I'm actually not too fond of Hungary. It seems sort of trapped in a second-world frame of mind. I bet it's just Budapest that is so grubby and needful, and that the countryside and smaller towns are great, but this isn't my favorite place on this trip. The bootstraps the Budapestians are pulling themselves up with are the tourists', not their own, and even the grubby hostels are expensive. I got warned about scams by almost everyone I met.
I did like seeing all the copper statues. They're everywhere, and they tell the history of the town if you can read them in the right order. Instead of puzzling it out, I went to the Hungarian History Museum. They started with the Romans in the basement and worked their way up to the fall of the Iron Curtain and modern times. Either I forgot everything except the Austrio-Hungarian Empire at the end of my history courses, or Hungary's getting largely skipped. I learned a ton. Every exhibit had something else to say about Hungary, something I didn't have any idea about. They've done a great job with their museum.
I also stopped by the synagogue and the incredibly Gothic Parliament building before crossing over to the Buda side of town to climb up to the Citadel. I think it was a fortress for a while, but now it's a museum and tourist trap. It does have great views, though. I hiked over to the castle afterward and checked out the National Art Museum. If you stay out of the downtown area, Budapest has some decent places to go. I don't think I could find anything for a second day, though, so I'm going to catch a night train to Kraków. I'm a bit wary of security and my ability to sleep on a night train, but they seem like a good deal and a great way to skip some travel time. I do like watching out the windows on trains, but these trips are such long distances that I probably couldn't stand that much countryside.
Saturday, June 14, 2008
Friday, June 13, 2008
Kooooonst!
Today was all about art. I dumped my bag at the train station and started in the Belvedere. There were these fabulous character heads, though I forgot the artist. I can't imagine modeling for this guy. The expressions were all so extreme, with bulging platysmal folds and scrunched eyebrows and noses. I enjoyed Max Oppenheimer's works, though I got a little sick of Klimt by the end of the exhibit. His Kiss is there, though, so I could see what all the fuss is about. It's difficult to tell, sometimes, when you're looking at a picture. Happily, they also had a lot of Egon Schiele.
I spent the afternoon in the Kunsthistorisches Museum. Words cannot describe the wonders within. I need to come back to Vienna, pitch a tent in the museum, and not leave for at least a week.
And then maybe I'll see an opera and check out the Schönbrunn, the Hapsburg's larger estate. It's kind of like their version of Versailles and sounded like too much for me to take on. Oh, and the Wienerwald, and the wine gardens, and the sculpture at the Leopold Museum.... I've got to catch a train to Budapest now, so the rest of Vienna will have to wait until I return.
I spent the afternoon in the Kunsthistorisches Museum. Words cannot describe the wonders within. I need to come back to Vienna, pitch a tent in the museum, and not leave for at least a week.
And then maybe I'll see an opera and check out the Schönbrunn, the Hapsburg's larger estate. It's kind of like their version of Versailles and sounded like too much for me to take on. Oh, and the Wienerwald, and the wine gardens, and the sculpture at the Leopold Museum.... I've got to catch a train to Budapest now, so the rest of Vienna will have to wait until I return.
Thursday, June 12, 2008
Dodging east.
I went to the Sacher Café this morning, and then to the WW I/II monument across the street. It's not a serious boxy one, but rather a powerfully moving one, with people struggling to escape from the rock and guns poking out here and there. I thought about it all the way down to St. Stephen's church, which was huge and captured my thoughts. You can see the outline of the old graveyard around the church, where it was before some Kaiser (Franz Josef I, perhaps?) moved it out of town, and I wonder what it would have been like to walk through the aisles, those huge towers looming above. It would be nice to see all these churches and cathedrals without any other tall buildings around. No skyscrapers, no offices, just humble little huts and one HUGE church. Instead, the area where the cemetery was is a giant square, chock full of shoppers and tourists.
Vienna also has the Kaisergruft, where the famous people are buried. Clearly, only the commoners are a contagion risk. Wealthy people can be buried in the middle of town. There are giant pedestrian shopping boulevards, and there are tiny little squares where you can find a great Biesl, a local coffeeshop, and chill out with some pastry. The square with the Jewish memorial (Judenplatz, naturally) is a good one for that. The memorial is nice, too: it's a cube covered in books, kind of like a library built on revolving theater stage walls that have been flipped outward. Yet another giant pedestrian street is the Graben, which as the name implies, used to be a huge ditch. The Romans used it for defense. This street has Vienna's plague monument. I've noticed that a lot of cities have one. The survivors were so excited to be alive that they all built fancy statues and columns all over the place. Understandable. I ended up back next to the Imperial Palace, where I found some Roman ruins I had overlooked the first time. I don't think I made it all the way around the palace to that particular square before. I treated myself to a smoked salmon, strawberry, sprout, and vinaigrette salad before hopping on another train. It was crispy and delicious.
I figured I could use a break from all the opulence of Vienna, so I popped out to Bratislava for a little while. It was fantastic, all onion domes and towers and crooked little old town streets. You can really see the influence Vienna has had on its neighboring city. When you hike up to the castle and look across the Danube, you can also see another architectural influence: the dull, squat, concrete housing blocks of the Soviets. I really liked seeing all the contrasts in Bratislava. Also of note: Bratislava had signs all over the place advertising its "twin cities" relationship with Vienna, but I saw only one such sign in all of the latter city. Poor little sib.
I had dinner in Bratislava, since I wanted to try Slovakian food and I figured it would be a lot cheaper than in Austria. It was. Though it cost 283... um, Slovakian currency units, it amounted to about twelve dollars for a large, rich, and garlicky fish soup, flamed crepes stuffed with walnut paste and lounging with some fruit in an orange zest sauce, and a huge Czech beer. That would easily have been double the price in Vienna, if not triple. The waitstaff were also very attentive in Bratislava. In Switzerland and Austria, they basically ignore you, thinking that they are letting you savor the meal and not feel rushed to pay. I savor, yes, but when I'm done eating I want my bill and I want to get out of there so I can see something else.
When I got back from Slovakia, the Österreich-Polska match was on. I joined the crowd standing outside the Fan Zone (they pat you down and take your water and all that if you actually go in), since we could see the huge projection from there. Poland led for the entire game, but both sides' fans kept up the cheering and good mood. In the 92nd minute, during the last bit of makeup time, Österreich's captain scored. You would have thought the guy had won every single gold medal there is at the Olympics. The match ended in a tie, but you couldn't tell the Austrians that. (I think their team usually loses.) They cheered and hollered and jumped for at least fifteen minutes straight, then went off on parades around the Hofburg Palace and through Stevensplatz and all along the pedestrian avenues. Naturally, I tagged along.
I'd ended up watching with a group of architecture students. They adopted me into their fold for the evening, striped facepaint and all, especially after I used my best German to say hi and ask questions. One of them proceeded to explain every single football cheer and pulled me off to the side when she thought she saw some Polish hooligans coming. She says they felt like the game was stolen from them and the Polish hooliganism is second only to that of the Brits. The architecture students and I stomped around chanting and cheering for a while. I tried to duck out when they headed for a pub, but the one girl made me come to a different pub for just a few minutes more. A guitarist was singing famous Austrian songs, and I just had to hear a few. She was right. They were great.
The football cheers are still cycling through my head. One translates to "Austria, now and forever," while another brags about how they're going to win their next game, against Germany. (Deutschland, Deutschland, alles historie!) Not likely. Another is pure Viennese slang: they shorten the captain's name down to Ivo and then uses contractions that supposedly mean "kicked a goal" afterward, but I couldn't make heads or tails of it. It sounds like "Da Ivo pitta manna, dunh dunnnnh dun-dun dunnnnh dun da!" The one that really stays in your head is to When the Saints Go Marching In and just consists of nonsense cheering about Rot, Weiss, Österreich!. All in all, a great day.
Vienna also has the Kaisergruft, where the famous people are buried. Clearly, only the commoners are a contagion risk. Wealthy people can be buried in the middle of town. There are giant pedestrian shopping boulevards, and there are tiny little squares where you can find a great Biesl, a local coffeeshop, and chill out with some pastry. The square with the Jewish memorial (Judenplatz, naturally) is a good one for that. The memorial is nice, too: it's a cube covered in books, kind of like a library built on revolving theater stage walls that have been flipped outward. Yet another giant pedestrian street is the Graben, which as the name implies, used to be a huge ditch. The Romans used it for defense. This street has Vienna's plague monument. I've noticed that a lot of cities have one. The survivors were so excited to be alive that they all built fancy statues and columns all over the place. Understandable. I ended up back next to the Imperial Palace, where I found some Roman ruins I had overlooked the first time. I don't think I made it all the way around the palace to that particular square before. I treated myself to a smoked salmon, strawberry, sprout, and vinaigrette salad before hopping on another train. It was crispy and delicious.
I figured I could use a break from all the opulence of Vienna, so I popped out to Bratislava for a little while. It was fantastic, all onion domes and towers and crooked little old town streets. You can really see the influence Vienna has had on its neighboring city. When you hike up to the castle and look across the Danube, you can also see another architectural influence: the dull, squat, concrete housing blocks of the Soviets. I really liked seeing all the contrasts in Bratislava. Also of note: Bratislava had signs all over the place advertising its "twin cities" relationship with Vienna, but I saw only one such sign in all of the latter city. Poor little sib.
I had dinner in Bratislava, since I wanted to try Slovakian food and I figured it would be a lot cheaper than in Austria. It was. Though it cost 283... um, Slovakian currency units, it amounted to about twelve dollars for a large, rich, and garlicky fish soup, flamed crepes stuffed with walnut paste and lounging with some fruit in an orange zest sauce, and a huge Czech beer. That would easily have been double the price in Vienna, if not triple. The waitstaff were also very attentive in Bratislava. In Switzerland and Austria, they basically ignore you, thinking that they are letting you savor the meal and not feel rushed to pay. I savor, yes, but when I'm done eating I want my bill and I want to get out of there so I can see something else.
When I got back from Slovakia, the Österreich-Polska match was on. I joined the crowd standing outside the Fan Zone (they pat you down and take your water and all that if you actually go in), since we could see the huge projection from there. Poland led for the entire game, but both sides' fans kept up the cheering and good mood. In the 92nd minute, during the last bit of makeup time, Österreich's captain scored. You would have thought the guy had won every single gold medal there is at the Olympics. The match ended in a tie, but you couldn't tell the Austrians that. (I think their team usually loses.) They cheered and hollered and jumped for at least fifteen minutes straight, then went off on parades around the Hofburg Palace and through Stevensplatz and all along the pedestrian avenues. Naturally, I tagged along.
I'd ended up watching with a group of architecture students. They adopted me into their fold for the evening, striped facepaint and all, especially after I used my best German to say hi and ask questions. One of them proceeded to explain every single football cheer and pulled me off to the side when she thought she saw some Polish hooligans coming. She says they felt like the game was stolen from them and the Polish hooliganism is second only to that of the Brits. The architecture students and I stomped around chanting and cheering for a while. I tried to duck out when they headed for a pub, but the one girl made me come to a different pub for just a few minutes more. A guitarist was singing famous Austrian songs, and I just had to hear a few. She was right. They were great.
The football cheers are still cycling through my head. One translates to "Austria, now and forever," while another brags about how they're going to win their next game, against Germany. (Deutschland, Deutschland, alles historie!) Not likely. Another is pure Viennese slang: they shorten the captain's name down to Ivo and then uses contractions that supposedly mean "kicked a goal" afterward, but I couldn't make heads or tails of it. It sounds like "Da Ivo pitta manna, dunh dunnnnh dun-dun dunnnnh dun da!" The one that really stays in your head is to When the Saints Go Marching In and just consists of nonsense cheering about Rot, Weiss, Österreich!. All in all, a great day.
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
Tiring.
I stayed up late to watch the end of the Switzerland-Turkey match. It was tied till the 92nd minute, when Turkey scored a second goal. Most of the crowd was for Turkey, so they´re all out dancing singing and and drinking and honking their car horns.
Before that, I went to the ballet at the Vienna Opera House. Before that, I spent three hours in the Albertina Museum: Rubens, Albrecht Dürer (wow), Michelangelo (also wow), Egon Schiele (whom I love), Renoir, Monet, Degas, Toulouse-Latrec, Cézanne, Matisse, Signac & company, Giacometti, Kandinsky, Chagall, Miró, Picasso... they also had a huge Klee show, and some of the state rooms were still open and as they were when the wing was built. The Albertina Museum is part of the Hofburg, the Hapsburg city residence, aka the Imperial Palace. It was built for some queen-type person. The really nice-looking (neoclassical?), semicircular wing is my favorite, though. Franz Ferdinand built it while waiting for his turn, but he was assassinated (WWI!) before Franz Josef I finally died of old age. Anyone else miss AP Euro? Anyway, it was a nice addition to the palace.
Before the Albertina, I was having a Viennese lunch. They put potatoes, corn, and lentils in their green salads, then drown them in dressing.
Prior to that, I spent all morning in the inner sanctum of the Hofburg, looking at all of Emperor Franz Josef I and Empress Elizabeth´s belongings. I cannot begin to describe the size and complexity of the imperial dinner service. They had between eight and thirty-something courses per meal, depending on whom they were impressing, and I lost count of how many different types of plates there were. The decorated porcelain services were outstandingly well painted, but the silver and gold sets were jaw-droppingly shiny. I can´t think of any better way to show off such massive wealth.
The staterooms were neat, too. The exhibits reminded me about the lives of the Hapsburgs, then took me through the daily life of FJ I and his wife. It turns out she was fanatical about exercise, unheard of for a woman in those times. She had a pull-up bar and gymnastic rings in her study, between her writing desk (poetry, mostly) and her massage table (for after all that exercise, of course). Rings are ridiculously difficult. I had a hard time imagining an empress up there, doing all those shoulder and ab exercises, and it only became more difficult to picture when I saw her workout skirt.
