Your Favorite Travelers Meet Thomas the Train

After a stressful day of driving yesterday, we were looking forward to our train trip to Venice today. We got to the Padua station about 10 a.m. Trains leave for Venice from Padua about every 15 minutes, and we had no problem buying tickets and finding our train. We arrive in Venice about 30 minutes later. It was a piece of cake.

Fast forward seven hours. After spending the day in Venice, we walked to the train station. It wasn’t quite as easy buying tickets because the station is bigger, the crowds were bigger, and the machine was older. But we managed to successfully purchase our tickets to Padua. They are not for any particular time. Now it was time to find a train.

We looked on the departure board for trains leaving Venice around 6 or 6:30. We found a train to Bologna that showed a stop in Padua that left the Venice station at 5:57 from Track 6. Perfect. Now, those of you who have spent any time in Europe can see the handwriting on the wall, can’t you?

We get on the train that is on Track 6, and off we go. We are happily traveling along and have been doing so for about 25 minutes when the ticket collector comes by to take our tickets. The people who take tickets rarely speak English. He looks at our tickets, shakes his head sadly, and says, “Train no goes to Padua.” Picture two adults looking like deer in the headlights. “Get off at next station.”

We get off at the next station, which was Treviso. We again go to the departure board to see if there is a train that is leaving the Treviso station for Padua. At that point we are looking for trains that would leave around 7. All of a sudden, the light bulb goes on in my head. We are in Europe. They use the 24-hour clock. We had been looking at trains that left at 6 in the morning. We should have been looking for trains that left at 18.00. Yikes! If the nice conductor hadn’t told us we were on the wrong train, I would be writing this blog in Austria.

I’m happy to say that we found a ticket seller who spoke English who got us on our merry way to Padua, where I am now sitting and writing this blog.

Venice. Hmmm. I have very mixed feelings about this city. It is one of the most beautiful cities in the world. The narrow streets, the bridges over the canals, the fact that there are no cars or scooters zipping around all make it very romantic. When we were on the ship, I promised one of our table mates (who had been a travel agent) that we would visit Venice, and that we would stay until after the tour busses had left. Well, I can certainly see what he meant. I am not exaggerating when I say that I have never seen so many people in my life. You could really scarcely walk the streets. There was a minimum of four cruise ships in the harbor, so there was a MESS of tour groups walking around following a man or woman holding an umbrella.

But we did stay past 5, hoping it would clear out a bit, and it didn’t seem to get any better. I think summer is just not the time to go to this pretty city. Nevertheless, I am glad I went because it is hard to imagine a city without streets without actually seeing it. Bill and I took a water ride in the afternoon. We took a people ferry, really a local bus of sorts. It was so much fun, and so interesting, to see where and how the people of Venice live. They literally have no need for a car because they would have nowhere to drive. We saw people get onto this people ferry with bags of groceries to take home.

The city is dirty and it was very hot. But, I am making it sound terrible, and it really is a lovely city. It would be worthwhile coming back, perhaps in the winter when there are not so many people.

After our ferry ride, we did enjoy a wonderful meal of in a café near the Rialto Bridge. I even had a bellini, which is a drink that was invented in Venice.

Tomorrow is a day of rest for us.

Driving through Italy

Let me just say to begin with that there are no words to describe driving in Italy. The drivers are insane. They drive fast; they switch lanes without warning; most puzzling, they drive between two lanes, apparently unwilling to make a commitment to a lane in case the other one works out better. Road construction backs up traffic for miles, bringing it to a complete stop. We’ve been able to figure out that the sign says men are working on the road. What we can’t figure out is why they don’t tell you which lane is closed ahead. We think it must be some cruel joke. The fact that Bill has been successfully driving is a tribute to his patience and his superb driving skill. That’s a fact.

The drive to Trieste today took about two hours. Trieste is right at the top tip of Italy, the bootstrap of the boot. It sits on the shore of the Adriatic Sea. Driving into the town of Trieste is one of the prettiest sights I’ve ever seen.

There was absolutely no parking to be had. I can’t even tell you how many cars there were parked all over the city, all the way up the hill. We finally found a spot to fit our little car at the top of the hill. As we began walking down the hill towards the town, Bill realized that there was a bus that went past our parking space. When we got down into the city center, we walked into a tobacco shop where Bill had read that you buy bus tickets. In Italian that would have made an Italian mama proud, Bill asked for four tickets for the bus. I was surprised, because up until this point, Bill has been reluctant to speak Italian. Once he realized he could do pretty darn well and people could actually understand him, he has been talking up an Italian storm!

Once we got down into the city center, (where, surprisingly, there were not that many people considering the parking situation) we walked over to look at the Adriatic on which the town sets. We then had lunch at a café on the piazza in Trieste. While the waitress spoke little English, we were able to order lasagna Bolognese and a rice and chicken dish, both of which were delicious. We then were able to find out from the waitress (using our new fluent Italian!) to find out how to get to the amphitheater which was up hill from town.

We trudged up the long hill in extreme heat, and were rewarded with the lovely site of the town and a fine church and amphitheater.

Those who know me understand in what high regard I hold Lidia Bastianich, the Italian chef whose program is on PBS. In fact, in our family, she is “Lidia” in the same way as you have Cher or Madonna. Trieste was the home of Lidia. She was not born there, but when her family was forced to leave Pula in Croatia, they located in Trieste. I looked and looked for Lidia around the town, but to no avail. Sigh.

We had hoped to get to Pula, but it turns out that our GPS (which we refer to as “the football” because we are as dependent upon it as the U.S. President is upon the black briefcase that he carries and calls the football) is not programmed for any place that is not in the European Union. Croatia is not part of the Union. We would never have returned and would have been driving around endlessly until who knows when.

We were so tired tonight that we didn’t even go out and get dinner.

My Verona

Today we hit the road and visited Verona, a city about a 45 minute drive from Padua. I didn’t know much about Verona except that it is the location for Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliette. I did a bit of research online before we left and learned that it offers extensive Roman ruins and architecture.

I found Verona to be an absolutely beautiful city, and took an instant liking to it, just as I did to Siena several years ago. There were quite a few people visiting there today, but we didn’t let that stop us from looking at beautiful churches and piazzas, and one of the best-kept amphitheaters in Italy. In fact it is the third largest amphitheater in Italy, following only behind Rome and Capua.

We stopped at a wine bar and had a glass of Valpolicella and a glass of Bardolino, both which were very good. The Veneto region is famous for nice wines that are not terribly expensive, such as the two we tried, as well as Proscecco and Soave. In fact, on the way back to Padua we stopped in the village of Soave, though we didn’t get out of our car. Soave was also a very pretty village on top of a hill.

We were going to take back roads to get home, but ran into a massive traffic hangup. Unfortunately, we also witnessed an accident in which a scooter was “whitelining” (driving between cars on the white line, apparently legal in Italy) and a woman did a u-turn and ran into him. We watched long enough to see that the man got up and was walking around, but it looked like he was not in great shape. Yuck. We then decided to return to Padua via the autostrada, which turned out to be a mistake. There was construction going on, and it took considerably longer to get home than it would have if we had just stayed on the regular highway.

