August 2004 Europe Tour

As reported by Maggie Clarke to Lost Chords

(I took hundreds of photos Moodies and otherwise; they're being added to www.Moodyland.org all the time)
Some of the landscape photos were in my Art Show at the Hebrew Tabernacle, October, 2005

 

From Paris

Your European correspondent is on the job at an internet cafe in Tours, in the Loire Valley, using a French keyboard where many of the keys are scrambled to other positions, lower case to upper and even additional functions using contol and alt.

 

One quick suggestion to those headed for Europe... bring a washcloth.  It is just one of those things that the Euopeans do not seem to use - even my digs at the Best Western does not provide.

 

"Life's journey is not to arrive at the grave safely in a well preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways"

 

Apropos of these comments I hit the ground running yesterday morning and haven`t looked back.  Yes I was nervous on takeoff, but I immersed myself in various video selections on the seatback monitor - episodes of Friends, Frazier, even Mary Poppins.  I tried to sleep but was not successful - they feed you 1.5 hours in and an hour before the end of a 6 hour flight.  And then of course there was the turbulence.  The lyric "all the way the paper bag was on my knee" came to mind.  A croissant for breakfast a signal of things to come. 

 

Coming in to the new Charles de Gaulle airport - well new since I was last in Paris 20 years ago - we flew over a patchwork quilt of golds and greens in the fields with bits of forest scattered in.  After taking care of getting the bag, customs, getting the Eurail pass validated, took commuter and Metro trains down to the absolutely huge Montparnasse station - one of several train stations ringing Paris, as with London, and this one is the size of Grand Central and Penn Station put together with subway connections going out underground in all directions long enough to have 2 different kinds of people-mover 3 meters per second and the "rapide" 9 mps to go for blocks.  It cost 8 euros to check my bag as it is large and boxy.  They scanned the bag I was going to check as well as my knapsack in an airport style luggage scanner.  I found some French words coming back from my last visit and started learning new ones.  Perhaps the most important is Accueil, which means information booth.  If you don`t know French, be prepared with dictionary and hand signals.  A few words go a long way.  My

fave phrase at the moment is "Oo eh" - that is a phonetic spelling for "where is". 

 

First stop after checking the bag in Consignement was Le Ile de Cite, one of the islands in the middle of the Seine.  The flower market was in full glory amidst the impressive buildings with gold guilding; statues; cornices, greek pillars, etc.  After I found an ATM so I could get some more euros (things are expensive and the dollar is rock bottom), I intercepted a double-decker red hop on hop off tour bus at a light.  They let me on!  Just see if any tour bus would allow people to get on between stops in the US! 

 

Strolled up and down the Champs Elysees, snapping photos left and right, past Credit Lyonnais, the bank that sponsors the yellow jersey in the Tour de France; they had a huge photo of the pack driving for the Arc de Triomph on their building.  I was hungry so made the mistake of eating at the first sidewqlk cafe I came to...  The prices were quite high - 9 euros for a half-sized caesar salad loaded with dressing.  Ick!  A euro is about $1.30 these days.  Others had a larger selection for less money even a couple of blocks away.  I am sure this will be true in Nice as well near the hotels we will be staying at. 

 

Next stop the Tour Eiffel.  I decided to go the cheaper and more energetic route - to walk up.  It was about 330 steps to the first level, on which they have restaurants, tourist shops, ice cream (glace) vendors.  It was 689 total to the second level, which was the highest level one could walk to.  I calculate that to be 55 flights.  The lattice work on this thing can really be appreciated fully by walking up.  It is just amazing.  I took lots of photos to try to capture it.  And you get a history lesson of the structure, its inventor, and all the many happenings on it over the years.  One that still surprises me is that they once had an ice skating rink on the first level at one point!  Nothing like a hike up and down 55 flights to perk one up (I had been falling asleep on the tour bus for a couple of seconds now and then... the sleep deprivation kicking in).  French army with machine guns patrolling...  

 

Finally, back to the maze of Montparnasse and my reserved seat on the TGV - the bullet train that got me to Tours in an hour.  And since I didn`t have the strength to do more, I ate Chinese since it is and always has been reliably good and cheap, on a beautiful square with a fountain and major monument buildings.  Next day - more in the Loire Valley.

 

Tours, France

I must admit, that I was nodding off a bit in the train today.   Tonight I write you from Avignon, a hop skip and jump from Nice tomorrow (my train leaves before 7am).  The fellow at the cafe here set it up so that the keyboard responds to English, so since I do it from memory, it's great.  This place is cheaper than last night, where the crazy French keyboard took me over an hour (8 euros) to get the story out and check email.
 

I'm now 2 days behind in writing, so first I report about yesterday in Tours, in the Loire Valley.  I can't tell you how much refreshed a shower and a night's sleep made me feel.  So I continued with my plan, rented a bike, and took it out to see some castles.  The Loire area is well known for lots of castles, and many bike companies charge lots to bring cyclists here.  There were wonderful separated bike paths in the city of Tours (separated from traffic by a median with huge London Plane trees) and then a country bike path through the corn

fields, and along the river Cher, a Loire tributary.  So, today's soundtrack was "If I could turn back time" and "Gypsies, Tramps and Thieves".  After a while I came upon a pretty town, Savonnieres, where I stopped for an ice cream.  I really do like how they use Plane trees in rows to make shade for sidewalk cafes.  The ones here in Avignon are well over 6 stories high.  The plan had been to go to Villandry, a castle and gardens, and come back - about 50 km.  But thanks to providence, I got a couple of extra goodies.  Just after

Savonnieres, were some limestone caves, so I stopped for a 1 hour tour, snapping lots of pix of course. 

 

The cafe in front of the castle served a wonderful lunch - courgette (never heard of it, but it was good), tomato and cheese on pesto-soaked large slab of bread.  The gardens were Italianate, and varied, and the climb to the keep of the castle afforded a great view of the gardens and the Cher valley.  I'd noticed that 3 km down the road were some troglodite dwellings (carved into the limestone), but I decided it best to get the bike back by 7pm, when the whole town shuts down.  I did stop briefly to chat with a ceramiste, who had the most lovely shop on the side of the road - yeh, took the road back to save time and see different sights.  I had to have the piece with a bicycle motif, took a pic of her in front of her store and flower beds, and was on my way. 

 

Since it gets dark around 9, I had time to stroll the town.  There were double rows of London Planes shading a wide pedestrian walkway down the middle of the main drag, so used that to get up to the old town.  (The Champs Elysees has 2 of these tree-lined pedestrian walkways separating the main 4 lanes with 2 extra lanes on the outsides)  Back to old Tours: Narrow streets, and a wonderful old church with a dome that looks like our capital, but very high up.  The main square in Old town was filled with restaurants and open air cafes, so I had some well deserved dinner.  Seems I'm batting about 50% on the meals..  This one - chicken fajitas, was mostly chicken...  Not so good.  Afterwards, I went to the glacerie -- you could see everybody had been there, with probably over 30 flavors.  I had 2 -- chocolate with orange preserves with mint with choc swirl.  The woman serving was from Canada.  I must say, having someone who knew I spoke English help me out was great.  It has been a struggle at times, though there are other times when I'm reading the signs and making out some of the words in the announcements on the trains pretty well.  Near the hotel, the Tours terminal is large (tho not as big as Montparnasse), reminding me of

Waterloo in London in layout.  Across the street crape myrtle trees are everywhere and in bloom.  That's a southern tree in the U.S.  Oleanders are also in abundance (more found in Florida and California).  I figure it must be getting close to the Mediterranean climate - sort of equivalent to San Francisco area. 

 

Animals are everywhere... particularly dogs - on trains, in restaurants, in places they'd never be allowed in the US.  And I snapped a bunch of pix of a guy walking downtown with his pet goat past one of the fountains and flower beds.  I'd better get to bed... it's almost midnight.

 

To Avignon, France

Got an early start from Le Grand hotel across the square from the Tours railroad station for a long journey to Avignon.  The countryside for the first leg, to St Germaine des Fosses was unremarkable agricultural, fairly flat, but I changed there for a train south through the central massif, and that was much more scenic. It required some doing to get just the right train.  There were volcanic remnants near Clermont Ferrand, then we started climbing along a river gorge with lots of tunnels and viaducts.  Folks were kayaking in the river, cattle were grazing here and there where there was some land on the sides (I wondered where they came from as there were no farms in evidence in the gorge!)  I must say, Roswitha at the Mercator Travel company was right!  Booking the Eurail first class was the smart thing to do.  I walked thru second class when boarding the 2nd train - to Nimes - and it was crowded and noisy.  FIrst class was again, almost empty and quiet.   It's getting to be second nature figuring out how to open train doors. None open automatically, so you have to let yourself out.  It's usually a lever.  Definitely an energy conservation measure in winter.  As we reached the mountainous area, the train picked up speed going

down the other side towards the coast and the weather and vegetation changed abruptly.  Where it had been all green with decidous trees approaching the mountains, there were evergreens, but then over the side it started to look like California with scrub brush, lighter colors, even lighter colored rocks (limestones).  The train started to heat up.  We'd reached the Mediterranean climate.  I'd been so cold earlier that I'd switched to blue jeans.  I should have switched back before getting off.  The change in Nimes was to yet a different configuration and type of train - a single very fast car with 2 levels.   Not air conditioned. I was dying in the jeans having had to haul the suitcase up and down flights of stairs. 

 

Getting into Avignon (remember, Sur le pont, AVignon? - I kept thinking of this song as I learned it as a child) I walked the rue de la republique, the main drag, which had more Plane trees.  The man in the station said... like Champs Elysees.  These were 8 stories high.  Once I got to the Hotel Danieli, which was very hot, I escaped to the park overlooking the Rhone in the shadow of the great cathedral, where the pope was established for a century around the 14th.  The pont was in the Rhone, and only half was left. Not sure why.  Will have to

look it up. Could see the foothills of the Alps to the northeast.  That evening I strolled thru the old town with its narrow, winding, quaint shops and cobblestoned streets (the best place to go in any French town so far), with the cafes, the street musicians (a lady on an accordian tonight doing songs like Fernando's hideaway), and fire juggling shows.  I had dinner - omelette provencale with salad in the plaza of this huge cathedral, taking this all in.

 

Found an internet cafe in one square in the old town but again got to bed late...  Nice/ Monaco in next report.

 

To Nice, France

Yesterday morning (7th) I left the Hotel Danieli quite early...  still quite warm in the room -- quite a maze of a hotel with dark corridors going off twisting and turning in all directions, and pulled my new rolling duffle out to the edges of the walled city (I think the walls go all the way around - I'd been on the ramparts the night before looking at the Rhone and the old Avignon bridge).  The SNCF rail was right there outside the walls.  I guess it was a good thing that the 10 o'clock train was full, and I was forced to take the 6:58 because I now had the correct idea that Europe had moved down to the coast, and I'd better start making train reservations from now on.  But the early train wasn't too crowded, tho I will say that the word scuzzy comes to mind - even first class.  The compartment for six smelled of smoke, even though it was a no smoking compartment, a couple of the seats were ripped and there was even graffiti on one!  After riding thru the fields, and towns like Arles, there was a long tunnel and then...  The Coast!  What a view!  I'd never seen the Mediterranean before.  It was azure blue, so the Cote d'Azur is an apt name.  The light orange sandy capes were steep cliffs extending out into the sea.  The train filled up at Marseilles, even first class.  I noticed one of my compartment mates had a paper, Matin Cannes/Antibes (2 local ritzy towns on the

coast), and there were 3 pictures of the ritzy in their fancy garb - tho one dress was quite simple with no jewelry -- with a caption below:  Commet estival au Sporting Club on plus de neuf cents personne participarte ___ soir l'evenement cartait en presence...  I couldn't get any more than that...  By the end of the ride I was talking with a university student eager to practice his English.