Before that were a few churches, including the one they built as thanks for a failed assassination attempt on FJ I, and the Parliament, which is tying their tour into EuroCup 2008 to try to get people in the door.
So. I´m somewhat tired from staring at things all day. But I´m still excited for tomorrow.
Before that, I went to the ballet at the Vienna Opera House. Before that, I spent three hours in the Albertina Museum: Rubens, Albrecht Dürer (wow), Michelangelo (also wow), Egon Schiele (whom I love), Renoir, Monet, Degas, Toulouse-Latrec, Cézanne, Matisse, Signac & company, Giacometti, Kandinsky, Chagall, Miró, Picasso... they also had a huge Klee show, and some of the state rooms were still open and as they were when the wing was built. The Albertina Museum is part of the Hofburg, the Hapsburg city residence, aka the Imperial Palace. It was built for some queen-type person. The really nice-looking (neoclassical?), semicircular wing is my favorite, though. Franz Ferdinand built it while waiting for his turn, but he was assassinated (WWI!) before Franz Josef I finally died of old age. Anyone else miss AP Euro? Anyway, it was a nice addition to the palace.
Before the Albertina, I was having a Viennese lunch. They put potatoes, corn, and lentils in their green salads, then drown them in dressing.
Prior to that, I spent all morning in the inner sanctum of the Hofburg, looking at all of Emperor Franz Josef I and Empress Elizabeth´s belongings. I cannot begin to describe the size and complexity of the imperial dinner service. They had between eight and thirty-something courses per meal, depending on whom they were impressing, and I lost count of how many different types of plates there were. The decorated porcelain services were outstandingly well painted, but the silver and gold sets were jaw-droppingly shiny. I can´t think of any better way to show off such massive wealth.
The staterooms were neat, too. The exhibits reminded me about the lives of the Hapsburgs, then took me through the daily life of FJ I and his wife. It turns out she was fanatical about exercise, unheard of for a woman in those times. She had a pull-up bar and gymnastic rings in her study, between her writing desk (poetry, mostly) and her massage table (for after all that exercise, of course). Rings are ridiculously difficult. I had a hard time imagining an empress up there, doing all those shoulder and ab exercises, and it only became more difficult to picture when I saw her workout skirt.
Before that were a few churches, including the one they built as thanks for a failed assassination attempt on FJ I, and the Parliament, which is tying their tour into EuroCup 2008 to try to get people in the door.
So. I´m somewhat tired from staring at things all day. But I´m still excited for tomorrow.
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
EuroCup2008 madness.
Salzburg is all a whirl of yellow and blue and white. I arrived last night in time to watch the Polska v Deutschland match, and all the Sverige and Hellas supporters were out in their garb. The official Fan Mile had been hijacked by Sweden before I got to town, but the hardy Greeks had set up their own on a street right by my hostel. I watched the above match from a Greek tavern, and got to see a group of guitar players belting out traditional Greek tunes during half time. They even had a Swede up there with them, clapping along. I was on the lookout for hooligans when the EuroCup first started, but all I've seen everywhere is good cheer. Probably because the Brits didn't make the Cup. Heh.
I got up early this morning to see as much of Salzburg as I could before it got swamped with tourists and EuroCuppers. In addition to regular fans absolutely everywhere, I met a fancy Swede in a full tux, bow tie and all, except that the shirt was replaced with a signed, yellow Swedish replica jersey. It looked quite nice. I will have to try that if ever I get invited to a ball. At any rate, we both went for the local second breakfast of a light pint. I had my Trumer Pils with a Brezl (pretzel, natch) and apricots from the farmers' market in the square (Universitatsplatz).
I also saw lots of old streets with elaborate gold signs, Mozart's home and birthplace, the park from Sound of Music, and churches with tons of graves. I'm getting sick of church art, but I will press on. Also in the squares and streets were French schoolchildren doing their darndest to incite football violence. They chanted their little lungs out every time they saw a guy in a Sweden shirt. Most of the Swedes and Greeks just chuckled, but a few Swedish youths chanted back while grinning madly. My favorite find of the day was a local Schnapps maker. He must have had thirty or so kinds in the storefront. I wish I had tried a few--it was ten in the morning when I passed by, and I didn't think I could take them to go. I forgot to go back until too late in the day.
I got up early this morning to see as much of Salzburg as I could before it got swamped with tourists and EuroCuppers. In addition to regular fans absolutely everywhere, I met a fancy Swede in a full tux, bow tie and all, except that the shirt was replaced with a signed, yellow Swedish replica jersey. It looked quite nice. I will have to try that if ever I get invited to a ball. At any rate, we both went for the local second breakfast of a light pint. I had my Trumer Pils with a Brezl (pretzel, natch) and apricots from the farmers' market in the square (Universitatsplatz).
I also saw lots of old streets with elaborate gold signs, Mozart's home and birthplace, the park from Sound of Music, and churches with tons of graves. I'm getting sick of church art, but I will press on. Also in the squares and streets were French schoolchildren doing their darndest to incite football violence. They chanted their little lungs out every time they saw a guy in a Sweden shirt. Most of the Swedes and Greeks just chuckled, but a few Swedish youths chanted back while grinning madly. My favorite find of the day was a local Schnapps maker. He must have had thirty or so kinds in the storefront. I wish I had tried a few--it was ten in the morning when I passed by, and I didn't think I could take them to go. I forgot to go back until too late in the day.
Monday, June 9, 2008
Return of the Alps.
It's official: I love Austria.
Everyone is nice, the tortes are delicious, and it's all mountains and rivers and lakes and farming again. I think also I might be homesick for Schweiz.
I arrived in Innsbruck at about 18:30 last night. The Austrian team kicked off its first match of the 2008 Euro Cup at about 18:00 in Wien. The 2008 Euro Cup is being held in Austria and Schweiz this year. Needless to say, the whole town was a swirl of red and white: facepaint, flag capes, t-shirts, crazy hats, and various banners and scarves. I had meant to get a Hopp Schweiz scarf before I left; perhaps I will pick one up right before I fly home. Innsbruck's main street is the official Fan Meile for the whole month. (Ha ha, take that, metric system! Fan Kilometre sounds stupid and isn't as long.) The whole street is swarming in tent pubs, pretzel stands, and young men. The Croat supporters held their own parade in the middle of all the Austrian pride, and were fairly well tolerated. I tried to check out the major touristy sights for a few minutes, then gave up, donned all my red clothing, and watched some of the game from one of the ubiquitous street monitors.
I Skyped home during the Germany-Poland game, but I stayed long enough beforehand to witness a flurry of Deutschland supporters jumping around to the blasting pre-game music. On my dusk wander through town, there were still enough fans out to elicit chants as they passed each other on the streets. My favorite starts "Ohne Deutschland!" as bold as can be, but I lost the rest in a garble of drunken Austrian-flavored German.
I found a great hostel/bed and breakfast, above a fancy cafe. Yep, that means the included breakfast was superb, which was especially welcome after Italy. The swirly, creamy bread delighted me, but then the owner came by to drop off my torte and it was all over between me and that roll. Breakfast dessert! What a great country. I chatted with the owner a bit over the pastry case afterwards. You get something different each morning, if you stay a while, and it can be anything they make. That case had dark and milk chocolate, hazelnut, strawberry, passionfruit, vanilla creme, orange, raspberry, and all sorts of Austrian wafer cookies combined in various ways. They had Sachertorte, of course, but I am holding out for the time being. Besides, the cheese torte I had at breakfast had filled me up.
I saw Frederick IV's Goldenes Dachl, a fancy, gold-roofed balcony he built to watch his people dance in the square, climbed the Stadtturm (town tower) for a better view of the Olympic ski jump and city, looked at the column and arch along main street, strolled along the Inn river and through the town park, and visited three churches. The Jesuit one has Leopold V's and some of the Medicis' tombs. The Hofkirche held a huge monument to Maximillian I, complete with oversized bronze statues of all his most important relatives (mostly also royalty). The Dom zu St. Jakob pealed out its daily carillon just as I arrived, the bells somehow both jangling as well as light and wistful. This one had mostly stucco, thank goodness. The Jesuits were big on gold, and I'm sick of looking at it all after the Basilica and Ca' d'Oro in Venice and the Goldenes Dachl this morning.
I need to come back to Innsbruck again. I want to ski and hike, I want to try the bobsled and luge runs, and I want to see the folk museums. There are a lot of castles not too far from here, in very southern Germany, Bavaria really, that are probably best reached from this area. I also want to see the archeological and especially anatomical and apothecary museums. I could do with some more Tirolean history as well. A number of last night's revelers had flags proclaiming their love of Tirol or t-shirts and stickers insisting that Südtirol ist NICHT Italian. I faintly remember Austria regaining some of this region from Germany, then losing some to Italy.
Everyone is nice, the tortes are delicious, and it's all mountains and rivers and lakes and farming again. I think also I might be homesick for Schweiz.
I arrived in Innsbruck at about 18:30 last night. The Austrian team kicked off its first match of the 2008 Euro Cup at about 18:00 in Wien. The 2008 Euro Cup is being held in Austria and Schweiz this year. Needless to say, the whole town was a swirl of red and white: facepaint, flag capes, t-shirts, crazy hats, and various banners and scarves. I had meant to get a Hopp Schweiz scarf before I left; perhaps I will pick one up right before I fly home. Innsbruck's main street is the official Fan Meile for the whole month. (Ha ha, take that, metric system! Fan Kilometre sounds stupid and isn't as long.) The whole street is swarming in tent pubs, pretzel stands, and young men. The Croat supporters held their own parade in the middle of all the Austrian pride, and were fairly well tolerated. I tried to check out the major touristy sights for a few minutes, then gave up, donned all my red clothing, and watched some of the game from one of the ubiquitous street monitors.
I Skyped home during the Germany-Poland game, but I stayed long enough beforehand to witness a flurry of Deutschland supporters jumping around to the blasting pre-game music. On my dusk wander through town, there were still enough fans out to elicit chants as they passed each other on the streets. My favorite starts "Ohne Deutschland!" as bold as can be, but I lost the rest in a garble of drunken Austrian-flavored German.
I found a great hostel/bed and breakfast, above a fancy cafe. Yep, that means the included breakfast was superb, which was especially welcome after Italy. The swirly, creamy bread delighted me, but then the owner came by to drop off my torte and it was all over between me and that roll. Breakfast dessert! What a great country. I chatted with the owner a bit over the pastry case afterwards. You get something different each morning, if you stay a while, and it can be anything they make. That case had dark and milk chocolate, hazelnut, strawberry, passionfruit, vanilla creme, orange, raspberry, and all sorts of Austrian wafer cookies combined in various ways. They had Sachertorte, of course, but I am holding out for the time being. Besides, the cheese torte I had at breakfast had filled me up.
I saw Frederick IV's Goldenes Dachl, a fancy, gold-roofed balcony he built to watch his people dance in the square, climbed the Stadtturm (town tower) for a better view of the Olympic ski jump and city, looked at the column and arch along main street, strolled along the Inn river and through the town park, and visited three churches. The Jesuit one has Leopold V's and some of the Medicis' tombs. The Hofkirche held a huge monument to Maximillian I, complete with oversized bronze statues of all his most important relatives (mostly also royalty). The Dom zu St. Jakob pealed out its daily carillon just as I arrived, the bells somehow both jangling as well as light and wistful. This one had mostly stucco, thank goodness. The Jesuits were big on gold, and I'm sick of looking at it all after the Basilica and Ca' d'Oro in Venice and the Goldenes Dachl this morning.
I need to come back to Innsbruck again. I want to ski and hike, I want to try the bobsled and luge runs, and I want to see the folk museums. There are a lot of castles not too far from here, in very southern Germany, Bavaria really, that are probably best reached from this area. I also want to see the archeological and especially anatomical and apothecary museums. I could do with some more Tirolean history as well. A number of last night's revelers had flags proclaiming their love of Tirol or t-shirts and stickers insisting that Südtirol ist NICHT Italian. I faintly remember Austria regaining some of this region from Germany, then losing some to Italy.
Sunday, June 8, 2008
Escaping the trains.
I like Italy, but I am honestly excited to be out. After living in Switzerland for so long, I started taking public transportation for granted. I am actually sort of surprised that the Swiss don't use seconds as well when writing out their train schedules.
Italy? No. Not a single train was on time, and they have all sorts of secret rules. There are about twelve different types of train, depending on their makeup and how fast they're going to go, and you have to remember which ones require reservations. Inevitably, every train I got on did. I got on one train in Cinque Terre at slightly after 16:01, on track one, expecting it to be the 16:01 track one train that stopped at each of the towns along the coast. Ohh, no. This was the previous train, late, not my train, also late, going in the same direction. This train wasn't stopping until the last town, and it only had little cabins, none of which I was allowed to sit inside. And I needed to pay an extra thirteen Euros for the reservation I needed for the privilege of going to the wrong town late. I grumped at the ticket collector while he yelled at me in Italian. Eventually, he gave up and I jumped out at the first stop.
I had trouble again when going to Pisa and Firenze, and I had trouble again on my way to Venezia. In Verona, the ticket office woman yelled at me when I asked if I needed a reservation for the train up to Bolzano (NO RESERVATIONE!), since it was the exact same train as the train to Innsbruck (SI RESERVATIONE!) and the ticket guy on my previous train, the Venezia-Milan run, had informed me that I needed one even if I was only going a couple stops, to Verona. She snatched back the reservation she had sold me for the Innsbruck train, refunded my Euros, and informed me that that sort of question should be directed to the station info people, not the ticket people. Even though the info people seemed to be touristy stuff like hotels and sights, and I would need to be at the ticket window anyway if I did need a reservation. I dutifully trekked to the info people, found that I did need a reservation, and bought it again from a different person back at the ticket office. Even the train station people don't know what's going on with their trains.
