says the lake and the mountains are God's doing. It was a great afternoon.
We go see the old town wall in Murten (German name) / Murat (French name). And we get some fresh bread from the bakery.
Hibou Ferme is where Jonas and Bettina had their wedding reception. I get to see all the pictures. And who did I see? Waltraud - in a very pretty dress - all flowery. Bettina has a great sense of design - the album has pictures, mementos, and note cards all mingled.
Another great day in paradise.
===================
=========
Tuesday 16 March
============
Bern . . .
Corrections to last post: the town is Jegenstorf (J sounds like a Y), and the other town I was on my way to by mistake is Solothurn.
The house that Jonas and Bettina had built has excellent design and craftsmanship. Haven't seen this level of fit and finish since Japan. Things are well made and made to last. And are easy to maintain. A longer view.
There is a frost in the morning. It is sunny and warm.
I weigh my day bag. It weighs in at 2.5 kg or about 5 and a half pounds. So total, except for the clothes on my back, I have 8.5 kg or about 19 pounds.
I go into Bern to explore. There is a wide expansive view of the alps. Can see them from France to Austria. Things here are clean and well made.
Get some Swiss Francs. So I have cash. First stop, a bakery of course. I get a walnut caramel torte - save it for later.
I go to the post office to get some stamps. I am impressed. There are 7 clerks working. We draw a number upon entry. When our number pops up, it indicates which clerk window to go to. They help a lot of people in little time.
I go to the museum. It is so sunny and warm that I get out the sunglasses.
Bern means "bear". So I also pay a visit to the penned bears. Best past is a hike up the hill to the rose gardens. I look back across the river (U shaped) and see the entire downtown Bern. Again, it is a place that could be well defended based upon the geography. Alpen view is great from here too.
Then I go to the big church in town (called Munster). I climb the tower, and get an even better view of the alps. At the top, I can see that the old stone joints were sealed from the weather with molten lead - not grout. It is still there.
I go to the parliament building. On the sunny side, there are all kinds of people hanging out. And there are some large chess boards with pieces about two feet tall. I watch a few games. And then I jump in to play. Kabitzing here took on an entirely new dimension. As I played, all the guys around would tell me what move to make. In German. I did figure out that "springer" must be a knight. Sometimes the guys would disagree with their advice. They would get into heated arguments. Sometimes these would spill onto the board. One would grab my piece, make a move, and the other guy would grab the other guys piece and play it out, each trying to prove their point. Now of course, neither of us players had actually moved. So then it could be a bit confusing to return the board to its original position. Well I lost both games. It was quite entertaining.
Time to head back to Jegenstorf. Try the tram challenge again. How many zones for the train? I couldn't figure it out, so I guessed based upon the fare.
Before I had arrived, Bettina had told me to take two particular times (either 19 after of 39 after). So I was on the correct train the day before, just at the wrong time. It turns out, that the SE line (outbound) does stop in Jegenstorf twice an hour. Sure enough, this time I notice another detail - the SE line train I am taking says "mit halt Jegenstorf". So I took the SE line train again. Took a bit of courage, since it was a mistake yesterday. Sometimes, taking the same action again that was a mistake before is not a mistake again. It did work out. I was on the right track and train, and it did stop in Jegenstorf - first stop, so it was quick too.
==========
Tuesday 16 March
============
Bern . . .
Corrections to last post: the town is Jegenstorf (J sounds like a Y), and the other town I was on my way to by mistake is Solothurn.
The house that Jonas and Bettina had built has excellent design and craftsmanship. Haven't seen this level of fit and finish since Japan. Things are well made and made to last. And are easy to maintain. A longer view.
There is a frost in the morning. It is sunny and warm.
I weigh my day bag. It weighs in at 2.5 kg or about 5 and a half pounds. So total, except for the clothes on my back, I have 8.5 kg or about 19 pounds.
I go into Bern to explore. There is a wide expansive view of the alps. Can see them from France to Austria. Things here are clean and well made.
Get some Swiss Francs. So I have cash. First stop, a bakery of course. I get a walnut caramel torte - save it for later.
I go to the post office to get some stamps. I am impressed. There are 7 clerks working. We draw a number upon entry. When our number pops up, it indicates which clerk window to go to. They help a lot of people in little time.
I go to the museum. It is so sunny and warm that I get out the sunglasses.
Bern means "bear". So I also pay a visit to the penned bears. Best past is a hike up the hill to the rose gardens. I look back across the river (U shaped) and see the entire downtown Bern. Again, it is a place that could be well defended based upon the geography. Alpen view is great from here too.
Then I go to the big church in town (called Munster). I climb the tower, and get an even better view of the alps. At the top, I can see that the old stone joints were sealed from the weather with molten lead - not grout. It is still there.
I go to the parliament building. On the sunny side, there are all kinds of people hanging out. And there are some large chess boards with pieces about two feet tall. I watch a few games. And then I jump in to play. Kabitzing here took on an entirely new dimension. As I played, all the guys around would tell me what move to make. In German. I did figure out that "springer" must be a knight. Sometimes the guys would disagree with their advice. They would get into heated arguments. Sometimes these would spill onto the board. One would grab my piece, make a move, and the other guy would grab the other guys piece and play it out, each trying to prove their point. Now of course, neither of us players had actually moved. So then it could be a bit confusing to return the board to its original position. Well I lost both games. It was quite entertaining.
Time to head back to Jegenstorf. Try the tram challenge again. How many zones for the train? I couldn't figure it out, so I guessed based upon the fare.
Before I had arrived, Bettina had told me to take two particular times (either 19 after of 39 after). So I was on the correct train the day before, just at the wrong time. It turns out, that the SE line (outbound) does stop in Jegenstorf twice an hour. Sure enough, this time I notice another detail - the SE line train I am taking says "mit halt Jegenstorf". So I took the SE line train again. Took a bit of courage, since it was a mistake yesterday. Sometimes, taking the same action again that was a mistake before is not a mistake again. It did work out. I was on the right track and train, and it did stop in Jegenstorf - first stop, so it was quick too.
==========
Saturday, March 27, 2004
===========
Monday 15 March
===========
Frankfurt to Bern . . .
Walked to the bakery in the morning. Fresh, fresh.
