We are indeed home. The Grand Tour is over. In the next few days, we hope to have a few "deeper" thoughts about our big adventure. But, for now, a report on our big day of travel over the ocean, this time by plane. Yuck (at least for me).

We flew from Paris on Monday. Since we flew Aer Lingus, our flight included a layover, and a switch onto a different plane, in Dublin. Both flights were, thankfully, uneventful (although there was some unpleasant turbulence just after we took off from Dublin), especially since I really hate to fly. The only really interesting thing of the day (aside from my moaning and muttering about a) hating to fly, and b) not wanting to go home-- and, I will readily admit that these were not the least bit interesting to the rest of the family) was what happened at the Dublin airport.

After landing in Dublin, we had to make our way to another terminal. When we made our way through various hallways, we found ourselves suddenly (and, with no warning) dumped into a new security line, and right at the front of one of the lines. We hadn't finished up the waters we had purchased for the first flight, so we quickly chugged those down. And, then it was time to take off belts, watches, take cameras out of bags, etc., etc.

Going through security in Paris had been a piece of cake, so we were quite unprepared for what we faced in Dublin. First, there was poor Margaret who has been setting off metal detectors all over Europe. We usually point to all of the metal in her mouth and they are usually satisfied (except for Eurostar, where they insisted on patting her down). The Dublin officials insisted that the braces could not possibly set off the detector. After some investigation, we discovered that Margaret's sneakers were the culprit. Who knew?

And, then there was the nasty business of the kid-sized craft scissors in Margaret and John's pencil cases. I had forgotten all about these. The security in Paris spotted them in the x-ray machine, but deemed them unable to cause harm (at this point, they probably don't even cut paper all that well) and let them pass. Not so in Dublin. They were confiscated. Along with the duct tape, which we've been hauling around Europe and had used that very morning to repair two of the suitcases (our $99 LL Bean suitcases held up remarkably well, considering what we've put them through, but Margaret's got a small rip and John's was showing some "weak" spots near the bottom, so we duct-taped them up before checking them). Our friend, Tom (aka Cruiser), might have put up a fight for that duct tape, but we just let it go.

The really special treatment was saved for . . . can you guess? Me. I set off the detector. So, I got patted down and had that wand apparatus waved all over me. I thought that it seemed clear that the wand did not like the clasp on my pants, but the security guard was not satisfied. I had to take off my sweater, go through the detector a couple more times, get patted down once or twice more, and, then, the real treat was to have the wand set over my body yet again, only this time a little more thoroughly than I was comfortable with. I don't know how close I was to be escorted off to a secret room to undress, or perhaps she was thinking about making me drop my pants right there, but the whole experience was extremely unpleasant. I'm all for good security, but I'm a (almost!) middle-aged woman traveling with my family. What did she think I was trying to smuggle onto the plane? Or, had she read my thoughts of taping some fancy French cheese under my clothing-- fancy, smelly cheese that I would use to overcome the pilot and demand that s/he take me back to Paris???

Finally, we got through and before dealing with all of the customs and immigration business (two more lines), we stopped off at the terminal Irish pub. We handed over our remaining euros, twenty-four of them, and asked what we could get. Joe and I each had a large Guinness. The kids had juice and we shared three sandwiches. Guinness makes everything better . . .

Finally, it was time to board the plane. We took off on time and landed at Logan a little early-- unbelievable, eh? So much for my really full experience with airline travel!

We spent Monday night night near my parents. Good thing, too. Although we landed before 4:00 pm local time, we really started to feel that we were still on Paris time, which would have been 10:00 pm. We had a quick dinner at Grammy and Grampy's, told a few stories, and then it was off to the hotel. I think we were all asleep by 7:30.

That's about it for now. We are looking forward to seeing our friends and family and getting the kids back to school. We are not, however, looking forward to the mountain of mail that must be dealt with. Or, the fact that work looms. Or, all of the things we need to do to get ourselves and the houses ready for winter, which seems to be approaching very quickly.

We'll finish our blog soon, with some thoughts from each of us.

Cheers, eh?

Susan

I Spent Ten Weeks in Europe, but Came Home a Canadian remains copyright of the author jrreisert, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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We didn't quite reach our goal of opening the Louvre at 9, but we were there well before 10, and long before there were any crowds. Having spent some time on the ancient civilizations of the Near East and of Egypt and having extensively studied the Roman Republic and Empire, we decided to fill the gaping hole in the middle — ancient Greece. So we followed the ancient Greece tour in our kids' guide to the Louvre. We admired a few of the Pantheon marbles that somehow the French got before Lord Elgin brought the rest to London, and we learned about Greek painting through a study of vases. Well, Margaret did. John was not all that excited by the Greek artifacts, though he did perk up a bit as I tried to explain the fate of Agamemnon at the end of the Trojan War! We also deviated from our program to look at some of the French Crown jewels and some Roman mosaics. It may not last, but John and Margaret now both insist that they want to make some mosaic art of their own after we return to the States.

On our way out, we paused to take a photo to say our farewell to the greatest museum in the Western world. Now that we've been to the Uffizi, the Vatican Museum, the National Gallery in London, and the Metropolitan Museum in New York, we feel pretty confident in saying that the Louvre is best. (Though we haven't been to the Getty yet, so maybe we need to take another trip before we can be sure....)

So efficient were we determined to be that we ate lunch (peanut butter sandwiches) on the walk from the Louvre to the Orsay, where, once again, we were reminded how great the Paris Museum Card is, since we got to skip the ticket buying queue and went straight into the museum. The kids began by sketching — Margaret drew a sculpture of four women (representing the four continents of Africa, Europe, America, and Asia) supporting a globe; John sketched the big clock hanging above the museum.

After the sketching, we toured through the parts of the collection we had not gotten to on our first visit and looked again at Margaret's favorite part — the art nouveau furniture collection.

We had a schedule to keep, so we made sure to get out of there by about 2 and walked determinedly in the direction of the Place de la Concorde and the English-language bookseller, WH Smith to buy some books for the kids to read on the flight back on Monday (yikes, are we leaving that soon?).

On the theory that our kids like best sights that involve stairs — either up to elevated viewpoints or down into tunnels — we made our way to see the little museum of the sewers of Paris, the entry to which is in our very own neighborhood, the 7th. The internet can't do justice to the smell, or so says Margaret. But the displays, which explained the historical development of the Paris water and sewer network and had a lot to say about how the workers keep the sewer channels clear of sand and other debris. Our favorite device was a giant ball, which is pushed through by the pressure of the water behind it, clearing away the debris in front of it. Here's one of the few pix we have:

After the sewer, we wandered through the Rue Cler for a little shopping . . . and snacking . . . and more shopping. Then it was home for dinner. But did the evening end? No, we took the bus (our first bus trip in Paris) up to the Etoile to climb the Arc de Triomphe (and our last use of the Museum Pass).

On our way up there was a curious ritual we encountered a few times before. Susan and I had free admission to the site, with the Museum Pass, and the kids' admissions were also free. But at the ticket window, we all had to be issued tickets. But since our admission was free, why did we need tickets? Didn't they trust the ticket takers later on to be able to read the dates on our Museum Passes?

At any rate, as we arrived, there were still soldiers in full dress uniform at the end of the daily ceremony at the French Tomb of the Unknown Soldier. We were treated to hearing the military band playing the Marseillaise, whilst the assembled French audience sang with the soldiers. The view from the top was spectacular, and shortly after we arrived the Eiffel Tower put on its hourly display of strobe lights. Our pictures of that spectacle didn't come out so well, but here's a shot of the Champs-Elysees, looking towards the Place de la Concorde, where a Ferris Wheel had just been erected.

Sunday

Our last day was devoted to visits to places we had not seen on our trip of four years ago. We began with the catacombs of Paris (continuing with the theme of sights featuring stairs). Unlike the ancient catacombs of Rome, these were constructed during the eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries, when the Parisian health authorities decided that several of the city cemeteries were endangering the public health. But if the dead were to be exhumed, what could be done with them? Put them in the abandoned mines that crisscrossed the deep underside of Paris, naturally. The tour takes one through some of the mines and then through chambers and chambers filled with the bones of the re-interred dead of Paris, as these had been "artfully" arranged by the Parisian authorities at the dawn of the nineteenth century.

The catacombs tour takes one through more than a mile of underground passages, depositing one at some distance from the entry. We passed a bakery, picked up the best baguette we ate during our whole week here (and for only 90 Euro cents!), and got back on the tube, heading from the southern end of central Paris to the northern end and Monmartre. Rick Steeves does note that the neighborhood one walks through to get to the Sacre Coeur is a bit seedier than the rest of central Paris, but we were not prepared for just how nasty it was.

Even so, we had a nice picnic part-way up the hill (and as far as we could get from the people selling hot Marlborough cigarettes and fake Louis Vuitton luggage);.

We admired the church (some of us more than others). John lit a candle and finally bought the small wooden cross he has been for some time trying to get. He's been wearing it proudly ever since.

We had thought about touring Monmartre but decided that we wanted to remember Paris as more beautiful than seamy, so we headed to the Ile de la Cité and walked from there to the Ile St. Louis, which was simply delightful. Had we not felt quite so poor, we might have bought some art, but we contented ourselves with admiring it. Instead, we bought the kids a couple of Nutella crepes and some take-away coffee.

Once home, we packed for a bit, then ate our farewell dinner at a local cafe-bistro, La Terrasse du 7eme. Susan is finding it hard to to say au revoir, but a fancy meal helped! We took one final look at the Eiffel Tower all lit up for the evening, and headed home for our last night in Paris.

Tomorrow night, we expect to be sleeping in America!

au revoir,
Joe

Last Days in the City of Lights remains copyright of the author jrreisert, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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We had big plans to get the most out of our last Wednesday in Paris. I finished my column on Tuesday evening, and Susan rose early and went first thing to the local supermarché so that we could have a quick dinner in and still get back out to the Louvre's evening hours.

Deceived by some early rays of sunshine on her early morning errand, Susan decided it was going to be warm enough that each of us could forego an extra layer of warm clothing. Paris, however, betrayed us. It was quite cool, breezy, damp, and raw — ah, the feeling of Maine in November, here in Paris.

We took the metro over to Châtelet (Paris's metro is absolutely the best subway anywhere — lots of lines, lots of trains, generally clean, and quite cheap. It must be ridiculously subsidized, but it's very convenient.)

By the time we walked the couple of blocks over to the Seine (and yes, I took a wrong turn and led us, briefly, away from the river not towards it — and was briefly fooled into thinking St. Eustache was Notre Dame), we were all freezing.

I wanted to see the Conciergerie anyway, but Susan probably would have objected, except that entry was free with our museum pass, and she was freezing. The place is not that much to see — a gothic basement, basically, with some prison cells where those waiting to be judged by the kangaroo courts of the French Revolutionaries were stored. There was a memorial wall listing all of the 2780 people executed by the guillotine during the Terror, and I was surprised both that the number was so small, by comparison to the atrocities of the Twentieth Century, and that so few of them were nobles.

From there we walked the two blocks up to the Sainte-Chapelle, which has the most amazing high gothic interior anywhere we've been, with a magnificent set of stained-glass windows. To appreciate the place properly, one would really like to go on a sunny day and have a pair of binoculars, so that the windows could be studied. We contented ourselves with identifying the few scenes that were low enough to see clearly (Moses being put into the reed basket, David and Goliath, Judith and Holofernes, etc.) and headed off to our next adventure.

After making it past the organized gang of beggars at Notre Dame, we quickly ate our lunch in the square and peeked into the cathedral. Having been recently cleaned and repaired, the facade is spectacular.

We really liked the statue of St. Denis holding his own head . . .

and the gruesome demons in the last judgment.

But when we went in, we found that noon mass was in progress. So we sat quietly for a bit, then went out to see about going up the tower. But for reasons not explained, it was closed. What to do? Shop.

We walked from the Ile de la cite (quickly, because it was still cold) towards the Bon Marché department store. (It seemed to be the closest thing Paris has to a Harrods, but, for the record, that's not very close). Along the way, we passed St. Sulpice church and enjoyed reading the church's official refutation of Dan Brown's interpretation of its astronomical gnomon and of the letters P and S in its stained glass windows. We snacked in a cafe across from Bon Marché to prepare ourselves for the store and headed in. I wanted to spend all our remaining money on foie gras and truffles (the mushrooms, not the chocolates), but Susan wouldn't hear of it.

The shopping done, we went home for an early dinner, followed by our second trip to the Louvre. We tried to follow the "Age of Revolutions" itinerary in our guidebook, but this tour involved traversing virtually the whole of the palace, since it started with the monumental 19th century tableaux, then moved through the smaller-scale late 18th and 19th century French paintings, and headed at last to the state apartments of Louis Napoleon (though, alas, we didn't make it that far). We did as best we could, admired the heroic Davids and got as far as the striking portrait of an African woman (one of the few paintings by a woman in the Louvre and one of the even fewer to feature an African as the subject). But, exhausted, we headed home. . . after taking one more photo:

Exiting the metro stop at almost 9, I proposed that we walk the two blocks to the Champs de Mars to see the Eiffel Tower put on its top of the hour light show, which we did. And then to bed.

If it's Thursday, this must be Versailles

The forecast for Thursday was sunny, but cold, and it seemed the hands-down best choice for our day trip to Versailles. Thanks to our late evening of touring on Wednesday, we didn't quite get the early start we had first envisioned, but we were still out of the flat by 9, which got us into the vicinity of the Palace (after a ride on the Metro and RER) by about 10. We had to check the backpack with our lunch, but our Museum Passes got us into the King's Apartments for no further charge (sans audioguide). The place was not too crowded, though we spent most of our time sandwiched between two Asian tour groups, the first of which was dressed and made up like a convention of Tokyo streetwalkers, but might just have been a group of high school or college students from Japan. They giggled too much, and posed at every moment in groups of four or six making "V for victory" signs for one another's telephones. Their guide — the only male in the group — basically ignored it all and plowed relentlessly through his spiel.

In each room was a ridiculous work of modern "art," each more grating and annoying than the one before. Par example. . .