Verona smelled like vomit, by the way, so I spent less time than I had allotted for the city. (I also arrived late because guess what: my train was late.)
Oh, and another point: the Swiss have organized their train schedule so that the trains going in directions you might ostensibly want to go in after hitting a hub leave five to ten minutes after you get to the station. You just get off, flit over to the schedule board, get on the next one only a track or two over (or possibly on the same track, pulling in four minutes after your previous train leaves), wait three minutes, and you're off. Italy, on the other hand, has optimized missed connections and waiting times. I think they must anticipate late trains in this scheme, too, planning their departures to cause the maximum possible aggravation. It worked, or at least it did until I left the train station to wander in a new city.
Not Verona, though, because as I said, it stunk. The Dolomites and Bolzano were a pleasure as I rode north, up to Austria and away from ferriovia hell. I shared a cabin with a mother and her early-teen daughter, the latter heading up to boarding school in Germany. As the mother left the train, she appointed Anastasia my little sister for the duration of my trip, sealing the deal by handing me the rubber dinosaur that had come inside Anastasia's chocolate Kinder egg. I was happy to hang out with Harry-Potter-reading Anastasia, especially because she was able to converse in both Italian and German.
Italy? No. Not a single train was on time, and they have all sorts of secret rules. There are about twelve different types of train, depending on their makeup and how fast they're going to go, and you have to remember which ones require reservations. Inevitably, every train I got on did. I got on one train in Cinque Terre at slightly after 16:01, on track one, expecting it to be the 16:01 track one train that stopped at each of the towns along the coast. Ohh, no. This was the previous train, late, not my train, also late, going in the same direction. This train wasn't stopping until the last town, and it only had little cabins, none of which I was allowed to sit inside. And I needed to pay an extra thirteen Euros for the reservation I needed for the privilege of going to the wrong town late. I grumped at the ticket collector while he yelled at me in Italian. Eventually, he gave up and I jumped out at the first stop.
I had trouble again when going to Pisa and Firenze, and I had trouble again on my way to Venezia. In Verona, the ticket office woman yelled at me when I asked if I needed a reservation for the train up to Bolzano (NO RESERVATIONE!), since it was the exact same train as the train to Innsbruck (SI RESERVATIONE!) and the ticket guy on my previous train, the Venezia-Milan run, had informed me that I needed one even if I was only going a couple stops, to Verona. She snatched back the reservation she had sold me for the Innsbruck train, refunded my Euros, and informed me that that sort of question should be directed to the station info people, not the ticket people. Even though the info people seemed to be touristy stuff like hotels and sights, and I would need to be at the ticket window anyway if I did need a reservation. I dutifully trekked to the info people, found that I did need a reservation, and bought it again from a different person back at the ticket office. Even the train station people don't know what's going on with their trains.
Verona smelled like vomit, by the way, so I spent less time than I had allotted for the city. (I also arrived late because guess what: my train was late.)
Oh, and another point: the Swiss have organized their train schedule so that the trains going in directions you might ostensibly want to go in after hitting a hub leave five to ten minutes after you get to the station. You just get off, flit over to the schedule board, get on the next one only a track or two over (or possibly on the same track, pulling in four minutes after your previous train leaves), wait three minutes, and you're off. Italy, on the other hand, has optimized missed connections and waiting times. I think they must anticipate late trains in this scheme, too, planning their departures to cause the maximum possible aggravation. It worked, or at least it did until I left the train station to wander in a new city.
Not Verona, though, because as I said, it stunk. The Dolomites and Bolzano were a pleasure as I rode north, up to Austria and away from ferriovia hell. I shared a cabin with a mother and her early-teen daughter, the latter heading up to boarding school in Germany. As the mother left the train, she appointed Anastasia my little sister for the duration of my trip, sealing the deal by handing me the rubber dinosaur that had come inside Anastasia's chocolate Kinder egg. I was happy to hang out with Harry-Potter-reading Anastasia, especially because she was able to converse in both Italian and German.
Saturday, June 7, 2008
Still lost.
Italy has hands-down the worst breakfasts I have ever had. They call it good after a coffee and a styrofoamesque roll, possibly with jam to hide its lack of taste. The Australian doctor I sat with at the table and I managed to discuss the horridness of the rolls for a good five minutes before he told me about practicing overseas in Ireland. Cool.
I supplemented the "roll" with a yogurt-flavored gelato (close enough, right?) and headed off to Touristville, aka Piazza San Marco. First stop: the Doge's Palace. The Doge is basically Mr. King Aristocrat, though he doesn't have much power by himself, and he was elected for life. Nobody else in Venice is allowed to call their abode a palace, so all the other waterfront mansions are just called Ca' (house). The palace is both the Doge's living quarters and statehouse, so it's truly immense. I didn't grasp the size of it until I had been inside for a couple of hours. You can't really see how big it is from the outside, since it's overlapped by the Basilica di San Marco, and the whole piazza is so vast it downplays all the surrounding buildings. The Doge had it all: incredible art, gilt everything, senators, statesmen, giant halls, and secret passages. Most of the paintings are basically about how great Venice is, how just and fair her government is, how the Doge is the best guy ever, and how both Jesus and all the old Roman gods are definitely big fans of all of the above. I enjoyed the vast Grand Council hall, with space for 2600 people, enough for all the nobility to come in and vote. The frieze (see, I'm sort of learning archtitectual terms) is paintings of seventy or more ex-Doges, placed up there one by one as they died. One of them was traitorous and has been blacked out in punishment, a bad egg. In the same room is the biggest oil painting ever, Paradise, by Tintoretto. It's absolutely massive, and as usual, about Jesus and company (500 saints), with a holy light shining down to the Doge's seat.
The courtrooms, if I may call them that, were also impressive, this time for the mood they instill. Even as a tourist, I immediately felt small and oddly guilty as I stepped inside. The judges are a team of the nobles, plus, naturally, the Doge and his cohort, and you don't even get a chair during your trial. It feels like you don't get a say, either, though the paintings of Justice and Honor imply that all evidence will be examined. Government propaganda? You decide. Or they will, really. Off you go afterward, across the Bridge of Sighs and down into the dungeon. The cells look as cramped as I would have expected, and the Doge's new jail, despite plans for more light and comfort, looks no better.
Just in case you escape a sentence, the court has its initials emblazoned on an awful lot of weaponry, so they will still be hanging over your head. The armory was crammed full of swords, maces, suits, clickity guns, and all sorts of fearsome, pointy bits I couldn't name. There was also, inexplicably, a chastity belt and a few other metallic objects that weren't made for hurting someone. I enjoyed the display with a gun taken to pieces so you could see how it worked.
After the Doge's pad, I toured the Basilica di San Marco itself, in all its intricate, Jesus-y splendor. The Basilica was nearly dripping with gold, as though all I had to do was wander through and I would come out shiny. My favorite part was the floor, an impressive mosaic of beautiful bits of stone. The whole floor is in waves, since it is slowly sinking into the mire below Venice, but I think I like it even better because of its extra dimension.
I also saw the art in the Dicosean Museum, which included a reliquary containing an entire human hand, all mummified and grey. Ew. Cool. There was more gold, more church stuff, and some great paintings. Sadly, I was starting to get a bit over-Jesused, so I took a break for a boat ride.
The vaporetti aren't fast or romantic, but these water buses are a great way to get around. I got a 24-hour pass and watched the canal-front buildings slowly sink as we powered up the Grand Canal. I got off at the museum of modern art and enjoyed some marvelous sculptures and paintings (Klee, Klimt, Chagall, Kandinsky, etc.), mostly secular. I also popped into the Oriental Museum while I was there. They kicked me out at closing, so I wandered the Jewish district for a while. This was the first ghetto, I heard, so named because of the copper foundry (geto, in Italian) in the neighborhood they gave the Jews. Venetians sent them all to one island neighborhood in the 1500s, closing the bridges at night except for Jewish doctors. After more gelato, I hopped back on a vaporetto and scouted famous buildings: the Byzantine-inspired oldest building in Venezia, the Casino ("little house"! I get it!) in which Richard Wagner died, the fancy Ca' d'Oro, the Rialto and Accademia Bridges, all the stripey docking poles, and La Salute. This last church's dome is currently surrounded by scaffolding, but it's still gorgeous inside. The plaque says Venetians built it to thank Mary for not letting them die during the plague of 1630. I think. My Italian is terrible. I went all the way out to Lido beach before coming back and wandering town some more. Despite signs everywhere for idiot tourists, I kept getting distracted by alleys and shops and it took me an hour and multiple wrong turns to get back to the Rialto. In truth, I think I am finally getting the hang of navigating Venice. I can make it to the Campo S. Maria Formosa, right by my hostel, from anywhere. It took more than two day to accomplish this, though, and now I'm leaving again.
A few other notes:
I supplemented the "roll" with a yogurt-flavored gelato (close enough, right?) and headed off to Touristville, aka Piazza San Marco. First stop: the Doge's Palace. The Doge is basically Mr. King Aristocrat, though he doesn't have much power by himself, and he was elected for life. Nobody else in Venice is allowed to call their abode a palace, so all the other waterfront mansions are just called Ca' (house). The palace is both the Doge's living quarters and statehouse, so it's truly immense. I didn't grasp the size of it until I had been inside for a couple of hours. You can't really see how big it is from the outside, since it's overlapped by the Basilica di San Marco, and the whole piazza is so vast it downplays all the surrounding buildings. The Doge had it all: incredible art, gilt everything, senators, statesmen, giant halls, and secret passages. Most of the paintings are basically about how great Venice is, how just and fair her government is, how the Doge is the best guy ever, and how both Jesus and all the old Roman gods are definitely big fans of all of the above. I enjoyed the vast Grand Council hall, with space for 2600 people, enough for all the nobility to come in and vote. The frieze (see, I'm sort of learning archtitectual terms) is paintings of seventy or more ex-Doges, placed up there one by one as they died. One of them was traitorous and has been blacked out in punishment, a bad egg. In the same room is the biggest oil painting ever, Paradise, by Tintoretto. It's absolutely massive, and as usual, about Jesus and company (500 saints), with a holy light shining down to the Doge's seat.
The courtrooms, if I may call them that, were also impressive, this time for the mood they instill. Even as a tourist, I immediately felt small and oddly guilty as I stepped inside. The judges are a team of the nobles, plus, naturally, the Doge and his cohort, and you don't even get a chair during your trial. It feels like you don't get a say, either, though the paintings of Justice and Honor imply that all evidence will be examined. Government propaganda? You decide. Or they will, really. Off you go afterward, across the Bridge of Sighs and down into the dungeon. The cells look as cramped as I would have expected, and the Doge's new jail, despite plans for more light and comfort, looks no better.
Just in case you escape a sentence, the court has its initials emblazoned on an awful lot of weaponry, so they will still be hanging over your head. The armory was crammed full of swords, maces, suits, clickity guns, and all sorts of fearsome, pointy bits I couldn't name. There was also, inexplicably, a chastity belt and a few other metallic objects that weren't made for hurting someone. I enjoyed the display with a gun taken to pieces so you could see how it worked.
After the Doge's pad, I toured the Basilica di San Marco itself, in all its intricate, Jesus-y splendor. The Basilica was nearly dripping with gold, as though all I had to do was wander through and I would come out shiny. My favorite part was the floor, an impressive mosaic of beautiful bits of stone. The whole floor is in waves, since it is slowly sinking into the mire below Venice, but I think I like it even better because of its extra dimension.
I also saw the art in the Dicosean Museum, which included a reliquary containing an entire human hand, all mummified and grey. Ew. Cool. There was more gold, more church stuff, and some great paintings. Sadly, I was starting to get a bit over-Jesused, so I took a break for a boat ride.
The vaporetti aren't fast or romantic, but these water buses are a great way to get around. I got a 24-hour pass and watched the canal-front buildings slowly sink as we powered up the Grand Canal. I got off at the museum of modern art and enjoyed some marvelous sculptures and paintings (Klee, Klimt, Chagall, Kandinsky, etc.), mostly secular. I also popped into the Oriental Museum while I was there. They kicked me out at closing, so I wandered the Jewish district for a while. This was the first ghetto, I heard, so named because of the copper foundry (geto, in Italian) in the neighborhood they gave the Jews. Venetians sent them all to one island neighborhood in the 1500s, closing the bridges at night except for Jewish doctors. After more gelato, I hopped back on a vaporetto and scouted famous buildings: the Byzantine-inspired oldest building in Venezia, the Casino ("little house"! I get it!) in which Richard Wagner died, the fancy Ca' d'Oro, the Rialto and Accademia Bridges, all the stripey docking poles, and La Salute. This last church's dome is currently surrounded by scaffolding, but it's still gorgeous inside. The plaque says Venetians built it to thank Mary for not letting them die during the plague of 1630. I think. My Italian is terrible. I went all the way out to Lido beach before coming back and wandering town some more. Despite signs everywhere for idiot tourists, I kept getting distracted by alleys and shops and it took me an hour and multiple wrong turns to get back to the Rialto. In truth, I think I am finally getting the hang of navigating Venice. I can make it to the Campo S. Maria Formosa, right by my hostel, from anywhere. It took more than two day to accomplish this, though, and now I'm leaving again.
A few other notes:
- I successfully haggled for the first time in my life, over a few bananas.
- I am getting freckles. I don't think I used to get them. Perhaps the sunscreen does it? I am wearing more if it than usual.
- The police-, mail-, and fire-boats are a kick. There's an honest to goodness traffic light outside the fire station, unlike the rest of the canal system, and the post office has one of the biggest docks anywhere.
- I tried Venetian cuttlefish for dinner. Alarmingly black, but delicious.