 

The Nice station was packed with vacationers and tourists.  This just underscored how many people came down here.  Since I now needed to start getting train reservations for the rest of my trip (or at least the part in Italy, if not also Austria and Switzerland), and seeing a line at Accueil, I moved straight to reservations.  But no, getting to the head of that line eventually, I was given a number 225 and told to go into this waiting room full of people with numbers -- they were waiting on 201!  So, making the most of my time, I went to the next building - the tourist centre and got my map of Nice, and the bus map with directions on getting to the Sofitel.  They were great speaking English quite well... quite a relief.  Unfortunately, the reservations clerk could only do France, so could only get Nice to Genova for the 10th.  Will have to do the rest of Italy in Genova.  Next stop on the way to the hotel was going to have to be a stop at a photo store.  My plan for storing digital

photos was a device made by Roadstor which will take digital information off any type of card and burn a CD, allowing reuse of the card.  But at some point during the day in Tours, errors started to creep in to the card, and all CDs made since then resulted in failures.  But I found an unassuming little shop, the fellow took the card, found about 15 problemmatic pix, deleted them, and burned me a CD.  I bought an extra digital card just in case (a 128 MB card cost 47 euro, double what it costs in the US, but this was insurance).  The CD cost 5 euro.  The original card and Roadstor have worked fine since then.  Got a kebab for lunch (what to anybody in New York would think was a gyro - rather different) and got the 4 bus to Sofitel.   Next post: we go to Monaco!

 

So munching on the kebab, I got to the Sofitel, a really nice plush property from what I have been experiencing.  Our room was huge, like three times the size of what I have been used to.  And air conditioned... oo la la!  I immediately used the Extra electricity outlet, something I had not had before either, to recharge my batteries and roadstor etc.  After Karen and I both snoozed for about an hour, we headed off for Monaco.  It was only a five minute walk to the small local train station ... not Nice Ville, the zoo that I came into.  The line ran along the shore the whole way and was absolutely gorgeous.  I àm going to have to end this one now, as my hour on the card is ending.  Iàll

start another one right away... such are internet cafes in Europe.

 

To Monaco

This is the third time I'm typing this (on my PDA on the train to Venice), as the first two times I did it at my hotel in Florence didn't get it sent before the hotel's internet connection timed out on me.  The last one was particularly heartbreaking as it was a half-hour's worth of typing that just went poof.  This internet cafe is great, having a device that reads my SD card on which I had saved this from the PDA.

 

As I last reported, Karen and I were on our way to Monaco the first time.  The train ride is right along the water for the most part, with the villas, the climbing bouganvilla with its pretty purple blossoms that I grew up with in south Florida, the palm trees, the azur blue sea, the off white - light orange colored cliffs.  We were fortunate to hear about a local station only a five minute walk from the Sofitel... Much much better than going back to Nice Ville, the huge zoo that I came it at.  Monaco station is in a huge underground cavity -- not so much down underground, but built into a cliff, with escalators and elevators going up, down and out in all directions.  We chose to go up an elevator and continued walking up and along the cliff to the Jardin Exotique - their botanical gardens, which featured desert species.  The Mediterranean

climate is warm and dry for the most part, though it is humid because of the proximity of the sea.  The entire garden was built on traverses, stairways and hairpin turns, but the main reason we wanted to go in was for the spectacular views off the cliff, down to Monaco-ville, the huge harbors where hundreds of boats are moored, and the castle, where the royal family of Monaco lives.  As it was beastly hot, we retreated to an indoor café for an ice cream and wrote our postcards so we could use the Monaco stamps we just bought.  Climbing back

to the top to get out of the gardens, we then headed back town the cliff through the main residential part of town, with the wash hung out to dry, the childrens parks, and the narrow winding steets.  Next stop was the castle with a climb up to that.  The residence was not at all ostentatious - rather plain actually if large, but the gardens along the drives and walkways were spectacular, with oleander and impatiens along with the palm trees.  Also crammed onto this little pointy peninsula was a cathedral and an old town district with is VERY narrow streets crammed with tiny shops, some for tourists, many glacierias - boy, they sure do like their ice cream, and usually have almost 30 flavors, plus almost as many of sorbet, which is almost like sherbet, and sometimes a few flavors of frozen yogurt.  The design of the flavor bins is much more intelligent than what you would see at a Ben and Jerry's, for example.  These are maybe 6x8" rectangles that fit in a pattern three deep, and easily ten across in one freezer case.  They keep them piled high, and the flavors are always interesting... Like a deep chocolate with menthe or orange jam.   Having huge round tubs as we do just doesn't maximize space!  They also know how to make chocolate, deep brown and flavorful.

 

After walking back down the hill, we waited for the crosstown city bus to go to the casino.  Many bus stops have the same LED readouts as metro stops in Paris and underground in London so that you know how many minutes you have to wait for the next trains.  This didn't necessarily mean that the buses ran on schedule tho.  We eventually got to the casino, which is this large, ornate building which reminded me of pictures I've seen of Coney Island over a hundred years ago..  There are a few blocks of lovely gardens across the street and these large sculptures of two nude fat people.  We went inside, thinking that the venue was there.  It was rather imposing and I feared being tossed out at

any minute since I was still soaked in a short sleeved shirt and shorts.  It wasn’t the venue, so we walked along the water for another 15 minutes, past the town beach, another marina, oceanside cafes, and into a shirts and skins soccer match right on the promenade.  Since neither Karen nor I had received written confirmation of our individual reservations for the concert and I know I hadn't been charged for it before I left, we thought it prudent to stop by the venue the night before.  We spoke to Desiree, who was stationed at the reception in the lobby of the venue.   About our reservations and the subject of tipping, she said we would need to talk to the maitre d' the next evening at 8.  She had been very nice.  More on that in a future post...

 

We waited a very long time at the end of the line, which is where the venue is in the eastern end of Monte Carlo, for the bus back west to the party at Rue Antoine, right at the edge of the largest of the boat harbor (parking lot) at Monaco-ville.  Since the bus driver lady was at the end of her shift, she drove six extra blocks to deposit us much closer to the party.  It was great to get upstairs - we had the whole upstairs to ourselves.  And I was very surprised, pleasantly so, of course, to see Graeme there.  That was a really nice surprise whoever it was who thought of inviting him and Amanda.  I took the opportunity to go over to Graeme and got a couple of pix taken with him.  He autographed

something for me - I might have brought something more meaningful if I had known in advance, but cest la vie.  I think I may have written some more notes about this event in my notepad, which is back at the hotel, so I will do the best I can. 

 

I forget what I may have said to Graeme, but I did have quite an extended visit with Amanda, who had heard my name, but was glad to put the face with it.  She was eager to see the collection of my photos that I had with me.  She pointed out one black satiny shirt with a little design that Graeme used to wear and she said she was going to try to get him to wear it at the concert.  I mentioned my surprise when I saw Graeme's Hendrix shirt on someone in NYC.  She said they got it at Burdines, which I know from my childhood growing up in Miami.  I mentioned that I was part of the Moodyfest Band, and she said that she and Graeme had both listened to the Moodyfest CD I had handed up to the stage one time and were amazed and pleased.  How about that?  That is the first feedback we have had from a band member.  Very cool, and flattering. 

 

The ride back along the Moyenes Corniche, the middle of the three roads connecting Monaco to Nice, was full of tunnels, twists and turns all at the edge of very steep and very high cliffs.  We had a nice young woman driver, who was careful, but the result was still challenging for one who does have bouts with car-sickness.  She pointed out a few sights on the way.  One could not miss the town of Eze, pronounced "Ez", which, like the palace in Monaco, is on a pointy peninsula, all lit up for effect, with castle and church at the top.  I had already thought of going to visit it one of the days, as they have a botanical garden.  Coming down off the Corniche into Nice afforded an amazing view of the entire city all lit up there on the flat ground to the west of the hills.  It was almost as if we were coming in for a landing in an airplane, we

were that high up and it took a few minutes to come down with the road heading down at a slight angle. 

 

Monaco Concert Day

The day of the concert dawned a long time before we were conscious to experience it.  It was Sunday, and we had been told that the shops in many of the towns in the area would be closed.  We had decided we could not really stray too far from Nice on this day so that we could get back, shower, put on our special clothes, and get to the venue well in time.

 

We figured to do a walking tour of Nice.  We started by finding a little cafe and having a petit dejuneur (sp?) and then stumbling into the old town with the winding narrow car-less streets filled with open shops.  Many were featuring items from the region, like lavender products, dinnerware cloths and the like with lavender or sunflower motifs, Herb grinders, the obligatory Nice T-shirts, etc.  But there were plenty of other shops open as well, and I ended up getting a pair of thin, flowing off-white pants that I could wear to Justin's reception.  We had a nice lunch of nicoise (from Nice) salad in an outdoor cafe near the flower market after having gone to view the Mediterranean from the Promenade des Anglais (English).  There was a wide boulevard inland of the beach, lined with palm trees, and with hotels on the opposite site.  It reminded me a lot of home in Fla.

 

In our fancy duds we arrived at the venue.  It had taken me two weeks and $250 to buy my outfit of black, satin, lace and sequined top, black palazzo pants, black patent leather shoes and royal blue camisole.  As my friend from Antibes had told me, palazzos were fine.  I even saw women with more casual dress.  A couple of fellows that I had met at the fan gathering the night before, and who had no idea of a dress code, had a borrowed jacket and had had to go to Italy to find a store open to buy another jacket for the occasion.  Following directions, we came to see Desiree shortly after 8, after we'd had lovely chats with friends of Justin's in an adjoining garden while waiting to enter the venue.  Her tone wasn't nearly as cheerful this night, as she asked if we were in the group of Americans.  We didn't know what to say, as each of us had made our reservations individually, as had everyone else that we knew,  not as part of a group.  She went on to say that someone had made reservations for this group of 50 Americans three times, and this had messed up their seating arrangements.  Her tone was somewhat irritated.  She told us then that all the seating had been arranged and we could not change it. Pam had heard that no tipping would be allowed and that the group of 50+ Americans would be sitting together on the second level. It seems that anybody who signed up on the

website for the reception with Justin, even the Danes, a Crotian woman attending her first Moody Blues concert and the Brits were also seated with us.  Never having been in the venue, all I could do was hope for the best, as in Caesars, the second level is the third row of tables.  Well, we weren't quite that lucky... Most of us anyway.  The second level was at the rear of the venue.  We ended up ten feet from the back of the place.  And yes, it was rather special with palm trees lit up immediately behind the glass forming the back wall... but not what my expectations had been when I made my decision to come.