I would like to think that these were intended as a high-minded commentary on the nature of monarchy. Once upon a time, people claimed to be ordained by God to rule over the rest. . . and this claim was believed! The king "needed" a palace for his mistress! And the public treasury paid for the thing. (It is beautiful, by the way, but I digress). These works of "art" are exactly the same — pieces of ridiculous crap that some impressario called "art" and demanded a lot of money for — and people believed him! And so the state, and prestigious foundations opened their wallets to pay vast sums to buy a "work" of "art" consisting of two inflatable children's pool toys attached to a galvanized chain-link fence! Unfortunately, I think that the people who organized the show actually liked the stuff!

For the record, John said he would have given Versailles three stars out of five (we'll have to post his full set of castle ratings at some point), but the modern art was so ugly, he knocked it down to two.

In fact, even apart from the "art," Versailles was something of a disappointment. We enjoyed the Rick Steeves self-guided tour, and the rooms are very nice, but we've seen a lot of palaces in the last ten weeks, and Versailles is not displayed as effectively as, for example, was Schönbrunn. The hall of mirrors is, of course, spectacular, but it's sad to realize that the mirrors that were a marvel when they were installed are decidedly inferior to what can be bought for almost nothing today at any Home Depot. After touring the King's and Queen's rooms, we retrieved our bag and headed out to the garden. Margaret, our good, rule-following, eldest child insisted that we had to take our picnic in the officially designated picnic grounds. But there was a group of French school children there, making a lot of noise, and Susan refused to subject herself to the presence of fifty middle-school kids, French or not. So we wandered a bit through the garden, till we found a discreet place near a fountain, and ate our cheese and baguettes.

We continued on our walk away from the palace and reached the Grand Canal, where the bike-rental stand was still open. I felt bad that John had pretty much hated the palace, and so we rented the bikes. We biked around the Grand Canal, where, back in the day, the king had imported real gondoliers from Venice so as to amuse and debase the French nobility.

Then it was off to the two Trianons. The Grand Trianon first, because everyone who has a really big palace needs a little and more intimate palace to spend some private time in when the splendor of court life proves to be too much. And then to the Petit Trianon, which Louis XV had built for Mme de Pompadour, but is now marketed for its connection to Marie Antoinette, whom the French dream of marketing as effectively as the Austrians market their Sissy. The highlight here are the English gardens and the fake village Marie Antoinette had built so that she could play at being a dairy maid (inspired, alas, by Rousseau).

As you can see from the photo, it really was the first "Disney" village, but, luckily for us in America, the French were not so good at marketing.

From the Petit Trianon, it was most of an hour's walk back to the train station and about another hour's worth of travel back to the flat. A quick meal of leftovers and it was off to bed for everyone.

Notre Dame, more Modern "Art", and a date with Jean-Jacques Rousseau

We got off to a slow start this morning. Though I was in bed by 10:30 last night, I didn't rise until nearly 8, which was about when the kids awoke as well. We weren't on our way till nearly 10 and, though the weather had turned cloudy and gray after yesterday's sunshine, we headed off to do one of our "must see" sights — the view from the Notre Dame tower. When we arrived, the queue was deceptively short. Though there were only about 30 people ahead of us, it was almost a half hour till we entered the tower, with another ten minute layover in the bookstore. When we got to the level of the facade between the towers, we discovered that the top of the South Tower, which is normally open, was closed. There was no explanation. No sign. Only a locked door. C'est la France! Despite (or perhaps thanks to) the gloom, Susan got some good photos of gargoyles.

From Notre Dame, it is only a short walk to the Shakespeare & Co. bookstore, which is an excellent, highly literary bookstore, with a varied and interesting collection of classic novels and recent literary fiction, with a smattering of thoughtful works of history. Unfortunately, we were really looking for a good children's section, which S&C didn't have. Worse, the one store employee wandered off somewhere, saying she'd be back "in a few minutes." She left as we arrived. After twenty minutes, John had decided that he might just read a Hardy Boys mystery. Margaret had found nothing. I would have bought the mystery had the proprietress been there to take my cash, but she wasn't. We waited a minute, until John realized that he'd rather go to another bookstore than wait till this mysterious Frenchwoman decided to return to her day job.

We crossed back over the Ile de la Cité and stopped by a charcuterie and bought lunch, which we ate in the square in front of the Hotel de Ville.

Thence to the Pompidou Center, which we skipped on our last visit to France.

The building is good for a few laughs, and the modern "art" is good for a few more — except for the really disturbing stuff, which may give me nightmares tonight. We've succeeded in imparting all our prejudices against post-representational art to our children, so they begged us to leave at the first available opportunity. After about an hour, we decided that they had suffered enough, and we let them free. Unfortunately, there is not much going on outside the Pompidou on a Friday in November, so we had to go elsewhere for our fun.

At this point, we separated. I have been eager to see the Musée Jean-Jacques Rousseau in Montmorency (a north suburb of Paris), and the rest of the family has been equally determined not to go. So Susan took the kids on a forced march from the Pompidou, back to the Bon Marche, from there to the Louvre Carousel, and only then, after hours of walking and shopping, allowed them to take the metro home. By contrast, I tubed it up to the Gare du Nord, got on the suburban line to Einghein les Bains, and walked from there to 5 Rue Jean-Jacques Rousseau in Montmorency (our map doesn't reach that far, so I had sketched one on a piece of notebook paper, based on the museum's website). The museum is located in the house Rousseau lived in after leaving the Hermitage on Mme d'Epinay's property, and in which he wrote Julie, Emile, and the Social Contract. (Actually, he did his writing in his "dungeon" — a sort of stone shed in the garden out back). The guided tour, in French, was excellent, and I understood almost all of it. The highlights were the manuscripts on display (of the Confessions, and of a letter) and the pastel portrait of Rousseau by Maurice Quentin de la Tour, which is the only portrait of his that Rousseau ever liked.

As luck would have it, I and the rest of the family arrived back at the Ecole Militaire metro stop on the same train, though in different cars. We toyed with going to the evening hours of the Louvre tonight, but we had all done too much walking during the day for that.

Three more days, three more baguettes remains copyright of the author jrreisert, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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We arrived in Paris early Saturday evening. We are staying in a very small apartment in a great neighborhood, the “Rue Cler” neighborhood, near the Eiffel Tower (the 7th Arrondissement, for Paris-junkies). After arrival, we had enough time to gather some groceries at the local “Supermarché.” Then, it was time to settle in and get things organized. The apartment is quite small, so organization will be key.

Sunday morning, we went to worship at the American Church in Paris, also not far from the apartment. People at the church were very warm and friendly. We enjoyed looking around the church, which featured some beautiful stained glass windows (including one of the wise and foolish maidens, the Gospel lesson of the day, and another of the Genevan Reformers, whom we got to know better last weekend).

After church, we wandered down the Rue Cler on our way back to the apartment. We marveled at all of the things we could buy-- from antiques, to children's clothes, to luggage and shoes, to chocolates, to fruits and veggies, to cheese. Oh, the cheese! We stood in the window for awhile watching the locals order cheese from the people in white lab coats (we were thinking of YOU, Laurie Osborne!).

Our little stroll over, we returned to the apartment to start some laundry and to have some lunch. Though gray and gloomy, we set out in the afternoon to take a look around. We ended up taking a monster walk, from the flat, past the Hôtel des Invalides. . .

over the Pont Alexandre III. . .

and by the Grand Palais up to the Champs-Elysees. We walked all the way down the Champs Elysees to the Arc de Triomphe and then to Trocodero to see the Eiffel Tower. We thought about going up the Tower, but the crowds scared us away. With the holiday on Tuesday, the weekend was a four-day weekend for many, so we found crowds at many tourist sights.

Finally, we made our way back to the apartment for a quiet dinner in.

On Monday, we went to the Louvre first. On our way in, Susan took a moment to express her thoughts about the Da Vinci Code (this is not the Holy Grail, despite what Dan Brown has suggested):

We found a nice kids guidebook that included nine self-guided tours. We took the first tour, of the major masterpieces.

To visit the major masterpieces required that we march around a lot of the Louvre, which is some undertaking. The Louvre is enormous. Tired, we headed out to the Napoleon Hall under the Pyramid and grabbed some lunch. Then, it was back into the museum. For our second tour, we focused on early writing of Mesopotamia. Thankfully, this kept us in a much smaller area. We saw lots of interesting items, including the Code of Hammurabi.

Margaret has been studying ancient civilizations that this was an especially good learning opportunity. But by the end, we were pretty much wiped out:

Mid-afternoon, we took in some window shopping and then a break at a café, where we feasted on Nutella crepes, along with café au lait and hot chocolate.

Finally, because the day wasn’t over yet(!), we visited the Orangerie, to see some really huge paintings by Monet. Impressive impressionism.

Finally beat by art, (and that the museum was closing) we headed to the apartment.

Tuesday morning, we found the weather clear and glorious (not exactly expected as a couple of weather forecasts called for rain), so we went to the Eiffel Tower first. This was a “must” for John and we hoped to beat the crowds. Indeed, we did beat the crowds. Deciding to climb the stairs to the second level (stairs are not available to the third level), Joseph, John and I were joined by an alien child who looked and talked an awful lot like Margaret. The only problem was that she willingly, even happily, welcomed the idea of climbing the stairs. And she didn’t even ask for one thing in return, not even a morsel of food. Here is the alien, at the top (the number indicates the number of stairs we climbed):

Here's a shot of three of us at the 2nd level of the tower:

We enjoyed our time with the alien child, although she did insist that we take the elevator to the third level, a plan with which I was most unhappy. Still, we got some nice photos, such as this one of the Louvre:

But, finally, when we arrived back at the bottom of the Tower, Margaret came back to claim her space in our family. She was hungry and tired and started making demands. The Margaret that we know and love so well was back.

We had a nice picnic lunch, with some delicious French goat cheese, and then we hiked it on over to the Rodin Museum, one of the museums that we especially enjoyed on our last trip to Paris.

After the Museum, it was again time for a brief reprieve from sight-seeing. We stopped at a café for a little snack.

Then, off to the Orsay. Yes, I say, the Orsay! We didn’t spend much time at the Orsay, but enough for the kids to settle in with a Monet (not exactly my choice, but they were happy) and do some sketching.

We closed the place and headed home by RER and Metro. On our way home, we stopped at the local bakery for a one-Euro bagette (the best 1 Euro we spent all day, according to Joseph). Just as we were walking the last block towards the flat, it started to rain — first a few drops and then a downpour.

But we made it home with ourselves, and our bread, mostly dry.

Au revoir,

Susan

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We arrived in Geneva Wednesday evening, after another long day of traveling. The day began with trying to find out what had happened with the elections—the Presidential election as well as the election of the new Waterville Ward 2 city councilor (Joseph was the Republican candidate). News is hard to come by in Vernazza. We didn’t have a television in our room and there is no newsstand at the train station. One English speaking man on the platform was talking to a few other English speakers, telling them that Obama had won. But, could we believe him? And, aside from the news about Obama, he didn’t know much—and certainly not anything about what had happened in Waterville, Maine!

By the time we had reached Monterrosso, we had heard from several others that indeed Obama had won the election. I tried to curtail my elation, while Joseph reviewed all of the mistakes that McCain had made during the campaign. It was certainly interesting watching the campaign from so very far away. We wondered about the conversations that had taken place in recent weeks on familiar streets—places like Waterville, etc. In Italy, we had seen plenty of support for Obama—from U.S. tourists and from locals. But, still there was the question of whether or not people would really vote for him.

It was only when we got to our hotel in Geneva, with internet access, that we found out the details of the national election and learned that Joseph was defeated by a roughly 2-1 margin. On the plus side, it meant the fact that he received the wrong local election ballot (for Ward 3, not for Ward 2), did not cost him the election!

Both Joseph and I found a place of agreement, mostly, in the column written by David Brooks in the New York Times on November 4, “A Date with Scarcity.” Not optimistic, but very smart.

Anyway, on to The Reformation!

We spent much of Thursday exploring and learning about the Reformation. We started at the big Protestant cathedral in Geneva, St. Peter’s. We took a look around and then climbed the tower. After the church, we went next door to the interestingly named the “International Museum of the Reformation.”

The museum is an excellent one, with a variety of displays. Plus, they offered a great kid activity. In the Museum, information is presented in a variety of formats. In one room, we heard a young girl asking questions about the Reformation and Martin Luther and John Calvin answering her. In another room, a “theological banquet” was set up, with reformers at a dining room table discussing their views on predestination. Jean-Jacques Rousseau got the last word, which was a treat for Joseph.

My only complaint about the museum is that the label “international” is a stretch. It is really a museum of the francophone reform. Except for a brief appearance for Martin Luther at the beginning of the museum, other reformers are not really mentioned. John Calvin is the star of the museum. In the twentieth century display in the basement, male and female pioneers are displayed—but only pioneers from France, Switzerland, and, francophone Africa. Not a word about those great Congregationalists who ordained a woman in 1853!

After the museum, it was on to the archaeological excavations beneath the church. There were, apparently, three previous cathedrals on the site of the current one, and beneath it all, in the spot directly beneath the altar, what did the scientists find? The tomb of an Allobrogian (pre-Christian barbarian) leader. Ironic, no? Margaret's favorite part was the elaborate mosaic decorations on the floor of the fourth century bishop's residence.

After the museums, we marched down to the waterfront and over to the Ile Rousseau to get a photo of Geneva's monument to Jean-Jacques.

At this juncture, the kids demanded hot chocolate, and we needed some coffee, so we refueled at the Starbucks on the rive droite. With new energy, we started the "Reformation walk" recommended by the good people at the museum, which, for the record, was staffed by some of the most helpful and enthusiastic docents we encountered anywhere. We meandered across the old town of Geneva towards the starting-point, which was the "Reformation Wall." But before we reached it, we found the giant-size chess boards in the park, where the kids started a game. As Margaret started to pull ahead of John, an older local came along to give John help and advice (in French, of course). Mostly he kept saying "attack!" and "you do this!" gesturing where to put what. Naturally, at this point, Joseph helped Margaret.

But the old Genevan (on the right in the photo) was too much for Joseph, and he managed to pull out a victory for John, despite the overwhelming material advantage that Margaret and Joseph had originally secured. John was, needless to say, elated. Both kids demanded that we return the next day (which we did).

On Friday, we began with the Reformation Wall and some more giant chess. (The kids claim to want a yard-size set, with three or four foot tall kings, if anyone wants a gift suggestion). Here's Susan looking pleased with her company at last.