- A lot of these houses look empty on the ground floor, then cheerily inhabited above. The water damage must be terrible. I kept thinking about The Italian Job when the speedboats buzzed past.
Friday, June 6, 2008
Water everywhere.
I caught an early train to Venezia this morning, then dropped my bag off at what I think used to be a convent and promptly got lost. Astoundingly, dead-endingly, completely lost. Four hours with quite probably no repeats in path lost. It was great. Along the way, I saw pastas in an entire rainbow of colors, with flavors to match: curry, mushroom, cocoa, pizza, cuttlefish, smoked salmon, pesto, beet, artichoke, blueberry, pepper, and chili/garlic. I wonder what kind of sauce you would put on some of those. My pizza-and-espresso lunch was super, and I of course hit another gelato stand right afterward. The specialty here is Crema de Dogi flavor, which is a vanilla-lemon base with chocolate-hazelnut paste swirls. It's better than it sounds. There are masks everywhere, due to Venezia's reputedly excellent Mardi Gras, plus glass in every shape and size, due to the island of Murano's famous glassmakers, and even a few stores with lace, the other regional specialty. One store displayed a windowfull of lace baby bibs. Really? What disturbed parent would put a scratchy bit of expensive, handmade art on an infant about to smear itself and its immediate surroundings with anything it can get its hands on? The glass was neat, though. I saw some great beetles, but that sort of thing is impractical to carry around Europe in a backpack.
The tourists in Veneza were even more endless than those in Firenze, but I managed to ditch them for a while and explore some side streets. You can't escape the gondoliers, though: they lurk in every cranny, ready to take you past the labyrinthine network of streets in the most romantic fashion. A few of us at the convent-cum-hostel tried to get a group together, but our travel schedules conflicted and we never managed a full, cheaper boat of six passengers.
Back in the touristy portions, I marveled at the gouging. Two scoops of gelato goes for anywhere between 1.70 and 3.5 Euros. A single espresso is from 0.90 to 2.50 Euros, depending on the location and clientele. I stuck to the cafes frequented by locals, obviously. There's also more interesting information there. Instead of umbrella salesmen, you can find out about the upcoming regatta between Amalfi, Genova, Pisa, and Venezia. Sadly, I will miss it by a day.
I spent the afternoon in the Correr Museum, staring at Venetian art and learning about its history. They had a lot of Bellini paintings, plus a great armory, tons of old coins, and all sorts of nautical gear. The museum is on Piazza San Marco, the main square, so it also had good views of all the action down below. I hung out along the waterfront (I know, everywhere is the waterfront, but I mean where the Grand Canal comes out) and in Piazza San Marco till the sun set, then swapped travel tips and itineraries with brothers from Nashville and a few Canadians.
The tourists in Veneza were even more endless than those in Firenze, but I managed to ditch them for a while and explore some side streets. You can't escape the gondoliers, though: they lurk in every cranny, ready to take you past the labyrinthine network of streets in the most romantic fashion. A few of us at the convent-cum-hostel tried to get a group together, but our travel schedules conflicted and we never managed a full, cheaper boat of six passengers.
Back in the touristy portions, I marveled at the gouging. Two scoops of gelato goes for anywhere between 1.70 and 3.5 Euros. A single espresso is from 0.90 to 2.50 Euros, depending on the location and clientele. I stuck to the cafes frequented by locals, obviously. There's also more interesting information there. Instead of umbrella salesmen, you can find out about the upcoming regatta between Amalfi, Genova, Pisa, and Venezia. Sadly, I will miss it by a day.
I spent the afternoon in the Correr Museum, staring at Venetian art and learning about its history. They had a lot of Bellini paintings, plus a great armory, tons of old coins, and all sorts of nautical gear. The museum is on Piazza San Marco, the main square, so it also had good views of all the action down below. I hung out along the waterfront (I know, everywhere is the waterfront, but I mean where the Grand Canal comes out) and in Piazza San Marco till the sun set, then swapped travel tips and itineraries with brothers from Nashville and a few Canadians.
Thursday, June 5, 2008
Change of plans.
I was on my way to Venice when I just didn't get on the train I needed to transfer to in Firenze. I knew where it was and what time it left, but I just went outside and headed for the Duomo instead. Via a gelateria, of course. I keep falling into delicious trances while I'm staring at Renaissance art and when I snap back out, my tongue is happy and I'm missing a couple of Euros and there's a gelato receipt in my pocket. I hear somewhere around here has a rice flavor I'll have to sample.
Today was a whirlwind of sightseeing. Khiv, I have now had gelato at the top of the tower, and it was every bit as wonderful as you said it would be, though it was warm enough that I had to run up those 414 stairs while trying to catch the drips on my tongue. Giotto's Tower, for everyone else, is right next to the Duomo and has powerful views. I also managed to see the Duomo museum, where all the sculptures (Donatello, etc.) that ought to be inside the cathedral are, the Baptistry, Dante's House (more like mini-castle), the Piazza della Repubblica and its Abbondanza Column, Palazzo Vecchio, Pitti Palace, Chiesa del Carmine, Orcagna's Loggaria (ex-granary), the Uffizi Gallery (though I would like to spend much more time there), Ponte Vecchio, with its row of old shops, Palazzo Strozzi, Chiesa di Santa Maria Novella, Chiesa della S.S. Annunziata and the nearby orphanage (which is supposed to be the first Renaissance building), the Medicis' palace, chapels, and library (woo!), and the Orsanmichele, which has great statues on its external walls. Tired, I had another gelato and two cannoli to fortify me until I could get back to the hostel to make myself some pesto pasta.
I bought this jar of pesto in Cinque Terre and WHOA. It turns out I had never had real pesto before. It dances in my mouth. I have been having ciabiatta and focaccia with pesto at every snacky opportunity. I think I will go out for dinner when I get to Venice, maybe have some fresh fish and vino.
Firenze is so full of Vespas that I think I couldn't survive Rome. They're everywhere, rows along all the streets and zipping past the cars in silver flashes. This city is also full of gelaterias, as you can probably tell, tourists, stores like Bulgari and Louis Vuitton, gold leaf, and statues. The statues outside of the Uffizi remind me that Dante, Leonardo DaVinci, Donatello, the Medicis, Michaelangelo, Macchiavelli, Galileo, Amerigo Vespucci, and many more famous names all called Firenze home. Finally, the sun set, and I admired the ability of these suit-wearing Italians to weave home through mobs of visitors on their bicycles while carrying on a conversation on their mobile phones.
Today was a whirlwind of sightseeing. Khiv, I have now had gelato at the top of the tower, and it was every bit as wonderful as you said it would be, though it was warm enough that I had to run up those 414 stairs while trying to catch the drips on my tongue. Giotto's Tower, for everyone else, is right next to the Duomo and has powerful views. I also managed to see the Duomo museum, where all the sculptures (Donatello, etc.) that ought to be inside the cathedral are, the Baptistry, Dante's House (more like mini-castle), the Piazza della Repubblica and its Abbondanza Column, Palazzo Vecchio, Pitti Palace, Chiesa del Carmine, Orcagna's Loggaria (ex-granary), the Uffizi Gallery (though I would like to spend much more time there), Ponte Vecchio, with its row of old shops, Palazzo Strozzi, Chiesa di Santa Maria Novella, Chiesa della S.S. Annunziata and the nearby orphanage (which is supposed to be the first Renaissance building), the Medicis' palace, chapels, and library (woo!), and the Orsanmichele, which has great statues on its external walls. Tired, I had another gelato and two cannoli to fortify me until I could get back to the hostel to make myself some pesto pasta.
I bought this jar of pesto in Cinque Terre and WHOA. It turns out I had never had real pesto before. It dances in my mouth. I have been having ciabiatta and focaccia with pesto at every snacky opportunity. I think I will go out for dinner when I get to Venice, maybe have some fresh fish and vino.
Firenze is so full of Vespas that I think I couldn't survive Rome. They're everywhere, rows along all the streets and zipping past the cars in silver flashes. This city is also full of gelaterias, as you can probably tell, tourists, stores like Bulgari and Louis Vuitton, gold leaf, and statues. The statues outside of the Uffizi remind me that Dante, Leonardo DaVinci, Donatello, the Medicis, Michaelangelo, Macchiavelli, Galileo, Amerigo Vespucci, and many more famous names all called Firenze home. Finally, the sun set, and I admired the ability of these suit-wearing Italians to weave home through mobs of visitors on their bicycles while carrying on a conversation on their mobile phones.
Cinque Terre!
I am terribly sorry that I am not allowed to upload pictures from this kiosk computer, as the views here are incredible. I have been staying in Riomaggiore, one of the Cinque Terre, in Liguria, Italy. It's on the west coast of northern Italy, along the Mediterranean, and it's got lots of rosemary, agave, prickly pear, and shockingly red poppy. The locals have built enough mortar-free stone walls (3000 miles) to rival the masonry of the Great Wall of China, all to hold their terraced vineyards up on the hills. Where they aren't growing vines, they're growing lemons. I love it here.
I hiked up to a nature sancturary on a bluff my first afternoon, then explored Riomaggiore before spending sunset on the beach. Riomaggiore has a pebbly little cove under the old railroad arches, but some of the other towns have actual sand. Yesterday, I hiked through all five towns. Riomaggiore leads to Manarola, which had a great swimming area with lots of fish. These two were the most undeveloped towns, it seemed, with fishermen heading in from their boats as the tourist flock headed out. I people-watched with a delicious espresso. Corniglia was the next town on my hike, after I climbed up the hillside to wander through Manarola's vineyards and check out it's cemetary. The cemetaries here are outside of town, to protect from disease, and they're mostly above ground, in stone crypts. Wealthy families have their own little houses, and nearly everyone's got a little stone flower vase (always full) and a photograph. Many also have a space for a light, usually holding electric candles.
Corniglia is up on a hillside, the only town without a good harbor. The locals still fish from there, though, hoisting their boats all the way up the cliffside when finished. I was temporarily out of money (1.57 Euros left) at this point, since my apartment-hostel made me pay in advance and the bank machines in the first three towns were either down or out of cash, so I couldn't splurge on a pastry. I continued along the path, more heavily forested now, to Vernazza, with a bigger "downtown" and working ATMs. After wandering town, I picked the best-looking gelateria for my first cone of the day: chocolate and pistachio. Then it was beach time for a while, alternately reading and watching the bambinos splash around sandily. I also visited the wine museum and tried the local honey (very flowery and herby) and wine specialty, a sweet, tawny white called Sciacchetra' (shah-kay-TRAH). They gave me free biscotti with it, which went nicely.
I left Vernazza a bit late, on account of my extended beach time, but I still had time to see the Oratory of the Dead and hike up to the Cappucin Monastary, a former convent. The steps up are so steep and long the locals call them the Zii di Frati, the Brothers' Switchbacks. Higher still is a great view of the old town, which lurks behind some forested hills to hide from invading pirates, and the town cemetary, filling in the ruins of an abandoned castle. It was spooky, since the sun was setting quickly by now, but what an incredible location for your remains. I met up with Olivier, my Croatian flatmate, at the train station. He's been living here for a while, selling his paintings to the tourists. We chatted a bit, then went back to Riomaggiore to catch up with Davide, my Italian roommate, and the Canadians and Atlantans who occupy the rest of the flat. I met Olivier's Dutch and Portugese friends at Bar Centrale, where they bought me a limoncelo. It was sweeter than I expected, more like a lemon drop candy than spiked lemonade. No thanks. If I was going to have sweets, I was going to have another gelato: chocolate and creme, this time. It began to rain soon after, thankfully, so we got to bed at a reasonable time.
I hiked up to a nature sancturary on a bluff my first afternoon, then explored Riomaggiore before spending sunset on the beach. Riomaggiore has a pebbly little cove under the old railroad arches, but some of the other towns have actual sand. Yesterday, I hiked through all five towns. Riomaggiore leads to Manarola, which had a great swimming area with lots of fish. These two were the most undeveloped towns, it seemed, with fishermen heading in from their boats as the tourist flock headed out. I people-watched with a delicious espresso. Corniglia was the next town on my hike, after I climbed up the hillside to wander through Manarola's vineyards and check out it's cemetary. The cemetaries here are outside of town, to protect from disease, and they're mostly above ground, in stone crypts. Wealthy families have their own little houses, and nearly everyone's got a little stone flower vase (always full) and a photograph. Many also have a space for a light, usually holding electric candles.
Corniglia is up on a hillside, the only town without a good harbor. The locals still fish from there, though, hoisting their boats all the way up the cliffside when finished. I was temporarily out of money (1.57 Euros left) at this point, since my apartment-hostel made me pay in advance and the bank machines in the first three towns were either down or out of cash, so I couldn't splurge on a pastry. I continued along the path, more heavily forested now, to Vernazza, with a bigger "downtown" and working ATMs. After wandering town, I picked the best-looking gelateria for my first cone of the day: chocolate and pistachio. Then it was beach time for a while, alternately reading and watching the bambinos splash around sandily. I also visited the wine museum and tried the local honey (very flowery and herby) and wine specialty, a sweet, tawny white called Sciacchetra' (shah-kay-TRAH). They gave me free biscotti with it, which went nicely.
I left Vernazza a bit late, on account of my extended beach time, but I still had time to see the Oratory of the Dead and hike up to the Cappucin Monastary, a former convent. The steps up are so steep and long the locals call them the Zii di Frati, the Brothers' Switchbacks. Higher still is a great view of the old town, which lurks behind some forested hills to hide from invading pirates, and the town cemetary, filling in the ruins of an abandoned castle. It was spooky, since the sun was setting quickly by now, but what an incredible location for your remains. I met up with Olivier, my Croatian flatmate, at the train station. He's been living here for a while, selling his paintings to the tourists. We chatted a bit, then went back to Riomaggiore to catch up with Davide, my Italian roommate, and the Canadians and Atlantans who occupy the rest of the flat. I met Olivier's Dutch and Portugese friends at Bar Centrale, where they bought me a limoncelo. It was sweeter than I expected, more like a lemon drop candy than spiked lemonade. No thanks. If I was going to have sweets, I was going to have another gelato: chocolate and creme, this time. It began to rain soon after, thankfully, so we got to bed at a reasonable time.