 

There was one table of fortunate American fans who somehow managed to disassociate themselves from the the rest of us and sit in a table at the front.  Many people in the back 40 expressed disappointment.  Some at our table said they wouldn't have decided to come to Monaco had this been the deal we were originally sold.  (As I recall, the original understanding was that in order to get close one would need to buy the ticket with the dinner, and then to tip.  One fan offered several hundred dollars to move his family forward, and that was refused by the maitre d'.  The fan had never had a tip refused before.)  Pbaub told me he didn't know how it came to be that we were seated in a group at the back.  That is the extent of my factual information.  Also factual is that it is highly improbable that we all (including some Brits and

other non-French who were linked together by having signed up on the website) except for those privileged few in the front, would have been placed together in one group anywhere, much less in the back with no tipping allowed, without our names having been given as a group to the venue.  Why our individually made reservations were linked together and the list given to the venue is beyond my ken, but it put a downer on my whole evening.  I felt deceived, and no one was explaining or taking responsibility for it - quite the contrary.  Considering

the extent of expenditure involved and the number of people and how they felt, it was not a trivial matter.

 

The dinner was something to behold.  We were handed menus which looked to me as if we were to choose from 3 or 4 dishes for each of several courses.  As it turned out, we got everything on the menu, but in tiny portions.  (BTW, the French are not fat.)  There was everything from lobster, to duck with fruit, potato, asparagus, and two dessert plates for us to share.  They charged us 8 euros for each bottle of water and hundreds for the wine.  During dinner there was at first a calipso - steel drum band onstage, and then midway through they

changed to a more middle of the road soft rock band.

 

The highlights of the evening for me were not on the stage.  The Moodies played flawlessly, but from where I was sitting, I really could not evaluate the concert as well as I usually could.  The sound was good and not too loud.  Some favorite songs were left out (including English Sunset) and my expectation that the band might dress up a bit for this venue was unfounded.  Justin wore his favorite pink shirt, John wore his black jeans with leather pockets, and Graeme wore the multi-colored circles shirt.  Norda wore her green dress, and Bernie

her white dress over white pants.  Gordy wore a black shirt with sleeves rolled up, and Paul wore white shirt and black pants.  I really couldn't see many details from where I was sitting.  My guess was that we were all on the order of 30 rows back.

 

I was able to get quite a few photos, but clearly those in the front were in a better position to get top quality pix.  I had to use both the optical and digital zooms in my camera, with a combination of 40x zoom.  I will put up the best of my photos from the concert after I return on the 23rd.
 

One good surprise of the evening was that Prince Albert and Princess Caroline of Monaco and their entourage were seated at the table immediately next to ours with a security detail at the back.  Since there were heads in front of me and I was so far away from the stage, I found myself looking over at him to see how he was taking it all in.  I first had noticed that he would look over at us sometimes as we were giving each song a standing ovation.  When we got up to stand and dance through Higher and Higher he eventually got into the swing of

it and started clapping to the music.  He also sang during Nights, stood for ovation after Isn't Life Strange and gave a thumbs up for that one, and participated in the unison clapping for the encore.  At the end of each song, and even during some, the people threw flower heads -- roses,  onto the stage, thoughtfully provided by the venue in baskets on each table.  Jus kicked them aside at one point as they had littered the stage.  There had been no merchandising outside prior to or after the show.  There was no intermission. 

 

Afterwards some of us hung around the front of the venue waiting for the vans to come (where have I heard that lyric before while others danced at Jimmy'z.  We did not see any Moodies leave, but we saw Princess Caroline leave in a vintage Mercedes, and Prince Albert left driving his own car.  All in all, the evening was quite special, to be sure, but at the end of the evening, I felt a residue being a bit cheated, so was not as aglow as I might have been otherwise.

 

Eze and Justin

Your foreign correspondent has finally made it home to German-speaking countries, writing tonight from Salzburg, a place in which I really feel at home. 

 

I am sorry that some consider my opinions about the concert to be invalid.  I don´t consider others´ feelings about it to be wrong.  I try not to pass judgement on feelings of others as I believe that everyone should feel free to express what they truly feel.  As for expectations, it wasn´t just I who felt this way; there were several who expressed the same thing at the time.  They just haven´t written here.

 

The day after the concert Karen and I decided to explore Eze, pronounced "Ez", which we had been seeing perched on a tiny but very high pointy hill just above the sea.  At night it had been lit up and you could see it from miles away on the middle Corniche road we had been taking to get to Monaco and back. The journey there was supposed to be very short taking the train from the local station a five minute walk from the Sofitel.  But the train was at least 25 minutes late, and when it came, it was clear why...  It was packed like sardines.  We squeezed on and held on - reminded me of the NYC subway at rush hour.  I took pix..  A couple of women were sitting on either side of the doors

opposite the platform side, and at every stop they would turn the handles to open the doors so we could get some fresh air.  Very welcome!   A number of us tourists got off at Eze Sur Mer.  Uh oh...  Sur Mer!  We had read that it would take an hour and a half to hike up the hill to the town (and then more to get up to the gardens or castle).  We had budgeted two and a half hours and needed to get the 13:45 train to get back in time to get picked up to see Justin.  But we found the local bus that drove us through tunnels and up hairpin turns to the village.  This trip up the cliff took 25 minutes, just to give you some sense for how steep and high the cliffs are in this region.  The bus was barely

able to make the turns.  Once up there on the Moyenes Corniche, I saw bus stops, and thankfully, the intercity bus was leaving there about 13:45 for the Nice bus station.  Saved! 

 

Walking up the hill, paved with huge chert stone blocks that had been worn to a really slick, slippery surface by years of wear, were some restaurants and some of the usual touristy shops.  There was a botanical garden at the top (more exotique), and the remains of a medieval castle, and this is what we had originally planned to come to Eze to see.  Now, with a bit less time, what with the extra bus trip up the cliff, we were happy with enjoying the tiny old village with narrow winding streets and the tapestry, pottery, glassware, jewelry and other shops.   There was also an old church with a clocktower.  A picture-perfect setting, and of course, I got some (pix, that is).  The views of other nearby cliffs with the water afforded wonderful views.  On the way up to the top, we came upon a cute doorway with words on the narrow arch over the door, I think, a French play on words about being at Eze at Chez Justin.  We took each other´s pictures under the arch     On the way back down, we dined on a local specialty with vegetables, and I think some kind of ground meat mixed with the vegetables and french bread. The bus back to Nice was fantastic... Not crowded despite the line for over 20 people waiting for it and air conditioned with plush seats.  And it was cheaper than the train!

 

Justin

By 3:30 we were all assembled in the Sofitel lobby to go see Justin at the hotel Negresco on the Promenade des Anglais (English). This is a grand old hotel, perhaps the grandest on the strand.  I never had the opportunity to do more than walk to the edge of the beach the day before, and to look out the open doors of the salon in which we enjoyed Justin for almost three hours, but that leaves something for the next time I might come this way. It must have cost a bit to rent that bus.

 

Justin arrived soon after, wearing typical Nicoise attire of his thin white shirt, similar to one he has worn in concert of late, left out over thin, tan loose fitting trousers and nice light colored fishermans sandals.  Since I was wearing my fishermans', and the new similar trousers that I'd bought in old Nice the day before, I felt right at home.  Now we know where some of Justin's recent concert attire comes from.  For a while everyone was milling, and it was sort of confused, then Justin spoke for a few minutes (I taped it on my videocamera, but there were at least two other videocameras in the room as well -- pbaub had one and a tall fellow was putting together a DVD for those of us who came, and interviewing some of the people - they didn´t approach me on it tho.)  I´m not sure how complete the DVD will be, but I hope nothing will be left out.   (makes it easier editing I should think.)

 

Justin started off by thanking us for last night, that it meant so much to him that we were there.  Bridgette, Justin's secretary, who had escorted us in the nice bus to the hotel, checked us in.  A few LCers weren't on the list, but she just added them.  The salon Justin chose for the reception had paintings of French kings on the walls -- looked to me like the late Louis era with the high heels and long hair.  The walls had an ornately designed burgundy wall cloth (too nice to be called wall paper). 

 

As advertised, the champagne at the reception was flowing like water. This was no ordinary meet and greet, not just because of the bus ride, the champagne, the location, which were together extraordinary, but also because Justin was indeed taking as long as the fans wanted to talk to him.  Having gone to a few of the rushed variety, I knew that if anyone was able to spend so much as a minute, s\he would be lucky.  I spent most of the time watching others and taking pix of folks, not even partaking of the snacks.  I was finally in line when I heard them say that we had overstayed the amount of time he had reserved the room.  I thought, oh no, but he continued to give each person a few minutes.  I began by mentioning that we had seen Chez Justin at Eze; he hadn't heard of it, but I suggested he check it out, on the way up to the botanical garden.  I continued by talking about the Prince as I figured that Justin would like to have a blow by blow of his reactions and how much he

had enjoyed the show.  That he joined in the unison clapping for the encore and snging during Nights and clapping during Higher and higher.  Jus was thrilled not only that the prince was there but also Caroline - that he had never seen the two of them together (at a show, I´d guess).  Justin asked me if the fans had gone over to him, and I said we had left them alone.  He'd also asked if there was an entourage; yes, it was hovering in the back.  He asked me if I were going to England.  I said I wanted to, but that I was teaching two days a week next term, working part time, but knew of someone who had some extra tickets, so I would try to come for a week.  I asked him about what he had

thought about the Moodyfest band, since I had given him CDs over the years, and without skipping a beat he said he was Flattered.  Now that's a flattering thing for me to hear as well.  I know I had been waiting years to get some feedback on the CDs we have given them, from the projects with Brian Kutscher, to more recent Moodyfests, and it was really good to hear that they actually listened to and were pleased by our efforts.  I asked him to sign a couple of photos I'd taken and we posed for some new ones.  All the while, Chuck from Indiana was rolling the tape on my videocamera.  He tells me I look like I'm sixteen and having the time of my life. 

 

As he left he was hugging a number of fans -- I didn't get in on that, alas as I was across the room.  As I left the place just before getting back on the bus for the sofitel, I ran into Mark Hogue, the tour manager.  I showed him some of my photos and he was glad to meet me.  Bridgette, Justin's secretary was a sweet dear, originally from Scotland - her accent is quite like Jackie F's from Vancouver.  She saw us back to the Sofitel, kissed us all twice on the cheeks and bid farewell.

 

When Anne Marie suggested I join her group for dinner at the top of the hotel, I was just as happy to have a calm evening -- a break from the traveling of the last week, and getting set for the next two.  It was lovely up there; much better than I had envisioned, with views of Nice in two directions.  The night was becoming balmy and the food and company were just great.  Everybody was 'walking on air', high as kites on having just been with Justin for the afternoon.  It was truly a wonderful afternoon from start to finish and that and the dinner were a wonderful way to end the visit to Nice and Monaco.

 

 

Nice to Genova to Pisa to Firenze

 OK, so you're thinking this covers the next few days of travel.  Well, actually, I had been planning early on to go from Nice via a few hour stopover in Milan to Como and the Italian Lakes just below the Alps.  But I was persuaded that I shouldn't come this far and this close to Florence and Rome and not see them, so I shoehorned them in.  By now I was quite acquainted with the short trip as far as Monaco.  I had expected that the steep high mountain cliffs would continue right on into Italy, just a few more miles up the road, but it was somewhat less rugged there.  Styles of rooftops - terra cotta, with pastel house colors didn't change much, though we now had contrasting window shutters

often dark green in color.  I had planned to have an hour and a half layover in Genova  but much of that was eaten up by the need to get train reservations for the Italian portion of my journey.  It just seemed the prudent thing to do, since the trains in the south of France were so packed, and since I couldn't get those reservations till I arrived in Italy.  (BTW, for those of you who travel by train in Europe, it is far cheaper to buy seat reservations once in Europe than over the internet from home; and seat reservations are what you buy in addition to purchasing the train fare... It assures you a particular seat.)  It is three euro in Europe, but eleven dollars from the US. I did have a few

minutes to leave the station and take a pic of a statue of homeboy Christopher Columbus in Genova. 