Then, finally, off to the Espace Rousseau, which is Geneva's museum to their most troublesome great son. The museum is located in the house where Rousseau was born, but seems to have no actual artifacts from Rousseau's own life. Instead, there are audiovisual presentations that introduce the outline of his biography and his basic ideas. There was a cd recording of his opera, but it was not even part of the main tour. The Espace did a great deal with what were probably not large resources, but on the whole the place was a disappointment.

We had a little more time remaining, so we strolled down to the waterfront and admired the "Jet d'eau," the aptly-named but pointless artificial tourist attraction created from the waters of Lake Geneva.

In mid-afternoon, we caught up with Liliana Andonova, Joe’s colleague from Colby who is currently in Geneva. Liliana and her daughters, Daniela and Nicolina, showed us around the castle in Nyon.

Then, we went back to their flat in Faunex, where Liliana’s mother (Liliana’s parents were visiting from Bulgaria) had made us a delicious dinner.

We had a great time catching up with them and seeing their little part of Switzerland, not far from where I spent a summer when I was fifteen.

We left Geneva yesterday and we are now in Paris, the last stop in the Grand Tour. It’s hard to believe!

We’ll post new photos soon.

Au Revoir!
Susan

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But, when we arrived in Vernazza, the promised rain had evaporated and we were treated to some fabulous views all along the coast from the first of the “five lands” to Vernazza, the fourth town. We were met by our “host,” Egi, who escorted us to his house along the main drag, up a very long, steep set of stairs, to a short set of stairs going down, to the “Orange Room,” his family-size room. Vernazza is a tiny, beautiful place, with a population that shrinks to about 500 in the off-season. It doesn’t really have any hotels—a few “pensione” and a bunch of private homes that rent a few rooms to tourists. Egi rents three rooms in his house, each a different color.

Here’s a photo of Vernazza, taken on our arrival:

We basically dropped our bags in our room and headed right out. Darkness would come quickly and we wanted to get a look around. Vernazza has a lovely little harbor, a beach area, and a nice little piazza by the water, and a breakwater. The waves were really coming in when we got down to the breakwater, oh, about a thirty second walk from Egi’s front door. A group of young American tourists (probably college students) were on the breakwater catching some photos of the beautiful sunset. But, they misjudged the waves and got hit by one of them. They were soaked, along with their cameras.

We didn’t go out onto the breakwater. Here’s the shot we got:

After checking things out, we headed for the local food store, which was about as big as our living room, and got a few things for dinner (our room came with a kitchen). After a long day in the train, we didn’t really feel up to the kind of behavior necessary for going out.

On Tuesday morning, we awoke to the sounds of rain drops on the roof. We were discouraged. There’s not much to do in Vernazza when it’s raining. The allure of the area is the string of trails that connect the towns. By the time we got ourselves dressed, however, the rain had stopped, so we decided to head out. We checked in first with the tourist information office. In order to hike the trails, a special trail pass is necessary because it is a national park area. The man at the desk warned that it had been raining on and off, and sometimes heavily, for about a week. The trails were not in good condition and one trail, connecting towns two and three was closed because of the threat of landslides. He told us to go check it out and if we ended up using the trails, to pay later.

So, we headed off in the direction of Monterrosso, the fifth town. This hike is the most strenuous of the coastline trails, but would offer great views. First thing was to climb to the top of the town, which, of course, Margaret was very excited about. Here, Joe has just asked, “Hey Margaret, you want to go for a hike, mostly uphill??”

And no one can deny that the hike to the top of the top offered some lovely views:

Finally, we reached the trailhead. Some drizzle had started, but we decided to brave and to press on. Early on, Margaret was not happy:

But after a while, Margare reconciled herself to what she was in for:

Besides, the views were really stunning, despite the increasing rain. And, the rain did continue to pick up. By the time we reached Monterrosso, it was pouring. So, we decided to find the train station and take the train back to Vernazza. The train line that runs from town to town is the lifeline of the area.

The afternoon was spent resting, taking hot showers, trying to figure out to do a load of laundry (laundry has been the real challenge of this entire trip), and getting a drink at the Blue Marlin bar, where we would, supposedly, be able to up-date the blog. Well, we finally got a load of laundry started, which was a lot harder than you would think. And, after settling in at the Blue Marlin, with drinks and the laptop, we discovered that the Blue Marlin did not actually offer wifi—at least not to us. They had two computers in the corner and another, more local customer, with a laptop in another part of the bar. The customer with the laptop seemed to be on the internet, but, we werea just tourists . . . .

Anyway, we finished the up-date (the Pompeii entry) and went across the street to the internet point, which did offer access. So, we were able to up-date the blog and check e-mail—quickly. We didn’t have much time.

Then, it was time to check out our dinner options. Dinner in Italy starts around 8:00, although a few places were open a little earlier than that. A few of the Rick Steves suggestions were closed for the season, but we found one of his suggestions, Pizzeria Vulnetia, on the piazza, open and with quite a few other customers. Joseph started his meal with a local specialty, fresh anchovies. He was in heaven! John tried them too, which was really big since John is not known for an adventurous eating habits.

After dinner, we started chatting with the couple at the next table, a couple from North Carolina. She was a school principal, expecting to visit the local school the next day. We had a lovely chat with them and then it was time to return to the room, get packed and get off to bed. Wednesday would be another long travel day, this time to Geneva.

We are in Geneva now, as we write, but our Geneva story must wait!!

Hope all is well where you are.

Ciao!

Susan

Vernazza and the Cinque Terre remains copyright of the author jrreisert, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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But for this view, isn’t it worth it?

[That is the four of us in front of the Temple of Capitoline Jupiter, with Mt. Vesuvius in the background, just looking like it should be climbed for an awesome view.]

But back to our story…

We arrived in Pompeii Saturday afternoon. Saturday morning, we hustled to get to Roma Termini to catch our 9:00 train to Napoli (and then a commuter rail kind of service would take us to Pompeii). We got to the train station in plenty of time, but became alarmed that our train was listed, but was not given a track number. At 8:55, the board finally moved. Our train would be leaving at 10:00! And, then, at about 9:40, the board moved yet again. Our train was scheduled to leave at 10:30.

The Roma Termini station is not the worst train station to be stuck in. It’s more like a mall. We could have bought an entirely new wardrobe, new luggage, a library of books in English, various newspapers and magazines, and all kinds of food—without walking outside.

When our train finally arrived, everyone waiting on the platform stuffed themselves in. We had reserved seats, thank goodness, although we did have to kick an older couple out of them.

Anyway, we arrived in Naples about 2 hours late. And, then, we took the wrong computer line. We didn’t realize that three of the lines had stops in three different places in Pompeii. We ended up across town from our hotel. As we looked around outside the station, trying to figure out where we were, a man came over and asked if we needed a taxi. Well, we realized that we were stuck and at their mercy and that our hotel was not within easy walking distance, so, yes, we needed a taxi.

Let the games begin . . . .

The man called a taxi and told us that it would cost 10 euros. Well, it turned out that the ten euros was only for the people. Not our bags. The bags cost four euros extra. We must admit that our cab driver, Enzio, was very entertaining. He spoke English well and was very chatty. He also gave us his card and told us about all of the other places he could take us, and how much that would cost, etc.

Finally, we settled into our hotel, the Palma Hotel.

And, then, it was off to the ruins!

On the way to the closest gate, we had to run the “gauntlet,” the string of tourist stands and the people who run them, plus those who are begging for money, sometimes with a child in tow. Then, we came upon the audioguide stand. That woman just reeled us in. She spoke good English, she charmed the children and Joseph too. She had all kinds of deals for us. And, in the end, we had audioguides around our necks and a book as well. (The audioguides were okay — but despite the fact that they cost us 10 Euros a piece, they still had ads! The frescoes from this house are on display in that restaurant. After visiting the fuller, we were treated to an ad for the latest woolen products from Naples, etc.)

We were under the impression that we could buy a three-day pass that would enable us to visit the ruins for less than the cost of two days of separate admissions. Well, that wasn’t the case. We would have to pay the full 11 Euro admission price per person, no reduction for children for each day (There would have been discounts had we been citizens of the EU, but we’re not, and we’re too proud to pretend to be British, though I’m sure we wouldn’t have been asked for proof if we had asserted our British-ness.). Anyway, we were there. What else could we do?

We spent a couple of hours on Saturday visiting the ruins, until the ruins closed at 5:00. Actually, we didn’t get out until 5:30, but the Italians seem to be lax about times and rules and anything smacking of order.

The ruins of Pompeii are enormous. Once we started walking around, we were struck by the fact that Pompeii was a real town before it was blanketed with volcanic ash. And, what is left is the size of a small town, not just a small area for tourists. The sheer size of the ruins is awesome.

In our first couple of hours, we visited only a small section of the ruins, despite the fact that many of the houses are closed for renovations. Before we left, we found some of the plaster casts made from the empty places in the lava after the bodies decomposed. Those were really very moving. Adults, children and even animals were shown in that last moment of their lives, as they were enveloped in the ash. Here are two photos of the casts (though one is from a site we saw on Sunday).

After leaving the ruins, we investigated our options for dinner and for obtaining provisions for the next day. We discovered that, since it was November 1, it was All Saints Day—a holiday. We were told that lots of places would be closed. The only place that we found to be closed, though, was the food store—and the restaurant the hotel (which was a little fancier than what we had in mind anyway).

The hotel recommended a place for dinner called “Pizza e Pasta.” Although it wasn’t the best pizza we’ve had, it was pretty good. And, they had Belgian beer. The pizza winner of the evening was my pizza, with tomato, parmesan cheese, prosciutto and “rocket” (Brit-speak for arugula). It was delicious.

On Sunday morning, we had breakfast in the hotel breakfast room, and headed straightaway for the ruins. If we were going to have to pay full fare for another day, we were going to get our money’s worth!

A guest at the hotel had told us that the ruins have no food offerings or even drinks, except for water available at various fountains around the ruins. It was officially the off-season and the restaurant and snack bar had been closed. Since we found that the local food store was still closed, it was now Sunday morning after all, we were a little concerned about what we had for food. We gathered up all that we had—half of a small loaf of bread, a jar of Nutella, a few pieces of fruit that we had pinched at breakfast, and some cookies. When we arrived at the gate, we asked about the food situation and we were told that it was true that no food was available (interestingly, there was no sign warning of this situation). So, we asked if we would be able to go out of one of the gates (our hotel was located at a minor gate, not the main gate) in order to pick up some lunch and then re-enter the park. The woman at the admissions desk thought for a moment, as she contemplated the cigarette dangling in her hands, and then said something along the lines of (in a thick Italian accent) : “Well, you should ask the person at the gate and they might let you out to get something and then back in without paying. They might. You should ask.”

They might??!!

So, we took our bread, our Nutella, the fruit and the cookies and we decided that that would be enough!

Thankfully, the day was gorgeous. Warm (hot, even) and sunny—not a cloud in the sky. Here’s the proof —

Here we are like the Roman Beatles on Abbey Road:

And Margaret's favorite picture -- Beware of the Dog (you can just make out the Latin saying Cave Canem in the mosaic at the bottom):

Here's Margaret looking cute in the House of the Faun:

And the kids looking great on the crosswalk stones in the Roman streets --

A generally awesome shot of the ruins (the gladiators' training area, behind the large amphitheater)

And, finally, Dad with the kids basking in the golden sunset of a generally great day:

We explored all over, into houses, the forum, the various temples. And, then, Joseph got that “itch.” It was such a beautiful day, we should try to squeeze in some other adventure—like climb Mt. Vesuvius. Wouldn’t that be a great idea?? He had a whole plan in mind. Call our new taxi driving friend, Enzio, and see if he might be free to take us there (the day before, he had quoted a price of 60 euros to take us to Mt. Vesuvius). Just after lunch, though, John took a nasty spill in the House of the Faun. He scraped the palm of his hand, his forearm, his knee and his side. After patching him back together with some band-aids, Joseph came to the realization that Mt. Vesuvius was out of reach. Oh, well.

But, we spent the entire rest of the afternoon at the ruins—well, almost. We saw everything that could be seen (except for one temple) and left the ruins about fifteen minutes before closing, We were a bit concerned about getting Joseph’s ID back, since the audioguide place wasn’t actually open when we went into Pompeii in the morning, but they were open when we got there. Fortunately. You just never know what will happen in Italy. The whole country—well, the southern half, anyway—seems to operate on a different schedule from what we are used to. It’s all part of the adventure.

We gave serious thought to eating in the Palma Hotel restaurant on Sunday, but it turned out that the restaurant was closed again on Sunday (for all we know, it’s closed until May, but we were unable to get any definite information on that score). We could have had expensive room service pizza in our rooms, but we went back to Pizza e Pasta, had a lovely dinner, and got ourselves ready for our early start to Vernazza on Monday.

ciao,

Susan (and Joseph)

Two Days in Pompeii remains copyright of the author jrreisert, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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On Monday, we went to the Colosseum, which was a big disappointment for Joseph and not just because of the huge line to get in (and that was the shorter of the two lines — the security line for people who already had tickets; the other line was, even in late October, colossal). It’s an impressive spectacle from the outside. Inside, it still impressive, but not really any more so than from the outside. In fact, all of the really best details are on the outside. As for me, it was difficult to focus on all of the carnage that once took place at the Colosseum, including the slaughter of Christians, when the experience was shared with so many people all vying for the best viewpoints from which to take photos.

On Monday, we also visited the Spanish Steps and wandered about that part of the city. We found a nice little café in a park (the Pincio) and, since they weather was good, we had coffees (the kids had hot chocolate) and cannoli. Delicious. We wandered down to the Piazza del Popolo, where there was one of the super-touristy Leonardo da Vinci exhibits that seem to be franchised all around Europe. This time, we went in. Joseph thought it was so-so; the kids had a great time.

From the piazza, we walked to the Pantheon, which is a bit of a hike. We admired the architecture (including the little hole Brunelleschi was allowed to cut into the dome), and the tombs of two Italian kings and of Raphael. Then, it started to rain. We grabbed a taxi to get back to the flat.