Tuesday, June 3, 2008
Holiday.
I'm off on the traveling portion of my time in Europe now. First stop, Stresa, along Lago Maggiore. It's a bit west of Lake Como, in northern Italy. I just rambled the town yesterday, then hung out along the lake. I needed a bit of a break between work and mad-dash sightseeing. None of the accomodations were less than 45 Euros, but I found a kindly hotel manager who said she had a spare room in her home. If I would put up with an outdoor shower and toilet, plus her whining dog shut in a few rooms away, I could sleep for 25 Euro, including breakfast. Woohoo! Breakfast in Italy is less than a meal, though. I got some rolls and packet toast. Oh well. The coffee more than made up for it, as did my gelato last night: a chocolate & forest berry (blue, huckle, rasp, straw) rose on a cone-stem.
Sunday, June 1, 2008
Departures.
Things are getting a bit sad around the chalet. Bowie & Sloan left on May 30th, and Brazil left on the first. I was supposed to leave on June first as well, but I didn't. I'm due to leave in the morning, though I haven't gotten my act together. I have yet to finish packing, and it's taking forever to gather up the photos we've collected over the past three months. I know what I want to take and what I want to leave, however, so it won't take me long once I start packing. I haven't done this sort of backpacking trip before, just forest/mountain/river wilderness backpacking, so I will let myself bring too many things. It's uncouth to stink in public, so I will bring extra clothing. I hope my bag doesn't weigh too much. [Edited to add: it weighed sixteen kilos, which is quite a bit considering my weight of fifty-one, but I stocked up on snacks at the grocer right before packing and it should drop down once I eat some food and jettison one of my travel books. I secretly also have two books of poetry and a novel. Don't tell.]
Irish is back, at least, with her husband, and the new team is cohesive and happy. They will do well. I will see everyone in about four weeks, when I pass through again to grab my bag. I left a suitcase in the attic. Finn might bring it to me later, but I will probably just pop in to grab it. I will feel comfortable being in Switzerland right before I fly out of Zurich, since I know the train schedule and all that.
So. I leave tomorrow, heading for Italy. I'm tired, excited, and a little nervous. Heading to the beach should clear up any misgivings.
Irish is back, at least, with her husband, and the new team is cohesive and happy. They will do well. I will see everyone in about four weeks, when I pass through again to grab my bag. I left a suitcase in the attic. Finn might bring it to me later, but I will probably just pop in to grab it. I will feel comfortable being in Switzerland right before I fly out of Zurich, since I know the train schedule and all that.
So. I leave tomorrow, heading for Italy. I'm tired, excited, and a little nervous. Heading to the beach should clear up any misgivings.
Thursday, May 29, 2008
Such great heights. [unfinished]
[notes]
Woodcarvers
Cholerenschlucht!
Adelboden - Coop trip to stock up
Rock Climbing
Woodcarvers
Cholerenschlucht!
Adelboden - Coop trip to stock up
Rock Climbing
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
More adventures. [unfinished]
[notes]
zip lines
high ropes
abseiling
Chuenisbärgli hike
world cup run
Swiss night
taboo c Kandersteg, native v non-native English speakers
zip lines
high ropes
abseiling
Chuenisbärgli hike
world cup run
Swiss night
taboo c Kandersteg, native v non-native English speakers
Monday, May 26, 2008
Tschenten. [unfinished]
[notes]
Tschenten hike
Engstligenbach dunk
ERS in the American room
Cranium NAmer v Brits (+ Czech)
Czech spa wafers
Tschenten hike
Engstligenbach dunk
ERS in the American room
Cranium NAmer v Brits (+ Czech)
Czech spa wafers
Sunday, May 25, 2008
Adventure Day. [unfinished]
Saturday, May 24, 2008
Playtime.
As of today, I am officially a guest on all our programs. Well, as of just after the opening ceremony we just held, all kitted out in national uniform. (I made one out of paper that approximated what I would wear if I had a proper one. Finn and Swede explained their uniforms to me; I think I'll get a proper one when I get home.) I will still help a bit around dinner and breakfast, but I get to slip out of uniform and participate in instead of lead the programs. Our summer staff will be training all week. All I have to do is let them know if they miss something. Today's just a barbecue and orienteering, but we'll be doing high ropes, rock climbing, mountain hikes on Tschenten and Silleren, a trip to Interlaken and its Schokoladeri, spelunking, rafting, and another trip to Thun and its Schloss Oberhofen (Castle).
The summer crew is a fun bunch. They're a crew of eight, from all over the UK; Vancouver, Montreal, and Toronto, Canada; and one from New Jersey. We also finally got our chef, of whom Dutch said "I just picked up a copy of you!" when she returned from fetching her at the bus stop. The chef actually spells her name one letter different than I do and she's from Idaho, but I can see why Dutch would say that. We have a lot in common.
I've been having a great time all week with the new staff. Every day is easy with so many people pitching in, and we have enough around for barefoot volleyball matches and lots of lounging and talking on the trampoline. Every night is Cranium, giant Twister, sardines, ten fingers, guitar playing, handstand competitions, oil drum fires, pictionary, or cards. Fixer taught us a game he plays in Manchester called Sh*thead. It's complicated, with special rules for the 2, 7, 8, and 10, but quite fun.
Family, I tried making date pinwheels last night for dessert. We don't have pecans here, though, so I put in muesli, our oat/nut breakfast cereal. We also don't have dark brown sugar, just this dry, light, powdery stuff. They came out all right, but they tasted like buttery shortbread with dates. I think I made about 170 cookies, all told. We had about 120 of them at dinner, since we've got 19 staff and 23 guests right now. We left the tin out while the staff all hung out in the music room last night. There were two left this morning. I made the date pinwheels in place of "sticky date pudding," which uses nearly the same ingredients yet tastes like chewy garbage. Even though the Europeans claim that "biscuits" are for tea, not post-dinner dessert, they were a hit.
The summer crew is a fun bunch. They're a crew of eight, from all over the UK; Vancouver, Montreal, and Toronto, Canada; and one from New Jersey. We also finally got our chef, of whom Dutch said "I just picked up a copy of you!" when she returned from fetching her at the bus stop. The chef actually spells her name one letter different than I do and she's from Idaho, but I can see why Dutch would say that. We have a lot in common.
I've been having a great time all week with the new staff. Every day is easy with so many people pitching in, and we have enough around for barefoot volleyball matches and lots of lounging and talking on the trampoline. Every night is Cranium, giant Twister, sardines, ten fingers, guitar playing, handstand competitions, oil drum fires, pictionary, or cards. Fixer taught us a game he plays in Manchester called Sh*thead. It's complicated, with special rules for the 2, 7, 8, and 10, but quite fun.
Family, I tried making date pinwheels last night for dessert. We don't have pecans here, though, so I put in muesli, our oat/nut breakfast cereal. We also don't have dark brown sugar, just this dry, light, powdery stuff. They came out all right, but they tasted like buttery shortbread with dates. I think I made about 170 cookies, all told. We had about 120 of them at dinner, since we've got 19 staff and 23 guests right now. We left the tin out while the staff all hung out in the music room last night. There were two left this morning. I made the date pinwheels in place of "sticky date pudding," which uses nearly the same ingredients yet tastes like chewy garbage. Even though the Europeans claim that "biscuits" are for tea, not post-dinner dessert, they were a hit.
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
Replacement parts. [unfinished]
[notes]
Engstligen hike on the 17th
poor weather on 20/21 so no hike up Niesen
Bonderfalle hike with summer
summer staff!
Engstligen hike on the 17th
poor weather on 20/21 so no hike up Niesen
Bonderfalle hike with summer
summer staff!
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
Glaciers. [unfinished]
[notes]
Chur
Glacier train, English speakers
Oregonian!
Romansch
Oberalppass
Kandersteg c Swede, Fixer, & Dutch - surprise!
Chur
Glacier train, English speakers
Oregonian!
Romansch
Oberalppass
Kandersteg c Swede, Fixer, & Dutch - surprise!
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
Up and over. [unfinished]
[notes]
Weissbad
hike to Brülisau along nature trail
up to Hoher Kasten
24 mountain huts a day's hike apart
hike down into the valley
Vaduz, Liechtenstein
Weissbad
hike to Brülisau along nature trail
up to Hoher Kasten
24 mountain huts a day's hike apart
hike down into the valley
Vaduz, Liechtenstein
Monday, May 12, 2008
Saturday, May 10, 2008
Holding pattern.
Work is easy lately. I helped Fixer dig a huge hole for four pipes the other day, and now we'll fill it up. We needed a better way to get the wood pellets into the storage bin for the pellet-burner (environmentally friendly Swiss heating system!), and the pipes are it. I am working on an inventory spreadsheet, and Swede, Brazil, and I cleaned the heck out of the laundry room yesterday.
I also cooked lunch for everyone yesterday. We had some sort of mystery fish in the freezer and I missed seafood, so I gave it a go. It has the same name in French and German, so it must be somewhat local. It wasn't in the German-English dictionary, and I've forgotten what the label said by now, but it started with a P. It was white. At any rate, I gave it a good ginger-soy marinade and fried it up, then served it alongside roasted carrots & potatoes and some garlic spinach. That was the closest I could come to what I might eat at home. It went over well. We've no chef again for a while, so we're all having a bit of fun in the kitchen. Finn's got some sort of rye conconction on the brain, Bowie made pizza with corn, Brazilian style, Sloan made a great mac & cheese, and Dutch made apfelmousse this afternoon for tea. I think it's going to be do-it-yourself omlette night now, though, after all that.
I'm a bit nervous about my phone interview tonight. I can't get to my online documents for some reason, so I don't know exactly what I put in my scholarship application. I'll just have to sound charming and winning and bright and hope for the best. It'd be nice to get a bit of money for school.
But that's nothing to do with being in Switzerland, so never mind.
Dutch's music group had its first concert last night. I had some work to do, so I missed it, but Fixer and I met up with Dutch, Finn, and Swede in our favorite local pub, the Alpenrösli, afterward. I talked to Fixer's Swiss friend for a while, getting to know more about the area and what it's like to be Swiss.
I need to start planning my next few days off now. I think I'm going to go to Italy. I just found out that you need a reservation to see the Last Supper, so that's out. I still might try to catch a show in Milan, or I might just relax in Cinque Terre for a few days.
I also cooked lunch for everyone yesterday. We had some sort of mystery fish in the freezer and I missed seafood, so I gave it a go. It has the same name in French and German, so it must be somewhat local. It wasn't in the German-English dictionary, and I've forgotten what the label said by now, but it started with a P. It was white. At any rate, I gave it a good ginger-soy marinade and fried it up, then served it alongside roasted carrots & potatoes and some garlic spinach. That was the closest I could come to what I might eat at home. It went over well. We've no chef again for a while, so we're all having a bit of fun in the kitchen. Finn's got some sort of rye conconction on the brain, Bowie made pizza with corn, Brazilian style, Sloan made a great mac & cheese, and Dutch made apfelmousse this afternoon for tea. I think it's going to be do-it-yourself omlette night now, though, after all that.
I'm a bit nervous about my phone interview tonight. I can't get to my online documents for some reason, so I don't know exactly what I put in my scholarship application. I'll just have to sound charming and winning and bright and hope for the best. It'd be nice to get a bit of money for school.
But that's nothing to do with being in Switzerland, so never mind.
Dutch's music group had its first concert last night. I had some work to do, so I missed it, but Fixer and I met up with Dutch, Finn, and Swede in our favorite local pub, the Alpenrösli, afterward. I talked to Fixer's Swiss friend for a while, getting to know more about the area and what it's like to be Swiss.I need to start planning my next few days off now. I think I'm going to go to Italy. I just found out that you need a reservation to see the Last Supper, so that's out. I still might try to catch a show in Milan, or I might just relax in Cinque Terre for a few days.
Wednesday, May 7, 2008
Travels. [unfinished]
I got up early Monday morning and caught the bus to Frutigen, then the train to Bern. 
I spend a lot of time on trains these days, and I keep forgetting to post one of my favorite sights in the train stations: the vending machines. You can get candy, chips, and soda, sure, but you can also purchase vitamins, lighters, condoms (center), smoothies, coffee, and cannabis tea (bottom right, orange containers).
Right, so I made it to Bern without any of the above items and headed straight for its colorful fountains. I think I took unneccesary pictures of most of them, but I liked this one in particular. It's the child eater, and it's ghastly. I then wandered along the cliffside, heading downhill. Bern was founded on the tip of a finger of land jutting into a hairpin bend in the Aare River, and the train station's right where the rest of the hand would connect. Heading toward the tip, you pass huge swathes of open land where succesive city walls used to be. The Bernese have torn them down and claimed the spaces for pedestrian squares. They've great green stone buildings everywhere, interrupted periodically with old towers and ornate edifaces of grey stone, like the theater off of Markplatz. Since it's famous, here's the clock tower. It was pretty neat to watch it chime, and I liked the zodiac and lunar clocks as well.
The main street down the city is lined with arcades, shops, and restaurants. I stopped by Albert Einstein's house, then admired the well-maintained cellers under each store. They used to be wine storage, back when the XXX was a huge city granary. The cathedral was nice, but nothing special. I'm getting spoiled on all the architecture and old churches. I did like all the terraces, though. Bern's finger of land is considerably higher than the nearby river, so it has great views and pretty terraced gardens. I skipped the smaller Kirsch and Rathous in favor of the bears. Bern's heraldic animal is the bear, so they've a super-touristy bear pen just across the river from the tip of town. The locals like their bears as well, but they're agitating for improved quarters for them. You can see why.