Did I mention meal times here are social. In the US, it seems we think the fast in breakfast means quick instead of a period of not eating. So breakfast is a nice repast before I depart. I think I made Friederike late for work.
I couldn't find my scarf that has served me so well - keeping me warm in Munsingen and Munich. I think I must have left it at the museum cafe yesterday. I hope this means that I won't have need of it further on this trip since I am headed south to warmer places. My mom made it for me. Sorry mom. I made good use of it for a time. And it did keep me warm when I needed it.
It is sunny here with clouds - warmer than Munich.
Peter sends me off on my travels with a northern German sandwich - thin dark dense bread with sliced salami and butter.
I was especially pleased when I saw someone else on the train with the same thing. So I broke mine out then and we had a northern German lunch. Hopefully he thought I was from up north too. Fellows on a trip south.
Aside regarding spending target: Someone, I think it was Friederike, asked me about how I knew how much I had spent. I though about it some and realized it is the same was as when I am at home. The simple spending target method. For any period in question, the amount spent is the starting amount less the ending amount, plus any cash machine withdrawals and any credit card charges. Laura Lee, does this sound familiar? So for this trip, since I started with zero Euros, that makes it easy. And since I will do my traditional spend all your foreign currency before you depart at the BAKERY, then I know my ending balance will be zero. So really, it's as simple as totaling my cash withdrawals and my credit card charges. It gets even simpler with large and infrequent cash withdrawals and using my credit card only a few times. And I am using as an estimate one Euro = $1.25. So I just add a quarter to get dollars.
Stop on Frieburg on the way - it is a spring day. There are streams of water running through the streets (on both side in some places) - in their own open channels. Make a nice sound - and gives the place a fresh clean feeling.
There are bikes galore. There is an entire multi-level parking structure just for bikes. The mains streets in town are pedestrian only, along with the trams on tracks - no vehicles. We in the US could learn from this - makes it livable - and more people are out as a result it seems.
I go past a courtyard and it is full of old carved stone pieces - big pieces. And then I notice a stone cutters shop. They are making replacement parts for the local church. I watch trough the window. Tomas comes out and says it is OK to come inside and watch them work. What a treat for me. This is one of those moments that makes the entire trip worthwhile - luck and serendipity. Tomas tells me it took three years of training. And I too could work there. There are 15 stone cutters working in the shop, and six more that are up in the scaffolding working on the church itself (probably doing removals of damaged parts and installation of the replacements).
As I watch Tomas work, he marks the stone. I expected him to cut where he marked. Instead, the places he marked were left intact. He cut into the stone away from the marks. A realization for me. Mark what is to be kept. Cut away the rest.
Had I mentioned that I had a cold? The after effect is a dry nasal tickle. Well the stone dust in the shop irritates my throat. My eyes water. I have to go outside a few times for a coughing fit - complete with teary eyes. So in this condition, I would have to work with a dust mask.
The workshop is at a place called "Munsterbahutte. The church is dated 1317 and I read that part of it goes back to 12xx something. I wanted old stones, I found them. Thanks Tomas! It was a special treat for me.
I had a train to catch so off I went. It only stopped for one minute, so I was glad I knew the time it left and that I was there.
I go to the WC (water closet). Then there is banging on the door. Sound familiar? I say "hallo". The banging continues persistently. With unintelligible (to me) German words. At least this time it is a man's voice. Well, like Vector, I hurry - as much as I can with the disconcerting banging. And I wonder why, if it is so urgent, why not seek another WC. I open the door to not one, but three armed police. As soon as they see me it seems they realize I am not their man. So I am off the hook.
The mountains (alps) begin to appear in the distance. There are lots of small farm plots along the way - 10 acres in size or so.
Next stop for me along the way to Bern is Basel - for a peruse through town and a change of trains. Sometimes there is a train stop called Basel Bad just before Basel and you get off the train there instead of at Basel. And your connection to Bern leaves from Basel, not Bad Basel. But only sometimes.
I did get to Basel (German border town to Switzerland) and only looked around until the next train for Bern. Frieburg was hard to beat.
The hills are a nice rolling green In Switzerland. There is no snow on the ground. So going south is like advancing into spring. Then my ears pop. We are climbing. I see cute goat herds. And the alps in the distance - they look like white clouds on the horizon.
I get to Bern just fine, at 5:11 pm. And I find the underground from there into the town where Bettina and Jonas live. I make sure I don't need a ticket since I am traveling on my train pass. And then I find a tram to Jergensdorf. But had Bettina told me to get the one to another town - Solestern (?). It appears that both go the Jergensdorf but the Jergensdorf train is the milk run stopping every where in between. So to save time I hop on the Solestern tram.
We got to Jergensdorf, and the train slowed down. But no one was rusting around like they were going to get off. So I wondered if I had to press a button to request a stop. I asked someone "Jergensdorf"? And he said, ya, ya, but this train doesn't stop here. You will have to get off at the first stop and then go back. So much for saving time! And this was an improvement. Since at least I was going in the right direction. And yes, it did actually go to the desired destination. One minor detail - I couldn't disembark there. Oh well.
So I got off at the first stop. A train going the other way came within 15 minutes. It said "Bern" - the SE line that got me in trouble in the first place. It was tempting to take it - go back to Bern and start over. I resisted the temptation and decided to wait for the Jergensdorf train.
Well 30 minutes later another one came by going to "Bern" - another SE line. I banged on the window for the conductor and said "Jergensdorf", trying to find out when the "J" line tram would show up. He said, ya, ya. So it seems that going the other way, the SE line trams all stop in Jergensdorf. I could have taken the prior train. By now it was dark.
I finally got to Jergensdorf. I couldn't remember what I had arranged with Bettina regarding once I had arrived. I found out after I spoke with her that the Euro is not the Swiss currency. So I would need to get Swiss Francs. Instead of dealing with that, and then somehow getting coins and figuring out how to use a phone, I lucked out and found a town map. Located the general area for Bettina and Jonas based upon their mailing address and I walked that way. I was there within 10 minutes. At about 7:11 pm. So the last few miles of my trip took two hours. Sounds like project work - the last little bit takes a lot of time. My actual train time from Frankfurt to Bern, subtracting my stops was not more than 2 and a half hours. SO the last little bit took two more!