Tuesday

On Tuesday, we started the day with some lessons. Then, we walked to the Crypto Balbi, which is not far from the flat. The Crypto Balbi is a bizarre little exhibition that is intended to show the various layers of development in Rome. The kids liked going underground (the old city of Rome is quite a bit deeper than today’s Rome), but our “tour guide” (you can only get there with a tour guide) didn’t guide us with English or Italian, so we had a hard time making out what we were looking at.

In the afternoon, we explored the Capotoline Museum, where we were hounded again by the exact change monsters. We admired the sculptures, etc. Joe was disappointed that there was no post card of the massive fresco depicting Brutus condemning his own sons for treason.

TIME FOR AN INTERESTING, IF UNSETTLING, FACT ABOUT ANCIENT ROME:
What did the upper class folks use for toilet paper when using the loo? They used the soft feathers on the underbelly of a small bird. Think about that! (Or this may just be a made up "fact" added to the guidebook to see how credulous guidebook readers are — but it's in the book Keys to Rome by Frederick and Vanessa Vreeland, p. 34!).

After the museum, the sky opened up once again. We took refuge in a church (Basilica of the Blessed Virgin Mary in Ara Coeli), where John prayed for better weather. Following the advice of our kids’ guide to Rome, we looked for the bees of Urban VIII and the image of Emperor Augustus (on an altar!). That night, we called it an early evening, made a big visit to the Despar (that’s what the big “Spar” stores are called — no kidding!) and got ready for our big Wednesday. (And Joe wrote his KJ column about the Roman Republic).

Wednesday

We got up early and got ourselves together to storm the Vatican. We wanted to get to the Vatican Museum early to limit the time spent in line—because, well, there’s almost always a line! Well, when we arrived at the Museum, there was no line. Lots of tour groups going in, but hardly any individual tourists. This actually ended up causing all kinds of problems. Joseph was just not prepared to just walk in. It was the Vatican! There was supposed to be a line and . . . . suffering! That’s what is was all about.

When Joseph finally gathered himself, we made our way through the Museum, which is quite a large one. Although we spent a little time amid the Egyptian pieces, we soon figured out that we should get going toward the Sistine Chapel. The hordes of tourists were bound to come at some point. We knew they were out there somewhere (likely at the papal blessing that takes place on Wednesday mornings). So, we started off in earnest toward the Sistine Chapel, which turns out to be really quite far away.

Much of the way was littered with things we didn’t really want to spend much time gazing upon, but we were all left agape by the Raphael rooms. Very impressive (Margaret thought the rooms were the best part of the Museum). Joseph was pretty much rendered speechless by The School of Athens. The kids and I enjoyed the moment of silence!

Finally, we reached the Sistine Chapel. Almost immediately, Margaret declared it a let-down. It was too small. John seemed just overwhelmed. As we have written, John has become something of a Michelangelo fan. But, the Chapel was almost too much for him to appreciate. Our kids guidebook was helpful in pointing out the highlights of the ceiling. But, then we got to the wall behind the altar, The Last Judgement. Finding St. Bartholomew actually hanging onto his own skin (he was skinned alive) was about when the kids and I declared that we were done.

We made our way out (fighting the crowd because by now, the hordes of tourists had most definitely arrived) catching a few of the other highlights of the Museum on the way. We also posted a few post cards, with the Pope’s special stamps. We had a simple picnic lunch just outside the gates of Vatican City. Then, it was time to go back in—this time to see St. Peter’s.

There is, as Rick Steeves tells you, a way to get straight from the Sistine Chapel to St. Peter’s, but we couldn’t figure out how to do that and retrieve our bags with our lunch and jackets in them. So, after lunch we had to negotiate the 20 minute long security line to get into the Basilica.

Our first order of business was to climb to the top. Can you guess Margaret’s reaction?? It was pretty, let me tell you. Especially when she realized that there was an elevator that would have taken her about a third of the way up. Joe and I refused on principle, not because it would have cost 2 euros extra each.

The way up is quite an experience, especially with lots of other people you’ve never met (and speak an amazing array of languages). The staircase gets narrower and narrower as you ascend, but at least it’s enclosed (the stairs from the bottom of the dome to the very top at St. Paul’s in London is anopen, iron set of spiral stairs). Good thing, because once you start up, there’s really no way to change your mind. You must go along with the crowd. There’s no escape! I must be in a Catholic tower!!

Despite the iffy weather, we got a nice view from the top. Once we descended (and stopped at the roof-top snack bar), we were emptied into the church. The inside of St. Peter’s is almost impossible to take in. It’s just enormous. And, then, there are those hordes of tourists sharing the experience with you. And, some of them like to push and shove. We found a little place off to the side to read some excerpts from our trusty kids guidebook, which was helpful (although some of the best parts, pointed out by the book, were roped off).

By this time, it was late afternoon. Time to call it a day and head back to the flat?? No way! We walked over to the Castel Sant’Angelo, Handrian’s mausoleum. It probably would have been more fun during the day (Europe ended daylight savings time last weekend, so it’s getting dark quite early now), but we had fun exploring this very old site/museum.

And, still, the day wasn’t quite over. We decided to go out to eat. We went to a place recommended by Rick Steves, Trattoria da Lucia. It was just over the bridge, in the Trastevere neighborhood. We had a delightful Italian dinner of pasta, grilled veggies, wine, and fabulous desserts (chocolate mousse and panna cotta with fruit). Finally, it was time to call it a day, brush our teeth and crawl into bed.

Thursday

Yesterday, Thursday, we spent much of the morning ironing out details of our travels for next week (which had not been finalized before we left; we will be heading to Pompeii on Saturday and then to the Cinque Terre on Monday).

For our tourist endeavors, we headed first to the special Bellini exhibit in town (we’ve been noticing missing Bellini’s all over Europe, with notes that they are here, in Rome). Margaret has decided that she loves Bellini, so we decided to check it out. The exhibit is really very impressive and well displayed. But, the little guidebook that was provided was filled with the most ridiculous, pretentious sounding art-speak that we found ourselves laughing out loud at times as we read through (especially as John struggled to read through some of those very long words that don’t really mean anything).

We had a nice picnic just across the street from the exhibit, until we were shooed away by a police man. We have no idea what he objected to (other people were doing roughly what we were doing and he didn’t shoo them away), but we thought it best not to ask any questions. He wasn’t speaking English anyway.

In the afternoon, we visited Trajan’s market. Then, we hiked it over to the Diocletian Baths. We thought we found the Baths, only to find that we were really just in a museum of what was found at the Baths. We checked out the map again and felt pretty confident that we knew where we were going, so we headed in a new direction. That was when the sky opened up, with torrents of rain, and the place where we were sure we would find the entrance featured a locked gate with no information at all. So, we were soaking wet with no place to go!

So, we went to a café and got ourselves something warm and a couple of delicious Italian pastries to share. When the rain let up, we decided that we were done with trying to find the Baths, and we headed over the National Museum of Rome. It was very late in the afternoon, so no hordes of tourists to found anywhere near the Museum. Rick Steves gives the museum his top rating. We are not sure we agree exactly, although we did enjoy checking out the sculptures, the amazing display of mosaics and household frescoes (really, really impressive, beautiful, and well-displayed), and the collection of coins in the basement (with real and imposing vault doors). By the time we left the Museum, it was almost 7:00 o’clock. We were done.

We actually managed to successfully navigate the bus system to get ourselves reasonably close to the flat, although the information desk guy Joe spoke to had some fun with us at the expense of Joe’s lame efforts to give an Italian pronunciation to the place we were aiming to get to. Once aboard but 64, we had to share our section of the bus with a large group of obnoxious young, male Brits, who were on a school trip and fretting about their accommodations: “Oh, I do hoooo-pe there will be caaaah-pet underfoot” (you must say with the worst sort of almost lisping, limpid toff (upper-crust) English accent).

Susan prepared a home-made tomato sauce, which we ate with some ravioli, a veggie, and some fresh mozzarella on toasted bits of baguette. Yummy.

Pictures to follow.

Ciao,

Susan and Joseph

Ancient Rome and the Vatican remains copyright of the author jrreisert, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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First of all, we are having a great time in Rome, although our luck with the weather is beginning to fade. We are experiencing more rain here, some downpours even. Thankfully, the kids and I have really only been caught in one downpour so far.

We'll get back to the more serious blogging in a bit, but for now, I've just got to get out my list of grievances. Rome (and Italy in general) is packed full of all kinds of important things to see. Yet, the place is really starting to get to me. Our trusty guidebook warns us of the chaos and encourages us to "accept it all as a package deal." It's all part of the experience and we should just roll with it. Well, I'm starting to doubt that I have the mental fortitude for such an approach.

So, here's a little list of my frustrations:

1. In Rome, there is hardly a distinction between the sidewalk and the street. We have certainly seen scooters-- and even a car once-- riding on what seemed to us clearly to be the sidewalk. In all fairness, I must admit that we have, on occasion (and only when clear) have walked on the street (Romans don't walk especially fast and sometimes we are in a hurry).
2. Museum cloakrooms in Rome do not accept cloaks-- only bags. Go figure. Since the weather has been mixed, we have had to take rain jackets with us. The first time we marched up to a cloakroom to deposit our jackets, we were given a stern "no." So, now we bring one of those bags that stuffs into itself and we stuff our jackets into that. Take that, Rome!
3. Romans (and Italians in general) have a strange and unhealthy obsession with "correct change." In most museums we have visited, there is a clear sign posted (usually in Italian and in English): "correct change, please" (sometimes, there is no "please"). And, even in other, unexpected places we have found correct change (or close to it) to be expected. A couple of days ago, I went to our local little market to stock up on some groceries. The total came to 41.61 euros. I handed the guy a 50 euro bill. He clearly wanted something different. He just held onto the fifty (holding it up), and kept looking at me and muttering in Italian. After a day of sightseeing (including "correct change" signs everywhere), I didn't have anything else. But, he persisted. So, I persisted too, shrugging my shoulders and, in English, "I don't have anything else." Finally, he made change and grudgingly stuffed into my hand.
4. The post office isn't really in business to sell stamps. They seem to have more important things to do than to handle mail.
5. Beware large gatherings of birds-- and I mean really large gatherings of birds. In Rome, I have learned that where really large gatherings of birds congregate, there will be a very large quantity of bird poo which, a) is hazardous when wet (slippery underfoot when it's raining), and b) really, really, really stinky. The most horrendous, most foul stench of our whole trip has been here, in Rome, in this little park near our flat where the birds gather in very large numbers. Oh, and it's loud too.
6. Many sights have elaborate security procedures with metal detectors and x-ray machines to check bags. Yet, the security guards are usually chatting among themselves (and, sometimes arguing), so it seems clear that they are not really paying any attention to who or what is going through the machines.
7. Signs at tourist sites are almost non-existent. Now, to be fair, New England is not known for good tourist and road signage. But, Rome is on a whole different level. Here, even at the end of October, there are hordes of tourists. And, yet, at many places there is no way to know if you are in the right line (and there's almost always a line). When we went to the Colosseum (major tourist site, don't you think??), our trusty guidebook (and good thing we had that) told us that, if we had a ticket (which we did) to stay in the left line, with the tour groups, and just to "muscle our way" to the turnstile. Well, this felt like a weird place to be, but we got in that line and stayed there. After some time of moving pretty steadily in the line, we finally came upon a little sign (maybe a little bigger than a normal 8x11 piece of paper), close to the entrance, that divided the two lines-- one line for ticket holders and the other line for without. Thankfully, it turned out, we were in the correct line. Thank you, Rick Steves!

Well, that felt good to get that out. Thankfully, it's not all bad. There is gelato (oh, the delicious gelato makes up for a lot!) and fabulous coffee (even in the most ridiculous and touristy places, they have real espresso machines and not those fake ones you find in the U.S.). And, in some places, they serve cookies at breakfast! Another good thing. Plus, we have found that there is a "discretionary" approach to admission prices at some tourist sites and churches (especially the smaller ones). Although most places post that children over six (and not citizens of an EU country) must pay the adult rate, we have found many sites take one look at John and hand us a free ticket. Sometimes for Margaret too.

We'll post more later. We have a lot to tell!

Ciao!
Susan

Ah, Italy . . . . remains copyright of the author jrreisert, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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Our flat is great. The best flat we’ve rented so far; probably the most expensive, too. We are close to the Tiber River, across from the Trastevere neighborhood. We are close to the Campo de’ Fiori and not far at all from the Forum,, etc.

During our first afternoon, we wandered around to try to get a feel for our neighborhood, plus we wanted to see if we could make sense of our map. It became clear that the map wasn’t all that it could be (Knopf Mapguide), so our first stop (after the grocery store) was a book store. They didn’t have what we wanted either (why are so many tourist maps so big and bulky?), so we pressed on with what we had.

We went by the Pantheon and the Piazza Navona. We witnessed the end of a wedding along the way. Before heading back to the flat, we engaged in more people-watching and general marveling at how people get around in Rome. There are streets and alleyways that often match up to our map, but sometimes do not. Crossing the street can be a challenge, as those who ride scooters and motorcycles do not seem required to stop at red lights. And there are a lot of scooters in Rome.

On Sunday, we decided to head to the Forum first. The day, although the weather forecast claimed that it would be overcast, was beautiful—warm and sunny. A little too warm, though, for Margaret. She started wilting early.

The Forum was lots of fun and a great learning opportunity for the kids. John liked learning about legends—the legend of Romulus and Remus and the legend of the guy who galloped his horse into a hole in the ground. We saw lots of ruins and some grand arches

After the Forum, we went just next door to the Palatine Hill, where the emperors of Rome once lived. There, the kids could actually play among the ruins. Here they are showing how they felt ruined themselves (especially Margaret, as she was still complaining about the heat!):

Here are some other shots among the ruins of the former palaces:

After a very long day, we exited through the Forum and then we up to the top of the Victor Emmanuel monument and had little snack at a café on the terrace.

Then, it was time to make our way back to the flat. We caught up on what was going on with the Pats, called some relatives, and had a simple dinner of gnocchi.

But, the day wasn’t over yet! We decided, much to Margaret’s chagrin, to take an evening stroll, Rick Steves’ suggested “night walk.” It began at the Campo de’ Fiori, then through the Piazza Navona, where we braved the “gaunlet” of waiters and other restaurant personnel trying to get us to sit down at a restaurant table. We encountered lots of other people strolling about, after all it was a lovely Rome evening. We even saw another group with the very same Rick Steves walk/map guide. Only they were doing the walk in reverse.