We had dinner tonight at a restaurant that really catered to the local community. Neither the owner nor the waiter spoke a word of English. They didn’t have a menu, and the waiter told us what they offered, and with the help of a lot of hand gestures and my handy dandy dictionary, we were able to get somewhat of an idea of our choices. Let me just tell you that horse was once again prominently featured. Hmmm. I had rigatoni in a spicy tomato sauce, and Bill had spaghetti with duck ragu. The owner brought us out a little appetizer on the house which we thought was very nice. It included some sausage (probably horse but I don’t want to think about it), riso e biso, and tuna salad.

Tomorrow our tentative plan is to head east to Trieste, Italy and Pula, Croatia.

My Friend Flicka

We decided to spend today exploring the city we are staying in for the next few days, Padua.

We slept in a bit, then breakfasted at our hotel. We boarded our bus about 10 and went into the city center of Padua. We visited an amazing display of art, including a chapel built by a local Paduan in honor of his father back in the 1300s. It is purported to be one of the best displays of fresco art in Europe. To help preserve the art, we had to sit in a sterile environment for 15 minutes in order to regulate our heat and humidity prior to viewing the art. We visited several churches, including the basilicas of St. Anthony and St. Guistina. Most interesting to me was that the Basilican of St. Guistana housed the remains of the apostle St. Matthias and the gospel writer St. Luke (photo). Amazing.

When we got back late in the afternoon, after a short break, we drove our car to IKEA, the Swedish-based housewares store, which has a store located nearby. Having only seen the IKEA in Phoenix, I was amused to see an identical selection to Phoenix but with the signs all in Italian. I was in the market for a new pillow as the pillow on the bed in my hotel room reminds me of a concrete block.

Tonight Bill and I went to a restaurant a couple of blocks from our hotel for dinner. We were looking for pasta somewhere close where we could walk. Our dinner was wonderful. Bill had bucatini, which is a hollow, long pasta, dressed with duck and asparagus. It was wonderful. I had tagliatelli with tomato, garlic and pecorino cheese that was also very good. We shared some red wine. Lots of red wine.

I have to reference my title. I love Italy. It is full of surprises. As I said, our restaurant tonight was wonderful. However, much to our surprise, the menu featured none other than horse. I’m serious. Horse as an appetizer. Horse pasta as a first course. Horse steak as a main course. Really, who would think that you would dine on My Friend Flicka?

Tomorrow I think we will drive to Verona.

So Long, Farewell, Auf Wiedersehn, Goodbye

We left Salzburg early on Tuesday, and I must say I was sad to leave. I really like that pretty, romantic Austrian city. But we had places to go, people to see. Well, no people really, but places definitely!

We wanted some road behind us, so we left without breakfast and then stopped for breakfast once we were on the road, but still in Austria. We stopped at a highway rest stop where we could get gasoline and some breakfast at the same time. The restaurant was very cute, and looked like a Swiss chalet. Not your typical gas station stop. The waitress spoke no English, but we managed to get close to what we thought we ordered. The best part of the breakfast was that we made friends with the table sitting next to us. They were a party of three older men (probably retired) on their way to play golf in Slovenia. One of them very kindly came over and introduced himself. We talked a bit about golf and about travel. I asked him if he was a good golfer or if he was a hacker. Bill later suggested I not use slang when talking to people for whom English is a second or possibly third language. He pointed out that I might have inadvertently said something like, “Were you a member of the Nazi youth?”

The drive to Padua was extraordinarily interesting. We must have gone through a total of (and I swear I’m not exaggerating) 15 to 20 tunnels as we made our way through the Alps in Austria and the Dolomites in Italy. The longest was 6.4 kilometers (which is over three miles), followed closely by 5.8 kilometers, both in Austria. The tunnels in Austria were well-lit, large, clean, and LONG. Once we drove into Italy, things changed considerably. The tunnels are just large enough, and not well-lit. Scary, in fact.

Driving in Italy is different from driving anywhere we have driven so far. When we got close to the turnoff for Venice, all of the sudden the trucks in the right hand lane (and there were many) were stopped dead, and we were still going along in the left lane at 70 mph. We couldn’t quite figure that out. In the meantime, cars were trying to pass us at I can’t even imagine how many miles per hour. But we made it safely to Padua, I’m happy to report. This is where we will be for the next six nights.

Our hotel is very nice, just outside of town. There is a bus that we catch right across the street that takes us into the city center for one euro. This afternoon we took the bus into town and walked around a bit and got our senses for Padua. We went and visited the main Basilica, and saw the tomb of my favorite saint of all time: St. Anthony (Dear St. Anthony please come round; something’s lost and must be found). I needed to use the bathroom, and had my first Italian bathroom experience. I walked in and found a hole in the ground, and they wanted me to pay 20 cents for that. Sometime soon I will have to resort to that because I’m in Italy. But I just wasn’t ready yet and elected not to do it. I spotted a full-habited nun going in after me, and would have loved to see how she did it. Well, maybe not.

We had wine on the piazza outside of the duomo, and then as we were looking for the bus stop home, we saw a pizzaria, where we stopped for dinner. Our dinner included gnocchi and pizza. So, we had dinner at a beer garden yesterday and pizza in a pizza garden today. Funny how time flies. Tomorrow we will play by ear. We have to get up our nerve to get on the roads again!

Ear and Beer

Our intention today was to rise early and drive to Munich, spending the day touring the beautiful German city. Instead, we spent time in a doctor’s office in Salzburg. Yikes!

Because I didn’t want to worry my family, I have not mentioned on this blog that a couple of weeks back when we were still in Lourdes, my left ear became completely plugged up with wax to the point that I was entirely unable to hear out of it. I went to a pharmacy in Lourdes and did my best given my inability to speak French to communicate my symptoms to the pharmacist. She finally gave me an ear wash, which I have been faithfully using twice a day in an effort to treat myself. I have been entirely unsuccessful.

I decided that I could put up with my ear problem until we reached Rome, at which time I hoped that Bill’s nephew, who is a priest studying canon law in Rome, would set me up with an English-speaking Italian doctor.

Sometime during last night, I had an epiphany that it made no sense to be in the part of Europe where people speak the best English and not take advantage of that by visiting an English-speaking Austrian doctor. So this morning Bill and I walked to a nearby pharmacy, and the pharmacist gave me the name of an ENT doctor who was located right around the corner who, best of all, spoke English.

We made our way over to the doctor’s office. Now, all of you picture your favorite doctor’s office. It is probably in a nice building, and the office is probably pleasantly colored with lots of magazines and friendly art on the walls. You simply open the door and are greeted by a friendly receptionist.

Instead, we walked down a rather scary looking alley to a series of doors bearing doctors names. Once we located the office of the doctor with whom I was to speak, we walked in the door and saw a stairway. We walked up the stairway, trying not to notice the broken windows. We made it up to the fourth floor, and the door was locked, though the sign had said the hours were 8:30 to noon. We noticed there was a button with the doctor’s name on it, and we pressed the button. We were buzzed in. It was starting to feel like a drug deal.

The reception area was extremely small and gray, and we were able to peer right into the little room where the doctor would do all his procedures. But, to be fair, the receptionist was very kind, and upon hearing of my problem, told me the doctor would see me at “half past 11.” So Bill and I killed some time until I could go back. Bill was especially hilarious by noting that he hoped this doctor didn’t study under Dr. Mengele. Funny man.