I walked back along the other side of the river for a while, enjoying the day. After crossing back into old Bern, I visited some more fountains and the remains of the last city wall. The prison tower is all right, but the Dutch tower has a better history: soldiers returning from WWI had picked smoking up from the Dutch, but they weren't allowed to do it in the formerly wooden Swiss capitol city. They hid in the tower to feed their habit and miraculously never burnt it down.
I also checked out the parliament, where a group was protesting the Turkish government. Odd, for a non-EU country, but perhaps I missed the point. The parliament abuts a large square, under which the Swiss government keeps its gold. It was tough to imagine that I could be brushing past muckitymucks and standing on billions of dollars. Bern is a very laid-back capitol. I wanted to jump in the river for a float downstream, like the Bernese do all summer, but they informed me that it wasn't warm enough yet. I ate my lunch by statures of bears and hopped back on the train to head for somewhere more exciting.
I headed to Kerzers very briefly, mostly just to see the countryside out the train windows. I was up in the northwest of Switzerland, just south of the Jura mountain range. This is where Neuchatel is, of the cream cheese, and it is Switzerland's best farmland. They have incredibly rich, dark soil here, and the touristy thing to do is rent a bike and either go on a "vegetable ride" through the fields or cycle up to the summit of Mont Vully to see the vineyards and look out over the farms. I wanted to see all I could, though, so I skipped the bike rides and admired the land from another train's windows.
Murten is right on the border with French-Switzerland, so about a quarter of its citizens call it Morat instead. They've got a full city wall there, available for a rampart stoll for any aspiring guardsman.
I spend a lot of time on trains these days, and I keep forgetting to post one of my favorite sights in the train stations: the vending machines. You can get candy, chips, and soda, sure, but you can also purchase vitamins, lighters, condoms (center), smoothies, coffee, and cannabis tea (bottom right, orange containers).Right, so I made it to Bern without any of the above items and headed straight for its colorful fountains. I think I took unneccesary pictures of most of them, but I liked this one in particular. It's the child eater, and it's ghastly. I then wandered along the cliffside, heading downhill. Bern was founded on the tip of a finger of land jutting into a hairpin bend in the Aare River, and the train station's right where the rest of the hand would connect. Heading toward the tip, you pass huge swathes of open land where succesive city walls used to be. The Bernese have torn them down and claimed the spaces for pedestrian squares. They've great green stone buildings everywhere, interrupted periodically with old towers and ornate edifaces of grey stone, like the theater off of Markplatz. Since it's famous, here's the clock tower. It was pretty neat to watch it chime, and I liked the zodiac and lunar clocks as well.
The main street down the city is lined with arcades, shops, and restaurants. I stopped by Albert Einstein's house, then admired the well-maintained cellers under each store. They used to be wine storage, back when the XXX was a huge city granary. The cathedral was nice, but nothing special. I'm getting spoiled on all the architecture and old churches. I did like all the terraces, though. Bern's finger of land is considerably higher than the nearby river, so it has great views and pretty terraced gardens. I skipped the smaller Kirsch and Rathous in favor of the bears. Bern's heraldic animal is the bear, so they've a super-touristy bear pen just across the river from the tip of town. The locals like their bears as well, but they're agitating for improved quarters for them. You can see why.
I walked back along the other side of the river for a while, enjoying the day. After crossing back into old Bern, I visited some more fountains and the remains of the last city wall. The prison tower is all right, but the Dutch tower has a better history: soldiers returning from WWI had picked smoking up from the Dutch, but they weren't allowed to do it in the formerly wooden Swiss capitol city. They hid in the tower to feed their habit and miraculously never burnt it down.
I also checked out the parliament, where a group was protesting the Turkish government. Odd, for a non-EU country, but perhaps I missed the point. The parliament abuts a large square, under which the Swiss government keeps its gold. It was tough to imagine that I could be brushing past muckitymucks and standing on billions of dollars. Bern is a very laid-back capitol. I wanted to jump in the river for a float downstream, like the Bernese do all summer, but they informed me that it wasn't warm enough yet. I ate my lunch by statures of bears and hopped back on the train to head for somewhere more exciting.
I headed to Kerzers very briefly, mostly just to see the countryside out the train windows. I was up in the northwest of Switzerland, just south of the Jura mountain range. This is where Neuchatel is, of the cream cheese, and it is Switzerland's best farmland. They have incredibly rich, dark soil here, and the touristy thing to do is rent a bike and either go on a "vegetable ride" through the fields or cycle up to the summit of Mont Vully to see the vineyards and look out over the farms. I wanted to see all I could, though, so I skipped the bike rides and admired the land from another train's windows.
Murten is right on the border with French-Switzerland, so about a quarter of its citizens call it Morat instead. They've got a full city wall there, available for a rampart stoll for any aspiring guardsman.
Sunday, May 4, 2008
More new staff.
It's getting exciting around here. Our workdays are a bit slow, but the company is fabulous. Pax kept us laughing during his four days here, and now we've a few new people to meet.
Swede is witty and thoughtful, and I spend a great deal of time with her these days. She's been here twice already and is currently serving as an assistant everything as we prepare for the summer season. She's great to talk to and has been stellar at pictionary. Dutch and I won two rounds against Pax and Finn, but Swede and Finn together beat both the teams of me & Fixer and Pax & Dutch. I'm enjoying all of the Scandinavians I meet. I'll have to head up there some day and see what drives them.
Fixer is new as well. He worked in the next valley over for years and has come here to get us back in working order. He's good with wood, computers, engineering of all sorts, and practical solutions. He's also game for a night out whenever and brilliant at charades. We figure he picked the latter talent up when he first moved to Switzerland. He speaks near-fluent Swiss-German now, which is a kick to listen to. I can't pick up the accent, though I've learned a few Swiss words.
My consistant favorite part here is the international flavor, even over the chocolate, hiking, skiing, and views. We talk about language all the time, and I love hearing foreign expressions and phrases. I love comparing which words we use for which items and trying to figure out how they're related to other languages.
Swede says I'm good at pronouncing her language and should study Swedish. Ha. I can currently say "yes," "no," "ice cream," "cheers," and "it's in the lake" in Swedish. (We played Go Fish after alearning the Finnish and Swedish versions of another card game one night.) I will perhaps work on counting next, but only if it's nothing like counting in Finnish. I'm having a terrible time with Dutch due to its similarity to German. My Dutch is still limited to "I love you."
Also, the snow is melting. I need not say it, but the hills are now alive.
Swede is witty and thoughtful, and I spend a great deal of time with her these days. She's been here twice already and is currently serving as an assistant everything as we prepare for the summer season. She's great to talk to and has been stellar at pictionary. Dutch and I won two rounds against Pax and Finn, but Swede and Finn together beat both the teams of me & Fixer and Pax & Dutch. I'm enjoying all of the Scandinavians I meet. I'll have to head up there some day and see what drives them.
Fixer is new as well. He worked in the next valley over for years and has come here to get us back in working order. He's good with wood, computers, engineering of all sorts, and practical solutions. He's also game for a night out whenever and brilliant at charades. We figure he picked the latter talent up when he first moved to Switzerland. He speaks near-fluent Swiss-German now, which is a kick to listen to. I can't pick up the accent, though I've learned a few Swiss words.
My consistant favorite part here is the international flavor, even over the chocolate, hiking, skiing, and views. We talk about language all the time, and I love hearing foreign expressions and phrases. I love comparing which words we use for which items and trying to figure out how they're related to other languages.
Swede says I'm good at pronouncing her language and should study Swedish. Ha. I can currently say "yes," "no," "ice cream," "cheers," and "it's in the lake" in Swedish. (We played Go Fish after alearning the Finnish and Swedish versions of another card game one night.) I will perhaps work on counting next, but only if it's nothing like counting in Finnish. I'm having a terrible time with Dutch due to its similarity to German. My Dutch is still limited to "I love you."
Also, the snow is melting. I need not say it, but the hills are now alive.
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
New staff.
Our new head manager, Bristol, started work today. I took her to Engstligen yesterday, since we both had a free day and I felt she should get some skiing in before the season ends. She's lived in CH before, in a nearby valley, but she's unfamiliar with some of our pistes. 
She was telemarking and she said she was still learning, so I took Sydney's snowboard up. We got a late start on purpose, since it's cheaper later and we figured we might get tired early. We decided to start on an easy run, but they had closed it for grooming after the morning's snowfall. 
It was a perfect day: fresh snow right before we got there, then sunshine all afternoon. We had to start on an ungroomed red run, but at least it made for a lot of laughter. We practiced a bit in the late morning, then hit the harder runs after lunch. We stopped to talk a bit too much, but I think Bristol was tired from not having skied in a while. It was great to get to know her, too. 
She told me about the movie nights they hold up the valley, where you can cycle there in the afternoon, then flop down on the lakeside beach facing the screen & speakers floating in the water. I'll have to give that a shot at some point. I also need to remember to go to Dutch's concert--she just joined a music group in town, and I've been meaning to go to a yodeling night or concert in town for a while now. 
Oh, and don't worry, I did not attempt this jump.We also got a new chef today. Pax is temporary as well, and will only stay for a few days. He's a professional and will help us get our act together until we get our real chef in June. It's amusing when we go to town, because "chef" means "boss" in Swiss-German, so we can't tell if the Adelbodners are asking about Bristol or Pax. We're a major source of gossip for the town lately, since we've been having so many staffing changes and what we do has an impact on their businesses.
I've just been doing spring cleaning all day, which isn't so bad. We put up the trampoline for summer, and we'll clean out the sheds, pitch the tents to check for missing pieces, and prepare for a lot of new staff in a couple of weeks. I cleaned the staff house top to bottom today, so we'll be all set as long as we don't eat, shower, or breathe for a fortnight.
Monday, April 28, 2008
In which I stuff and roast myself.
Finn, Canuk, and I hit the Engstligen pistes again yesterday. Finn went home early, but Canuk and I stayed through lunch. It was bright and sunny, and we did realize that we’d forgotten our sun screen, but we kept skiing. 
We had a great time flying down all the runs and slicing through old tracks. We took videos all day—I have discovered that I do not have a talent for filming and skiing simultaneously.We went snowtubing before Canuk went back home to pack up. My first run down was extremely fast, and I spun in rapid circles.
I laughed till it hurt. My second run wasn’t as great, but Canuk’s was, and it was a fitting end to a wonderful ski season for her. I stayed on to get my money’s worth from my day pass, getting home after about six hours out there.I could feel the burn developing on the bus ride home, but I didn’t get the chance to ice it till I got back to the Chalet.
Finn and company had put up the trampoline in my absence, and everyone was so worn out from working and bouncing that they were laying about in the sunshine. I covered up and joined them, as I was tired from skiing all day and then carrying my gear up the hill. The Guild gave us a parting gift, and we spent it by going out to dinner together. 
Finn, SAussie, Canuk, Sloan, Bowie, Brazil, Dutch, and I headed into town and ordered Swiss food. I finally got my Rösti, complete with Alpkäse and Spiegelei, but no Speck (a cake of hashbrowns with melted local cheese and a fried egg on top, ordered without bacon). It was utterly delicious. 
I had a couple deciliters of Fendant with it, then ice cream for dessert. I tried the pear and the Ovomalt flavors, and they came in a huge sundae bowl with sliced strawberry, melon, a fig, and a cookie. 
We had money left over, so we went for coffees a few doors down. We capped the night off with a good bounce as soon as we got home.I was all pink from the neck up by the time we got inside again, and Canuk had developed a blatant goggle and helmet burn. I’m hoping lotion will help keep it from hurting. It doesn’t hurt yet, though it’s blistering a tiny bit. Dutch got a similar burn when out walking on the Silleren Schneewanderweg last week, and she recovered well, so I have hope. I didn’t go out again today, though I really wanted to. Instead, I stayed in and tried to get some work done. Our internet’s out again, though, so I could only do so much. I had asked the new center manager if she’d go skiing with me this afternoon, but we lingered at lunch and missed our bus. Instead, I did a bit of the Staff Challenge and watched a video with the other junior staff members about this place in the early 1930s. Those women out hiking and skiing in their thick skirts impressed me with their hardiness.
I was sad to have missed out on my last chance on the pistes today, since I don’t have another day off until after Engstligen closes, but I ended up getting tomorrow off as well. I pointed out that I had one fewer day off in May than the other junior staff members, so Dutch said I might as well take one of the next few days. We don’t have guests for another few days anyway, and I was hoping to get one last day on the slopes. I’ll slather on loads of sun screen and hope for a more overcast day.
Friday, April 25, 2008
Chocolate + natural splendor = CH.
I’d been looking forward to today all week. 
It was Interlaken day, which meant natural splendor, friendships, and all the Handgemacht Schweizer Schokolade we could eat. We took the Guild to Schuh Chocolatier immediately. While the first half went in with Finn and Brazil, the other half treated SAussie, Canuk, and me to coffee & tea for being patient. We admired the fancy marble WC and drooled in the shop while we waited. They have truffles with cream, nougat, cherry, pistachio, vanilla, chocolate mousse, lime-orange, caramel, mocha, marzipan, almond, hazelnut, and pineapple crème, as well as whole almonds, hazelnuts, chocolate nibs, and walnuts, plus those with Baileys, vodka, kirsch liquor, grappa, champagne, Grand Marnier, Cointreau, and latte macchiato inside. These mostly came in Dunkel and Milch, but there were a few Weiss chocolates. 