After the Piazza Navona, we went by the Pantheon—an even more impressive sight all lit up. And, finally to the Trevi fountain. (Technically, the Rick Steeves walk proceeds from there to the Spanish Steps, but we were getting tired, so we called it a night at the fountain).

Then, it was time to find some delicious gelato, to reward Margaret for minimal complaining. We went a bit out of our way to get to the place recommended by Rick and by our Knopf Mapguide (which has some good recommendations, though its maps are inconveniently formatted) — Giolitti. Unfortunately, her choice of chocolate and kiwi was not the best combination. But, she managed to get through it.

Our first full day of Rome was done.

Ciao!

Susan

Ruins, Ruins and More Ruins remains copyright of the author jrreisert, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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We’re told that in the summer it’s necessary to book tickets in advance to get into the Accademia to see David, but we just showed up at about nine in the morning on Friday and walked right in, which saved us 16 Euros in booking fees (about $20). I have mixed feelings about the Accademia. On the one hand, David in person more than lives up to the hype, and it was worth the 10 Euro admission fee just to see it. It is difficult to write anything about it that isn’t clichéd or trite, so I won’t. But it is stunning. And it must have been, when it was first unveiled, awe-inspiring proof that in at least one domain the moderns had surpassed the ancients.

On the other hand, there was not much else that I desperately wanted to see there, though the Michelangelo Prisoners were also very fine. For the rest, we could have done without the early Gothic altarpieces, the plaster casts of ancient sculptures, and the later religious art.

With the altarpieces, the kids are getting very good at playing “name that saint” — trying to recognize the saints in the paintings by their distinctive attributes. St. Catherine with the wheel upon which she was martyred; St. Paul with the sword with which he was martyred; St. Lawrence with the grill upon which he was martyred by roasting alive (see a pattern here?).

After the Accademia, we headed home and ate lunch in the flat. Then it was off to the Santa Croce church to see the tombs of Machiavelli and Michelangelo and some amazing Giotto frescoes. Though they belong to Florence’s Franciscans, this lavish church and cloister hardly evoke the simplicity one associates with the name of Francis.

The piazza outside Santa Croce is beautiful, as is the church facade, but some people just don't like to have their pictures taken:

We spent a long while at Santa Croce, where John paid his respects to the tomb of Michelangelo

and Joseph pays his to Machiavelli's tomb. (Unfortunately, that picture was too dark).

After that, we visited the cloister, where Margaret proved that she can pose for a lovely picture when she really wants to:

Then we went off for an exploratory walk to see some remnants of the old medieval wall of Florence.

We hiked down to the Arno (a sluggish, brown, weedy looking river — at least in October) and across to a hill on the other side, at the Piazzale Michelangelo, where we were treated to a lovely view of Florence. And, John tried to mimic the pose of David (with his clothes on, of course) in front of the copy of the famous statue.

After slowly making our way back down the hill, we headed along the river to the Ponte Vecchio. Along the way, we found this:

Note the detail (Ein Feste Burg ist Unser Gott):

This is the only Protestant church we have seen so far in Italy.

When we got to the Piazza della Signoria, we stopped for our daily gelato. And, for our final tour of the day, we visited the Palazzo Vecchio, where Joe got to see and stand in the study of Machiavelli. (He had a very nice office).

After dragging him out of there (and then convincing him that it was too late to visit any other museums—which took some work!), we slowly headed back to the flat. We grabbed some groceries to make dinner. Then, it was time to eat and pack.

Arrivederci, Florence!

Joe and Susan

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Today's story begins in Salzburg, back on the 15th, when we were on the 21 bus from the Bloberger Hof into town. A few stops after we had gotten on the bus, another family of English-speaking foreigners boarded -- a Mom and Dad (about our ages), an older daughter with nose firmly planted in a book, and a younger son, bursting with energy. They were just like us... only Canadian!

Somehow, a conversation was started, and it turned out that their family is from the Toronto area, and the kids, Sarah and Alec are within months of Margaret's and John's ages. They are spending a few months in Italy, in Lucca, and after hearing that we would soon be in Florence, Andy and Kim (the parents) invited us to spend a day with them in Lucca, which is just over an hour to the east of Florence by train.

Florence is full of art treasures and amazing museums -- many more than we could see in the four full days we are staying here -- but it's been a long time since we spent any time with another family with kids. So we decided we'd skip some of the museums and picked a day (Thursday) for our visit and hopped on the train, hoping for the best.

The train ride was itself something of an adventure. We bought our tickets at a self-service electronic kiosk, and we think we probably bought the right tickets, but they were so cheap (10 Euros for the family to go to Lucca and back) we think we might have made a mistake. As it happens, no one ever checked our tickets (though I dutifully validated them on both legs of the journey), so we'll never know.

The train was old, dirty, and a local, so it stopped at every village and cow-crossing between here and Lucca (and a few that are a bit out of the way, too!). No announcements were made at any stop, and, for the most part, we could not see the names of the towns at which we had stopped. It was all very unnerving. But we had gotten on the correct train after all, and it terminated in Lucca, so we got off when everyone else did, and after a few moments met up with Andy, Kim and the kids.

The kids bonded instantly. John and Alec started running around, playing tag, and generally acting like nine-year-old boys, but they did pause for this picture.

Margaret and Sarah started talking about books.

Don't they all look cute together?

Andy led us on a "greatest hits" tour of Lucca. There was a Roman excavation under what was once Lucca's cathedral. Then we were off to the current Duomo, St. Martin's, where we paid our respects to the Volto Santo, an ancient crucifix, which was, according to tradition, carved by Nicodemus. After this, we admired the facade of yet another beautiful, marbled church, and then it was off to lunch.

Our hosts took us to a local, hole-in-the-wall pizza joint. The pizza was excellent, as good as (or better than) what we had on our first night in Venice. But the real treat was something called "cecina" -- a sort of baked pancake made out of chickpeas and who knows what else. It was great. And the whole meal, including sodas, set us back less than 11 Euros, which makes it the cheapest meal we've had out on our whole trip. And it was one of the best.

After lunch, we walked to the old Roman ampitheatre, which is now a piazza, which retains the oval shape of the original theater. Apparently some of the walls outside one of the entrances date back to Roman times, but we were never quite sure which ones. They all looked old to us.

Here's a random shot of John (near the "canal" or aqueduct in Lucca), looking happy as can be:

From there, we made our way to Lucca's old fortifications, which still form an intact ring around the old city. Unlike some of the old fortifications we've encountered (such as those in Conwy, in Wales, which we visited four years ago), these are wide (they are earthenworks with a facing of brick) and have a multi-purpose recreational path along the top. So we rented bikes and rode a couple of times around the city. The kids have been eager to rent bikes since we arrived in Belgium, and for one reason or another we had not yet managed it, though we've been in a number of good places for cycling (in Belgium or Haarlem, along the Rhine, or along the Danube or the Salzach). The Lucca ride was a real treat -- it was flat, highly scenic, and in an hour, we made it twice around the circuit of the old city.

The ride may have been the highlight for the kids, but the piece de resistance of Lucca must be the Torre Guinigi, the tower with the trees on top.

Naturally, we took some photos to take advantage of the unusual background:

Afterwards, we were glad to accept Kim and Andy's invitation to a simple Tuscan dinner at their flat. We had pasta, salads, and red wine out on their terrace. The girls enumerated points of similarity between them, and Margaret announced that they had between twenty five and thirty things in common (such as the fact that they both have close friends who are left-handed). The boys played on the game boy and watched "Fairly Oddparents" in Italian, seemingly finding it quite as funny as they would have done had they seen it in English.

Wiped out by our full day of activity, we took the 7:32 train back to Florence. This time, we had a clean, modern (double-decker) train, which had video screens and audio announcements informing us of where we were stopping. Still, no one checked our tickets.

ciao,
Joe

A chance meeting on Bus 21 in Salzburg leads to . . . remains copyright of the author jrreisert, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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We arrived in Florence on Monday. It's hard to believe that it is already Wednesday evening. It's been a whirlwind-- as has most of our Grand Tour. Despite getting plenty of sleep (most nights), I often experience moments of tremendous exhaustion. It's a lot to take in.

Doesn't this just say "Florence"?

We are staying in a nice apartment, right in the middle of everything in Florence. it's on a narrow street, close to the major Florence cathedral-- and across the street from a bar. Thankfully, our apartment comes with serious windows. A set of multiple-pane windows, plus a set of older windows, and then you finish it off with some indoor shutters. The whole thing cuts down on the noise dramatically. Good thing, too, because motor scooters scream down the street night and day and, since we are not far from the hospital, ambulances come down our street too on a regular basis.

Yesterday (Tuesday), we climbed the tower next to the cathedral. In the gift shop at the bottom of the tower, we found a great book called, "Florence: Just Add Water." The book is a great introduction to Florence, geared to children Margaret and John's ages (not too "babyish," John would say). We have been using the book all around Florence.

Here are Joseph and the kids, with the new guidebook, on the Ponte Vecchio:

Here is some guy (Joseph insists it is not his bald spot) reading the guidebook to our children:

After the Tower, we visited the Baptistry, the place where all Florence children were once baptized. Baptisms took place only twice per year. The Baptistry was also used as a kind of covered town square for public events. The domed ceiling of the Baptistry features mosaics of Jesus Christ and stories of the Bible. According to Joseph, the "best part" is the picture of the Devil actually eating a poor sinner. Yikes. John's been having a hard time getting to sleep the past couple of nights.

Since it was raining when we emerged from the Baptistry, we decided to stay close by and visited the Duomo just next door, including the Duomo crypt. Lots of marble. Lots of space. I guess the intent was for worshippers to feel small, in the presence of God. And, then, one part of the floor is designed to have an spider-web effect, so that if you stand in the middle, you will feel like you are being swallowed up. Nifty.

After a little gelato to give everyone a little extra energy, we walked toward the Uffizi to see about getting tickets (the guidebook warned that reservations should be made a month in advance, but we were still hopeful). On the way, we visited a market (where Susan petted the famous Florentine pig — thus, according to legend, assuring that she will someday return to the city):

Getting tickets at the Uffizi was an exercise in ridiculousness, although we were victorious in the end. Signs around the Uffizi courtyard are put out intended to help poor, hapless tourists figure out which doorway they should go to-- depending on whether they have tickets, just a reservation number, they want to get tickets, or they have no ticket at all but want to get in that same day. Yet, the signs are not really clear. The only thing that is clear is the huge line of people who are trying to get in on the same day. That line features a glowing, flashing sign that indicates how long you must wait before you will know whether or not you will get in that day (it was flashing 1-2 hours when we were there). Finally, we found a person to ask. Joe went into the indicated doorway and, in no time, had tickets for Wednesday at 10:30-- at a premium, of course. But, hey, we're in Florence.

Then, we wandered a bit more, and admired the Santa Croce church.

Then, it was time to visit the food store, get some supplies for making dinner, and settle in for the evening.

Today (Wednesday), we let the kids sleep in. We wanted them to be as fresh as possible for the Uffizi, since we had paid so much for those tickets! We got to the Uffizi in time for our appointed entry. Getting in is a lot like getting on a plane. Metal detectors and a machine checking bags. We even had to take off our belts! Joe observed that at least we didn't have to take off our shoes!

But, we got to see some great art. The book that we had picked up was very helpful. We worked our way through the best of Italian painters and sculptors, stopping along the way to talk about 14th century Madonnas, Giotto, Gentile da Fabriano, Botticelli (The Birth of Venus and Primavera), and finally, some Da Vinci and Michelangelo. We had hoped to get through the museum and then go to lunch, but after about an hour and a half, it was clear that we would need to get something to eat. We were all fading. And, there was still a lot to see. But, once you are in the Uffizi, you stay until you're done, so our only option was the cafe. Much to our surprise, however, the cafe turned out to be quite nice. Our little lunch was delicious and not outrageously expensive. Margaret had a grilled tomato and mozzarella cheese sandwich. I had a chicken, cheese and lettuce panini. And, Joseph and John had "toast," a lightly grilled ham and cheese sandwich, with the crusts cut off. Just perfect for John.

And we took some nice photos of the Palazzo Vecchio from up close:

After some refreshment, we continued on in the Museum until about 2:30 when we finally declared ourselves "art-ed out."

Then, it was time for family squabbling in the Piazza della Signoria. Well, not so much squabbling; more like family poutiness. Margaret could only think of gelato. Joe was on to the next big site. I was just plain tired. And, John just wanted family unity.

Finally, we ended up at the Museum of the History of Science. Most of it is being renovated, so we were limited to two floors. But, lucky for us, we could still view Galileo's middle finger, in a jar, in a glass case. Lovely.

After the museum, we ran a couple of errands. We finally got Margaret her gelato (chocolate and caramel, I think).

Then, Joe and John climbed the tower of the Duomo.

Margaret and I went off to the food store to get dinner.

Tomorrow, we are off to Lucca to meet our new friends from Canada who are living in Lucca for a little while. We met them on the bus in Salzburg. They have a daughter who just happens to be 11 and a son, who just happens to be 9. They will show us around a bit and all of the kids will have the opportunity to play with other English speaking children. Should be a good day for all.

Ciao!

Susan

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This update comes a bit late, as we’re now in Florence, but our beautiful Venetian pensione with an excellent location only steps from the Rialto bridge near the Grand Canal did not offer internet access.

The train ride from Salzburg to Venice was long — two hours to Innsbruck, then another five from there to Venice — but uneventful. Innsbruck, even from the train station, was beautiful, though unless one is doing serious hiking or skiing, or partying, there’s not that much to do. So we contented ourselves with a shot or two from the train station, and moved on.

We shared a first class compartment for part of the ride from Innsbruck with a young couple (seemingly in their twenties) and their lap dog! Who knew that one could bring lap dogs on Italian trains? Later on, in the Venice train station we saw a twenty-something hipster with a ferret on a leash, so who knows what the limits are. We did not, however, see many children.

We made our children do some schoolwork on the train, however, and, as you can see, at least some work got done, though not as much as we had hoped.