We checked back at 11:15, and the receptionist sent us to the waiting room. The waiting room is just off of the reception area, but is entirely separate. You go through a closed metal door and find yourself in a room that is no bigger than my dining room. It has no windows. Chairs line the walls. There were just a few people sitting in the room.

At precisely 11:30, the receptionist called me into the doctor’s office. The doctor couldn’t have been nicer and in about 20 minutes or so, I was good to go. When I opened the door to the waiting room to get Bill, he was sitting there all alone, except for two nuns, sitting right beside him. These nuns were straight out of The Sound of Music. They had the full habits and their hands were hidden in their habits, undoubtedly fingering their rosaries. I had another one of my giggling fits.

Our middle son had indicated that we needed to visit a particular beer garden called the Augustiner before we said our goodbye to Salzburg. After seeing the doctor, we walked over to the Augustiner. It didn’t open until 3, so we ate lunch elsewhere and went back. We are so glad we got a chance to see it. The Augustiner is a wonderful, extremely large beer garden that looks just like it is out of a movie set. Bill and I each had a beer and watched the people enjoy the weather and the locally-made brew. The process to get your beer is interesting. You can either do it yourself or be served. Doing it yourself is less expensive. You pay for your beer, and then you pick out your mug from a rack holding hundreds of mugs. You wash it out and give it to the man who fills the mug with beer from a wooden keg. There are a series of kiosks with all different kinds of food to enjoy with your beer, including white radishes that are spiral cut so they look almost like paper. It was such a relief to celebrate now that I can hear again.

Tomorrow morning we leave for Italy. We are both looking forward to being in the country we love so much. We will spend the next six nights in Padova in the Veneto region of Italy. From there we will visit Venice, Verona, Trieste, Pula (in Croatia), Modena, Bologna, and who knows where else! And we can eat some pizza. Yay!

Sunday in Salzburg

If Salzburg on Saturday is a day for strolling, on Sunday morning the people of Salzburg bring out their bicycles. I’m talking about children to old people and everyone in between. We got a fairly early start because we wanted to eat some breakfast before we went to 10 o’clock Mass at the Salzburg Cathedral.

Salzburg is a city of music. Not only is Mozart their favorite son, there is a world-renown music school located here. We learned from our guidebook that the Sunday High Mass at the Salzburg Cathedral was a musical masterpiece. So after eating our breakfast and drinking our coffee (and watching two little boys ride their bikes around the plaza, deftly dodging pedestrians, while their parents drank their own coffee), we walked over to the church.

The church is a gorgeous example of Baroque architecture, with magnificent paintings and an astounding dome. Not only was Mozart baptized at this church, he played organ there for two years. There are actually four large pipe organs, and it would be unbelievable to hear them played at the same time. Today only one organ was played, but beautifully.

In addition to the organ, there were two trombones and two trumpets. There was also a wonderful children’s choir, consisting of about 120 children, boys and girls, from probably about age 5 to teenagers. We got there very early because we wanted to get a seat right under the dome where the acoustics are the best. As a result, we had the opportunity to hear the children practice before the Mass. Wow. They were amazing.

The Mass was gorgeous. The procession in at the beginning started from a door in front of the altar, and the participants proceeded all the way down the side aisle and then up the middle aisle to the altar. It consisted of five priests and a bishop, and 14 acolytes (both boys and girls). They processed in to a Latin hymn sung by the wonderful children’s choir.

Not understanding German, I was entirely lost during the homily, so I watched the children. While they might sing like angels, I was amused to see that during the homily, they behaved just like normal children – poking, giggling, fidgeting, scratching their ears with their music, whispering.

To my readers who are non-Catholic, I offer my apologies. I just have to explain one more thing to my Catholic family and friends. For the past few days, we have been experiencing Austria and Germany, where the people are organized and precise. I’ve come to expect that. So it was with much surprise that I witnessed their reception of the Eucharist. As I started up the aisle, very assertive Austrians were suddenly overtaking me. I couldn’t imagine why they were passing me. Bill whispered to me that there were two communion rails before which people lined up to receive the host. But there was no organized procession to the rail. Seriously folks. It was each man and woman for him and herself. People were coming from the back, the sides, from all over. And about the time that we were finally nearing the rail, they let loose the children’s choir. All bets were off at that point. As Bill said, those kids can fit into little spaces and they certainly did so. I seriously felt like I was trying to get into a rock concert or a soccer match. The worst thing was that when I got back to my seat, I wanted to whisper to Bill that in all my years as a Catholic I had never seen anything like that, but I got a case of the giggles such as you can only get in church. I had tears running down my cheeks from laughing. It was really one of the funniest things I’ve ever seen, and I’m afraid not much of a spiritual experience.

After church we stopped at one of Salzburg’s famous frankfurter stands. Weenie stands, really. Austrians don’t eat their wieners on a bun. Instead, they eat their wiener and their bread separately. It apparently took American ingenuity to figure out that you can cut the bun in half and stick the weenie into the bun. But it was wonderful.

We came home and changed clothes (the Austrian dress up for church; I even saw a woman wearing white gloves). We got into our car and drove up to Berchtesgaden, a gorgeous alpine town about 30 miles from Salzburg, in Germany. It was made famous because it was one of Hitler’s favorite places and he built a house there where much of his war planning took place. The house is now a restaurant, but it was unfortunately closed because of technical problems. We were able to visit the bunkers that were built near there to house German troops, and the Nazi Documentation Museum, which gave many graphic and interesting details of World War II, how Hitler came to power, and how the war developed. I enjoyed it very much and learned a lot. It was interesting to hear it from the German perspective. We drove high into the Alps, as you can see from the photo.

We came home and rested a bit, and then went out for a bit to eat. We enjoyed schnitzel and a brew, and Bill drank a beer the size of a small garbage can. He was very happy.

The Hills Are Alive

Well, I admit it. The Sound of Music tour is a highlight of my European adventure. I have a good idea of who all is reading my blog, and I know just which ones of you are tittering right now. I don’t care. It was fun. It was interesting. And we got to see some of the most amazing scenery imaginable.

The tour bus is filled with Americans, and what you heard is true: you do sing along. But what the heck? It is The Sound of Music, which is one of the best musicals of all time. In addition to seeing the sights where much of the movie was shot, we also got a little tour of the city of Salzburg and a history lesson. Here is a photo of Bill and I standing in front of the lake in which Maria and the children fell. In the background you see the house that was used for the terrace shots.

The drive up into the lake area was simply beautiful. In that area we saw the field where Maria twirlingly sings the opening song. We visited the church where Maria marries the baron. I had always imagined that church to be massive, and was surprised that it really isn’t as big as some other churches we have seen. But it is one of the most beautiful churches I have ever seen. And as long as this is time for true confessions, I will admit that as we sang Edelweiss, I cried. It made me think of all the times I sang this song to my oldest granddaughter when she was a baby, and it made me miss her (hello Miss AGM), and all of my family and friends.

Since we took an early tour, we were back in Salzburg by 1:30. We walked around a bit, then had lunch at a gasthof near the Salzburg Cathedral. We ate some typical German fare (wienerschnitzel and bratwurst) and drank a couple of beers. We finished off with an amazing apfelstrudel.