 

The trip south from Genova was quite scenic, traveling right along the coast, it reminded me at times of my train trips last summer along the southern California coast, what with similar topography, bathing beaches, and the rolling surf.  And then, a half hour south of Genova, and most unexpectedly, a single sign and short platform, and then it was gone:  Mulinetti.  I'd just seen a little villa on a pointy peninsula over the sea, and as soon as I saw the sign, wondered if it could have been the recording studio.  It got me to thinking about Strange Times and Danilo. Within a minute, we were in the next town, Recchio, I think - a much larger place.  A bit later the train passed by a bunch of sawtooth mountains coming fairly close to the coast - Central Masse, then the next stop around five pm was Pisa.  I could have gone on to Rome on this train, and it wasn't that crowded even though I couldn't get a reservation, but figured I could do both Florence and Rome on this trip.  And since I had an internet reservation at the Hotel Fiorentina, walking distance from the train, I figured I'd have a look at the leaning tower and then proceed to my night's destination. 

 

Just before Pisa, this lady on the train told me thru hand signals where the tower was, but after getting off, and realizing that even the tourist office wasn't that close by, I wouldn't be able to walk it, even without my bag.  But a fellow who offered to take me there for ten euros also told me about the city bus, so I decided to go that route.  It was rush hour, but I dragged my bag on.  I asked the driver "la tour"?  And he said Ture?, Si! with a smile, like he hears this from tourists getting off the train all the time, and off we went.   I'd read that there was a duomo (basilica) at the same place, and it was pretty obvious where to get off, the tourist attraction that it is. You all have seen pictures of it, but I was surprised that a few people had been allowed to get to the top of the tower, what with its delicate condition.  There were lots of

merchants selling leather bags amongst the tchatchkes and souvenirs.  I was taken with one style of two tone leather knapsack with all sorts of neat zippered compartments, and the price wasn't too bad - 45 euros so I bought one.

  

The train to Firenze was crowded, steamy and smelly, unlike the trains I'd been on earlier in the day - and no first class.  At the train station, a nice bus driver showed me how to walk to my hotel.  But the hotel was so badly marked that I missed it, and kept missing it, and then confusing it with Hotel Fiorentino, going back and forth blocks at a time.  Some tried to help me, but others couldn't care less, as I was getting desperate as the light was vanishing.  As I finally read the dark plaque in front of the huge closed dark doors, rang the bell then the nightmare really started. The huge door opened by itself, creaking as it went.  Inside was a huge room, dark, smelly, with an iron staircase.  I hauled the bag up to the first floor to find I needed to go up another flight.  There was a lift, barely big enough for me and the bag with

a metal door opening out and two half doors opening in.  Navigating that in and out added to my growing collection of bruises.  Here's the kicker.  The fellow at the desk couldn't find my reservation and was cheerfully motioning that I should just leave.  It was about 9 o'clock.  It took a great deal of persistence on my part, including turning down their offer to put me up in a dorm room with two other people, and then threatening to call the police.  An hour later, actually being able to leave this Hotel California alive,  I was on my way to another pensione Ottavio for a room at the same rate.   Much nicer place, if rather spartan, they actually had a computer with internet for guests to use for 3 euros per hour, the best rate yet, .but this is the one that kept cutting me off wiping out what I'd typed. 

 

A nightime stroll led me to Piazza del Republica, a happening place with street musicians, artists, and cafes.  This was what I needed to get my mind off the horrible evening.  Still needing some solace as well as food, I had a nice big bowl of gelato chocolato while watching a trio of lounge lizard types doing karaoke of all the Italian songs Americans might have heard of - like Volare, and the original Italian song from which Elvis adapted "It's now or never", mixed in with stuff from Elton and the Bee Gees.  Amusing as well as entertaining.

 

Firenze to Roma

Still in Luzern just about to head out for parts south...

 

The night in Florence was restless, as it was Very hot and humid, and with all that had been diverting mz attention, I'd just started to realize that I had a very infected gum which I was going to have to try to remedy quickly before it got worse and threatened the tooth.  The next morning, I had planned to get up early, get to the post office to send home my new Pisa bag, my fancy clothes, and books on France, but they didn't wake me as they'd said they would so that threw off the whole day's careful plan.  It was beginning to be a pattern, about Italians and their concept of time, but I hadn't quite realized it yet...  So I grabbed a couple of croissants and flew out the door with my stuff for the PO.  Another interesting experience with getting tic for the right line, negotiating buying boxes, fliling out forms, etc, and several kilos and 36

euros lighter, and almost an hour later, I decided I'd do the only sightseeing I now had time left for -- the Ponte Vecchio (the old bridge).  This is one like old London Bridge used to be, from the Middle Ages, where there are stores on either side of the pedestrian thoroughfare on the bridge.  I barely had time to go into a Pharmacia to get various oral rinses and cotton to make poultices, get back to the hotel, grab bag and get to the train to Rome.  More farm fields .. I am amazed to see the amount of corn thez grow.  This was one of the Eurostar upper class trains with air conditioning -- ah glorious!  After regularly being in a drenched or sticky condition it was good to relax in comfort.  That wasn't to be for long...

 

Roma Termini is huge as one would expect, with stairs (most French and Italian stations have precious few escalators), and the baggage deposit area had a huge line, of which I'd been forewarned by the Enjoy Rome tour company.  After a half hour in it, and it looked to be another 45 minutes, so I made the decision not to spend 3.5 hours of my 10 hours in Rome in that line, so I bolted and made my way to the tour office in time to sign up for afternoon and evening bus tours.  I'd just bring the bag along.  This worked well for a while.  We got

out at the Forum, where we viewed the extensive and impressive Roman ruins; someone in the group took a nice picture of me and me of them, and I'd started taking some video.  I'd been wondering if the guide might mention a Justinium or something (isn't that where the name Justin originally came from?)  But double disaster struck at the next stop: the Colosseum, where Paul McCartney had done an all acoustic concert recently - wonder if the Moodies would consider doing an all acoustic concert there.  (They cannot shake the rafters as it would make them come down) Anyway, like a thunderbolt from Zeus, it dawned on me that I might have been recording video over some very precious footage.  I quickly viewed the footage and realized it was true.  On the train to Genova I'd started to review the Justin event video, and was starting to type some comments on my PDA when the PDA's battery ran out.  I stopped the operation and forgot to fast forward to the end before starting to record again in Rome.  Almost all the tape I shot at the event was gone.  I had maybe the first minute or so

of Justin talking to us all, and none of me or Chuck and Pam's family with Justin was left.  Talk about a major punch to the solar plexus.  I was feeling shipwrecked and heartsick, and then realized I needed to find my group.  I looked for them under the famous arch near the Coloseum at the appointed time and didn't see anybody familiar.  (BTW, this is the arch that has been copied at the Arc de Triomphe and in NYC's Washington Sq. Park.)  Already well beyond drenched, I started running down the line of buses, asking about the Vastours

bus.   I couldn't find it amongst the dozen or so that seemed to appear out of nowhere.  My bags were on the bus.  So now, add scared to death to my heartache and toothache.  One nice tour lady took pity on me saying that they all follow the same route, and why not come with them to St. Paul's.  My bus wasn't there when we got there.  But they did come along in about ten minutes.  See, they had been talking 10 minutes Italian time, and I had been looking at my watch to gauge when to arrive at the bus.  The guards at St. Paul's wouldn't let me in

in shorts and a camisole, but at this point, I couldn't care less about that, mourning the loss of my footage, and realizing I'd let others down as well. 

 

The rest of the time in Rome was less dramatic.  I subsisted on gelato chocolato trying to assuage my injured psyche while dragging my bag around town looking for some real Roman sandals (didn't find any - as they seem to have the same fashions at NYC there .. high heels, thin straps, not brown leather flat sandals).  I must say, the Trevi fountain at night is a thing to behold, huge with statues all over the place.  Very lovely, even if it is absolutely packed with tourists.  The narrow winding streets of the old town nearby were looking familiar selling T shirts and other souvenirs of Rome and gelato.  I did see a lot on my Roman holiday, but there sure were costs.

-----------------------

 

The train leaving Rome at 11:18pm gave me a new experience... The reserved couchette.  I shared a room with four bunks with one other woman -- very nice and could speak English.  No problems there.  In the morning in Milan, my train for Como was 45 minutes late (this would never happen in Austria or Switzerland), and I seriously considered not going there, but I did.  Como is at the lowermost end of Lake Como, one of the Italian lakes in the foothills of the Alps.  I'm glad I did go there, on this empty putt putt of a train.  The lake is, indeed gorgeous, even in a mist, threatening rain.  Green mountains came gently down to the waters edge, with terra cotta roofs on villas, fishermen lined the pier that separated the marina with the rest of the lake, and bicycles everywhere.  The park at the lakeside had allees lined with large trees, and cafes in the town square, a church, all the usual stuff.  I bought a phone card, as my MCI numbers were not working, and I really did want to talk to my dentist.  I got into trouble with Italian time again trying to get back to the train station...  This time, my bus didn't come for at least  15 minutes after the time on the sgn, so I hoofed it rather quickly, across town and up several flights of steps.  Man, I'm glad I sent some of my stuff home. 

 

Venice

The ride to Milano and from there to Venezia (Venice) were through largely flat agricultural areas with pastel country houses, contrasting shutters. The ride out to Venice from the mainland was on a long causeway shared by the railroad and the highway.  I'd never known it somehow, but Venice is not only laced with canals of varying size, but they are a series of islands in a lagoon several miles off the main coast of Italy.  They are both sinking and becoming inundated by sea level rise from global climate change (two separate phenomena, and spelling disaster eventually).

 

It was a pleasure getting off the train for once.  Though the platform was the typical four feet below the door, at least there wasn't the usual extra pair of down and up flights of stairs to get out of the station dragging the bag.  I guess, they can't build underground passages down too far, or it would get flooded!  I had the feeling in getting off the train that I had better check my big bag and put what I needed for the night in my knapsack, as I could see that I was some distance from the train station, over numerous canals.  The Venice bag check place was rather laid back.  It only took five or ten minutes, and there was no airport luggage screening like in Paris and Rome.  The Venice bus

system is ferries, since all of Venice is "old town" with narrow winding streets and no cars.  I didn't even seen bikes.  All deliveries come by

handtruck and pushcart as they have to get through the streets and over the little arched bridges - some with steps.  Same goes for the garbage pickups, done in carts on foot.  And the place is not small; it's several square miles with little warrens, deadends, shopping streets, and squares or campos.  I took the vaporetto, as it's called, the first time, and even so it took a half hour to find my hotel even with a map. I've rarely been this geographically challenged.  But getting close on my own and asking directions to the particular passageway was helpful.  The only sign said Albergo, a generic term not included in my hotel's name, and the street numbers are not particularly consecutive because the streets are so irregular.  By the time I left 22 hours later, I was navigating like a pro, even at night, getting back from the

internet café at St. Stefano's campo.  Since my gum was worrying me, I had to figure out how to use an Italian phone card (folks in a bookstore helped me dope out which of the Italian access numbers to call and how to operate the pay telephone with its many extra, important buttons) spoke to my dentist, and ended up getting an Italian antibiotic, since they only use the one my dentist recommended for external use…  So I took the one the pharmacist provided .. he assured me it was in the same family as the one I had wanted.   A few hours

later, as I was at the Venice internet café, my hands started to feel like they were becoming numb and hot at the same time.  This went on for about an hour, by which time I’d had a chance to exchange emails with the dentist, who looked up the drug and found that hot flash or heat rash was a side effect…  The good news is that now, some days later, the infection seems to be gone.