Upon our arrival at Venice, we attended to the most urgent matters. Cash machine in the train station (we were paying the hotel in cash). Check. Vaporetto tickets. Check (we bought the 48 hour passes). Then on to the #1 boat (luggage and all) to the Rialto-Mercato stop and a short walk to the Pensione Guerrato http://www.pensioneguerrato.it/, which is hidden in an alleyway right near the Rialto fish market. They say the building was first constructed in the fourteenth century, which, for Venice, is not all that old. Though the it had been renovated many times over the centuries, the place still felt solid and ancient.

It was a classic old place, with antiques in the hallway. And several rooms (including the ones we hired) with no “facilities.” These were down the hall. John and Dad shared a room, and Mom and Margaret. The ladies had the bigger room, with the better view. If you look carefully in this picture, taken from their room, you can just see the water of the Grand Canal (look under the arches). Not bad for 90 Euros per night, per room, in Venice. Our first night, we wandered to a restaurant recommended by our hotelier, Rick Steeves, and the Knopf Pocket Map Guide to Venice (Al Nono Risorto). The pizza was excellent, with crispy thin crust; the house red wine, cheap and tasty. Dessert featured little Italian cookies and a small glass of something like sherry, for dipping the cookies in.

We got out to an early start and were at the Academia when it opened. We had the place almost to ourselves for a few minutes, and enjoyed the late medieval and early Renaissance art. Unfortunately, about half of the Bellinis were either being restored or lent to other institutions, which meant that Margaret did not get to see the famous Madonna and child with Mary Magdalene that she had set her heart on. At least the Tempest was there. After reading A Soldier of the Great War, I had to see it. That novel had more meaningful and intelligent things to say about that painting than just about any of the guidebooks or museum-supplied commentaries we've encountered anywhere.

After the Academia, it was off to St. Mark’s square. As an incentive to keep the kids interested, we played another search game. I offered them ten cents for every winged lion (the symbol of St. Mark, the patron saint of Venice — as he became when some Venetian merchants “rescued” his body from Alexandria in the tenth century). Here’s one of the most prominent, on the Doge’s palace:

We toured the Correr museum (of the history of Venice — and lots of winged lions) and had lunch in their cafeteria (great view, quiet, expensive, mediocre food, indifferent service). The interior of the Doge’s palace was next. Naturally, large portions of it were being restored, but the astronomical clock, which was being restored when I was last in Venice (2004) was now visible — and glorious. This picture may not show the details as well as possible, but it is digital, showing the time in five-minute increments. (By about this time, I had to cut the game off at about 2 Euros per kid — these things can get expensive, fast).

We decided to try the basilica on Monday, first thing in the morning to beat the crowds, so we hopped on a vaporetto to St. Giorgio, where we took in the church and admired the Doge's Palace:

We also saw the remarkable spectacle of a cruise ship being tugged out of Venice. See how the modern ship dwarfs the Renaissance scale of the modern city. I am giving my verdict on the design of the ship, here (the stern is not visible in the photo (the ship was just too big), but it was hideously squared off).

After returning to St. Mark’s, we found an overpriced café with a view of S. Giorgio and sat for gelato and espresso.

Then, we took a cruise on the vaporetto down the rest of the main island, past the big park, out to the Lido and returned up the Grand Canal for a sunset cruise. Us and as many people as could fit body-to-body on the boat. We were so crowded in by the end that we were unable to get off where we wanted and had to get off at the next stop and make a long walk home. Naturally, by that time, everyone really needed to get back to the hotel (if you know what I mean), and naturally, that was the only time we really had trouble finding our way.

Here's another random, lovely view:

For the record, Margaret took over a hundred pictures in our two days walking around Venice. Apparently Adelia told her to, because she'd like to visit the place some day. So we have lots of Venice photos on the hard drive.

I thought, briefly, about taking a gondola ride — but they're quite expensive, and I'm certain that, knowing the cost, Susan would not have enjoyed it. We did, however, take some nice pictures of the gondolas and gondoliers:

After taking care of business, we wandered out again, found a cheap pizza place (cheaper, but not as nice as the previous night’s place, with a very questionable semi-fizzing cheap red house wine -- cut with fizzy water, perhaps?) and got home for bed.

Monday was another big day. We were packed and out of the hotel by 8:30 and planned to get in as much sightseeing as we could before our 2:45 train to Florence.

We were at the Campanile when it opened at 9, and enjoyed a delightful view of the city.

Here's the view from the south (note the Chiesa di Santa Maria Della Salute under renovation):

And to the West (note the renovations on the square):

And to the East (see the domes of the basilica in the foreground):

We were among the first tourists into St. Mark’s when it opened at 9:45 and spent a long time admiring the mosaics, the treasury (Susan had some things to say about the merits of the Protestant Reformation and its iconoclasm and repudiation of the veneration of the saints — some of which might have gotten us kicked out of the cathedral, if any English-speaking ecclesiastics had been around), the spectacular golden altarpiece, and the museum in the balcony.

Outside, the kids climbed on some of the St. Marks' lions (no wings, however):

We had a picnic in the park and took the vaporetto up to S. Toma, where we got out and hiked it to the Frari church to admire the Titian Assumption of Mary and a truly extraordinary Bellini altarpiece. I had hoped we’d have time enough also to see what Rick Steeves calls “Tintoretto’s Sistene Chapel” (the Scuola Grande de S. Rocco). Alas, there was no time. We hiked it back to the hotel, packed ourselves and our luggage into the vaporetto, and got to the train station to board the Eurostar express train to Florence. It was much nicer than the train we took from Innsbruck, though we had been required to reserve seats at 15 Euro a piece, so it should have been. The train was fast (2:45 to Florence, making only two stops before ours), did not require a connection, and had a free beverage service, so it seemed worth the extra cost. And it was.

We arrived at the Florence apartment without difficult and found it very satisfactory. But that will have to wait for another blog entry.

Ciao,
Joe

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Tomorrow evening we will be sleeping in Venice, so tonight is our last night in among the German-speaking peoples of Europe. We've had a wonderful time in Germany and Austria, despite our feeble local language skills, and we celebrated our last night here with a lovely dinner of Schnitzel, Spätzl (?), and local beer. Tomorrow we face a two-hour train ride to Innsbruck, then an hour layover and a four hour ride from there to Venice. At least, being above the age of 27, we were required to buy first-class Eurailpasses, so we'll travel in reasonable comfort.

Our last day in Austria was a busy one. We got out of the apartment early and made it into town by 10 am. Our first stop was the baroque cathedral, started by Archbishop Marcus Sitticus (the villain of the "Salt World" narrative) and completed by his successor Paris Lodron. It is a lovely baroque building, having nothing at all in common with the Gothic cathedral that Maria and the Captain get married in during The Sound of Music. The baroque architects who laid out the cathedral and the square below it came up with one clever trick: if you stand in just the right place in a colonnade in front of the cathedral, you can see that two angels on the front of the cathedral are placing a crown upon the head of the Virgin Mary statue in the square below. Naturally, the cathedral is under renovation, but this is the gist of the view:

After the cathedral, we visited the old Archepiscopal residence, the palace where the prince-archbishops lived until the middle of the seventeenth century. There were some lovely rooms, and in this palace, we got to see one of the small corridors from which the servants fed the woodstoves. It was nice, but we've seen a lot of lovely old things, so I didn't think it was all that special.

Next we went to see the Museum of Salzburg, which we went to mainly because it was drizzling when we got out of the Residence and so a bad time to have our picnic lunch outside. It must be admitted that the history of Salzburg is not the most intrinsically fascinating subject — but . . . this was a GREAT museum! They had an absorbing kids' activity, and they did a very fine job of making the history of the place as interesting as possible. The displays were well thought out and interestingly arranged. The audioguide automatically translated any German-language narrative on a room's video screens into English. We spent about an hour and a half there, which was, admittedly, about 45 minutes longer than Susan would have stayed, but I could have stayed at least another hour. The people who run the Mozart Wohnhaus should pay the City of Salzburg museum a visit for tips!

When we finished there, the sun was back out, so we ate our picnic lunch outside and we took the 25 bus to its end at the Untersbergbahn — the cable car up to the summit of the Untersberg. Here's the view from below:

The summit is about 1800 meters up (approximately one mile), and it was snow-covered (with about an inch of wet snow). Unfortunately, the summit was in and out of the clouds. Actually, we were lucky that the clouds broke enough for us to get a couple of pictures, as you can see here

and here.

But for the most part, the view was like this:

As it turns out, this is the mountain we can see from outside the Bloberger Hof (it is not that far from here), and when we got back to the place around 6 this evening, the mountain was still shrouded in cloud, even though the rest of the sky had cleared!

We had a lovely last dinner at the restaurant here, and then a busy night of packing!

We may not be updating for a couple of days, as we think there may not be internet at our hotel in Venice.

Auf wiedersehen,

Joe

Auf Wiedersehen to the German-Speaking Lands remains copyright of the author jrreisert, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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But I digress. Actually half the challenge was in getting to Salt World. Susan may have claimed yesterday that the Salzburg bus system is user-friendly and easy to navigate. Perhaps she was over-optimistic. Our first challenge was to get from our pension-hotel to the Hauptbanhof (main train station) in Salzburg. We were told to change buses at Mirabellplaz. This proved to be easier said than done, since it turns out that, though all of the main bus lines go through this one general area, there are actually about ten different stops within about a two block radius. It was also raining at the time (and all the signs, such as they were, were in German). So it took us a bit of doing to figure out which bus to get on and how to get to the Hbf. But we got there, bought the all-in-one Salz erlebnis ticket recommended by our friend, Rick Steeves, and got on the train that was supposed to meet up with a helpful bus in Hallein (a suburb of Salzburg, next to the actual village where the mine is located). Well, we expected to find a clearly marked shuttle bus. Instead, we discovered we were supposed to take one of the regular regional busses. But we had no idea which one. Eventually, I asked someone in the train station ticket office in my terrible German and was told which bus — and it emerged that we had to wait thirty five minutes for it to go in the direction we needed. I asked the bus driver to point out which stop we should get out at (Susan kindly omitted from yesterday's blog entry that I made the family get out of the bus two stops too early on our way to Hellbrunn, so we had to walk about an extra kilometer to arrive there — all because I misunderstood what the electronic information sign was saying). The bus driver pointed out the stop, as did some helpful locals, who told us, in English, that we should get off the bus there.

(As an aside, this is not the first time that something like this has happened. We were on a tram in Prague, heading — or so we thought — to the monastery above Prague Castle. Actually that is where that tram line was supposed to go. But there had been some announcement, in Czech of course, explaining that this tram was being diverted. So when we got to the last stop before the diversion, one person asked me, in English, whether I really wanted to say on the tram. I said I did, so he said nothing further, but another passenger, with better English and a good sense of what we were trying to do, asked me where I was headed. To the monastery, one stop further along, I answered. He said, this tram's been diverted; it's about to turn. You should get off. By this time, the doors were closing, so our Good Samaritan shouted to the driver (in Czech, of course) and we all got off. And, in fact, the tram then turned and went off in a direction that would have taken us far from our intended destination.)

During the wait, I was sent off to mail some cards from the post office, where my German almost sufficed for the transaction but not quite. I got lost on the question: do you want to sent that regular or priority mail? A helpful bystander translated after I said, "Bitte? Ich verstehe nur ein bisschen." Then the helpful woman (about my age) explained (again in German) to the clerk that she should really work on her English, as a need for it comes up every day! I wanted to say something about how I should be working on my German, but my language skills failed me, so I just thanked them both for their help and made a speedy exit.

At length, we arrived:

Once there, we found ourselves among the few people traveling alone. Most of our tour consisted of a single large bus-tour group from some more or less German speaking place. Possibly the Netherlands or some part of Germany. There was, however, one couple of German-speakers who were very kind to us and patiently put up with all the damage I inflicted on their language. I was actually quite touched by their efforts to help me work on my language skills. Usually, once people figure out that their English is better than my German, they start speaking in English, with no more ado and that's that. At any rate, they took this picture of us:

We also have a picture the Saltworld people took of us, but we have no ready way to get that on line.

The tour was great fun, and probably way too dangerous to be legal in America. First we all squeezed on to a little train to head, horizontally, deep under the mountain. Then we walked further in and watched a series of videos featuring a grasping Prince-Archbishop (Marcus Sitticus) and his comically clumsy servant describing the works of the mine as they were in the early seventeenth century. And we learned that the wealth of this whole area was founded upon the salt trade. Here's a photo of John with an eighteenth century relief of a good (or at least less bad) Archbishop:

Susan found the whole thing terrifying (she hates even the thought of being underground), but she was a trooper. The best part, for me and for John, were the big "miners' slides." Back in the old days, the miners would work their way deep into the mine by sliding down long wooden chutes. The tourist versions were shorter and less steep than the real things, but they were still great fun. The resort operators take pictures of tourists on the way down, but I was making a totally ridiculous face, so we didn't buy that picture, and I couldn't get a decent shot with the camera. Instead, I have a shot here of Susan and John in the "heart of the mountain" — a touristy set up of reddish salt blocks, with lights inside them. (Actually, the mines go eight levels deeper and several hundred meters lower than the "heart").

If you would like to get a better sense of what a salt mine slide looks like, you might google "salt mine slide."

After Salt World, we hiked up to the village of Bad Dürrnberg, which is where the mine is actually located. As you can see, Margaret really enjoyed the climb:

From the church (built by Archbishop Sitticus, the villain of the tour narrative) we took some photos of the valley below:

Then, Back in Salzburg, we headed to the Mozart "Wohnhaus" — where the family lived during Wolfgang's teens and later, and where some of his great, early works were composed. Rick Steeves likes this place better than the "birth house," which we haven't yet seen, but this was one of the lamest museums we've ever been in.

Fortunately the café next door was very good (albeit a bit expensive). We refreshed ourselves with Sacher torte and hot chocolate and cafe mélanges (as they call cappucinos in Austria).

We tried to go to the Mozart waxworks museum (which we can get into on our "Salzburg Card" all in one pass) but it was closed. By the time we discovered this, the Geburtshaus also had closed. So we wandered around Salzburg for awhile, until our steps took us to the Augustinian church, just in time for Vespers. In honor of Bach Fest 2008, all the music was composed by JS Bach, and it was beautifully performed by organ and choir.