After lunch we walked around the city a bit. Salzburg is a city made for strolling. It was full of people holding hands and eating ice cream cones. We watched some folk dances. We saw many people very dressed up, perhaps going to a wedding. I’m talking long dresses and tails. We also saw women in dirndls and old men wearing alpine jackets and those adorable pointy hats. The sun was shining and the temperature was perfect.

Here is another photo taken this morning from our room window.

Extras:

- For my walking friends: In all, thus far on this trip we are probably averaging 12,000 steps a day. Even days when we drive, we still manage to get as many as 9,000 or 10,000 steps. I think our big day was 22,000, and it’s typical to get between 15,000 and 18,000.

- For my dad: We stopped at a grocery store a little bit ago and I picked up some landjager. I wish I could share it with you.

- For my friends interested in energy conservation: When you step into our hotel room, in order to make the lights and air conditioner work, you put your room card in a slot that turns on the electricity. You leave the card in the slot, because when you remove the card, everything automatically turns off. Clever, huh?

- For my eccentric friends: By the elevator door, there is a big machine that polishes your shoes while you wait for the elevator to arrive. The Germans don’t like wasting time!

Au Voir France, Guten Tag Germany

We looked at France in our rear view mirrors today as we took off fairly early for Salzburg. We were ready to move on.

We enjoyed France, and think it is a beautiful country with wonderful food. But we are also enjoying the distinct difference between the French and the Germans and Austrians. Frankly, the most noticeable difference is that the people here seem to actually be happy we are visiting. I promise you, I really don’t expect that the French had any obligation to speak English. After all, I was a guest in their country and it’s my own darn fault that I don’t speak French. But I tried, I really tried. And they just seemed annoyed with me. No, that’s not right. Not annoyed, just indifferent to my helplessness.

In contrast, the Germans and Austrians are delighted to have us as guests in their country. The very second that they hear us speak English, they speak to us in perfect English. In fact, yesterday I used my rudimentary German (I studied it for four years in high school and one semester in college a LONG time ago) to ask the waitress about the bathroom, and she seemed confused. She finally figured out what it was I was looking for, and told me in English where it was located. I laughed as I walked down the stairs, figuring that she was at that moment asking my husband why I was trying to speak in really awful German when she spoke perfectly good English.

Perhaps I enjoy the Germans and Austrians because they, and their language, seem so familiar to me. My grandparents were Swiss, and they always spoke German to each other and to their friends. Well, they spoke Swiss German which, as I understand it (and my father will correct me if I’m wrong) is a dialect of German. If is not exactly the same, it is very similar. So the sounds and the sights and the foods and the way the people look and act are all very familiar to me and make me happy.

We drove very hard today so that we could get into Salzburg kind of early. We only stopped a couple of times to get gas (at 50 Euros a pop) and once to have some breakfast. We needed to use the bathroom in the restaurant and saw that there was a 50 Euro cent charge. Bill didn’t have the right change, and wondered aloud if there would be a person by the bathroom taking the money so that he could get change. I told him to go check, knowing full well that the system would be entirely automated because hiring a human to take the money would be too inefficient for the Germans. Of course, I was right. However, the machine gave him change as well as a ticket. He suggested I take the ticket and see if I could use it to also get in on the same 50 cents. Of course, I knew that wouldn’t work because they would have that figured out as well, which was true. But the funniest part was that when you flushed the toilet, the toilet seat was automated to go around and be washed, rinsed, and dried after each use. The bathroom, needless to say, was spotless! So very different from bathrooms in France, and I haven’t even gotten yet to Italy where I am liable to run into many bathrooms that don’t have anything more than a hole in the ground.

The hotel we will be staying in for the next four nights is absolutely lovely – a real splurge on our part. We have been staying in hotels that are perfectly satisfactory, but far from lovely. Our room is big, our beds are soft, and we have a bathtub! Best of all, the view from our 12th floor window is absolutely astounding, as you can see from this photo. We are looking at the Alps, with the beautiful buildings of Salzburg nestled at the bottom and crawling up the sides of the hills.

Salzburg is beautiful, and dedicated to all things Mozart. I’m talking Mozart candy, Mozart statues, Mozart birthplace, Mozart music, Mozart coffee cups, Mozart postcards. You get the picture. The architecture is as pretty as anything I’ve seen thus far in my travels to Europe. It’s just a pretty, pretty town. The buildings are pastel and have intricate statuary and curlycues and the gardens are green and full of color.

We are both tired and didn’t do a lot of exploring tonight. We will do that tomorrow. We just walked into the city center and had dinner at a beer garden. I even had a beer, and I don’t drink beer. But when in Rome…… We also plan on going back, perhaps by train, to Munich to sightsee a bit. It’s about an hour and a half back. Bill is tired of driving. While the Germany highways are fun, they are also stressful, with constantly watching in your rearview mirror to make sure you aren’t going to be holding anyone up. I’m telling you, some of those folks fly.

Tomorrow we are taking the Sound of Music tour. Go ahead. Laugh. I can’t wait.

Visiting the Forest

I did it! I managed to spend an entire day in the Black Forest of Germany and leave without purchasing a cuckoo clock. They really are very cute. But I just kept reminding myself that my home décor isn’t Bavarian.

The Black Forest, or Schwarzwald, is an amazingly beautiful area. In fact, it is undoubtedly one of the most beautiful drives we have ever taken. We followed narrow roads lined with yellow and purple flowers, drove past bicyclists, hikers, strawberry and asparagus stands, brown and white dairy cows munching grass right beside the roads, backereis and gasthofs. We saw old people and young people alike carrying walking sticks and hiking through the meadows that are thick with trees. So many trees. In fact, the fields are simply cut right into the trees, clearly in an effort to save as much of the forest as possible. And even though it was rainy, as it has been for much of our trip, the mist in the forest somehow made it even more beautiful.

We stopped in Furtwangen to visit the German clock museum. The museum featured literally hundreds of clocks made from the 1700s to current. One of the most interesting was a very large and elaborately carved wooden clock that depicted religious scenes. The clock’s most macabre feature was the crucifixion of Jesus every hour on the hour. The clock wasn’t working. That would have been an interesting one to observe.


We crossed the street and ate lunch at a café. After taking a look at the wonderful menu, I quickly forwent my decision to be a vegetarian (as I had promised I would following my recent unwise culinary decision). Instead I ordered the bratwurst with saurkraut and mashed potatoes. It was a very wise choice. Bill had schweinenschnitzel (breaded pork cutlet), which was also absolutely delicious. He had a beer and I had a glass of Reisling. I anticipated a very sweet wine, and was happy to taste a wonderfully dry and fruity wine instead. Bill couldn’t have been happier than when he saw the head on his beer.


We got back on the road and drove the rest of the day through the forest. Though we were both still full from our big and wonderful lunch, we knew it wouldn’t be prudent to leave the Black Forest without a piece of authentic Black Forest Cake. So we stopped in the town of Baden-Baden and found a café that served up the local specialty. We split a piece of cake and each had a cup of wonderful coffee. I thought it was the perfect ending to a great day.