I had read my guide book about Switzerland. And it proved to be true. Many do have rifles on hand. Someone (I won't say who for national security reasons) showed me a rifle. It was heavy. All metal. Had a folding stock. Turns out they have to qualify every year at the range. And they are issued 24 rounds that are somehow sealed. They have to show these when they go to the range in order to prove that they were not broken into. A big offense if so. Of course, in an actual emergency, it would be OK. And somehow, additional rounds would be made available.
And knives and gadgets are the thing here. I notices Jonas writing, and he was using a Swiss army knife. One of its hidden feature was a pen that slid out. With a night light if necessary - for writing in the dark!
Well, as I got settled, I was curious about the real weight of my bag. We weighed it - 6 kilograms - or about 13 and one half pounds. That was without my day bag. Would have to weigh that later, after I drank the 1.5 liters of water I was carrying.
Have I mentioned plumbing? This toilet was one I was familiar with. The kind with a big rocker button and a small one. Bettina explained that in addition to choosing between the two flows, I could rock the button back and it would reduce the flow more. Very water saving. A good idea for home (USA).
Well off to bed for me after another day of adventures and misadventures.
=====================
Monday 15 March
===========
Frankfurt to Bern . . .
Walked to the bakery in the morning. Fresh, fresh.
Did I mention meal times here are social. In the US, it seems we think the fast in breakfast means quick instead of a period of not eating. So breakfast is a nice repast before I depart. I think I made Friederike late for work.
I couldn't find my scarf that has served me so well - keeping me warm in Munsingen and Munich. I think I must have left it at the museum cafe yesterday. I hope this means that I won't have need of it further on this trip since I am headed south to warmer places. My mom made it for me. Sorry mom. I made good use of it for a time. And it did keep me warm when I needed it.
It is sunny here with clouds - warmer than Munich.
Peter sends me off on my travels with a northern German sandwich - thin dark dense bread with sliced salami and butter.
I was especially pleased when I saw someone else on the train with the same thing. So I broke mine out then and we had a northern German lunch. Hopefully he thought I was from up north too. Fellows on a trip south.
Aside regarding spending target: Someone, I think it was Friederike, asked me about how I knew how much I had spent. I though about it some and realized it is the same was as when I am at home. The simple spending target method. For any period in question, the amount spent is the starting amount less the ending amount, plus any cash machine withdrawals and any credit card charges. Laura Lee, does this sound familiar? So for this trip, since I started with zero Euros, that makes it easy. And since I will do my traditional spend all your foreign currency before you depart at the BAKERY, then I know my ending balance will be zero. So really, it's as simple as totaling my cash withdrawals and my credit card charges. It gets even simpler with large and infrequent cash withdrawals and using my credit card only a few times. And I am using as an estimate one Euro = $1.25. So I just add a quarter to get dollars.
Stop on Frieburg on the way - it is a spring day. There are streams of water running through the streets (on both side in some places) - in their own open channels. Make a nice sound - and gives the place a fresh clean feeling.
There are bikes galore. There is an entire multi-level parking structure just for bikes. The mains streets in town are pedestrian only, along with the trams on tracks - no vehicles. We in the US could learn from this - makes it livable - and more people are out as a result it seems.
I go past a courtyard and it is full of old carved stone pieces - big pieces. And then I notice a stone cutters shop. They are making replacement parts for the local church. I watch trough the window. Tomas comes out and says it is OK to come inside and watch them work. What a treat for me. This is one of those moments that makes the entire trip worthwhile - luck and serendipity. Tomas tells me it took three years of training. And I too could work there. There are 15 stone cutters working in the shop, and six more that are up in the scaffolding working on the church itself (probably doing removals of damaged parts and installation of the replacements).
As I watch Tomas work, he marks the stone. I expected him to cut where he marked. Instead, the places he marked were left intact. He cut into the stone away from the marks. A realization for me. Mark what is to be kept. Cut away the rest.
Had I mentioned that I had a cold? The after effect is a dry nasal tickle. Well the stone dust in the shop irritates my throat. My eyes water. I have to go outside a few times for a coughing fit - complete with teary eyes. So in this condition, I would have to work with a dust mask.
The workshop is at a place called "Munsterbahutte. The church is dated 1317 and I read that part of it goes back to 12xx something. I wanted old stones, I found them. Thanks Tomas! It was a special treat for me.
I had a train to catch so off I went. It only stopped for one minute, so I was glad I knew the time it left and that I was there.
I go to the WC (water closet). Then there is banging on the door. Sound familiar? I say "hallo". The banging continues persistently. With unintelligible (to me) German words. At least this time it is a man's voice. Well, like Vector, I hurry - as much as I can with the disconcerting banging. And I wonder why, if it is so urgent, why not seek another WC. I open the door to not one, but three armed police. As soon as they see me it seems they realize I am not their man. So I am off the hook.
The mountains (alps) begin to appear in the distance. There are lots of small farm plots along the way - 10 acres in size or so.
Next stop for me along the way to Bern is Basel - for a peruse through town and a change of trains. Sometimes there is a train stop called Basel Bad just before Basel and you get off the train there instead of at Basel. And your connection to Bern leaves from Basel, not Bad Basel. But only sometimes.
I did get to Basel (German border town to Switzerland) and only looked around until the next train for Bern. Frieburg was hard to beat.
The hills are a nice rolling green In Switzerland. There is no snow on the ground. So going south is like advancing into spring. Then my ears pop. We are climbing. I see cute goat herds. And the alps in the distance - they look like white clouds on the horizon.
I get to Bern just fine, at 5:11 pm. And I find the underground from there into the town where Bettina and Jonas live. I make sure I don't need a ticket since I am traveling on my train pass. And then I find a tram to Jergensdorf. But had Bettina told me to get the one to another town - Solestern (?). It appears that both go the Jergensdorf but the Jergensdorf train is the milk run stopping every where in between. So to save time I hop on the Solestern tram.