At least we've mastered the 21 Bus, which takes us back to the lovely Bloberger Hof, where we had dinner in, did yet another load of laundry in the sink, and put the kids to bed.

auf wiedersehen,
Joseph

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We arrived in Salzburg yesterday (Tuesday), the land of the Sound of Music. Only Salzburgians supposedly HATE the S.O.M., whether or not they have actually seen the movie. The only Salzburg people who like the SOM are those involved in the tourist trade, because the SOM brings in lots of cash. One well-respected SOM tour operator would charge a family of 4, 150 Euros for a four-hour tour. It's not so much the desire to cash in on the SOM that gets to us, but the fact that they want to cash in on something that they despise. Anyway, we have decided to forego the SOM tour. John agrees with the locals anyway; he doesn't like the SOM at all.

We are having a delightful time in Salzburg, despite the SOM business. It's nice to take a break from big city life and enjoy a slightly slower pace, a bus system that's easy to understand, and town center that is compact and easily negotiable.

After arriving yesterday mid-afternoon, we took a taxi to our pension/hotel, Bloburger Hof. It's on the outskirts of Salzburg with simply magnificent mountain views. We got our stuff settled and then off we went to into Salzburg. Getting around is easy. We walked around Salzburg, took a look at the river and the fortress, and spent some time at Tourist Information.

And, of course, we took a few quick shots — this one, for example:

We had dinner at the restaurant at Bloburger Hof. It was delicious. The kids had spaghetti. Joe had fish. And, I had the special of the night: chicken breast with mushroom risotto and broccoli. Yum.

This morning, we had a wonderful breakfast downstairs in the restaurant (included in the room price). Margaret and I discovered that one of the muesli mixes had chocolate pieces in it. Heaven! They also serve wonderful yogurt and homemade jams.

Once we got ourselves together, packing a picnic lunch, we headed for the bus stop. After a stop or two on the bus, we were joined by a nice family from Canada, with children 11 and 9! They are living in Italy for the semester, and taking trips around Europe. We had a great chat with them and may try to meet up with them when we are in Florence.

Our first big adventure of the day was exploring the fortress, which was never taken by force (they surrounded to Napoleon). The fortress looms over the river, high above the old town. It is huge. The adventure began with a ride up a funicular. This time there was fun in the funicular; it was operating (unlike in Prague). Once we got inside, we went through an escorted audio tour (I'm not sure why we had to be escorted) which brought us to one of the higher towers in the fortress. Great views of the area, as you can see behind the cute children (John has recently discovered he loves audio-guides, or as the Germans call them Audioführeren).

During the audio tour, we learned that one of the archbishops, Leonhard, chose the turnip as his heraldic symbol (his uncle had thrown a turnip at him when he was a child to "knock his head straight," and he remembered this well into his adulthood). All around the fortress we found coats of arms with turnips. Unfortunately, Joseph and I chose to make this a game for the children and offered ten euro cents for each turnip they found (it kept them focused on what they were looking at). Turns out, there were a lot of turnips to be found at the fortress! We ended up having to pay out about two euros for each child. Here's an example:

After the fortress, we walked a path from the fortress along the ridge of the Mönchsberg. Along the way, we were again treated to lovely views of the area. We walked to the top of the Museum of Modern Art, where you can take an elevator down to the city.

Then, since the weather was nice (it was supposed to be not so nice), we decided to chuck the plan for the rest of the day and head out to Schloss Hellbrunn, also on the outskirts of Salzburg (but different outskirts from where we are staying). Hellbrunn was built by a different archbishop prince, Sittikus, who decided that he needed a fun and cool place to hang out DURING THE DAY in the summer (not at night). The Schloss features a lovely park where the archbishop exercised his fancy of surprising his guests with water tricks. Our tour guide mostly warned us of impending "water tricks." And, when she didn't, we could usually tell when one was coming up by water on the ground. The archbishop liked to make "reindeer" into "raindeer." (The antlers of this one sprayed water):

Get it??? It was pretty cheesy, but the kids loved it. And, it was a good way to enjoy a warm afternoon, especially in the middle of October!

After the park of water tricks, we found a kids playground, also on the grounds of the Hellbrunn. There was a zipline trolley, which the kids loved. Here's John having a great time (the kids really, Really, REALLY want one in Belgrade... we'll see):

And, next to the playground was the pavilion from the SOM (remember the embarrassing duet, "You are Sixteen Going on Seventeen")! So, we got a little SOM action in anyway. Unfortunately, it was locked so we couldn't demand that Margaret jump from bench to bench at Leisl did in the movie (Margaret was greatly relieved).

We made our way back to the old city, got some groceries for dinner and caught the bus back to Bloburger. We had a simple dinner in. The kids are in bed. We are hoping for an early start, as we are expecting to travel to a salt mine tomorrow.

We must be off to bed ourselves and will try to get you caught up on our last day in Vienna too (Joe was writing his column, so we couldn't write the blog too!).

Auf Wiedersehen!

Susan

Salzburg! remains copyright of the author jrreisert, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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It’s early Sunday evening and a decision must be made—opera or amusement park? Which would you pick?? Amusement Park of course! We’ll get to that in a moment.

We began Sunday with another lovely breakfast at Pension Suzanne, followed by a nice stroll, a loop that eventually would take us to church.

For church, we attended high mass at St. Augustine’s Church, which featured Haydn’s Nelsonmesse with orchestra and choir. The mass was impressive, although Margaret wasn’t especially impressed. She didn’t warm to the idea of going to church, with everything in German—great music or not. She survived that hour and half mass, plus the ten minute postlude.

It was a gorgeous day, so we had a nice picnic lunch on the grounds of the Hofburg. Then, we walked over to the Kunsthistorisches Museum for an afternoon of art. We started with Egypt, and then a quick walk through Greco-Roman antiquities. Then on to do the Rick Steeves self-guided walk (there were several blue-covered guidebooks in evidence) but the museum had changed its exhibits, so several of the paintings we most wanted to see (including the Raffael and a St. Sebastian) were not on display. Margaret, however, did get to see the Vermeer that she wanted to see.

In Viennese style, we spent the late afternoon in a café behind our flat.

After a picnic dinner in the flat, we had our big opera/amusement park debate. Well, truth be told, it wasn’t much a big debate. It was over in about ten seconds. So, off to the Prater we went! Atlantic City on the Danube. We went on the super-touristy Ferris Wheel. Margaret and Joseph went on a little roller coaster, the “Super-8 Bahn.” Then we all took in a round of family bumper cars.

Before returning to the flat, we ran through the convenience store near the Praterstern U-Bahn stop. Shopping is not easy, as most things are shut on Sundays.

Prague had a number of stores with long hours. With the Czech language phrasebook we had borrowed from Jiri, we found that the names of these Czech-style convenience stores meant something related to “evening” and “necessities” — and, when you think about it, that pretty much sums up what convenience stores are for: things that you need in the evenings, when other stores are closed. So, we gathered up a few “evening necessities” (mostly beer and chocolate) and headed for bed.

And here’s another random thought: It turns out that the Opera Toilet plays a WALTZ and not opera at all. Joseph is threatening to write a book on the “facilities” that he has visited with John. There have been a lot of them. One lesson: In Europe, it is best to go to toilets that require a fee. We won’t go into the details.

If he had got his act together years ago, this book would be a sequel to a book that I thought that Joseph should have written: Rest Areas Along the Eastern Seaboard. Perhaps, an idea for his next sabbatical?

And, while we’re on the subject, just ask Joseph about the rest room in the mall in Prague . . . He’s still recovering. You could ask John, too, but we’re not sure he knows what’s so unnerving about a big mural, above the urinals, of young, attractive women making mocking hand gestures. He’s still puzzled about the one holding a magnifying glass.

Anyway, we’re off for another beautiful day in Vienna. The weather should be fabulous, sunny and very warm for this time of year.

We posted photos for yesterday’s blog and we’ll try to post a photo or two from Sunday later today.

Best to all.

Auf Wiedersehen!

Susan

Another Glorious Day in Vienna remains copyright of the author jrreisert, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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[warning: both Joe and I are writing this entry, passing it back and forth over our very civilized Viennese breakfast, so pronouns and references may get confused. We beg your forgiveness (it is Sunday after all).]

Yesterday morning began with a long, leisurely breakfast. Margaret is in heaven here, with the hot chocolate, croissants, bread, and cheese for breakfast. John, too, loves the hot chocolate (we've repeatedly had to stop him from shaking the pot to coax out the last few, super-chocolatey drops stuck to the bottom!) and he's taken to eating hard boiled eggs, but only the whites. The kids also spent a while updating their journals. We haven't been able to post as many of their thoughts online as we'd like, but they are writing regularly about their experiences (and it's beginning to cost us).

We began our sightseeing adventure by heading up to the Capuchin church to visit the tombs of the Hapsburgs, where we encountered yet another tour group. We generally hate guided tour groups, which crowd by, take too many pictures, and make a lot of noise, but we enjoyed some of what we overheard from this one. Apparently, the funeral ritual of the Hapsburgs went like this. The dead emperor would be driven to the church in a long procession, in a special black coach used only for state funerals, and the cortege would arrive to find the doors of the church closed. The majordomo would knock with the official state baton, and the monks would answer: who's there? The answer would come: Franz Joseph, followed by all of his many titles, etc. etc. von Hapsburg. The monks would reply: "we don't know him." The official would knock again: "who's there?" comes the reply. The official answers: "Franz Joseph, Emperor of Austria, King of Hungary and Bohemia, Grand Duke of here and there, etc." Apparently the titles take about ten minutes to recite. To this, the monks would answer again: "we don't know him." The majordomo knocks a third time. "Who's there?" He answers: "Franz Joseph, a brother, a poor sinner." Only then does the door open. It also turns out that the last empress of Austria was buried in the 1980s (she went into exile in 1918 and died a very old woman indeed). One of her sons is also buried in the crypt, and the guide said that he had on several occasions seen the other Hapsburg brothers of that generation come to pay their respects to their parents and ancestors.

After that, we set off for the river, but we didn't realize how far it was, so we didn't make it there. We had a lovely picnic by the canal and then decided to set off to visit churches. First, was St. Stephen's, the big cathedral.

Of course, the tower that is usually open for climbing was . . . closed for renovations. But, the church was quite nice. John lit a candle and prayed. The next church was St. Peter's, very baroque and according to a plaque, founded by Charlemagne. This church had a special altar in honor of the founder of Opus Dei. Joe wanted to pay his respects. Susan was eager to get out.

Here, for example is a memorial to St. John Nepomunk — just the sort of thing that brings out the Hussite in Susan:

The next church was The Church at the Court, but we didn't go in. And, then, we wandered around a little more and stumbled upon the Church of the Scots. At first Susan got pretty excited about this discovery, only to find that the church was actually founded by the Irish (when it was New Scotland), so it wasn't really Scottish at all.

Not the first disappointment of the day.

Finally, we found the Votive Church, which is undergoing renovation as well.

By this time, we were tired and hungry. It was getting late in the afternoon. So, we went in search of a cafe. We walked and walked, came upon some science and "wellness" fair for children in the park in front of the Rathaus (an apt name for a seat of government, no?), and then continued walking. We posed for photos in front of the neo-classical parliament building (the flag was lowered to half staff because far-right parliamentarian Jorg Haider had died in a car crash the day before):

Finally, we ended up back on the Graben. We found a table at the first cafe we came upon. The waitress didn't know much English. We ordered two hot chocolates for the kids, but she said that they didn't have that; they had something else. We ordered that. Plus, two ice creams, and an apple strudel and two beers (it was just too late in the afternoon for coffee). Well, the ice creams were enormous. The "hot chocolates" were really warm chocolate puddings. And, then there was the apple strudel (which turned out to be a nice break from all of that chocolate). Plus the beer. We almost declared it dinner.

Now stuffed, we went back to the flat, wandered around the neighborhood, watched people going to the opera, and then went to the Haus der Musik, a museum devoted to all aspects of music. The Haus der Musik was a very cool museum. It had lots of hands-on activities and displays, and a room where you could rediscover what it was like to be in the womb. We learned a great deal about some of the great composers who have lived and worked in Vienna. We also explored experimental music. We stayed at the museum until almost 9:00.

We returned to the flat, had a quick little picnic dinner of cheese, bread, salami, cucumbers and tomatoes. And, then it was off to bed!

Today, we plan to go to church and then to the big art museum. We may try to get standing room tickets to tonight's opera. We'll see how everyone feels.

Auf Wiedersehen!

Susan and Joe

A Day Full of Churches. . . And Chocolate remains copyright of the author jrreisert, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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First of all, welcome to the world Finleigh Amelia Burns, new daughter of Cindy and Mark Burns (and sister to Ainsley and Kenzie)! We are looking forward to meeting you!

Friday in Vienna was spent mostly at Schönbrunn Palace, the summer palace of the Hapsburgs. It was just like the lake house, only a little bit bigger, as you can see here:

We now have big plans for what to do with our "summer palace"! (Joseph wants to build a replica of the Gloriette -- a sort of Roman Imperial set of triumphal arches to mark the end of the formal garden).

We toured the apartments, first of Franz Josef and Elizabeth (Sissy), and then those of Maria Theresa and her children. For the absolute monarch of a substantial empire, Franz Josef seems to have lived a relatively spartan existence, devoted to his duty as first public servant of the Empire. The audioguide aims to humanize and contextualize the sights by talking mostly about the family life of the royals. Joseph wanted to hear more about the history of the Hapsburg monarchy, but how many political theory professors do they really get here?

We tried hard to explain to the children the significance of what they were seeing. It was a little dispiriting that, by the late afternoon, neither child could come up with the name "Hapsburg" when asked whose palace we were in! At least Margaret remembered some of the first names. Still, we're working on them.

Margaret has announced several times that she wants to live in a palace. She particularly likes the Baroque rooms, with cream or yellow silks and gilt plaster ornamentation. Frescoes on the ceiling are a plus. We've tried to explain that living that way seems to get you conquered and marginalized by the hungrier and more powerful (the fate of the dukes of Saxony, whose residences we visited in Dresden), or forced into exile by the people (the Hapsburgs), or guillotined. Those considerations seem to move her not at all. So instead, we've taken to explaining that if she wants to afford to live in such style, she'll have to found the next Google. And to do that, she'll really need to work on her math!