 

The phrase, Merchant of Venice, popular even in the 16th Century, made sense now that I was actually there.  Merchants are all that are there in Venice.  They only manufacture on nearby islands, like glass blowing on Murano island, and a big bad PVC factory on the mainland featured in a video I show my students … it’s why I was able to recognize it from the causeway.   And amongst what they sell in Venezia are expensive clothes and shoes (and still no sandals to my liking}, leather goods, and for what reason, I can't fathom, Mardi Gras masks.

Stores and stores and stores full of them.  I can't imagine how they all stay in business.  If I saw one more shop full of Mardi gras masks I was gonna barf.  Of course there were gelato and pizza places everywhere. The gelato seemed to hit the spot in the hot humid condtions, and was quick and cheap.  The bag salesmen that were stationed in one particular stretch between St. Marks Sq and the vaporatto were kinda funny, selling knockoffs of designer bags and trying to convince the tourists they were the real thing.  Just like home.

 

I decided to find a special place to have an actual Italian dinner, rather than gelato on the run.  I figured it should be near the Rialto bridge over the Grand (largest) canal that snakes its way though the islands.  The Rialto is the oldest one, and has stores on it like the Ponte Vecchio in Florence.  One of the outdoor cafes there on the Grand Canal suited me fine, and every so often we'd get a serenade from an accordian on a shared gondola docking neaby. One can hire gondolas for up to six people, as well as water taxis, but I decided to pass as it wasn’t cheap (sorta like hiring a horse and carriage for Central Park… only for the rich).

 

The next morning I went on a walking tour largely in the vicinity of St. Marks square.  They required those of us with knapsacks to take them to a nearby building for safekeeping (a security measure).   Since the lines are prodigious to go through St. Marks church, we didn’t spend much time there, but the real hit was the old government buildings right next to it.  These have got tremendous numbers of huge paintings on the walls and ceilings by Varese and others… quite ornate.   The history of the Venetian republic also struck me.  The guide said that they were electing their presidents as early as the 7th century, and they made a point of the president not being akin to royalty by

not having him wear a crown, but a cap instead, and kneeling in paintings.  There were advisors that never let the president out of their sight, and a room for the senate .. further check on the power.  Venice, of course, was quite a world power in those days, and absolutely huge ornate rooms were just for receiving and entertaining other heads of state.  They also had lock boxes for the citizens to put in recommendations for policies (which three people with three keys would have to open to read), and another lock box for those ratting

on tax cheats .. there you would need to have two witnesses sign your complaint.  All very interesting. 

 

The line for the tower at St. Marks was too long (I'd wanted to get a view of the whole city from up there, but no...), so I grabbed the largest, loveliest bruchetta I’d ever seen for the train ride and thought I would see how far I could walk back to the train station.  Since it was quite a distance and I could not afford to miss the train, I hopped a vaporetto partway there and got there well in time.

 

Getting further and further behind on the reports.  In retrospect, Venice was the most special place I saw in Italy.  

 

Salzburg, Austria

Heading out of Venice, the Italian countryside was again agrarian, fairly flat.  Just before Austria the mountains rose up from the plains and it started to rain.  We climbed through tunnels and emerged in more and more mountainous settings, the first mountains looking to be of limestone, but transitioning to the eventual appearance of evergreens as the sole tree with patches of short green grass, with cute villages in the river valleys, just like the opening sequence to the Sound of Music.  "Climb every mountain" was the first soundtrack for Austria. I was determined to find a Sound of Music tour for my day in Salzburg, as it is one of my favorite movies, and I saw them advertised on the internet.  The red Austrian trains were a bit of a step up from the Italian trains.  Not sure how the Italian time and Austrian time would jibe

when my Italian train was rather late arriving for my change of trains in Villach, Austria, they waited the train!  Sacre bleu! 

 

Getting to Salzburg was such a pleasure.  I could start using my German, people seemed to be more responsive, and  directions I'd been given to my lodging was the first time since Nice that I reached it unerringly.  And did I mention that it wasn't sweltering?  Ah, glorious Austria.  In fact, my lodging .. Der Schwartze Rossl, (black stallion) was a jewel.  Located in the new town, but very close to the bridge over the river to the old town, it was in a perfect location.   Coming into this part of the trip, I was still lacking reservations for two separate days for Luzern, Switzerland, the first of these just two days hence.  I also didn't have a map to get to the place in Innsbruck the next night.  The fellow there was great, finding a place on the internet for Luzern that somehow I couldn't find, getting a map to the Innsbruck hotel, then

recommending me a place for dinner that the locals go to, and an internet café in the old town.  Back in Venice and Florence, I was lucky to get info about the immediate neighborhood, much less any sightseeing info or reservations elsewhere.  German efficiency; it's great.  I will say this tho... The chocolate gelato and glace are a whole lot better than the eis, as the Austrians (and Swiss) tend to mix milk in, diluting it.   

 

All this walking around at night taught me a lot about Salzburg in a short time without the hassle of the daytime crowds.  One favorite thing to sell tourists was bags of Mozartballs (they have a proper name, but I've forgotten it.), and a favorite sales item in sweet shops was sacher torte.  The view from the footbridges over the Salzach river up at the castles was really nice, and the sound of the river flowing beneath, somewhat calming.

 

The next day dawned raining on and off so the Sound of Music tour was not quite as spectacular as I'd hoped it would be.  It was good to see some of the scenes from the movie, like the inside of the church, the abbey, the house, and getting photos taken in front of the gazebo, heaing the soundtrack to the movie rding in the mountain countryside in a nice bus.  I noticed that in the small towns the lines of trees along the roadsides are sculpted to be round.  An attractive effect. I also noticed that once I'd crossed into German speaking land, the houses frequently have window boxes filled with flowers -- often a profusion of red geraniums or purple petunias spilling over and down.  It's a

really lovely effect against the wood frames of the houses.

 

The other thing I'd really wanted to do was get up to the main castle above the city.  There are actually a few, all of which are lit up very nicely and were spectacular when viewed from the bridges over the river at night.  I'd remembered there was a cog railroad up from town, and to save time, I took it.  After taking in the lovely views of town and nearby mountains, I decided to walk down just to give myself a bit more exercise.  But it must have been a combination of the sand on my shoes and the slickly worn steps after centuries of use, in combination with a layer of water from the rain that caused me to slip and fall like a ton of bricks on the middle of my back on the stairs, knocking the wind straight out of me.  Lying sprawled on the steep steps, some folks came to my rescue trying German and English to ask if I were all right... Thanks to my knapsack and the books, paper etc that was in it, I was probably saved from really serious injury to my spine, and it was a miracle that neither my camera nor videocam which were around my neck, were damaged.  But after a while it seemed like I might have broken or strained a finger.  (Days later, my back and finger are still not happy campers...)   Needless to say, I took the cog railway down.

 

As I approached the church square in the old town, I heard some interesting music.   It was a quartet with what looked like two lutes, a giant triangular shaped bass, and an accordian playing outstanding versions of a couple of classic pieces.  The lutes would play in harmony or one would take a lead, then trade to the other or the accordian and back.  The bass was not only the rhythm section, but it also did some interesting riffs... Sorta reminded me of John's role and his bass riffs and counterpoints.  They were impeccable.  Flawless.  The first song was the ending of the movie Help..  I forget what it's called, but I think Rossini wrote it.  I wish I'd taped it, but my head, not to mention

my back and other parts, was still aching from the fall.  I did take a few still shots of them playing.  I decided to take a bus back to the Bahnhof for my train to give myself a break from dragging the bag 20 minutes, to try and recover as I traveled to my next overnight in Innsbruck.   

 

 

Salzburg to Innsbruck to Zurich to Luzern

The two hour train ride from Salzburg to Innsbruck was in a lovely coach, but uncharacteristically uncomfortable, as there were two teens, most likely brother and sister, who were constantly making noise, hitting each other, spraying aerosols into the air, and making life miserable for the rest of us. The countryside continued to impress with mountains, but more significantly flat valleys quite suitable for bicycling.  I saw many out in groups and alone.  These were often right along rivers and started to give me ideas for future visits.  I must say, Austria and Switzerland are very much like the Vermont of Europe.  There are lovely flat bikepaths everywhere in the valleys and cyclists

of every description abound.

 

Thanks to the map I got faxed to the Schwarzes Rossl the night before, I walked thru the streets of Innsbruck and into the old town to the Weisses Kreuz (white cross hotel).  This hotel is something like 600 years old and Mozart stayed there with his father one time.  I really like these Austrian digs with the featherbeds and efficient staffs.  I walked around the old town a bit more that night and got to an outdoor café with an oompah band (four with brass instruments playing for food), so I tarried a while and had something to eat.

 

The next morning after going on the local hop~on~hop~off bus tour, and walking around a castle and gardens high up on a nearby hill with a dynamite view of town, and then walking around the town gardens and along the Inn river, (Innsbruck, means Inn bridge), I headed off to Switzerland.  I got hassled by the Austrian conductor as I wasn’t sure which railpass I was supposed to use to go from Austria (part of my 3-country pass) to Switzerland, where I had a Swisspass.  Threatened me with a fine of 150 euros for not having validated my Swisspass while still in Austria……  He didn’t faze me.  I talked around it.

 

Almost as soon as we got into Switzerland, the mountains got bigger and the lakes more frequent, adding up to even more spectacular scenery than before.  There seemed to be even more bike riders on the lovely bike paths than in Austria. We’d go for miles and miles along a lake with a sheer cliff on the opposite side of dropping thousands of feet to the waters edge was graced with dozens of sailboats enjoying the summer weather.  I never really saw flags of the country flying elsewhere, but started to see them in Switzerland.  The population density and density of towns seems larger in Switzerland.

 

Getting to Zurich I soon realized that I would need to convert my euros to Swiss Francs.  They haven’t yet changed over.  In the middle of the large multi-level train station was an Olympic village of sorts, with a gigantic screen to watch the Olympics, and even treadmills and bike machines for people to try out.  Everyone at all the cafes within the station were able to watch.  I found a locker for my bag (8 francs, which are about 80 US cents), and headed out.

 

Walking to the lake,  I was struck by the number of trolley car lines.  There are trolleys in both Salzburg and Innsbruck, but it just seemed like every street had some here.  The main item for sale here, of course, is watches and jewelry.  As with other European countries, they use the Plane tree in rows where people promenade, but in this case, they cut them round rather than letting them grow tall.  I continued my long walk along the lake quite some distance.  Since it was Sunday afternoon, the scene was quite lively with folks enjoying the beach, playing on the grass, bike riding, promenading.  I had pictured Zurich as all business, but this sure dispelled that presumption.

 

Coming back towards the train, I had been advised by the tourist bureau to go via the old town (a sure winner), and by that time, I was hungry.  I hadn't realized it but the long walk had made me a bit tired.  Sometimes I don't recognize it when there are so many attractive stimuli when I travel.  I just keep on plugging.  I followed the river to old town and the familiar cobbles and narrow streets.