We got to Jergensdorf, and the train slowed down. But no one was rusting around like they were going to get off. So I wondered if I had to press a button to request a stop. I asked someone "Jergensdorf"? And he said, ya, ya, but this train doesn't stop here. You will have to get off at the first stop and then go back. So much for saving time! And this was an improvement. Since at least I was going in the right direction. And yes, it did actually go to the desired destination. One minor detail - I couldn't disembark there. Oh well.
So I got off at the first stop. A train going the other way came within 15 minutes. It said "Bern" - the SE line that got me in trouble in the first place. It was tempting to take it - go back to Bern and start over. I resisted the temptation and decided to wait for the Jergensdorf train.
Well 30 minutes later another one came by going to "Bern" - another SE line. I banged on the window for the conductor and said "Jergensdorf", trying to find out when the "J" line tram would show up. He said, ya, ya. So it seems that going the other way, the SE line trams all stop in Jergensdorf. I could have taken the prior train. By now it was dark.
I finally got to Jergensdorf. I couldn't remember what I had arranged with Bettina regarding once I had arrived. I found out after I spoke with her that the Euro is not the Swiss currency. So I would need to get Swiss Francs. Instead of dealing with that, and then somehow getting coins and figuring out how to use a phone, I lucked out and found a town map. Located the general area for Bettina and Jonas based upon their mailing address and I walked that way. I was there within 10 minutes. At about 7:11 pm. So the last few miles of my trip took two hours. Sounds like project work - the last little bit takes a lot of time. My actual train time from Frankfurt to Bern, subtracting my stops was not more than 2 and a half hours. SO the last little bit took two more!
I had read my guide book about Switzerland. And it proved to be true. Many do have rifles on hand. Someone (I won't say who for national security reasons) showed me a rifle. It was heavy. All metal. Had a folding stock. Turns out they have to qualify every year at the range. And they are issued 24 rounds that are somehow sealed. They have to show these when they go to the range in order to prove that they were not broken into. A big offense if so. Of course, in an actual emergency, it would be OK. And somehow, additional rounds would be made available.
And knives and gadgets are the thing here. I notices Jonas writing, and he was using a Swiss army knife. One of its hidden feature was a pen that slid out. With a night light if necessary - for writing in the dark!
Well, as I got settled, I was curious about the real weight of my bag. We weighed it - 6 kilograms - or about 13 and one half pounds. That was without my day bag. Would have to weigh that later, after I drank the 1.5 liters of water I was carrying.
Have I mentioned plumbing? This toilet was one I was familiar with. The kind with a big rocker button and a small one. Bettina explained that in addition to choosing between the two flows, I could rock the button back and it would reduce the flow more. Very water saving. A good idea for home (USA).
Well off to bed for me after another day of adventures and misadventures.
=====================
Friday, March 26, 2004
========
Sunday 14 March
===========
Frankfurt . . .
A morning treat . . . some very tasty jam. Home made. Turns out to be banana-pumpkin! Who would have thought of it? And you would never guess it could be so good. Another angel in my life - the maker of this heavenly treat.
And today I find out that eating the skin of the weiswurst is not OK - a definite tourist marker. Oops.
Friederike had made a black currant marzipan cake (like Peter's mother - but of course not the same - especially since there is no recipe). I like it. Plus it is a work of art.
We go to the art museum - the Stadel. My handful of favorites are by artists I have never heard of. Of the known artists, my favorite is a Hans Holbeins. Other notables are Rembrandt, Picasso, Rodin, and Degas.
I shift into my "I've had enough shopping" walk, so I know it is time to see the main exhibit. We do so, and then go home for a relaxing evening.
Friederike made dinner. I chopped a few things under her direction. It was a Persian lamb stew served on a huge metal platter just like they do in Persia. Turns out it was a travel souvenir from a trip to that area. Apricots, almonds, and saffron rice were included. Great food on this trip. And great company.
Peter shared some of his favorite books with me. I will plan to read a handful that are in English.
Topped of the night with a single malt whiskey.
Fell asleep immediately. Off to Bern in the morning.
======================
Sunday 14 March
===========
Frankfurt . . .
A morning treat . . . some very tasty jam. Home made. Turns out to be banana-pumpkin! Who would have thought of it? And you would never guess it could be so good. Another angel in my life - the maker of this heavenly treat.
And today I find out that eating the skin of the weiswurst is not OK - a definite tourist marker. Oops.
Friederike had made a black currant marzipan cake (like Peter's mother - but of course not the same - especially since there is no recipe). I like it. Plus it is a work of art.
We go to the art museum - the Stadel. My handful of favorites are by artists I have never heard of. Of the known artists, my favorite is a Hans Holbeins. Other notables are Rembrandt, Picasso, Rodin, and Degas.
I shift into my "I've had enough shopping" walk, so I know it is time to see the main exhibit. We do so, and then go home for a relaxing evening.
Friederike made dinner. I chopped a few things under her direction. It was a Persian lamb stew served on a huge metal platter just like they do in Persia. Turns out it was a travel souvenir from a trip to that area. Apricots, almonds, and saffron rice were included. Great food on this trip. And great company.
Peter shared some of his favorite books with me. I will plan to read a handful that are in English.
Topped of the night with a single malt whiskey.
Fell asleep immediately. Off to Bern in the morning.
======================
======
Saturday March 13
============
Rhine River . . .
We take the subway to the Bahnhoff and run to catch the train. Didn't have time to get a ticket for Friederike. So we get one from the conductor on the train. We caught it just in time. It started moving within a minute of our sitting down.
We take direct train to the northwest, past all the castles. We see barges too. Most with a car on the roof. It is where the captain parks. Then wherever he stops, he has wheels. Most bargemen live on their boat. We read up on a boarding school they set up for their kids.
We take the slow train back and decide to stop in St Goar. Tour a castle. This one is just great. Called Rheinfels. There is a pyramid of stone bombs - like cannon balls. We can picture that after a battle, the poor vassals have to go retrieve these from the bottom of the hill for use in the next assault. I try to pick up a stray one. Couldn't even budge it, even though it is round.
My favorite part is the great cellar - 12 meters high. There are also tunnels, passageways, caverns, and 6 dungeon compartments. Entry is from the top! No windows. No way out. They broke open the side wall on one so we could walk inside. Entry in the past was a rude drop from the square hole in the top. A 15 foot drop at least.