My favorite through the glass was the Swiss Töpfli, which contained praline chocolate and waffle in traditional Swiss fashion, and had edelweiss and Swiss flags patterned on top. The official Schuh truffle was 70% Granadan cacao solids. They also had pavé, which were cubes covered in cacao powder and looked to be the melt-in-your-mouth sort. These truffles all looked extremely fancy, but they were priced beyond my range, even for chocolate. Besides, our chocolate show was coming right up....
We got a video narration by one of the chocolatiers, in addition to the explanation on the film itself.
She went through the chocolate-making process and showed us the secret of how the Swiss get their chocolate so smooth. The chocolatier then made four truffles in front of us, as well as a bunch of pavé. She finished up by molding a tri-colored chocolate cow, showing us how to paint the mold and how to get the walls and base the proper thickness. 
Finally, she turned us loose to look at the giant chocolate sculptures in the showroom, ask questions, and eat all the chocolate discs we could from three-tiered displays. They had the truffles she made available for snacking, but I let the Guilders try those and filled up on dark, milk, and white discs, plus the trays of pavé and a few nibs. 
The milk chocolate was a bit sweet for me, so I mostly ate the dark bits. SAussie said Canuk and I were banned from the chocolate shop during the next trip for eating so much, but I think she’ll relent.
Our next stop was Lauterbrunnen Valley.
Inside one of the cliff faces is Trümmelbach falls, the sole escape for the melting snow from the Eiger, Monch, and Jungfrau. The twelve or so falls run through caves in the Cliffside outside Lauterbrunnen, which is a small town deep in a sheer valley. The ride through the valley let us see the layers of rock in the cliffs—they were shockingly straight lines, then suddenly pitched and whorled over themselves. 
Many smaller waterfalls came down the cliffs all along the valley, setting us up for Trümmelbachfalle. We got a lift up a steep funicular inside the cliff, then climbed up through a series of caves. There’s a bit of light coming through the top of the caves, but they’ve lit up some of the falls as well. I wish I could post a video of all of them, top to bottom, but the separate pieces will have to do. It was incredible. These falls drain about 20,000 liters per second through the cliff, and the falls are all thin and swift.
We spent the afternoon strolling through Interlaken. The town itself isn’t very exciting, apart from the chocolatier, but the walk along the Aare river was pleasant and we could watch the paragliders landing in Höhematte (the high meadow).
This park used to be the monastery farmland, but now it’s a calm public space. They’re starting to set up for the Euro Cup soccer tournament that will consume Switzerland and Austria for May and June, but that won’t pick up for a while, apart from the fussball merchandise in all the shops. 
I wanted to swing through Unterseen, the old town, but the others wanted ice creams instead. I’ll be back in Interlaken in May, so I can explore more and go on a hike at that point. There are also a few castles on Lakes Thun and Brienz that I’d like to visit.
We just got back from a closing night campfire with all staff and all the Guilders. They sang while we sipped hot cider and whispered. Our cooks leave us the day after tomorrow, to be replaced by a temporary fellow from London, so we gave them their presents during the campfire. The Guilders handed us a little packet as a reward for taking such good care of them. Word is it’s quite a bit of money, enough for us all to go out together.
Finn, Dutch, Canuk, and I stayed on a bit, circling around the embers. Canuk and I sang each other’s national anthems for the curious Europeans, and they sang us theirs. The Dutch one’s hilarious. It was written as a joke by the Spanish, or something like that, and they just kept it as an anthem, all nineteen verses. We compared songs, but the only ones we really had in common were various versions of Frère Jacques and the Do Re Mi song from the Sound of Music. They’ve both been translated into all sorts of languages. We all knew a fair number of English songs, too, but we gave up after a bit and headed for the kitchen. Leftover fondue, you know.
It was Interlaken day, which meant natural splendor, friendships, and all the Handgemacht Schweizer Schokolade we could eat. We took the Guild to Schuh Chocolatier immediately. While the first half went in with Finn and Brazil, the other half treated SAussie, Canuk, and me to coffee & tea for being patient. We admired the fancy marble WC and drooled in the shop while we waited. They have truffles with cream, nougat, cherry, pistachio, vanilla, chocolate mousse, lime-orange, caramel, mocha, marzipan, almond, hazelnut, and pineapple crème, as well as whole almonds, hazelnuts, chocolate nibs, and walnuts, plus those with Baileys, vodka, kirsch liquor, grappa, champagne, Grand Marnier, Cointreau, and latte macchiato inside. These mostly came in Dunkel and Milch, but there were a few Weiss chocolates. 
My favorite through the glass was the Swiss Töpfli, which contained praline chocolate and waffle in traditional Swiss fashion, and had edelweiss and Swiss flags patterned on top. The official Schuh truffle was 70% Granadan cacao solids. They also had pavé, which were cubes covered in cacao powder and looked to be the melt-in-your-mouth sort. These truffles all looked extremely fancy, but they were priced beyond my range, even for chocolate. Besides, our chocolate show was coming right up....We got a video narration by one of the chocolatiers, in addition to the explanation on the film itself.
She went through the chocolate-making process and showed us the secret of how the Swiss get their chocolate so smooth. The chocolatier then made four truffles in front of us, as well as a bunch of pavé. She finished up by molding a tri-colored chocolate cow, showing us how to paint the mold and how to get the walls and base the proper thickness. 
Finally, she turned us loose to look at the giant chocolate sculptures in the showroom, ask questions, and eat all the chocolate discs we could from three-tiered displays. They had the truffles she made available for snacking, but I let the Guilders try those and filled up on dark, milk, and white discs, plus the trays of pavé and a few nibs. 
The milk chocolate was a bit sweet for me, so I mostly ate the dark bits. SAussie said Canuk and I were banned from the chocolate shop during the next trip for eating so much, but I think she’ll relent.Our next stop was Lauterbrunnen Valley.
Inside one of the cliff faces is Trümmelbach falls, the sole escape for the melting snow from the Eiger, Monch, and Jungfrau. The twelve or so falls run through caves in the Cliffside outside Lauterbrunnen, which is a small town deep in a sheer valley. The ride through the valley let us see the layers of rock in the cliffs—they were shockingly straight lines, then suddenly pitched and whorled over themselves. 
Many smaller waterfalls came down the cliffs all along the valley, setting us up for Trümmelbachfalle. We got a lift up a steep funicular inside the cliff, then climbed up through a series of caves. There’s a bit of light coming through the top of the caves, but they’ve lit up some of the falls as well. I wish I could post a video of all of them, top to bottom, but the separate pieces will have to do. It was incredible. These falls drain about 20,000 liters per second through the cliff, and the falls are all thin and swift.We spent the afternoon strolling through Interlaken. The town itself isn’t very exciting, apart from the chocolatier, but the walk along the Aare river was pleasant and we could watch the paragliders landing in Höhematte (the high meadow).
This park used to be the monastery farmland, but now it’s a calm public space. They’re starting to set up for the Euro Cup soccer tournament that will consume Switzerland and Austria for May and June, but that won’t pick up for a while, apart from the fussball merchandise in all the shops. 
I wanted to swing through Unterseen, the old town, but the others wanted ice creams instead. I’ll be back in Interlaken in May, so I can explore more and go on a hike at that point. There are also a few castles on Lakes Thun and Brienz that I’d like to visit.We just got back from a closing night campfire with all staff and all the Guilders. They sang while we sipped hot cider and whispered. Our cooks leave us the day after tomorrow, to be replaced by a temporary fellow from London, so we gave them their presents during the campfire. The Guilders handed us a little packet as a reward for taking such good care of them. Word is it’s quite a bit of money, enough for us all to go out together.
Finn, Dutch, Canuk, and I stayed on a bit, circling around the embers. Canuk and I sang each other’s national anthems for the curious Europeans, and they sang us theirs. The Dutch one’s hilarious. It was written as a joke by the Spanish, or something like that, and they just kept it as an anthem, all nineteen verses. We compared songs, but the only ones we really had in common were various versions of Frère Jacques and the Do Re Mi song from the Sound of Music. They’ve both been translated into all sorts of languages. We all knew a fair number of English songs, too, but we gave up after a bit and headed for the kitchen. Leftover fondue, you know.
Thursday, April 24, 2008
Fondue, funding, and storytelling.
Work was easy today. I finished up an orienteering project I’d been working on for weeks, then did a bit of tidying. The Guild spent the day in Adelboden, on that sleigh ride I arranged, or wandering the hills around here. A few went on the hike out to Bonderfalle, but reported back that it was still snowy enough deep in the crevice of that valley that they couldn’t safely make it to the foot of the falls. Some Guilders pitched in on our work, and others told us stories about their adventures and marveled aloud that we should be able to travel on our own at such a tender age.
Brazil and I held a Swiss Night for evening program. We had a few volunteers act out the story of Wilhelm Tell. They did a splendid job, bringing the whole room to laughter. I missed half of it while melting up a batch of rich chocolate fondue, but I could still hear the goings-on through the hatch. We split them into nine teams for the quiz on Switzerland. Staff members had been slipping answers into their spiels on the bus all week, and the Guild did well. We awarded them fondue with cookies, apples, and bananas. I had planned for ten groups and Brazil had created nine, so we had our own plate of treats for dipping into the leftover sauce. At the end of the night, they presented Sydney with a check. The Guild raises money for one of the four centers each year, then visits it and donates the funds. We’re going to use ours as a scholarship to help pay for flights for staff members from developing countries, so that they, too, can work here.
Brazil and I held a Swiss Night for evening program. We had a few volunteers act out the story of Wilhelm Tell. They did a splendid job, bringing the whole room to laughter. I missed half of it while melting up a batch of rich chocolate fondue, but I could still hear the goings-on through the hatch. We split them into nine teams for the quiz on Switzerland. Staff members had been slipping answers into their spiels on the bus all week, and the Guild did well. We awarded them fondue with cookies, apples, and bananas. I had planned for ten groups and Brazil had created nine, so we had our own plate of treats for dipping into the leftover sauce. At the end of the night, they presented Sydney with a check. The Guild raises money for one of the four centers each year, then visits it and donates the funds. We’re going to use ours as a scholarship to help pay for flights for staff members from developing countries, so that they, too, can work here.
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
Out & about.
I was on program today, and we headed off to Meringien, a town on the other side of the Thunnersee and Brienzersee from me, in the heart of Switzerland. As you might have guessed by the name, it’s the birthplace of the meringue. Canuk, Brazil, and I were on Meringien duty, with SAussie and Finn taking another group into Bern for the day. 
The three of us checked out every Bakerei in town before heading off to wander the town. We looked at a small church, notable for its impressive flower garden and religious woodcarvings, then walked by the Spital for me and the Schule for Brazil, who is a teacher back home. We found a locked gate in the face of the cliff that lines the back of the village, and we walked along a little trail until we could see one of the waterfalls. 
Next was a bigger church with a lovely graveyard. I had decided to sample the water in every Swiss public fountain I came to, and the one in the graveyard and the mossy one across the street were no exception. Canuk and Brazil are convinced I will die of this practice, no matter how safe the water is reputed to be. 
Since I was as good as dead already, Canuk dared me to slide down the banister in the biggest church in town, then filmed me to ensure everyone would know I’m destined for hell. (It was a good banister, sturdy, long, and smooth.)In addition to the meringues, Meringien is supposed to be where Moriarty finally got Sherlock Holmes, at the Reichenbach falls.
They had a Holmes museum, hotel, tour, and statue, but aside from a quick rest on the detective’s bronze knee, he couldn’t pull us away from the bakeries. (The rocking horse and giant chess set could for a few minutes, though.) 
We got back to the main street at just the wrong time, though: much of Switzerland closes down every day from noon to 1400, as well as Sundays and all afternoon on Wednesdays and Saturdays. We ate our sandwiches at the train station, but that didn’t kill enough time, so we walked by the stream coming off the waterfall and looked at the tower on the edge of town. We arrived back at our bakery of choice, only to notice that the sign said they were closed from 1200-1330, not 1200-1300, as we’d though on our last glance. 
Brazil went off to look at another school, and Canuk and I hiked to the foot of the waterfall, then back into town along the top of its old rampart. The wall looked like it was designed to keep people in rather than out, and the rocks were slippery.We all made it back to the bakery at 1330 exactly, then bought a large box of meringues to bring back for the rest of the staff. The proper way to eat one is in double crème, and the proprietress of the meringue shops look awfully disappointed if you don’t want the crème with yours. I also bought what turned out to be a slightly soft chocolate biscotti sort of thing, with a thin raspberry filling.
We met back up with the tour bus at 1400 and were shuttled up into Grindelwald, a touristy village in the nearby Alps.
Canuk and I immediately set out for the gorge, as we’d missed a good one in Meringien, but we accidentally chose the long way and couldn’t go the last fifteen minutes if we wanted to make it back to the bus on time.
We’d come down a long way into the valley as it was and hiked uphill very quickly to make it back. We did get to see some better scenery than in town: old churches and houses, Swiss villagers out for a stroll, a receding glacier, and the gorge from a lot closer than in town. We could not see the top of the Eiger, Monch, or Jungfrau, unfortunately, due to the clouds. We’ll be back in Interlaken (between the aforementioned lakes) in a couple of days, so perhaps we’ll see the famous peaks then. There’s a train right through the Eiger that takes you to a saddle high on Jungfrau, but it’s hardly worth the exorbitant fee even on a clear day.The highlight of Grindelwald turned out to be its playground. (Sorry this is sideways.)
I enjoyed the views over the lakes as we rode home, and the tunnel between Frutigen and Adelboden was closed for repairs, so we got to go a different way than usual. I smiled at the sheep grazing slowly uphill, their fleece recently shorn so that they finally don’t look like their spindly legs shouldn’t be able to support them. It’s spring in the Alps, at long last, even if spring is schizophrenic and can’t choose between thick snow, bright sunshine, or misty rain.
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
Cheese, Grommit!