 

The sticker shock from the menu prices was palpable.  I was told that Switzerland was expensive.  But it looked even moreso as I had just gone from euro-based money to CHF (Swiss Francs), which are 80 cents on the dollar and much less on the euro.  I'd also heard that Swiss food is not inspiring, and that was the case, so when I spied a Chinese restaurant, I decided to go for it.  Stepping over the three-inch lip of the entrance I started to scan the offerings as pictures up on the wall as I headed in.  Suddenly, I was careening towards the floor.. having neglected to notice two additional steps down about halfway from the door to the counter.  Ouch. It reminded me when during a hot bike ride in PA, I successfully negotiated an  unmarked speedbump in the Trexlertown mall, started to peruse the stores for food, and then crashed at the second speed bump.  Back to Zurich, bruised and battered, but everything still intact, I eventually staggered out and got to the train station.

 

The train ride started out by repeating the ride along the lake south of Zurich, and then along another lake near Zug.  I arrived in Luzern after dark, and after a while dragged myself and my bags to the hotel, right on the river with a castle up on the hill lit up and visible from my window on the fourth floor.  There are two covered wooden bridges from the Middle Ages... One is pretty famous, and is quite long with a couple of kinks in the middle and typical Swiss pointy towers on either end.  I'd remembered this was one of the places my folks and I had stayed overnight in 1969 and, like Salzburg, I was quite taken with the place and wanted to make sure to return this time.  The river is outflow from Lake Lucerne, aka Vierwaldstattersee, on which the next day I had planned to take a ship.

 

It was good to be back.   I must have been tired though, because as I navigated my very tiny room with the wonderful down featherbed and pillow to the window and back, somehow tripped over the sharp corner of the bed.  Argh!  As I picked myself up off the floor again, I started to take stock of the bruises.   All three were getting shockingly swollen.  These are the kind that are going to calcify for a few years.  Oh well.  The folks at the hotel were nice, and gave me some ice and a stool to put my leg up on while I worked at their internet station (which they charged in advance for -- 5 francs per half hour).

 

Luzern to Locarno, Switzerland

Your intrepid reporter is now reporting from Locarno, a curious place that is in Switzerland, but speaks Italian.  It is in the midst of mountains on Lake Maggiore but they have palm trees, oleander and other tender vegetation.  They have a gorgeous walkway along the lake for quite some distance, as with Zurich, but it's much quieter, and more beatiful as they have it planted up with lots of flowers, which probably grow year round.  I'm writing from the shore of the lake, listening to the waves lap on the shore and watching these curious creatures that look like they might be crows or grackles, but are two-tone white and black. 

 

The journey here from Luzern this morning was lovely.  I took the opportunity to walk through the old town first thing after the typical Austrian and Swiss breafast of bread, yogurt, sliced cold cuts, and maybe a strudel if lucky.  I took a look at some of the watch shops, of which there are many in tourist towns of Switzerland (I was told to look for Swiss made on the face).  Fascinating that watches are either marked in the thousands of Swiss Franks or less than a  hundred or so.  I noticed one brand that used various types of wood as the face with gold hands; they also use types of stone that are quite eye-catching, and they are about 80 bucks.  I may get one. 

 

As I was  on my way to the Bahnhof (railway station area), I couldn't stop for long.  I boarded the paddlewheel ship that was to take me across Vierwaldstattersee or lake Lucerne, to Fluelen, and then by train to Bellinzona and another one to Lucarno.  Since I'd bought a Swiss pass, I could get all these trips for free.  I had ample opportunity to practice my German on this almost four-hour boat trip which zig-zagged from one end of this huge, four-pronged lake, surrounded by mountains of trees and green grassy patches, little villages, to the other.  Every so often announcements were made in German, French, Italian and English about the history of the area.  Schiller wrote Wilhelm Tell in one particularly mountainous part.

 

The next part of the journey was on the train.  One thing I like a lot about Italian trains is that you can pull the windows down to about halfway.  So a couple of us did that standing at the windows really getting into the mountains, which were increasing as we headed south to cross the Alps. 

 

On the other side, though still in Switzerland, the look of the villages changed markedly and there were vineyards everywhere.  I looked up at the mountains and noticed glacier valleys with no glaciers...

 

After I walked back and forth along Lake Maggiore near Locarno, I headed back to the Stazione and caught a city bus to the neighboring town of Ascona, as mz Garni Montaldi had recommended for dinner.  This town is also on Lake Maggiore, and equally picturesque with rows of clipped Plane trees along the shores and cafes one after another.  I finally broke down and ordered pizza, a veggie one, sitting at a cafe looking out over the lake with the mountains coming down to the edges.  The pizza was quite good, if a bit too large.  Walked back to the

bus stop thru the old town.. this curious mixture of Italian and Swiss... still lots of watch shops, but the town definitely looked Italian.  Next report I go back to Italy briefly then back to Switzerland.

 

Locarno to St. Moritz, Switzerland (via Italy)

I finally found out what Garni means...  Hotel with breakfast.  Since the name was on every hotel in Locarno, I started to suspect that all of them were not owned by the Garni family...   The breakfast varies a bit from country to country, with the German speaking ones more for adding cold cuts, yogurt, cheese, and cornflakes and milk to the usual continental breakfast of breads, juice, coffee, tea, hot chocolate which is all you get in Italy and France... In Austria they even offered danish (if that isn't mixing countries...). 

 

This day was going to involve several complicated transfers.. Train to Bellinzona, train to Lugano on Lake Como, bus to Tirano, Bernina Express train to Pontesina, Switz then two trains or a bus, my choice, to St. Moritz.  Just counting up the number of train, bus, ship, and subway transfers I've made so far, I'm on my 38th as I ride the Glacier Express originating in St. Moritz, I could have reallly gotten off track as it were.  One of the dicey transfers was in Lugano.  The train station, and as it turned out, the bus connection to Tirano, were all up some distance from the rest of town on the lake.  A lady told me and motioned emphatically in Italian that everything was down the hill

and that I should board the funiculare with the rest of them to get to my bus connection.  If I made a wrong decision, I wouldn't have been able to get to St. Moritz that day.  Turned out she Was wrong... 

 

The train and first bus ride were through the Italian lake country, with lots of vineyards on the sides of the mountains, with cute little mountain towns, each with its own church, scattered here and there.  The look of these towns even from afar was different from those in Austria and Switzerland.  These had the terra cotta roofs and the pastel colors, whereas those in the other two countries tended to exhibit dark wood colorings and church steeples that are more pointy (I guess so that snow doesn't accumulate.) The bus ride was very interesting as we were on roads so narrow that the bus and a car might have trouble passing at the same time.  And this was right along Lake Como for a long distance.  The villas along the lake with their terra cotta roofs and bouganvilla cascading on the walls were spectacular.  For parts of this journey, the bus driver had to tootle his horn to warn cars coming in the opposite direction.  We had to all grind to a halt a few times to get past.  Italian customs came on board at one pont, and they were very much in evidence at the Tirano train station were they tok my passport to stamp it.  At none of the border crossings had anybody wanted to do that, even in the Paris airport.

 

The Bernina express, which is a big deal in the area, is known for climbing a few thousand feet in five miles by doing tight loop the loops inside mountains and in one case, in a valley using a viaduct.  Despite these techniques to flatten the route, the Bernina holds the record for steepness of a railroad using a adhesion for controlling speed at a 7 in 100 slope.  I remember having been in the Canadian Rockies once hearing about a train with an 8% grade that kept crashing at the bottom in the 19th century ... they eventually had to do the same thing there with loops inside of mountains to gain elevation with a smaller slope.  At one point, we were riding right on the roadway with cars

down the main drag of a town, and later we were traversing back and forth on a steep mountainside that dominated the valley.  It was beautiful. And breathtaking! It was the best crossing of the Alps I'd done.  After a while, we were above the tree line in a flattish area between mountains of three lakes. They call the one to the south the white lake (as it is light turquoise), and it flows south to the Adriatic. The one furthest north was called the black lake and it's decidedly darker, flowing north either to the Rhine or Danube.. I forget.  There were hiking trails criss-crossing the area and hikers to be seen.  One thing I'd been looking for was glaciers.  But, alas, these were

still very few and far between. 

 

Thanks to the kindness of strangers, I found where the buses to St Moritz were at Pontesina. But I was able to return the favor by telling them that we were on the wrong bus.  I must admit, I was a bit shaky by the time we got to St. Moritz.  The spaghetti at Tirano, with the Lindt bar enroute (yes, I know), and the loop the loops had gotten to me.  But my kind Swiss friends led me out of the train right to my hotel (pretty close to the railway station.

 

Upon arriving, I passed out for an hour or so.  Refreshed, I could see that this was a place I would like.  The front desk suggested I take a walk around the lake.  I started to feel really good at this point.  It was a perfect setting, the air was cool, the mountains encircled the lake, St. Moritz Bad, the town with the mineral baths, was a very short distance, and if I had had time, I would have gone to soak my aching back.

 

There were flowers, not only those planted in nice arrangements, but there were drifts of fireweed.  These are long, graceful stalks with reddish purple flowers springing from the middle and top.  I'd last seen these in the Canadian Rockies.  They call it fireweed, because it is one of the first weeds to come up after a fire.  Also along the way were collections of small red poppies.  I'd last seen these on a bike ride in the mountains of Utah.  There must have been a dozen dogs out on walks with their owners, most quite friendly, many ducks and ducklings.  It was about this time that I began to muse and wondered if any of the Moodies had owned a dog or cat.  I'd not heard that they had.  I

have been pleased to see recycling bins, and here around the lake, there were signs hand done in different colors for the different languages, to explain the different trees, and animals one might encounter.  My hotel had a restaurant, which was quite handy, and also FREE internet!   It's been costing about ten bucks every time I'd go online.

 

Glacier Express

The next morning I'd intended to get up early and take new photos of the area in better sunshine... It had begun to rain towards sunset the last night, but alas it was still raining.  I took the opportunity to walk around the town, taking more pix, and was considering not going on the Glacier Express, as I figured I might not be ble to see much. 

 

I'm glad I decided to go.  Though parts were like most parts of Switzerland and Austria, we did see some spectacular scenery in the Oberalp pass area, above the treeline.  At Dicentis, we had switched to a cog railway engine from a regular adhesion job, as the slope was going to increase as we headed towards Zermatt, home of the Matterhorn.  In this most mountainous region, the train passed through towns where Romansch language is spoken.  The tinkling of the cowbells and sheepbells (yes) with the animals grazing twixt the boulders, heathers, and bunches of fireweed made this a unique Swiss experience.  I decided early on to move to the smoking section of my car, which was almost

empty, except for a few of us who also wanted to pull down the windows to take pictures.  

 

I began to make a study of the towns and hillsides.  Some buildings were clearly many hundreds of years old, made entirely of rough hewn stone.  The churches had everything from steeples to onion domes. Often the tops of the steeples were dark grey or green with a gold ball on top, but the main tower would be tan or beige. And here in Swizerland, the clocks in the clock owers always run on time.   Just before getting up to Zermatt, I finally saw an honest to goodness glacier, which was surely in retreat -- you had to know what you were looking for to see it; later I heard that they came down to the train level 50 years ago... No surprise. I wonder how long the glaciers are going to last.  I found it kind of neat how the train seemlessly changed from being a normal train to a cog train and back and forth several times on that final stretch up to Zermatt.  Whever the slope was too much, a mechanism would be lowered to engage with the special toothed track between the two other ones. This would keep the train from sliding backwards, or from picking up too much speed going down the hill.   Finally arriving at Zermatt, I took almost an hour to stroll the town dragging my bag before I got back on a train.  I wish you could see all the flowers hanging out of window boxes on the four story dark wooden frame buildings in this town.  It was a festive atmosphere and lots of people out strolling, coming back from their hikes and other adventures.  It's like wall to wall everywhere.  The river running through town was just tremendously fast, and full of glacial flour so that it took on a white color.   It's just this sort of thing that I wish I could have expressed to Justin when I told him that I was indebted to the Band for presenting me all these opportunities to travel the world to see them.