But Bill had an even better surprise. The drive home was on an autobahn! It was his dream come true. I must say he was pretty tame. But even driving at 130 kilometers per hour or so (which, to be fair, is only about 78 or 80 mph, it was as though we were standing still. Cars going probably 100 mph or so (mostly, it seemed, Mercedes) would whip by us amazingly quickly. Bill would get into the passing lane to go around a car, and all of the sudden, someone was behind him wanting to get by.

We have decided to spend the next four nights in Salzburg, Austria. We will come back, either by car or train, to visit Munich, but Bill was eager to be able to unpack for an extended stay again, and I don’t blame him. He is the one who has to haul in the luggage. And this way we’ll be in Salzburg for Mass on Sunday. The music is purported to be lovely.

And of course, the Sound of Music…..

Alsace Region

I was a bit down and out last night and today, suffering from stomach problems that I’m pretty sure are related to that nasty stuff we ate for lunch yesterday. If anyone has the stomach for it, you can go to Wikipedia and see just what it is that we ate: look up andouillette, and be prepared to be nauseated. I think I’m going to become a vegetarian just to avoid the problem in the future.

But, I didn’t let it get me down, and we drove to Colmar, about 20 miles from where we’re staying. If I didn’t know that we were in France from looking at the map and listening to the people around me talk, I would swear we had passed into Germany. The buildings looked Tyrolean and the markets were filled with knachtwursts and German cheeses. The bars were serving up German beer (of which Bill gave a try).

After having our drink at the Biergarten, we got back into our car and took the wine road (Route du Vin) through the little villages that proudly grow the grapes and make the wines that are famous to this region: Gewurztraminer, Reisling, Muscat, Pinot Gris, and Pinot Noir. Most of the Alsatian wines are quite a bit sweeter than we have been used to, and nearly all are white. The countryside was amazingly beautiful, and Bill took pictures. But as is typical with panoramic shots, nothing came out looking nearly as pretty as it really was. But we did take a shot of one of the magnificent crucifixes that we saw all around the wine valley. It appears to us that each vintner has his own crucifix, but I don’t know the meaning of it all. Some were really pretty.

We didn’t stop at any of the wineries, but we did stop at a castle that is on the top of a mountain overlooking the valley. The castle was built back in the 1200s, and served as a guard post for the Alsace and Lorraine valleys. We went inside to look, and were impressed with its size. Looking out of the windows allowed us a magnificent view of the valleys below.

On the way home, we stopped and picked up some wonderful stinky French cheeses and some baguette, and that will be our supper tonight. We also bought a Pinot Gris, with a sweetness that pairs well with the sharp salty taste of the cheese. Yum. Our daughter and her partner gave Bill a wonderful picnic knife that we have with us, and we use it so often to slice bread and cheese. We were even able to help out a couple in Avignon the other day who was trying desperately to open a bottle of wine using a knife. We offered our all-purpose tool which also has a corkscrew, and they were very happy.

Tomorrow we will go to the Black Forest of Germany and look for Red Riding Hood and the Big Bad Wolf.

By the way, via the comments section of my blog, I have been made aware of some unexpected people reading about our adventures. That has been so much fun for us. So, if you are reading this blog and have not already done so, let me know via email or a comment! It’s fun to have folks “traveling” along with us.

On the Road Again

We took off early this morning in our little car, said goodbye to beautiful Arles and romantic Provence, and headed north. What we decided to do was to drive to the Alsace Lorraine region of France, which is very close to the German border. We decided to get a room in the French town of Mulhouse and spend about three days visiting Colmar in France, and then spend a couple of days visiting the Black Forest area of Germany. Towns such as Baden-Baden, Freiburg, and Staufen are only a few miles away from here.

In Lourdes, Arles, and now here, we have stayed in Hotel Premiere Classe, and I have to admit that this is one way to save some money. The hotels are very modern. We don’t even talk with a human to check in. We just insert our card and follow the instructions. The rooms are small and clean. They are generally not right in town, so that’s what you sacrifice, but the cost is incredibly low. That allows us to spend more on food and fun, and the walks into town, at least thus far, have been fine.

We haven’t been out to look at any restaurants yet, but apparently the cuisine is more German than French in this part of the country. Saurkraut and sausages! Yum. We are a bit tired from the long drive (about six hours) and will probably take it easy tonight.

Driving on the tollways in Europe (which, by the way, are ENORMOUSLY expensive) is about as exciting as taking a cross-country trip in the U.S. The only difference is that you might see an occasional castle along the side of the road. To kill time, we listened to French radio stations. We found an oldies station that alternated between English and French songs. Bill would sing along with the French songs making up his own English lyrics. I’m pretty sure his translations weren’t even close, but they made me laugh. We also challenged ourselves by trying to figure out what the road signs meant. The one that really perplexed us was a big yellow sign showing a car exploding. That could mean there are errant militant factions loose in France, or it could mean that French cars spontaneously combust. Luckily, we didn’t face either scenario.

We stopped at a truck stop for lunch and to fill up our car with diesel gasoline (whew, THAT is an eye-opening experience; between that and the tolls, we might have to find an even cheaper place to stay!). We split what we thought was a bratwurst. After all, we were approaching the Alsace region. We took a bite and were surprised to find it tasted quite awful. I looked at our bill and discovered that we had ordered the one thing that Rick Steves said never to order in France: andouillette. He never says what it is aside from saying it is organ meat. And I will say he is correct in recommending that you not make that menu choice.

A Peek at the Pope's Palace

Today we took a day trip to Avignon to see the Pope's Palace. But not before stopping for our morning goody and cafe au lait. The pastries lined up on the bakery shelves are so beautiful. Every morning I have a croissant and Bill has a pain au chocolate. Bacon and eggs will just never cover it again.

With stomachs full of flaky, buttery, chocolatey goodness, we got in our little car and headed out. It is only about a 30-minute drive from Arles to Avignon, but parking took considerably longer. Avignon is a walled city that I was particularly interested in seeing because in 1305 (and for about 100 years after that) the Pope was in Avignon instead of Rome. Rome had gotten too corrupt and dangerous. When the powers-that-be decided that Avignon was the place to be, they took an existing bishop’s house and over the next years, added on and fancied it up until it was a magnificent papal palace. Quite a fixer-upper, I must say.

We lunched at a little snack bar, and then headed back to Arles. Bill had his handy dandy global positioning system (GPS), but it took awhile to find the satellite. In the meantime, we got a bit lost. I won’t say much about the neighborhood we found ourselves driving through, but this photo will give you a sense of what it looked like (and why I thought Bill might be a victim of an armed robbery while he took this picture).

Tonight Bill and I stopped at the Aldi's that is right around the corner from our hotel (Bill's side of the family -- particularly his mother -- will get a kick out of knowing that we found an Aldi's in Arles, France.) We bought some paper products, some snacks for the road, and four bottles of wine (including a Chateauneuf-du-Pape, a wine my sisters will well remember), and paid a TOTAL of 17 euros.

It is 9:30 in the evening, and we take off tomorrow morning. Believe it or not, at this point we are still not sure where we are going. We are heading north towards Germany, but we aren’t sure yet if we will stay in France or cross the border into Deutschland. I will tell you tomorrow where we landed.