We decide to stay in town for dinner. I have wild schwein (wild boar). Very good. After dinner we check the train schedule. Next one is in an hour, so we go to another place to try the local beer - a pils. We had a fifth of a liter each. I am glad those guys from the monastery couldn't see me now.
Over drinks or dinner I get some tips on how to shower without getting water all over. Yes, hold the nozzle when turning on the water. Any yes, turn the water off in between step. The nozzle is on a hose so is quite portable. Makes it nice for getting wet where you want, but also takes coordination. And I was glad to learn that Friederike also had trouble with the water temperature changing spontaneously during a shower. I think somehow the hose bumps the hot water handle when I move it around. But in any case, it isn't just a tourist phenomenon.
It was past dark by now. We upgraded Friederike's ticket so that we could hop on the faster train at the next connection. When we got there, the faster train was 40 minutes late. So we ended up taking the slower one, since it was going to get there sooner.
It was a late night. It was a very good day. One that made the entire trip worthwhile.
Saturday March 13
============
Rhine River . . .
We take the subway to the Bahnhoff and run to catch the train. Didn't have time to get a ticket for Friederike. So we get one from the conductor on the train. We caught it just in time. It started moving within a minute of our sitting down.
We take direct train to the northwest, past all the castles. We see barges too. Most with a car on the roof. It is where the captain parks. Then wherever he stops, he has wheels. Most bargemen live on their boat. We read up on a boarding school they set up for their kids.
We take the slow train back and decide to stop in St Goar. Tour a castle. This one is just great. Called Rheinfels. There is a pyramid of stone bombs - like cannon balls. We can picture that after a battle, the poor vassals have to go retrieve these from the bottom of the hill for use in the next assault. I try to pick up a stray one. Couldn't even budge it, even though it is round.
My favorite part is the great cellar - 12 meters high. There are also tunnels, passageways, caverns, and 6 dungeon compartments. Entry is from the top! No windows. No way out. They broke open the side wall on one so we could walk inside. Entry in the past was a rude drop from the square hole in the top. A 15 foot drop at least.
We decide to stay in town for dinner. I have wild schwein (wild boar). Very good. After dinner we check the train schedule. Next one is in an hour, so we go to another place to try the local beer - a pils. We had a fifth of a liter each. I am glad those guys from the monastery couldn't see me now.
Over drinks or dinner I get some tips on how to shower without getting water all over. Yes, hold the nozzle when turning on the water. Any yes, turn the water off in between step. The nozzle is on a hose so is quite portable. Makes it nice for getting wet where you want, but also takes coordination. And I was glad to learn that Friederike also had trouble with the water temperature changing spontaneously during a shower. I think somehow the hose bumps the hot water handle when I move it around. But in any case, it isn't just a tourist phenomenon.
It was past dark by now. We upgraded Friederike's ticket so that we could hop on the faster train at the next connection. When we got there, the faster train was 40 minutes late. So we ended up taking the slower one, since it was going to get there sooner.
It was a late night. It was a very good day. One that made the entire trip worthwhile.
========
Saturday March 13 (continued)
============
Traveling from Rothenberg to Frankfurt . . .
For you squirrel fans, I spied a certain critter from the train. A bright orange squirrel. Large and punk compared to the Eastern Grays at home. The color was close to red dirt. Brownish, with a definite red cast.
Traveled first class today, on my pass. I like second class better I think. First is quiet, seccond, insulated. So traveling in first class is like bringing my own toilet paper. I miss what I came for - to experience how life is here.
I see lots of graffiti from the train. Some of it is quite striking. I would call it art. Not the tagging kind that just makes a mark, but the mural kind. I concede some of it may be worthy of protection. Luckily it is confined to the train ways. Maybe there could be a way to allow for it - make some smooth blank spaces when rail line are being built. And let the artists go at it. Then have a selection process for whether to keep it or let another paint over it. The selection process could involve the artists. But then maybe this would ruin part of the art - it being done on the fly.
The countryside is clean. There is little or no debris. No junk.
Get to Frankfurt and I do great determining that any subway except line 7 goes to my destination. I get a ticket - a short trip pass - since my destination is not listed on the machine - and I go hop on a subway.
I did great, except for a few minor details. Primarily, that I got on the right train, going the wrong direction!
Later I find out that I didn't need to get a ticket at all since my pass was still valid. And if I wasn't on a pass, I would have needed a ticket for destination 50, which everyone just knows, but it isn't documented anywhere for us visitors. And there is no line 7, so I could have taken any subway, as long as it was going the proper direction.
So I got turned around, and got to Friederike's and Peter's within 40 minutes of 10 am. Friederike had started to worry that I might have interpreted 10 PM, so she was going to give it an hour and then presume 10 pm was the time. Here they use military time (24 hour time instead of two 12s), so this confusion is avoided.
I catch her up on my travels. Peter is working a 24-hour shift at the hospital. I feel better because there is some potential resolution to my missed sights.
For the missed summer palace in Munich - there is a summer palace in Vienna that I can catch.
For the missed Egyptian art in Munich, there is a large Egypt collection in Berlin.
And for the missed sculpture in Rothenberg, there is a chance we can work that in at the end of my trip. So I feel better about it. Even if it doesn't happen.
We go to the Saturday market together. Have authentic bratwurst. Get produce for a planned dinner dish. And I spy a colored sheepskin. Quite large. Beautiful. Weight and bulk are a factor, but I could leave it in Frankfurt. The deciding factor is that I don't need it - already have two. So much more conscious of train schedules, Friederike drags me away. And we begin our afternoon excursion to the Rhine.
Saturday March 13 (continued)
============
Traveling from Rothenberg to Frankfurt . . .
For you squirrel fans, I spied a certain critter from the train. A bright orange squirrel. Large and punk compared to the Eastern Grays at home. The color was close to red dirt. Brownish, with a definite red cast.
Traveled first class today, on my pass. I like second class better I think. First is quiet, seccond, insulated. So traveling in first class is like bringing my own toilet paper. I miss what I came for - to experience how life is here.