 

Interlaken

After the  7.5 hour train trip to Zermatt, where, alas, the top of the Matterhorn was enshrouded in clouds, I needed to backtrack a bit and go further northeast to get to my digs for the next few nights: Interlaken.  This required retracing a very scenic part of the Glacier express back down to Brig (that was a plus I hadn't expected), then a transfer to a fast, no frills train which I thought was no less scenic, climbing fast to get halfway up a chain of mountains and riding on the edge of a cliff for some time before going into a tunnel for what seemed like fifteen minutes.  Though it was dusk, I pulled down the window and stood there watching the scenery go by, seeing a glacier that I hadn't seen earlier in the day. Then around 9pm, there was another transfer at Spiez (pronounced Shpee-itz), on the edge of a lake, to a double-decker fancy train bound for Interlaken.

 

I'd thought that by this time I would be ready to stay put in one place for a few days.  Interlaken is centrally located, small (manageable), and near to places like Jungfrau, good bicycling country, between two lakes (hence its name), and near to Luzern and Bern.  In that last hectic week while I was trying to put together this trip and get hotel and train reservations, I put out a bunch of feelers to places in Interlaken.  Since I was doing this one in the last few days before I left, I decided to jump at what I thought was the first reasonable offer I got (and as it turned out, the only offer I got before I left.. though the rest came through eventually).  It was one of Europe's oldest youth hostels, and I could get a single room for 29 CHF per night.  Folks had been saying that youth hostels weren't all that bad.  And I have

stayed at a few.  Well, let me tell you about this one.

 

They'd said it was a ten to fifteen minute walk from the Bahnhof... I found it to be quite a bit more, and as I was doing this at night, it was not so easy to find it despite their clues.  I heard a few American girls coming up behind me and turned out they were going there.  When I arrived, the place was really hopping.  The whole area seemed to cater to this place with bike and motorbike rentals, places to set you up for hiking, paragliding, canyoning, rafting and other extreme sports.

 

I try to check in and they want to keep my passport till the morning when I can check in properly.  I had to protest and they took my drivers license instead.  The house is quite old and designed with little passageways here and there.  A real fire trap.  I dragged the bag up to the second floor -- that's two flights, looking for room 32 which is what was on my key.  No such room.  I drag it back down a flight and go looking for it.  I see a 32 in another building, but it's in a mens area.  I go back to ask and he points out that on another part of the key it says 13.  OK, I go up there and the short fluorescent bulb in the hall is short circuiting, flashing on and off, mostly off.  A group of Japanese girls trying to get into the next room were also having trouble.  It's hard even to see anything at my end of the hall.  I suggest to the security person that it's a dangerous condition.  He takes out the bulb, so now it's even darker.  Have to fumble in the dark to get in and out of my room. 

 

Then there's the shower situation.  Because the light is now gone, that was all that illuminated the shower that was basically in the hallway, and with another one for women one floor down also out of order, I had to ask what to do.  The only ones left were down a flight through the mens' shower and washing area or, alternatively, down two flights, through the TV area where everyone is watching the Olympics, through another couple of rooms and up a flight of stairs.  The bathroom not only didn't have a lock on the door, there was no door.  Three stalls with curtains.  That was it.  And thanks to the shower setup in Luzern, I could figure out how to work these, also set on a 20 or 30 second timer.  At first, it looked like I'd have to pay a franc for a certain amount of time.  At least they were set up that way with coin slots and a sign, but there were other small signs saying the shower was free... 

 

Let's talk about the internet.  They had some stations in-house.  Remembering the free setup the night before, I had hoped it would be likewise here.  No such luck.  These machines were set up with coin slots on the sides.  Two francs for five minutes and five francs for fifteen minutes.  That's quite a bit.  I'd seen a slightly cheaper place on my way, so just spent two francs to read the most important private emails. 

 

I decided to look in the Lonely Planet Switzerland book that I had borrowed from the library for the trip to see what else I might try to book.  Unfortunately this was after the fact, but they mentioned this place (Balmers Herberge) as the atmosphere of an American frat house, a cross between Animal House and Animal Farm...

 

I went to bed resolved to try to find a better place to stay the next two days if they let me get the other two nights' charges back... 

 

The next day in Interlaken I got up pretty early and walked across town to the tourist info center to get mzself another place.  The Herberge had given me a 9:30 deadline to get out without having to pay more.  It is such a shame, the limitations of the internet such as they are, that stuff gets deleted from the server.  I had looked to see if I could find the emails from those other places in Interlaken that had offered me bed and breakfast two weeks ago, but all but one were already erased from the server.  They were quite helpful at the info center, finding me a nearby inexpensive room quickly.  I went to look to make sure I was not jumping from the frying pan to the fire, and it was another sort

of hiker's digs, spartan, but rather less chaotic, and more hotel-like.  And the bath and toilet were right next door... with a lock on the door.

 

Since I had planned to spend a day biking, a day in Bern, Switzerland's capital, and a day going up Jungfrau, the highest point in Europe, the weather forecast was key to my selection, particularly with regard to Jungfrau, since any signficant clouds would make that a no-go.  The forecast was that the current warm wind would give way to thunderstorms at some point during the day, but the second day was to be partly sunny and the third day rainy.  So that meant I should do biking, Jungfrau, and Bern in that order.  Uh huh...

 

Got a late start biking, about 11:30 what with dragging stuff across town, etc.  You can rent a bike at 180 rail stations in Switzerland, and return the bike to any other station, no charge, allowing great flexibility.  My Swiss pass gave me a discount on the rental.  Before the trip, I had downloaded and printed three different ideas for a bike ride, all official Swiss routes... all 30 km in this area, and ended up doing a fourth, recommended by the guy renting me the bike in Interlaken.  Much of it was quite nice, right along the shoreline of the Thunersee (Thun Lake), just to the west of Interlaken.  It was very much like the Vierwaldstattersee with mountains on all sides.  Sine some parts of

this bike route were well marked and others not, I ended up on a highway for a short bit, but for the most part, it was a separate lane wending its way through charming villages, and right along the lakeside.  The weather was delightful for cycling.  I'd thought to try to go as far as Thun on the other end of the lake, but ended up at Spietz (pronounced Shpee-itz) for lunch at a nice confitorei and cafe with a balcony overlooking the lake, harbor, castle and town with flowers hanging.  After lunch, I decided to leave the bike locked and walked down the hill to investigate this castle.  I couldn't have been more surprised or pleased with what I found there.  The gardens were some of the most lush I've come across in Europe this go around, and on either side of the castle were vineyards (these maz have been the first I had seen north of the Alps).  It was a great serendipity.  I took lots of photos of the gardens, castle, harbor, and lake.

 

Afterwards, I decided to get some advice from the Spiez bike rental guy... whether to go on  to Thun on the more inland route, go back to Interlaken or something else.  It was getting late... 3:30.  He suggested I put the bike on a train to Zweisimmen and ride back the 30 km to Spiez, which was mostly downhill in a valley filled with very special old houses, with lovely carvings, almost trying to outdo one another.  I was a bit dubious since it was so late, and the next train out wouldn't get me to the start till 4:45.  But since there were local trains coming back every hour, stopping at a dozen stations along the way, I figured I could bail if need be.  Loading the bike was interesting... no help hoisting it to the special car and climbing in after it. 

 

As the train climbed I started to notice the clouds in the upper mountains.  I'd expected I wouldn't be going that far.  Wrong.  It started to rain before Boltigen, so I bolted from the train.  Had to wait 45 minutes under an eave as the rain poured.  Figured I'd just call it a day.  Photographed a rainbow over the tracks.  Got back to Spiez and talked to the bike rental guy.  He gave me my money back for the ticket I'd bought to transport the bike (I hadn't even asked him for it).  He also suggested why not take the ship on a sunset cruise around the lake.  My Swisspass would cover it.  So I wandered down to the shore, found a restaurant and had a soup and bread, and boarded the ship.  It was still rather cloudy and then started to rain again.  But I'd been talking to one of the ship's mates along the way asking if there were a bus back to Interlaken from one of the other ports (no, alas, the last one left before we got there).  When we got back to Spiez around 9, since it was pouring and chilly and I was still wearing just bike shorts, T-shirt and a windbreaker, he asked the guy docking the boat if he would drive me back up the hill to the train station.  Kindness of strangers.  We gave each other a thumbs up as the boat left.  These guys probably saved me from getting very sick.

 

Edelweiss

“How come you don't speak of the flower called edelweiss. It is supposed to be an alpine flower.  Do you sing any Moodies tune, while traveling?”   Colette

 

Oddly enough, I have found myself singing Edelweiss in both English and German at different times.  But I never saw any.  I was looking for it.  I saw little tiny daisies, but that was as close as I got, if you don't count the pressed

stuff sold in stores. 

 

I think Justin would do a lovely job of singing Edelweiss...  I wonder if he has given thought to penning anthems.  I know this isn't Austria's, but it was sure made to sound like it, and Ronald Reagan complimented the Austrian leader on it when he was welcomed at the White House   Irving Berlin did a nice one, Paul McCartney has done a couple..  the recent Freedom song, and Give Ireland Back to the Irish... more a rallying song.

 

Another thought I had had about penning songs...  Justin wrote the swallow.  Recently I have been seeing lots of swans.  I'd think this is a good topic for a song...

 

As for what Moodies songs have been in the soundtrack this trip, I've got to admit that most of the time my senses have been overloaded with the visual and Sound of Music stuff usually comes in if anything does.  But there is one lyric that has been repeating in my brain:  'You've got to roll with the punches'....  BTW, I've noticed that there are some misspellings in prior posts.  Do realize that I've been using very odd keyboards, with switched letters, and sometimes I don't catch all the errors.

 

I had originally decided that I'd try to go up the Jungfraujoch one of the days I was in Interlaken and go to Bern on another day depending on the weather.  Thing is, the weather report was not good for either of the next couple of days, so I decided to invent something new for one of the days.  The fellow at the Bahnhof in Spiez had mentioned gadens and waterfalls at Giessbach on the Brienzersee and others thought Brienz itself was worthy of a visit, so I did both, using a train and a boat for each part of the round trip.  The train trip was great, hugging the northern boundary of the Brienzersee (lake).  Mountains with patches of clouds here and there were gracing the other side.  The See was

a greenish blue.  Grabbing some food at the local food co-op, I ate it on the short boat ride.  A lovely lunch.  Though there were no gardens, the falls at Giessbach were much better than expected at over 1500 feet all told in several falls to the See.  There was also a huge old hotel.  Originally, I guess the guests must have climbed up the pathway that traversed back and forth up the hill.  But eventually, they built the first mountain railway in Swizerland, now about 150 years old.  The new technology was developed whereby on track could be used by two trains at the same time by dividing the two briefly about halfway up the hill.  About the time I got up there, it started to rain, so I found a spot under an eave within view of the lake and then very carefully walked down the winding path taking the diversions to get some great video and snaps of the falls closeup.  I couldn't help but think how such a natural wonder would be commercialized, fenced off, and loaded with gawking tourists in the US.  I was happy to be able to enjoy them in the European way. 