The group went to Ballenberg yesterday, which is an outdoor museum of Swiss history. They’ve got traditional chalets set up for touring, plus different types of farming, cheese-making, woodcarving, paper cutting, weaving, and all sorts of other crafts. The museum is laid out sort of like Switzerland itself, with Geneva and French CH info in the west, Lugano and Italian CH in the south, and Appenzell in the east, etc. I’m not sure I’ll make it there myself, but it sounded neat. I think I’m getting enough information about Swiss culture by living in a traditional mountain farming town and traveling all over the country.
I cleaned up the barbecue, stocked the T-Bar, and had a bit of time off. It was a fairly light day of work. When they all returned in the evening, I helped with dinner and hosted the evening program, which was a movie about Adelboden in Swiss-German. It’s tough enough to understand German, much less Swiss-German, much less Adelboden (or any little village) Swiss-German, but I learned quite a bit about the area. I’ll try to bring home a copy of the DVD. I liked the portions about soldiers hanging out in town during the war, all the skiing over time, and how the farmers supplement their incomes by working the ski lifts in the winter. It makes sense, but it’s got to be a tough life.
They went off on the usual hike to Engstligen today, so I heard all kinds of stories about snowstorms, slipping down the hills, and building snowmen this evening. One more guest came today, so I showed her around. I just got back from hosting a Swiss wine & cheese night. We had white, rosé, and red Swiss wines, of which the white was best, plus a whole room full of cheese platters:
Plus two foreign cheeses: (They were made in CH, though, so it was okay.)
I cleaned up the barbecue, stocked the T-Bar, and had a bit of time off. It was a fairly light day of work. When they all returned in the evening, I helped with dinner and hosted the evening program, which was a movie about Adelboden in Swiss-German. It’s tough enough to understand German, much less Swiss-German, much less Adelboden (or any little village) Swiss-German, but I learned quite a bit about the area. I’ll try to bring home a copy of the DVD. I liked the portions about soldiers hanging out in town during the war, all the skiing over time, and how the farmers supplement their incomes by working the ski lifts in the winter. It makes sense, but it’s got to be a tough life.
They went off on the usual hike to Engstligen today, so I heard all kinds of stories about snowstorms, slipping down the hills, and building snowmen this evening. One more guest came today, so I showed her around. I just got back from hosting a Swiss wine & cheese night. We had white, rosé, and red Swiss wines, of which the white was best, plus a whole room full of cheese platters:
- Frühstückskäse, from Adelboden [breakfast cheese]
- Raclette, from Adelboden; creamy and fruity [usually used to make the meal of the same name]
- Appenzeller, from Canton Appenzell [very pungent]
- Gruyère, from Gruyères; nutty and the main ingredient in fondue
- Emmentaler, from the Emme Valley in Canton Bern [This is what much of the world calls “Swiss cheese,” with the holes and all.]
- Alpkäse, from near Adelboden [Alp cheese tastes different depending on the time of year, which farmer made it, which flowers and herbs the cows ate, and any number of variables, but they’re all strong cheeses.]
- Rotschmierkäse, traditionally made in monasteries [red mold washed rind cheese]
- Mutschli, a softer and aromatic mountain cheese
- Hüttenkäse, made locally and with herbs [cottage cheese]
- Sbrinz, from the Berner Oberland; hard and grainy
Plus two foreign cheeses: (They were made in CH, though, so it was okay.)
- Brie, from France
- Gorgonzola, from northern Italy, near Milan
Monday, April 21, 2008
Luzern, day two. [unfinished]
[notes]
• Bus:(1hr: CHF 2.80) Lucerne (8:11- 8:25) --> (8:30ish) Kriens, Linde-Pilatus (25min)
• Gondola to Mt.Pilatus: CHF 64 (1/2: 32)
Aeriel panorama gondola:(8:30-16:45) Kriens --> Krienseregg --> Framkmuntegg (30min)
Aerial cablejavascript:void(0)
Publish Postway: (9:00- 17:15) Framkmuntegg --> Pilatus Klum (18min)
• Hike on Mt. Pilatus
• Gondola back down (bus or walk to Lucern)
• Town, Brewery, Picasso & Klee & impressionists
• Train home, arriving at midnight
• Bus:(1hr: CHF 2.80) Lucerne (8:11- 8:25) --> (8:30ish) Kriens, Linde-Pilatus (25min)
• Gondola to Mt.Pilatus: CHF 64 (1/2: 32)
Aeriel panorama gondola:(8:30-16:45) Kriens --> Krienseregg --> Framkmuntegg (30min)
Aerial cablejavascript:void(0)
Publish Postway: (9:00- 17:15) Framkmuntegg --> Pilatus Klum (18min)
• Hike on Mt. Pilatus
• Gondola back down (bus or walk to Lucern)
• Town, Brewery, Picasso & Klee & impressionists
• Train home, arriving at midnight
Zug zug!
I have decided that the Germans call a train a Zug because it's onomatopoetic. Zug zug zug zug.
Sloan, Brazil, Bowie, and I all went to Luzern together for the past two days. We first took a train to Stansstad, home of the Fürigen Fortress. This barrack is built into the mountain, as are a good many of the 15,000 Swiss fortifications scattered throughout the Alps.
They've got cannons and gus that can shoot six miles out over the surrounding countryside, should Switzerland ever be invaded. There's a place underground for every one of Switzerland's seven million residents, and they can hold out for over two weeks. They have a system in place to destroy the tunnels, bridges, and access roads into the country, then wait in the mountain strongholds till the conflict is over. The bread lasts two years, and the rooms are all sealable and thus gas-proof. Switzerland built a network of these fortersses during WWII, in case of Nazi invasion. 
They refit them during the Cold War, in case of nuclear war. The Fürigen Fortress is one of the bigger ones open to visitors: it could hold 100 people for three weeks. I'd like to see one of the airstrips or hospitals cut into the middle of a mountain, but I think they're closed.
I have yet to see some of the cannons hidden in barns, but most houses around have bomb shelters and the residents of those that don't have an agreement or rental contract with one nearby.
Anyway. We shot photos at a tower, then boarded an SVG boat for a cruise across Vierwaldstättersee to Luzern (see above photos). Touring the city, we saw churches, cathedrals, the town hall and its tower, lots of cheery squares, the building Goethe stayed in during his visit, and a whole lot of shops in the pedestrian old town. One of my favorite buildings was this restaurant, which has a huge Mardi Gras mural all across the front. 
In Luzern, they go all out for Karneval. As in the mural, the rooster crows early on Karneval, and the townspeople leap up to frighten winter away. The masked high & mighties throw oranges down to the revelers, as the fruit is rare in winter and thus marks the beginning of spring.
Of course, we also walked across Luzern's famous bridges,
starting with the Kapellbrücke. It was built in the 14th centuray at an angle across the river, both to serve as a lakeside defence and to directly connect St. Peter's Chapel with the town fortifications. 
At every reinforcement in the ceiling of the bridge, there's a painting commemorating Luzern or Swiss historical events. The squat little tower in the middle was built a century before the bridge, for use as a water tower. 
In later incarnations, it was used for imprisonment, torture, and archival storage. We walked along the Reuss (pronounced "royce") River on the other side, admiring the old houses and restaurants and the stylish castle on the hill.
Halfway between the Kapellbrücke and the other wooden bridge stands the city's water control system, the Nadelwehr, or water spike dam.
The drainage from the lake eventually feeds into the Rhine, but the volume fluctuates quite a bit over the year. Luzern adds or removes "spikes" in the dam to control the level of the Vierwaldstättersee, just as they have since about 1850.
I prefered the next bridge to the famous tower bridge. It's the Spreuerbrücke, or Chaff Bridge, named for the water-powered mill that used to provide Luzern its grain. It's an older bridge, built in 1408, and the artwork is from the 17th century.
The paintings along this bridge all feature a skeleton, and are called the "Dance of Death" series for the way they show death gleefully coming to everyone, regardless of station. The channels are all that remain of the mill, though they've got a turbine on display from the 1889 power station and they still generate hydroelectric power in a plant hidden under the water.
Our city tour continued with a stroll by the old apothecary in Weinmarkt square.
Its medieval Latin inscription, Amor medicabilis nvllis herbis is still visible, and translates roughly to "medicine cannot cure love." You can still see a lot of old paintings on buildings all across town, including many religious ones and others telling stories about Luzern.
We'd had enough of wandering the streets after visiting Hirschenplatz ("Deer Square"), so we headed over to the Löwendenkmal, a giant (20 x 30 feet) sculpture carved into the sheer wall at the edge of town.
The crying lion represents the brave Swiss Guards who died during the 1792 massacre at Tuileries Palace in Paris when the French revoluted. It's got another Latin inscription, Helvetiorum fidei ac virtuti, or "To the loyalty and bravery of the Swiss." The surrounding garden was empty when we arrived, lending the area extra poignancy points, but swamped with Asian tourists a few minutes later. We circled up to the glacial rock display before heading off in search of an access point for the remains of the city fortifications.
After a good 45 minutes of walking, we still couldn't find a way up.
All roads, it seems, lead around Luzern. We got about this close before my camera died, victim to my not charging it after the Lausanne trip. I've borrowed pictures from fthe others for the rest of Luzern. We share a lot of photos around. I really must snag more before I leave. At any rate, we did finally make it onto the wall. We climbed three towers, including the clock tower, before heading off along the lake to our hostel.
Sloan, Brazil, Bowie, and I all went to Luzern together for the past two days. We first took a train to Stansstad, home of the Fürigen Fortress. This barrack is built into the mountain, as are a good many of the 15,000 Swiss fortifications scattered throughout the Alps.
They've got cannons and gus that can shoot six miles out over the surrounding countryside, should Switzerland ever be invaded. There's a place underground for every one of Switzerland's seven million residents, and they can hold out for over two weeks. They have a system in place to destroy the tunnels, bridges, and access roads into the country, then wait in the mountain strongholds till the conflict is over. The bread lasts two years, and the rooms are all sealable and thus gas-proof. Switzerland built a network of these fortersses during WWII, in case of Nazi invasion. 
They refit them during the Cold War, in case of nuclear war. The Fürigen Fortress is one of the bigger ones open to visitors: it could hold 100 people for three weeks. I'd like to see one of the airstrips or hospitals cut into the middle of a mountain, but I think they're closed.I have yet to see some of the cannons hidden in barns, but most houses around have bomb shelters and the residents of those that don't have an agreement or rental contract with one nearby.
Anyway. We shot photos at a tower, then boarded an SVG boat for a cruise across Vierwaldstättersee to Luzern (see above photos). Touring the city, we saw churches, cathedrals, the town hall and its tower, lots of cheery squares, the building Goethe stayed in during his visit, and a whole lot of shops in the pedestrian old town. One of my favorite buildings was this restaurant, which has a huge Mardi Gras mural all across the front. 
In Luzern, they go all out for Karneval. As in the mural, the rooster crows early on Karneval, and the townspeople leap up to frighten winter away. The masked high & mighties throw oranges down to the revelers, as the fruit is rare in winter and thus marks the beginning of spring.Of course, we also walked across Luzern's famous bridges,
starting with the Kapellbrücke. It was built in the 14th centuray at an angle across the river, both to serve as a lakeside defence and to directly connect St. Peter's Chapel with the town fortifications. 
At every reinforcement in the ceiling of the bridge, there's a painting commemorating Luzern or Swiss historical events. The squat little tower in the middle was built a century before the bridge, for use as a water tower. 
In later incarnations, it was used for imprisonment, torture, and archival storage. We walked along the Reuss (pronounced "royce") River on the other side, admiring the old houses and restaurants and the stylish castle on the hill.Halfway between the Kapellbrücke and the other wooden bridge stands the city's water control system, the Nadelwehr, or water spike dam.
The drainage from the lake eventually feeds into the Rhine, but the volume fluctuates quite a bit over the year. Luzern adds or removes "spikes" in the dam to control the level of the Vierwaldstättersee, just as they have since about 1850.I prefered the next bridge to the famous tower bridge. It's the Spreuerbrücke, or Chaff Bridge, named for the water-powered mill that used to provide Luzern its grain. It's an older bridge, built in 1408, and the artwork is from the 17th century.
The paintings along this bridge all feature a skeleton, and are called the "Dance of Death" series for the way they show death gleefully coming to everyone, regardless of station. The channels are all that remain of the mill, though they've got a turbine on display from the 1889 power station and they still generate hydroelectric power in a plant hidden under the water.Our city tour continued with a stroll by the old apothecary in Weinmarkt square.
Its medieval Latin inscription, Amor medicabilis nvllis herbis is still visible, and translates roughly to "medicine cannot cure love." You can still see a lot of old paintings on buildings all across town, including many religious ones and others telling stories about Luzern.We'd had enough of wandering the streets after visiting Hirschenplatz ("Deer Square"), so we headed over to the Löwendenkmal, a giant (20 x 30 feet) sculpture carved into the sheer wall at the edge of town.
The crying lion represents the brave Swiss Guards who died during the 1792 massacre at Tuileries Palace in Paris when the French revoluted. It's got another Latin inscription, Helvetiorum fidei ac virtuti, or "To the loyalty and bravery of the Swiss." The surrounding garden was empty when we arrived, lending the area extra poignancy points, but swamped with Asian tourists a few minutes later. We circled up to the glacial rock display before heading off in search of an access point for the remains of the city fortifications.After a good 45 minutes of walking, we still couldn't find a way up.
All roads, it seems, lead around Luzern. We got about this close before my camera died, victim to my not charging it after the Lausanne trip. I've borrowed pictures from fthe others for the rest of Luzern. We share a lot of photos around. I really must snag more before I leave. At any rate, we did finally make it onto the wall. We climbed three towers, including the clock tower, before heading off along the lake to our hostel.
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