I see lots of graffiti from the train. Some of it is quite striking. I would call it art. Not the tagging kind that just makes a mark, but the mural kind. I concede some of it may be worthy of protection. Luckily it is confined to the train ways. Maybe there could be a way to allow for it - make some smooth blank spaces when rail line are being built. And let the artists go at it. Then have a selection process for whether to keep it or let another paint over it. The selection process could involve the artists. But then maybe this would ruin part of the art - it being done on the fly.
The countryside is clean. There is little or no debris. No junk.
Get to Frankfurt and I do great determining that any subway except line 7 goes to my destination. I get a ticket - a short trip pass - since my destination is not listed on the machine - and I go hop on a subway.
I did great, except for a few minor details. Primarily, that I got on the right train, going the wrong direction!
Later I find out that I didn't need to get a ticket at all since my pass was still valid. And if I wasn't on a pass, I would have needed a ticket for destination 50, which everyone just knows, but it isn't documented anywhere for us visitors. And there is no line 7, so I could have taken any subway, as long as it was going the proper direction.
So I got turned around, and got to Friederike's and Peter's within 40 minutes of 10 am. Friederike had started to worry that I might have interpreted 10 PM, so she was going to give it an hour and then presume 10 pm was the time. Here they use military time (24 hour time instead of two 12s), so this confusion is avoided.
I catch her up on my travels. Peter is working a 24-hour shift at the hospital. I feel better because there is some potential resolution to my missed sights.
For the missed summer palace in Munich - there is a summer palace in Vienna that I can catch.
For the missed Egyptian art in Munich, there is a large Egypt collection in Berlin.
And for the missed sculpture in Rothenberg, there is a chance we can work that in at the end of my trip. So I feel better about it. Even if it doesn't happen.
We go to the Saturday market together. Have authentic bratwurst. Get produce for a planned dinner dish. And I spy a colored sheepskin. Quite large. Beautiful. Weight and bulk are a factor, but I could leave it in Frankfurt. The deciding factor is that I don't need it - already have two. So much more conscious of train schedules, Friederike drags me away. And we begin our afternoon excursion to the Rhine.
Thursday, March 25, 2004
======
Saturday March 13
============
Rothenberg . . .
Up early, in order to make the train. The room was clean and quiet. No residual smoke odor. So perhaps the norm is to not smoke in the rooms.
When to get my shower - one per floor. Being as quiet as possible. Next thin I know someone is trying to get into the bathroom. Sounded like a mouse scratching at the door. Whoever it is gives up. And then returns in a minute. This time mewling. I say I am in the shower which of course is not understood. Then I hear a pleading "open . . . open". What is the etiquette here? There are at least two other floors. Why not go to one of them? Well I hurry and get out. Dripping wet I go to my room. Then she comes out and we both pass, scantily clad, and no it wasn't dimly lit. I had already turned on the hall light on in order to see to get my key into the lock. Nice feature - when off, the switch is dimly lit by a little orange light - so it is easy to see the switch. And after a few minutes, the light goes off automatically.
I packed up and wondered how small my bag of chips would get before I either ate them or tossed them. Every day it was getting more and more crunched and compressed.
On the way to the train, I walked past a sausage shop. Brightly lit on an otherwise dark street. It was 6:10 AM. If anything has deserved a snapshot, this meat shop is it. All kinds of things hanging in the window and on the walls. And a clean sparkling smiling meat man to go along with it. I asked if he was open, and he said sure, it was OK (even though I think he was still preparing for the day). Turn out he makes it all himself. Great stuff - dried meats, smoked meats, sausages. I got four different kinds. This would be breakfast - before the pastries. The German pattern seeming to be - a course salty followed by sweet. After this shop visit - I know I will be back. If not for the art (missed scultpture), then for the food. I would make a special trip back just to go to Metzgerei Rafalsky's shop again (Obere Schmiedgasse 18). He asked if I needed a bakery (no since I had gone the day before as I didn't expect anyone to be open so early). And he made sure I knew where the train station was. Great service.
Well, I did pass an open bakery, and got a bretzel to go with the meats. Made the train in plenty of time. Lesson - leave a little early to allow time for these special stops along the way.
The streets are very narrow. Traffic knows to yield to each other. I saw a car back up about 100 feet, back over the moat at the tor, in order to let a truck through. All done without a fuss. Polite drivers. Everyone knows you can't budge the stones.
===============
Saturday March 13
============
Rothenberg . . .
Up early, in order to make the train. The room was clean and quiet. No residual smoke odor. So perhaps the norm is to not smoke in the rooms.
When to get my shower - one per floor. Being as quiet as possible. Next thin I know someone is trying to get into the bathroom. Sounded like a mouse scratching at the door. Whoever it is gives up. And then returns in a minute. This time mewling. I say I am in the shower which of course is not understood. Then I hear a pleading "open . . . open". What is the etiquette here? There are at least two other floors. Why not go to one of them? Well I hurry and get out. Dripping wet I go to my room. Then she comes out and we both pass, scantily clad, and no it wasn't dimly lit. I had already turned on the hall light on in order to see to get my key into the lock. Nice feature - when off, the switch is dimly lit by a little orange light - so it is easy to see the switch. And after a few minutes, the light goes off automatically.
I packed up and wondered how small my bag of chips would get before I either ate them or tossed them. Every day it was getting more and more crunched and compressed.
On the way to the train, I walked past a sausage shop. Brightly lit on an otherwise dark street. It was 6:10 AM. If anything has deserved a snapshot, this meat shop is it. All kinds of things hanging in the window and on the walls. And a clean sparkling smiling meat man to go along with it. I asked if he was open, and he said sure, it was OK (even though I think he was still preparing for the day). Turn out he makes it all himself. Great stuff - dried meats, smoked meats, sausages. I got four different kinds. This would be breakfast - before the pastries. The German pattern seeming to be - a course salty followed by sweet. After this shop visit - I know I will be back. If not for the art (missed scultpture), then for the food. I would make a special trip back just to go to Metzgerei Rafalsky's shop again (Obere Schmiedgasse 18). He asked if I needed a bakery (no since I had gone the day before as I didn't expect anyone to be open so early). And he made sure I knew where the train station was. Great service.
Well, I did pass an open bakery, and got a bretzel to go with the meats. Made the train in plenty of time. Lesson - leave a little early to allow time for these special stops along the way.