 

Brienz is known for its woodcarving.  They had very expensive carvings and music boxes available for sale in many stores, and I watched a carver at work for a short while, then enjoyed my wait at the train station, facing south with warm breezes facing the lake.

 

I decided to get off at Interlaken East for a change, as the west station is what I had been using exclusively.  It wasn't far to walk through the town, and how can you not like seeing more combinations of flowers and old Swiss building and the huge town green... A few times the size of any I'd ever seen before.  And several people were landing there with parachutes as I approached.

 

I'd been continuing to look in watch and shoe stores for just the right items and bought a watch.   Spending some time on the internet and then walking along the wanderweg (walking trail) along the river, lined by sculpted trees and old buildings and flower boxes, and which was swollen with all the rainwater in recent days,  I ended up at a pizza restaurant with another veggie pizza. A guy at the next table wishes me a good evening.  Then he asks the time.  Then he remarks what a lovely watch.  At this point I laughed because I realized it was the watch salesman in after work at 10pm for his usual lasagna.  A nice ending to a good day. 

 

Having heard the polyglot of languages here in the center of Europe, never knowing who is going to speak what and who might more might not understand English, I wonder which languages the Moodies might know.  We can presume Justin knows French.  Anybody got a clue about the others? I've also started to wonder the degree to which the band members have really seen the world without the shelter of the touring organization, on their own, and how much it influences their songwriting.  I can't imagine that during a tour that they would do much sightseeing, but in a recent chat of John's he mentioned driving a car from Mohegan Sun gig to the one in to Gilford, NH.  Those are really small town New England..  really pretty stuff.  This really impressed me, and I hope that there's a lot more of that than we know.  Just from the last couple of weeks here and the experiences I've had (and I haven't shared all of them here), if I were a songwriter, I'd be brimming with new material.     

 

To Bern, Switzerland

I left the Alp Lodge in Interlaken yesterday morning, actually, grabbed a couple of schwinken gipfel (ham inside small croissants) -- it was quicker than going to the Denner supermarket for my Nestle's chocolate yogurt as I'd done the day before, and I wanted to make the 7:44 to Bern.  On the way, I saw cyclists moving pretty fast through town and at first thought it was just Saturday morning riders.  But then I noticed the numbers pinned to their backs.  At the Bahnhof there were a lot of people gathered, cheering on the riders who were emerging, carrying their bikes, up a staircase into the throng.  There was a small brass band playing a familiar hook starting the rock anthem.. Smoke on the water, fire in the sky...  They were all wearing bright baggy chartreuse green outfits; quite a sight. 

 

Getting into Bern, I paid the standard 8 CHF for the bag locker, picked up info from the Tourist info place, a listing of the trains later in the day bound for Luzern, and set off. 

 

Much of Bern is situated in a large meander of the Aare River, which flows from Interlaken.  There are clocktowers everywhere, and one of the most striking things is that the buildings are all made of a tan sandstone.  This is quite different from the usual wood structures, and it's because of a disastrous fire in the 1400s or so.  They built all the buildings in the same style with covered arcades in the front.  They like to call it the world's largest shopping mall with 6 Km of stores.  By and large they aren't remarkable stores, being like what you find in any cosmopolitan city.  I noticed a few more sex shops than elsewhere in Switzerland.  More graffiti too.  But there was one shop full of minerals for sale... I went in and there was a dog lying on her back asleep in the middle of the floor.  She was an amusing diversion. 

 

Later, I came upon a fellow with a contraption built around one of those simple keyboards, where by hitting one key you get a chord being played at a particular rhythm and speed depending on how you set it up.  He had colored the keys in gay colors, and attached to the contraption were cymbals and other percussion operated by various footpedals, a harmonica around his neck, rattles around his ankles, every kind of widget to make noise you could think of hanging here and there, squeeze horns, whimsical whistles, kazoos, you get the

picture.  The first song I heard him sing was Yellow Submarine.  The kids had gathered around.  The next one he introduced as being from CSN was Who'll stop the rain (since it had rained again that morning) -- yes I know it's CCR.  I asked him if he knew any Moody Blues after that one, but he was driven by finding whimsical songs for the kids.  Moodiness wasn't exactly in the game plan.  As you can imagine, these were rather unusual renditions, and done more for effect and performance than strictly true to the words and music. Sometimes he would get so wrapped up in his percussion riffing that he'd delay changing the chord.  Pretty funny stuff. The words were also inventive...

 

There is a large Munster (cathedral) with quite amazing carvings on the front... one of which depicts Arcangel Michael dividing everyone into those going to heaven and hell.  The crimes of those going to hell were quite interesting... Everything from a prostitute chained by the neck to the priest she cavorted with (him getting castrated with golden scissors), child murderers, the Pope of Avignon getting dumped into the hellfire, 3 blasphemers getting hung by their tongues at the gallows, etc... 

 

I decided to take a walking tour of the famous clock tower with glockenspiel.  This mechanism from the middle ages still operates, and every hour there is a complicated sequence where a cock crows, some bears spin around a king who nods and counts the chimes of the bell with a sceptere, with jokers and others doing other shtick.  The mechanism is driven by several huge stones pulling on rope, the other end attached to the rest of the mechanism, and it gets rewound by hand every night.  It is quite a gerry-rigged system.  Sorta reminds me of the complicated system set up by that street musician.  We were up in the clocktower when the noon hour come around and I videotaped it all from the inside.

 

I walked down the main street over the river, and up up and up to the Rosengarten.  My picnic lunch had a fine view of the city from there.  I took a walking tour on 2:30 that included the Munster and the  old town.  The law student and part time tour guide also stopped to show us

these statues with monsters eating children, bears wearing a helmet with bars, and other good stuff.  Seems the legend of Bern is that a bear was the first animal killed there, and so it has been honored, and maybe the name Bern derives from baern.  They keep bears in a pit near the river at the end of the main street.  Kinda depressing.  Begs for food, tho I'm sure they feed it.

 

On to Luzern I got more chances to get close and personal with cows and sheep wearing bells as the train would tarry a bit for another using a single track. When I got in to Luzern I was greeted by the lady who remembered when I dragged my ass in their last week after my fall in Zurich.  She said I was lucky, that she fought to keep my room for me, and that if she didn't have my credit card, someone else would have gotten my room.  So let this be a lesson.  Some of those online booking outfits don't require the card, but it could be a good idea to give it and to call the hotel to verify they got it (recalling the Hotel Fiorentina nightmare). 

 

I got in to Luzern at about 6:30, which was supposed to be too late to get up on the remains of the City's wall.  But I found my way up there, as had a few others.  Great views and pix of the city, lake, and Mt. Pilatus.   I made sure to pay a last visit to the old wooden bridges  with lots of swans and ducks swimming and preening, and with flower baskets hanging from the sides.  These things just make already picturesque bridges even more lovely.

 

The Golden Pass

Got up and out by 7 this morning to get on the Golden Pass, the last of the scenic trains I will be taking.  This one goes from Luzern to Interlaken Ost to Zweisimmen to Montreux (each of these representing a train change) and then to Geneva.  I built in a few extra minutes to get some better daylight photos of the most famous old wooden Kapellbrucke (Chapel bridge) before boarding the first train. 

 

This was the first clear day in a week, and of course, it was too late to go up the Junfraujoch or Pilatus, the steepest cog railway up the sheer cliff.  It is a Sunday, and everybody and their brother is out with their rucksacks, hiking poles, and convertible zip-off pants and boots for their weekly hike.  I even encountered multiple groups of Americans on their way to hiking country on the train from Luzern. 

 

I'm looking out over the Brienzersee  as I write this on my PDA/keyboard combo, alternately standing at the window taking pix, writing this and munching on the largest tomato and mozzarella bruchette I'd ever seen (called tartine at the Movinpick I bought it at the night before).  Yes, I know I said this about a bruchetta from Venice, but this one was even bigger.  They wrapped it up for me and since it wouldn't fit into a normal takeout container, they wrapped twice with foil.  I have learned that the food on trains here is even worse than Amtrak food, so that's why I figured this would be better than two thin slices of deli meet on a thick bun that I would get on the train.  And the expense!

I've taken to Ramseier PomDor Suisse -- something like Martinelli's sparkling apple cider.  But a 1/3 liter bottle cost 4.20 CHF on the train today, quite a bit more than a larger bottle even in the Kiosks at the station.

 

The train filled up again with hikers in Spiez, most of these women in their 50s or older.  A guy came on with an instrument in a tailored bag... Looked like an alpen horn.  Near Gstaad, very high up in the Alps, the mountains opened up and we had stupendous views out both sides of the coach, with rolling green meadows, Swiss country houses, and mountains in the distance, some still with snow. The lodges were getting bigger.

 

After going through a long tunnel, I got my first glimpse, from quite high up, of Lake Geneva, actually Lake LeMans, and Montreux and Lausanne at the bottom.  The lake is huge; you almost can't see from one end to the other, even at great height.  I had to get off in Montreux to change anyway, so I opted for the direct train to Geneva in 50 minutes, and so my bags and I went down the six flights of steps to the waterfront to investigate.  The Lonely Planet book refers to this as the Swiss Riviera.  It reminded me a little of the scene in Zurich but smaller, with folks promenading, kids playing, under the row of trees.  These trees I think, were lindens, but having the same general

appearance of a shaded allee of the other cities I'd been in.

 

The Lonely Planet also mentions a little element of history.. That at the Montreux casino back in 1971, while Frank Zappa was performing, it caught fire casting a pall of smoke on the lake, giving inspiration to Deep Purple's Smoke on the Water song.  Where have I heard this song before?  Must have been a big hit in Switzerland..

 

Strolling about the town I might has well have been in France, what with everyone speaking French, and the housing styles definitely not the Swiss of the interior, but more varied with the tile roofs and pastels.  Not much wood or flowers to be found. And in the countryside  right up to the lake, vineyards everywhere.   The Swiss shop with the army knives and watches on the main drag seemed out of place.  

 

Getting into Geneva, I was not feeling that well, but I managed to say and understand enough French to get a general direction to my hotel, as somehow I couldn't find my map of the area.  Did find it, and they'd given me a suite since they were full up otherwise. Nifty!  Passed out for an hour to refresh so was set to explore. 

 

Geneva was home to the League of Nations, and so they honor President Wilson with named street and hotel.  The waterfront park extends along the lake for miles on both sides of a river that cuts through town, the old town being to the south, the new to the north.  They've got this jet installed in the lake that makes it look like a perpetual Old Faithful.  There were clipped Plane allees on the north side, but some huge lindens on the south, marinas, cafes, and across the lake to the south, a lovely view of Mont Blanc -- yup it's a white mountain.  I walked for 45 minutes, as far as the botanical garden (definitely not a contender for the best I've seen), and back, had dinner in a café on the river, then hit the Jardin Anglais before calling it a night. Found an internet café for only three francs per half hour.  A bargain considering recent charges.

 

Since I fly home tomorrow at 9:40am, this should be my last post on this trip.

 

 

Last Post / Travel Tips

 

I'm back!  Only one more bit of drama after I sent the last post... I'd not  given a wake up call time to the front desk and they were gone for the night.  My flight was early.  Panic.  This had happened once before.  So  this is t