Laundry Day in Provence

After making do by washing out our clothes in the sink, Bill and I finally found a laundry (the sign said Laveria) and we did two loads of wash. We stopped at a little market (not easy to find on Sunday as all grocery stores are closed) and bought what we think is laundry soap (it’s called Skip and it has pictures of clothes on the box which seemed a good sign to us) for 2,80. Each load cost us 3,50, and the drying process cost about 3 euros. All told, it was a fairly expensive process – about 13 euros or $20, but what the heck. You can’t go around being stinky (well, at least not outside of France).

And Sunday apparently really is washing day in Arles. As we walked through the back streets of the old city, there were clothes hanging outside of windows on nearly every street we walked. Arles had a different feel to it today, with children riding on the carrousel, old men wearing berets sitting outside watching the people, and young and old alike carrying baguettes home for tonight’s dinner or tomorrow’s breakfast.

We had time to look at some of the historical sites in Arles. There are beautiful Roman ruins, including an amphitheatre that is being restored. The amphitheatre at one time held tens of thousands of people who watched very violent sporting events. The amphitheater is still used today for what they call bull games. These bull games are apparently a softer version of the very violent bullfights still held in Spain. The bull wears ribbons around his horns, and the matadors (in this case they are called razeteurs) try to grab the ribbon using some kind of a hook. I thought it might be fun to see one of these games, but unfortunately there was none being held this weekend.

The shops of Arles are filled with linens and pottery in the Provencal colors of red and blue and yellow and green. The linens hanging outside the stores lined the streets beside the amphitheatre, and I bought myself an apron because the colors were so pretty. Bill looks puzzled when I spend money on things I already have at home, but I just ignore him. He can go buy cigars!

We ended our day at a little café where I enjoyed a salad Nicoise and Bill had a panini. We realized that we didn’t have any wine at home and that markets were closed. Heaven forbid! But we found a grocery store that was literally one of those that is part of a gas station, just like in the US. Wouldn’t you know that they had a very fine wine selection. Only in France.

Goodbye Basque, Hello Provence

We seem to be destined to experience springtime Europe in the rain.

We left Lourdes about 10 this morning and got into Arles about 3. It was dreary when we left, but I think that is pretty typical of the Pyrenees area in the morning. It warmed up as we drove towards the Provence Region, and was nice and warm and sunny when we arrived in Arles. We checked into our hotel, and then set off on foot to the town center.

It is about a 15-minute walk into Arles from our hotel, but the walk is pleasant. We window shopped a bit and took a quick look-see at some of the historical sights. We will spend more time tomorrow doing an historical tour. Then we stopped at Café Le Nuit, which is the café that Vincent van Gogh painted in his painting entitled Café at Night. We ordered a couple of glasses of wine, and telephoned my son and daughter-in-law, because that particular van Gogh painting is one of her favorites. She was appropriately envious to know that we were sitting in that café enjoying some wine.

We also telephoned our daughter-in-law who just gave birth to our newest granddaughter, and she said everyone was fine. Our 21-month-old granddaughter (the new baby’s sister) is apparently not thrilled with the new addition to the family, particularly since Mom can’t pick her up since Baby Sister was born by C-Section. There is nothing quite as anticlimactic as being the third-born in a family of four children.

Back to the rain. When we got finished with our wine, we decided to go ahead and have dinner at that same cafe. We enjoyed our meal, and when we stepped outside around 8 o’clock, it was raining. We walked home in a nice gentle shower (unlike the downpour we experienced in Barcelona).

Tomorrow we need to track down a laundry as we are both running out of clothes!

New Granddaughter

On Friday, May 16, our son and daughter-in-law gave birth to our new granddaughter. Her name is Magnolia Faith McLain. She weighed 6 lbs. 12 oz. and is 20 inches long. She joins our crew of grandchildren: ages 13, 5, 3, 21 months, and one in the oven.

Mother, Dad, and siblings are apparently doing fine. It makes me very homesick. I can't believe I have to wait so long to hold that baby in my arms! Kiss her for Nana and Papa.

Basque Country

Bill and I are struggling with the French language. Since our first highly successful and delicious meal in Lourdes, we have been unable to really communicate successfully with any of the people. Lourdes is a fairly small town, so it’s possible that the villagers just don’t speak English as they might in a larger city. Our problem, however, is that French just isn’t intuitive to us in the same way that Italian and Spanish seem to be. We don’t even know how to pronounce many of the words. We are cognizant of the fact that we are guests in their country and we aren’t perturbed that they don’t speak English; we are just frustrated that we don’t speak any French.

This frustration, however, hasn’t deterred us from experiencing all things French. Today we got in the car and drove to the Basque country of France via little two-lane highways. We visited St. Jean-de-Luz, which is very near the France/Spain border, and is a coastal community on the Atlantic Ocean. Just as the Barceloneans are connected to their Catalunyan ancestry, so are the people of this area connected to their Basque heritage. They have their own flag and their own language, though most people speak both Spanish and French. For our part, we had an ice cream cone and watched the people wandering around. It had rained for most of our drive up, but the sun came out when we got there. Unfortunately, we forgot the camera, so we don’t have any photos to share.

Upon coming home, we were very tired and not feeling like trying to make a waiter understand what we want to eat. So instead, we went to a cafeteria at a nearby store called E’Leclerc. This store, from what we can tell, is France’s version of Wal-Mart. In fact, they even had RVs parked in their parking lot like they have at Wal-Marts. While we weren’t expecting a grand dinner, we were delighted to find we could get really wonderful food. We had mussels and frites, a pork stew, a small bottle of wine, and dessert. The total bill came to 18 euro! Way to beat the sinking dollar!



One last word about Our Lady of Lourdes shrine: Literally busloads of people come in each day to visit the shrine and pay respects. Apparently many are very sick people who come and check themselves into the hospital that is just down the hill. The nurses take them daily to visit the grotto and they do it as sort of a procession. (When we first saw the nurses, we thought that they were nuns because they were wearing uniforms with caps and veils. We finally figured out that they were nurses and that this was their uniform.) Here is a photo of that surrealistic procession.

Our Lady of Lourdes

I attended Catholic school – and was subsequently taught by nuns – from kindergarten through 12th grade. (What’s more, I’m one of the people who have remained a Catholic throughout my life.) I remember very well the stories told by the nuns of the apparitions of the Blessed Virgin Mary, in particular, Our Lady of Lourdes and Our Lady of Fatima. So it was with great joy that I anticipated the visit to the shrine of Our Lady of Lourdes in Lourdes, France.

First of all, let me say that Lourdes is a beautiful town. It is set at the foot of the Pyrenees Mountains so the vistas are magnificent. The people are very friendly, and for the most part, very patient with Bill and my lack of knowledge of the French language. They sort of sigh and roll their eyes and figure out what it is that we are trying to say. I’m grateful to them because they really don’t seem to speak a lot of English.

This morning we set off on foot into town about 9:30, and stopped at a café in the city center and had a croissant and café au lait. Yum. We then set off for the grotto. To get there, you must walk through a SEA of consumerism, with merchants selling vast numbers of rosaries, pictures, statues, and various vessels in which to hold the water from the spring at Lourdes. I admit that I purchased a very tacky container in which to put some of the spring water.