The streets are very narrow. Traffic knows to yield to each other. I saw a car back up about 100 feet, back over the moat at the tor, in order to let a truck through. All done without a fuss. Polite drivers. Everyone knows you can't budge the stones.
===============
=====
Friday March 12
==========
Munich . . .
Sunny morning. Froze over night with heavy frost left on the ground.
I have a dry sore throat. I don't get colds. I get drys. When it is cold out and I go inside where it is heated, my sinuses dry out, and then I get a "dry" - what is known as a cold. For me the cause is dry inside air.
So Waltraud helps with a special concoction of curcuma and salt in water. It helps. She also showed me some pressure points, including one unobtrusive one - the ring finger - so I could self treat on the train without getting stares. Part of a healing system called Jin Shin Jyutsu.
We went to the pastry shop and I got streussel. A great way to start the day.
Using one of my train pass days, so all I have to do is enter the date, and I am off. This time skipping the unnecessary purchase of the local train ticket.
Got to the station, and I didn't know which train to catch, since I was going to Rothenberg, which is not a big city. I went to a machine and actually got it to print out a trip plan for me, with all the train changes and necessary track numbers.
So far I hadn't been "controlled" on the local trains. That's where the conductor checks your ticket. Today makes up for it. I stopped counting after three controls.
Rothenberg
=======
Got into Rothenberg at 1 PM. Went straight to my room - selected from the guide book. Passed my alternate on the way. My first choice had space available, so I checked in , dropped my bag in the room, and I was off sight seeing within 15 minutes of arrival.
Walked the wall around the entire city. Great view, and many places from which to defend the place or to see who was out there. Next stop, St. something church, to see a 500 year old wooden sculpture. I didn't think it was that great. So went to crime and punishment museum nearby. And then went to the main square and merchant street. Then I checked my guide book to figure out what next. Upon review, it said the scultpture I wanted to see was up the stairs behind the organ. So I hurried back to the church on the other side of town. The stairs to the organ were locked. Then I realized there was no room behind the organ for anything, let alone a scultpture.
Checked the guidebook again: I wanted St Jacobs church - not this one. It was back over where I had just come from. I hurried back, and alas, it had closed at 4 PM - it was now 4:15. Big disappointment. This was my top priority for this stop. I guess I will return.
Then there were two towers to climb. Went to both - both were closed for the off season. Peter had advised me that the best bakeries were the ones that made their own things, and you could smell the baking. So when I passed a shop that smelled great, and the clerk was nice and chubby, it seemed like a good bet. Got my requisite two items - a poppy seed and apple dense cake, and a cheese cake apple thing. Planning ahead for an early breakfast on the run. Since I was scheduled to be back to Frankfurt by 10 AM the next morning.
Walked down to a double bridge into town. One where a bridge of arches crossed the river. And then another bridge of arches was built on top to give it more height.
Seeing this town helped me realize the significance of what I was seeing in the other cities. This was a strategically placed, well-defended walled city, with a few tors that served as entry points. So in the big cities, these walls had been mostly built over with the big arched tors remaining intact.
SO back to the room. No top sheets here either. Must be the norm. A bottom sheet, and a comforter.
Went to dinner at the hotel. The dining room was not smoky - only a little bit twice. There was no such thing as a non-smoking area. Venison with spetzel and an added upon request gnudle (not as good as those at Frau Lang's). And yes, streuddel!
Already I was making a list for next trip: the Nymph summer palace in Munich, and the wooden sculpture here.
To bed early. Up at 5:30 AM.
====================
Friday March 12
==========
Munich . . .
Sunny morning. Froze over night with heavy frost left on the ground.
I have a dry sore throat. I don't get colds. I get drys. When it is cold out and I go inside where it is heated, my sinuses dry out, and then I get a "dry" - what is known as a cold. For me the cause is dry inside air.
So Waltraud helps with a special concoction of curcuma and salt in water. It helps. She also showed me some pressure points, including one unobtrusive one - the ring finger - so I could self treat on the train without getting stares. Part of a healing system called Jin Shin Jyutsu.
We went to the pastry shop and I got streussel. A great way to start the day.
Using one of my train pass days, so all I have to do is enter the date, and I am off. This time skipping the unnecessary purchase of the local train ticket.
Got to the station, and I didn't know which train to catch, since I was going to Rothenberg, which is not a big city. I went to a machine and actually got it to print out a trip plan for me, with all the train changes and necessary track numbers.
So far I hadn't been "controlled" on the local trains. That's where the conductor checks your ticket. Today makes up for it. I stopped counting after three controls.
Rothenberg
=======
Got into Rothenberg at 1 PM. Went straight to my room - selected from the guide book. Passed my alternate on the way. My first choice had space available, so I checked in , dropped my bag in the room, and I was off sight seeing within 15 minutes of arrival.
Walked the wall around the entire city. Great view, and many places from which to defend the place or to see who was out there. Next stop, St. something church, to see a 500 year old wooden sculpture. I didn't think it was that great. So went to crime and punishment museum nearby. And then went to the main square and merchant street. Then I checked my guide book to figure out what next. Upon review, it said the scultpture I wanted to see was up the stairs behind the organ. So I hurried back to the church on the other side of town. The stairs to the organ were locked. Then I realized there was no room behind the organ for anything, let alone a scultpture.
Checked the guidebook again: I wanted St Jacobs church - not this one. It was back over where I had just come from. I hurried back, and alas, it had closed at 4 PM - it was now 4:15. Big disappointment. This was my top priority for this stop. I guess I will return.
Then there were two towers to climb. Went to both - both were closed for the off season. Peter had advised me that the best bakeries were the ones that made their own things, and you could smell the baking. So when I passed a shop that smelled great, and the clerk was nice and chubby, it seemed like a good bet. Got my requisite two items - a poppy seed and apple dense cake, and a cheese cake apple thing. Planning ahead for an early breakfast on the run. Since I was scheduled to be back to Frankfurt by 10 AM the next morning.
Walked down to a double bridge into town. One where a bridge of arches crossed the river. And then another bridge of arches was built on top to give it more height.
Seeing this town helped me realize the significance of what I was seeing in the other cities. This was a strategically placed, well-defended walled city, with a few tors that served as entry points. So in the big cities, these walls had been mostly built over with the big arched tors remaining intact.