After the palace, we had our bag lunch on a bench in the garden and strolled around the grounds. October is clearly not the best time to visit in order to see formal gardens, since the landscapers were digging up some of the dying plantings (if you look closely in the picture, above, you can see some of the upturned mounds of dirt), but the place was far less crowded than it would have been had we been here in August. The spectacular Neptune fountain was still running, which pretty much made up for the less than splendid flowers in the gardens.

For John, the highlight of the day — it was possibly the highlight of the whole trip for him — was our visit to the hedge maze in the palace gardens. Actually there were three mazes. One was a fully grown hedge maze, leading to an elevated observation platform in the center (from which this photo was taken):

The second was a recently-planted hedge maze, with a number of games located throughout (including a dance-glockenspiel, a fountain that visitors could make spray with a sort of see-saw, and a footbridge that sprayed water on the feet of the unwary). And there was a third maze, of vines, with more games and puzzles, and, after that, an elaborate modern playground. Check out this piece of equipment — I'm sure the tort lawyers would have a field day with this one in the USA:

Last was our visit to the Apfelstrudel-making demonstration. Turns out apple strudel is much easier to make than one might have thought -- and, at least as the Viennese make it, it also involves rum.

After our return to "home base" here, we walked through a local produce market and salivated over all the fresh and dried fruits, the olives, the assortment of cured meats and cheeses, not to mention the baked breads. But rather than a picnic dinner, we ate at a relatively inexpensive restaurant, sitting outside and enjoying schnitzel, goulash -- and local beer.

We ended the night with an organ concert at the Augustinian church near the "city" palace of the Hapsburgs. There is nothing quite like listening to a ten minute lecture on the music you're about to hear in a language you cannot understand. Joseph professes to have understood every third word or so, but he didn't get much out of it either.

The performers were essentially grad students in music, and they were fine (playing three pieces by Messiaen), but they weren't as good as the organist we saw in Haarlem, nor was the organ quite as fine. At least Joseph enjoyed it.

Auf Wiedersehen,
Susan

The Hapsburgs' Summer Palace remains copyright of the author jrreisert, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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We arrived in Vienna yesterday afternoon (Thursday). We are at breakfast now at our "pension," a bed and breakfast kind of place very close to the Opera. It's great to be in the middle of everything, although the "apartment" that we rented isn't really an apartment at all, just a collection of rooms that share a bathroom. There is a small fridge and a coffee maker, but that's about it. We had a very interesting picnic in our apartment last night. Oh, well. On the bright side (and, as they taught us in Spamalot, ALWAYS look at the bright side of life . . . ), it is big and right in the middle of everything.

We have already seen (but not visited) one of the public toilets with opera blasting out of it. But, I guess it is not the most famous one. With John with us, I'm sure it won't be long before we find it. John loves checking out the local "facilities." We also think this will be a great place to work on our family travel opera. More on that later.

We are looking forward to an exciting day of exploring. We will try to up-date with photos this evening.

Have a great day and, DON'T watch the news!!!!

Auf Wiedersehen!

Susan

Vienna! remains copyright of the author jrreisert, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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Our last day in Prague was very nice, not quite as plagued by tour groups, but still there were plenty around. I'm writing this brief up-date before we head to Vienna. We expect that we can add photos when we arrive in Vienna.

We started off in Wenceslas Square (you know, the guy from the Christmas song) and checked out the great "square" (really a boulevard) where Czechs demanded their freedom in 1989.

We also visited the Tyn Church, where Hussites stripped the church, but then the Hapsburgs reacted in remarkably strong fashion by larding it up with Baroque ornamentation. Margaret liked it. I did not. But, at least there was not a holy bearded woman on a cross.

Then, we took in some Gothic art at the St. Agnes Convent. The arrangement was really very nice, although they made a strong note of denouncing the Hussites.

By lunchtime, the weather looked promising. The sky had cleared and it was quite warm. So, we decided to have our picnic lunch. Joe wanted to march us across the river, but the rest of us protested and resisted. We ended up eating lunch on a bench next to a very busy road. So what that we were enveloped in exhaust fumes. We descended on lunch like a plague of locusts.

After lunch, we ventured to the funicular to go to an observation tower on a hill. But, the funicular was closed for repairs! They really know how to take the "fun" out of funicular! So, how to respond??? By marching up that hill! Which we did. But, by the time we got to the top, we were behind schedule. John agreed to go to the maze, but to give up climbing the tower.

Then, it was time to go back to Prague Castle. We explored quite a lot of the Castle. It is enormous! We especially like the "story of Prague" display, with some very, very old artifacts.

We ended the afternoon with a stroll over the Charles Bridge just after sunset. Really, really lovely.

Now, we are off to Vienna. We'll send more later!

Hope all is well with you!

Na Shledanou!

Susan

Farewell to Prague remains copyright of the author jrreisert, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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Let’s get the negative things out of the way first:

1. They have as much difficulty predicting/describing the weather here as they do in London (and in Maine!). Today, the forecast was for bright, sunny and warm. Well, it was pretty warm—for October—but, for a good three-quarters of the day we didn’t even see a hint of blue sky. Just gray, overcast and drizzly.

Here’s Joe enjoying a “beautiful” day in Prague:

2. Tour groups have become the bane of our existence. We have been encountering tour groups all along our journey, but nothing like here in Prague. It’s hard to imagine what it’s like here in the summer. We can’t go anywhere, do anything, without a tour group or, more accurately, tour groups, getting in our way or making things difficult. The tour groups are of two distinct kinds—school groups (mostly German and Russian) and older people (no surprise there). They are literally everywhere in this city, in large, sprawling pods that take over sidewalks and pathways. Ugh!

The rest of our experience has been quite delightful. The language barrier is even more stark here, as Czech is a Slavic language. Except for the outright English (and there is a fair amount of that), it is very difficult to recognize words and phrases. On Monday, we finally brought our laundry to the closest Laundromat. The woman at the counter did not know English. You should have seen the interaction with her! From what we could see, the possibility of doing the laundry ourselves was nonexistent. But, dropping off meant trying to figure out when it would be done and when we could pick it up, etc. One hand signal seemed clear: did we want our clothing ironed? Anyway, the long and short of it was that we could not get our laundry back the same day; we would have to wait a day. Since I had put our jammies in with the laundry (they hadn’t been washed since we left!!), I wasn’t too happy about that. But, there wasn’t a darn thing that could be done. It’s all part of the adventure!

We’ve spent a lot of time just wandering around Prague. We have taken a walking tour of the Old City. On Monday, we spent a lot of time exploring the Jewish Quarter, including Maisel synagogue (any relation, Sandy?). The Jewish sites were very moving. We had considered visiting a concentration camp not far from Prague, but we don’t think John could take it. At the Pinkas Synagogue, which contains the handwritten names of the Jews from Prague and the Czech Republic who were sent to the gas chambers at concentration camps (almost 78,000 of them), I thought that John would just break down and cry. The only thing them kept him from breaking down, probably, were the tour groups. This time, there were school groups and another group of people insisting on taking photos (despite the clear signs that indicate that the taking of photos is prohibited). They dispelled the solemn and serious nature of the display.

Here is a photo of the Jewish Cemetery:

Later that day, we also went to a Prague mall. Lots of predictable stores, although the food looked a lot more interesting. And guess what? Lots of groups of roaming teenagers. Some things are the same everywhere.

On Tuesday, we went to the Castle section of town, exploring the Strahov Monastery, the Loreta Church, and part of Prague Castle.

Here is a photo of Joe, Margaret and John at the main entrance of the Castle:

The Loreta Church contains one of the most disturbing “mini-chapels” I have ever seen. It’s the chapel of the St. Bearded Woman, the patron saint of unhappy marriages. The story goes that a woman, whose family arranged for her to marry a pagan man, prayed for an escape and . . . . she sprouted a beard! And the guy said, “No Way.” She avoided marriage, but angered her father who crucified her. Next to the crucified bearded woman are two forearms. We couldn’t figure out what they were supposed to symbolize. Very disturbing.

[Every time we go to a baroque church, Susan starts muttering things like: "Jan Hus was right" and "you know, the iconoclasts were really on to something" — ed.]

After exploring a bit of the castle, we went to the train station to buy tickets for Vienna (we leave on Thursday). The train station was another “highlight.” When Joe went up to the counter for “international tickets,” he was told that he would need the exact train number, etc. The woman didn’t have a computer or anything! Thankfully, our guidebook “friend” included information about a very helpful shop at the train station which would be able to help with train tickets. We found them and, indeed, they were very helpful not only in getting us train tickets for Thursday, but also for getting seat reservations for our trip from Salzburg to Venice.

We then returned to the flat, going by the laundry place first to see if we would actually see our clothing again. And, ta da! Our clothing was there, clean and folded. The woman at the counter this time could speak a little English.

On Wednesday, our last full day in Prague, we will return to the Castle. We’ll also try to squeeze in some other sites that we would like to see.

cheers,
Susan

And now for some thoughts from John: I am in the Czech Republic. I can’t understand anything here. I’m trying to learn how to say “hello,” “thank you,” and “hot chocolate.” Those are the most important things, other than “wc” (which means bathroom). I have visited LOTS of wc’s in Europe. In Prague, there’s a cool astronomical clock and it rings on the hour with a skeleton named death ringing his little bell. While death is ringing the bell, he is telling the saints that your time is up. And the saints are saying that there is life after death.

Here is a photo of the astronomical clock as a whole:

Here's a detail of Death ringing his bell:

And another of the open doors with the saints parading by (see St. Peter with the keys):

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Here's a shot of the four of us on the wall, with the Moldau River below and behind us:

Yesterday, we went down to breakfast at the Lida guesthouse where we chatted some with a few of the other guests — overwhelmingly Americans and overwhelmingly readers of Rick Steeves (who recommends the place highly in his Prague book). Most of the other visitors seem to be retirees, although there was another family with a school-aged child taking advantage of the excellent fall weather to visit Europe.

We took the tram into the old city to get a look at some of the “must see” sights and to get our bearings. As we wandered among the crowds on the Charles Bridge and then among the crowds in the old market square, we recognized the same “first full day in a new place” feeling we’ve felt before: we felt overwhelmed. With so much to see and do, it was hard to decide where to begin and what to see first. Here's emperor Charles, who stands guard at the Old City end of his eponymous bridge:

In the end, we ambled around the bridge, looked through some of the crafts and drawings for sale, listened to street music (a band improbably playing American Dixieland music, with lyrics in Czech). After the bridge, we climbed the bridge tower, which was probably not worth it, although it did serve to distract John from the nearby “museum of torture implements,” which he really wanted to see. Here's a nice shot from the tower:

We wandered over to the market square, through some tourist-trap shops. Arriving just about at noon, we joined the massive crowd to see the historical astronomical clock do its thing. From our vantage point, we could see Death ring the bell, but we missed out on the rest of the show. We’ll try to do better later in our stay.

So we wandered over the Jan Hus memorial, and snapped yet another photo of Susan standing in front of a favorite Protestant (or in the case of Hus, pre-Protestant) reformer.

We sat in the square and had our picnic lunch. Then the “overwhelmed” feeling set in. We looked into getting a tour of the Old Town Hall (to see, among other things, the workings of the astronomical clock), but the only English language tour was at 4. So we wandered among the narrow streets full of shops, looking for embroidered patches (which we are collecting) and for some cold weather clothes for Margaret, who has made clear that she needs more warm things.

As you can see, Margaret’s facial expressions can be very expressive. Can’t you just hear her asking, you want me to walk how far?

And here's another (from our first day) of Margaret showing her feelings about the just-completed long walk:

Not knowing quite what else to do, we took a Prague Walks tour of the historic medieval city. It was just the four of us, which meant that we could stop and ask lots of questions. Our guide was very knowledgeable and shared some interesting stories about life under the Communists (which he was old enough to remember first-hand) but he spoke with a strong accent and the children had trouble understanding him.

I had hoped to go on the 4 pm tour of the Old City Hall, but we were all too tired for more organized touring at that point, so we resumed our quest for warm clothing for Margaret. At first, we wandered through the narrow, shop-filled streets, but after a while the shops are all the same: t-shirts, Czech beer, glassware, t-shirts, beer, glassware, etc.

Somehow, our footsteps headed towards the giant Tesco department store in the New City (which should really be called the “less old” city, since it was new in the fourteenth century. For the record, the girls’ clothing seemed mostly trampy and inappropriate — tight-fitting, garishly colored, and often adorned with inappropriately suggestive sayings (in English!). In the end, we found a scarf for Margaret in the men’s department.

Susan, of course, had engineered our visit to the Tesco in order to go to the supermarket there. It is always a challenge to shop in a foreign supermarket, though the Tesco, being owned by a British firm, offered a number of products with English-language labels. We assembled the fixings for three dinners and a number of lunches for about what we spent on our relatively inexpensive dinner out last night. We could have saved more, but we splurged on real Skippy peanut butter (about $5) and Patak’s Tikka Masala sauce (almost $10!). We might not have tried cooking Indian food if we had really focused on the price, but we’re still not really used to thinking in Czech crowns, and only worked out the US dollar cost later.

We got the kids in bed early (8pm) in the hope that John would shake his cold and that the rest of us would be spared from getting it. We’re plotting out our next few days and are even thinking about adding an extra day in the Czech Republic — in part because we like it so much here, and in part because our accommodations here are much cheaper than our hotel in our next planned stop, Vienna.

This morning (Monday), we got our laundry packed up and we headed for the laundromat. We expected to find a big, American-style self-service laundry. Instead, we basically just had to drop all our clothes off with the woman there, who spoke no English. We believe that we are getting our clothes back tomorrow, after 2 pm, not-ironed. Or maybe not. Since we were expecting to do the laundry ourselves, we pretty much put everything we have into the laundry bags, which means that we are going to be wearing most of today's clothes again tomorrow. Oh, well: "it's all part of the adventure."

Margaret is working on some pre-algebra this morning, while John is doing some spelling and work on measurement. Then more on their journals. After an early lunch, we'll head back into the Old City.

cheers,
Joe

A Visit to Prague’s Old City . . . remains copyright of the author jrreisert, a member of the travel community Travellerspoint.

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