For those of you who don’t know the story of Our Lady of Lourdes, here is a shortened (and unsanctioned by the Catholic Church) version: In February of 1858, Bernadette Soubirous proclaimed that a beautiful lady who purported to be the Blessed Virgin Mary appeared to her. This lady appeared a number of additional times, with her major message being to pray the rosary. At first, the priest of Lourdes didn’t believe Bernadette, but after a couple of visits, Bernadette (who would go into states of ecstasy when she saw the Blessed Mother) convinced him that it was true by (at the request of the beautiful lady) digging into the dry ground and bringing forth a spring of water. That water continues to flow today, and is believed by many Catholics to have healing power. Bernadette never withdrew her claim to have seen the Virgin Mother, and died at the age of about 35 after serving a number of years as a nun. Her story is beautifully told in the fabulous movie, Song of Bernadette, starring Jennifer Jones. Rent it!

In honor of Bernadette’s vision, the priest built a beautiful church on the site of the vision. However, he had no idea of the number of people who would come to visit the church to experience the healing powers. Eventually, a larger church, the Basilica of the Rosary, was built to serve the large numbers of people who visited the grotto. The Basilica has rotundas with mosaics of the mysteries of the rosary. The Joyful Mystery of the Rosary that is "the finding of the Lord in the Temple" has always been my favorite, because as a mother, I have always been cognizant of how frightened Mary must have been when Jesus went missing, and how relieved she must have been to find him amidst the elders who were watching over Him. This photo depicts that particular mystery of the rosary.

And we saw the large number of people today, a Thursday. I can only imagine what the crowds are like on weekends. The really startling thing to me was the number of people who were ill or in wheelchairs who were visiting the grotto, apparently hoping to be healed. Bill and I washed our hands and faces in the spring water, and drank the water from our hands. We also filled up our tacky container to bring water home. You never can tell.

The grotto itself is simple and very beautiful. People approached it in a solemn and prayerful manner, touching the rocks where Mary is purported to have stood. I, too, touched those rocks, and was very moved as I said my Hail Mary. Later this afternoon, we will visit Bernadette’s house and the places where she was baptized and received her first communion. By visiting all of these places, Pope Benedict XVI has stated we will receive a plenary indulgence, which means fewer years in Purgatory. Who knows, but why turn down the chance?

We stopped at a big supermarket which looks to me to be France’s version of a Super Wal-Mart. They had EVERYTHING. We picked up the particulars for a wonderful picnic lunch – meat, cheese, fruit, and wine. We had picked up bread earlier at a boulangerie. It was so delicious. Two things of note: (in keeping with my observations of the various types of potato chips in different countries) we had the chance (but didn't do it) to buy Lay’s Potato Chips in Roasted Chicken and Thyme flavor; and, as we ate our picnic lunch outdoors at our hotel, we were visited by a big yellow dog, who, when Bill tossed him a potato chip, sniffed it, and put up his nose as if to say, “We dogs don’t lower ourselves to eat potato chips; do you have some of that Roquefort cheese that you were munching on earlier?” Perhaps if we had purchased the Roasted Chicken and Thyme flavor…..

I suggested to Bill that we save all of the corks from the wine we drink. He pointed out that we might then have to throw out some of our clothes in order to fit all of the corks into a suitcase!

Goodbye Spain, Hello France

My brother always says the first day of a vacation is the day that is most fun. I think that’s probably true. I also think the first meal you have any place always tastes the best. I think that will certainly be true for our first meal in France.

We left our apartment in Barcelona about 10:30 or 11 this morning. Bill had to run down a few blocks and get a taxi while I waited in our lobby with all of our bags. He was unable to convince the cab driver to come down the world’s narrowest street this time, so we had to haul our baggage a couple of blocks from our apartment to a larger street where he waited for us. He dropped us off at the airport and we went and picked up our little Peugot convertible.

We took off from the airport with Bill’s GPS device telling us how to get out of town. What did people do before they had technology to help them out? Bill had to learn how to drive a stick shift in a foreign country where he knew nothing of the written or (more important) the unwritten rules of the road. He did very well, thank you very much. Nevertheless, it was a very long drive. We filled up our tank with diesel fuel for $1.45 a liter, which comes to something like six U.S. dollars a gallon. Our little car is supposed to get very good gas mileage, and we are hoping that is true.

We pulled into Lourdes about 6:30 this evening. We haven’t seen much of the town as of yet, but what we have seen is very pretty. We checked into our hotel, which is extremely small. Extremely small. However, it is very clean, and oh-so-quiet when compared to Barcelona. It was never quiet in Barcelona.

We figured out that while the room is very small (extremely small), it provides us with free wifi! Yippee! Somehow if I can stay connected with my family via email, I don’t get as homesick. So for the next few days, we should be able to communicate with everyone. And that is important because one son is about to learn whether or not he gets approved for a loan for a house and another son and daughter-in-law will deliver our new baby granddaughter on Friday.

Now, back to the first meal in France. We walked down to the city center of Lourdes about 8 o’clock this evening. We had no idea where to go, but found a cute little restaurant just out of the city center called Quelven-Renaissance. We each had the menu, which is their prix fixe meal. Bill had a salad with a grilled steak and I had pate with cod. Oh. My. Goodness. They were both so delicious. We shared a liter of the house vin rouge (red wine). The wine was delicious, though I have no idea what kind it was. For dessert, we each had a chocolate profiterole. A chocolate-covered pastry filled with chocolate in a restaurant sitting at the foot of the Pyrenees Mountains. It doesn’t get much better than that!

Tomorrow we will figure out where the grotto is and spend our day with Our Lady of Lourdes.

Pentecost

We walked around Barcelona all day yesterday confused as to why nothing was open. At first, in the morning, we concluded that the stores must not open until noon. Then, when we were out in the afternoon, we concluded that they were all closed for siesta until 4 p.m. After 4, we didn´t know what in the heck was going on. So we stopped at a tourist information booth and I asked why the stores were closed. It turns out it was a national holiday. I asked what holiday it was. The woman asked her friend what you call the holiday in English. She said, ¨Second Easter." After much thought and with the help of my guidebook, I concluded that it was Pentecost holiday (the day before had been Pentecost Sunday, and the guidebook said that Pentecost was a holiday). That explained why there were so many people on the Ramblas and also why there had been so much partying the night before.

Today we took a bus to the airport and picked up our car. We actually left it parked there, but it is now officially ours for the rest of our trip. It is very cute. Bill is so happy to have the car. He can´t wait to hit the road.

We ate tapas for lunch, and are about to head up to the Montjuic area, which is on the mountain. We want to take the funicular up to the top and see the city of Barcelona from up high.