SO back to the room. No top sheets here either. Must be the norm. A bottom sheet, and a comforter.
Went to dinner at the hotel. The dining room was not smoky - only a little bit twice. There was no such thing as a non-smoking area. Venison with spetzel and an added upon request gnudle (not as good as those at Frau Lang's). And yes, streuddel!
Already I was making a list for next trip: the Nymph summer palace in Munich, and the wooden sculpture here.
To bed early. Up at 5:30 AM.
====================
Tuesday, March 23, 2004
======
Thursday March 11
============
Changed plans again. Had planned to go to Rothenburg today. But I wanted to go to the Deutsches Museum - the German version of the Smithsonian. Waltraud was gracious and offered to go with me.
We had a walk in the morning - in the fresh snow. Stopped at the bakers and got fresh bretzels.
Had I mentioned the schwinesochsen? Almost destined for dog food? Well, I decided to have that for breakfast since I had carried it around in my ruck sack for a day. Waltraud heated it up along with the saur kraut. We had to close the door to the client area so that the sour aroma would not disturb them. This is a very unusual morning meal - it is dinner food. It was great. It wound up keeping me going all day. I didn't get hungry all day. Didn't even get into my spare bretzel I had hidden away.
Waltraud has some scheduled work, so for the few hours I decided to do some laundry. A bit of miscommunication had me thinking that it would take 2 hours with drying time. Actually, the wash cycle was 2 hours. A very sophisticated water and energy saving techno device that started, stopped, etc. - all on a program. So when Waltraud was ready to go, I was just putting the wash in the dryer.
Now with only two pairs of pants, and both dirty, what to where while doing the wash? Answer: swim trunks.
In order to make it go quicker, I just put in one pair of pants in the dryer. Since I didn't want to venture out in the cold in just shorts. The rest could wait.
Now the dryer is hi-tech too. I was very worried when I heard there water gurgling noises from the dryer. Turns out it captures the moisture - there is no vent to the outside - thus the gurgling.
Well, the museum was so many things - and not particularly German - all kinds of old technology. It would have been OK to skip. But how would I know. We didn't go through much of it. Waltraud was OK with that too. She hadn't been in more years since eating weiswurst last - and now I know why. More of a kids scramble kind of place.
Holly, though of you when we got hot chestnuts from a street vendor. Fresh roasted. Mmm mmm good.
I like the Tors in the city. They used to be the outer edge of the fortified town. The city expanded past them, and the need for fortification faded away. We visited one built in 1318 and one from 1373. Still being used in that we and cars go through them.
Next, plan for dinner. Waltraud offered to cook. Sounded good. She asked me if I wanted vegetarian. Or a chicken dish. I wanted whatever was normal for her. She said vegetarian. So this is when I figured out that her normal diet is vegetarian, and that the weiswurst was a deviation from her norm.
Well, she made a delicious squash with quinoa dish. I had thirds.
And again, went to sleep tired and full. Early morning in order to get to Rothenburg and see the town before my scheduled return to Frankfurt at 10 am Saturday.
Thursday March 11
============
Changed plans again. Had planned to go to Rothenburg today. But I wanted to go to the Deutsches Museum - the German version of the Smithsonian. Waltraud was gracious and offered to go with me.
We had a walk in the morning - in the fresh snow. Stopped at the bakers and got fresh bretzels.
Had I mentioned the schwinesochsen? Almost destined for dog food? Well, I decided to have that for breakfast since I had carried it around in my ruck sack for a day. Waltraud heated it up along with the saur kraut. We had to close the door to the client area so that the sour aroma would not disturb them. This is a very unusual morning meal - it is dinner food. It was great. It wound up keeping me going all day. I didn't get hungry all day. Didn't even get into my spare bretzel I had hidden away.
Waltraud has some scheduled work, so for the few hours I decided to do some laundry. A bit of miscommunication had me thinking that it would take 2 hours with drying time. Actually, the wash cycle was 2 hours. A very sophisticated water and energy saving techno device that started, stopped, etc. - all on a program. So when Waltraud was ready to go, I was just putting the wash in the dryer.
Now with only two pairs of pants, and both dirty, what to where while doing the wash? Answer: swim trunks.
In order to make it go quicker, I just put in one pair of pants in the dryer. Since I didn't want to venture out in the cold in just shorts. The rest could wait.
Now the dryer is hi-tech too. I was very worried when I heard there water gurgling noises from the dryer. Turns out it captures the moisture - there is no vent to the outside - thus the gurgling.
Well, the museum was so many things - and not particularly German - all kinds of old technology. It would have been OK to skip. But how would I know. We didn't go through much of it. Waltraud was OK with that too. She hadn't been in more years since eating weiswurst last - and now I know why. More of a kids scramble kind of place.
Holly, though of you when we got hot chestnuts from a street vendor. Fresh roasted. Mmm mmm good.
I like the Tors in the city. They used to be the outer edge of the fortified town. The city expanded past them, and the need for fortification faded away. We visited one built in 1318 and one from 1373. Still being used in that we and cars go through them.
Next, plan for dinner. Waltraud offered to cook. Sounded good. She asked me if I wanted vegetarian. Or a chicken dish. I wanted whatever was normal for her. She said vegetarian. So this is when I figured out that her normal diet is vegetarian, and that the weiswurst was a deviation from her norm.
Well, she made a delicious squash with quinoa dish. I had thirds.
And again, went to sleep tired and full. Early morning in order to get to Rothenburg and see the town before my scheduled return to Frankfurt at 10 am Saturday.
travel log [latest posting is at the top]
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- Now blogging at my own domain.Go to blog.mydomain....
- French Polynesia Arrival Retrospective[going back ...
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- Auckland to Mo'orea to HomeI am home now. For som...
- Wednesday March 14 Whakatane to AucklandThis is wh...
- Tuesday March 13 WhakataneIt it sunny in the morni...
- March 16 Auckland AirportAll checked in. Departure...
- Sunday March 11 Gisborne to Waiotahi Beach, Opotik...
- Friday March 9 (continued) Napier to Gisborne[don'...
- Wednesday March 7 in NapierAfter 3 pretzels, I vis...
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