As we prepare to leave Spain, here are a few random thoughts and observations:

· They have the smallest garbage trucks I´ve ever seen. I´m sure it´s because they have to drive down the narrowest streets I´ve ever seen.
· Today on the bus, I saw a businessman dressed in a suit and checking his paper calendar. I can´t remember the last time I saw a businessman or business woman use a paper calendar.
· Generally speaking, the men and women of Spain are GORGEOUS.
· There are very many scooters, but the drivers aren´t as nuts on them as they are in Italy.
· In general, the bathrooms in Spain (and most of Europe) are interesting. In the United States, it doesn´t matter where you go, you know that you flush the toilet by pressing down on a handle on the same side of each toilet. In Europe, you just never know what to expect when you use a toilet. There may be paper; there may not be paper (in Italy, most likely not). The flusher might be on top, on the side, on the floor; it may be something big that you press, or it may be something you pull. You may or may not have soap at the sinks, and you most likely won´t have paper towels. Apparently the Europeans don´t worry about washing their hands as much as we do.
· And on this general idea of Americans being more careful about everything, I´ve noticed that you are likely to see little kids sort of hanging out of baby strollers, whereas in the United States, babies will be securely buckled into their strollers.
· The food in Spain (from our limited experience) seems very salty. And I have never seen so much ham in my life.

Walking Barcelona

Last night, for the first time on this trip, I really had trouble sleeping. Barcelona is a very urban and noisy city. One of the advantages of living in an apartment instead of a hotel is that we can really experience the feeling of living in a neighborhood. The disadvantage, however, is that we experience the feeling of living in a neighborhood! The people of Barcelona party very late into the night (or really, early into the morning). So I heard noise right outside my window for quite some time. Bill slept soundly next to me in the tiny bed, but I got a bit homesick.

Yesterday was a very busy day. I had on my pedometer, and Bill and I walked 16,000 steps. After attending Mass at the Catedral de Barcelona, we walked through the Eixample, past the Block of Discord, and finally on to Sangrada De Familia. The sheer beauty of Sangrada Familia took me by surprise. In fact, if I was to name three things that you MUST see while in Europe, it would definitely be one of them. It is a cathedral that was designed by the artist Gaudi, and construction began in 1882 or 1883. It is far from done. Apparently people sort of voluntarily work on it as they have time. It is likely not going to be ready for another 100 years. The church is dedicated to the Holy Family (Sagrada Familia) and the facade is magnificent.

On our way home, we stopped at a tapas bar and had tapas and vino tinto (red wine) at about 5 p.m. They filled us up and we weren´t hungry the remainder of the evening. Our plan was to go out later and walk by the Mediterranean. However, we were both so tired from our long walk that we stayed in.

The weather today is overcast and chilly. We are on the Ramblas where we stopped for some breakfast. I had a tortilla espanole (a potato omelette). Bill ordered a regular breakfast with bacon and egg (or thought he did) and got a croissant! Such are the dangers of ordering food when you don´t know the language. This will continue to be one of the challenges of our adventure.

Perhaps in order for me to sleep better tonight, we should stop at the store pictured here to access some sleep enhancers!

Barcelona

We arrived in Barcelona yesterday morning, very early. We got off the ship and found a cab to take us to our apartment. By that time it was raining very hard. Our taxi driver spoke virtually no English, and when we gave him our address, he looked panicked and didn´t seem to know where that particular address was. Luckily Bill, who is nothing if not thorough, had printed out a Google map that showed exactly where the apartment was located. The taxi driver was very happy.

Much to our surprise, the apartment is located on the narrowest street I have ever seen. We literally had trouble opening the doors on either side of the taxi because it was so narrow. We had to wait a bit to get the key, because the person who was to meet us to give the key to us was late. We probably got into our apartment near noon.

The apartment is, let´s say simple. It consists of two twin beds, a bureau, and (thank you God) a private bathroom with a shower. The room is literally no bigger (if as big) as our cabin on the ship. Normally that wouldn´t bother me much because we spend so little time in the room. However, the rain that had begun that morning never let up. In fact, it poured rain the entire rest of the day. We tried to not let that stop us. We took off walking Las Ramblas, which is a street that goes down the length of the old city.

We found a restaurant in which to eat lunch about 2 o´clock. Bill and I each had paella, and we really weren´t very impressed with it. It was very salty. After that we walked some more, including a visit to La Boqueria, which is a huge market. It was so crowded, however, that we left there quite quickly.

Finally we couldn´t ignore the rain any longer, and we went back to our apartment. We were both drenched, and we stayed there for the rest of the afternoon and into the evening. Around 9, we were going stir crazy, so, though it was still raining, we set off on foot once again. We went down Las Ramblas to a HUGE department store that included a supermercado in the basement. We walked around the store a bit, and then went to the market. We bought some Serrano ham, Manchego cheese, potato chips, mustard, bread and wine. One note: the bread was called Pan de Molde. That seems like a funny name for bread. Also, the wine we bought cost about two and a half euros. We can find Two Buck Chuck (or its Spanish equivalent) anywere!

Today (Sunday), the sun is out, though I think it will rain later. We walked down to the old city again and attended Mass at the Cathedral. Those of you who have attended Mass with Bill know how heartily he sings the hymns. You will be happy to know that he does the same in Spanish! We had a book we had purchased that had the Order of the Mass in many languages, so we could follow along somewhat.

Happy Mothers Day to my sisters, sisters-in-law, stepmother, mother-in-law, daughters-in-law, friends, and anyone else I may have forgotten. We miss you all.

Cartagena

Our ship docked early this morning and Bill and I were on the ground in Cartagena between 8:30 and 9 o’clock. The pier is very near the town, so we were able to walk into the old city center.

I had worried that we didn’t have much time because the ship is scheduled to depart at 1:30. In fact, we had plenty of time. Cartagena doesn’t appear to be very big, and we walked through a lot of it fairly quickly.

We stopped at a supermercado to see what sorts of things the local people buy. The most notable things were the large legs of ham hanging on the walls at all of the markets. According to the guidebooks we read, the Spanish people are very proud of the Serrano ham that they eat – so proud, in fact, that they display it on the walls of carnicerias, markets and tapas bars. I was interested to see that they had quite a few American items in the supermercado. In particular, I was amused to see Pringles in flavors that we don’t have in the United States: paprika and jamon (ham). But they also had good ol’ sour cream and onion – apparently a universal favorite!

They sold wine and liquor at this supermercado, and it was fun to see the different types of wine. In addition to wine in bottles, they had wine in boxes like we have in the US. They also had wine in plastic liter bottles, looking very similar to the liters of soda that you can buy in grocery stores in the US. In addition to that, they also sold wine in little boxes that looked remarkably like the little juice boxes that my grandchildren drink. As Bill pointed out, the only thing missing was the little straw. Now, my sisters make fun of me because my taste in wine is so simple (unsophisticated they would say!), so it’s important for them to note that Bill and I did purchase the “juice box wines.” Three little boxes for one euro. What a bargain. And it was quite good. So there Ladies!

We stopped at a chocolateria (chocolate shop) called Valor, where we tried the chocolate and churros. They serve you very thick chocolate in a cup. The consistency is somewhere between hot chocolate and chocolate custard, leaning more towards the custard. The chocolate is served with a plate of churros, which you dip into the chocolate. It is quite good, but very rich. We ordered two and only needed to order one. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen Bill leave half an order of anything chocolate. I had been interested in trying this particular Spanish specialty, and now that I have, I don’t need to do it again any time soon!

We were back on the ship by lunchtime, though neither one of us was particularly hungry with our stomachs still coated by the dark chocolate.

Tonight we must finish packing and have our luggage outside out door, appropriately tagged, by 11:30 p.m. Tomorrow we gather in various places, depending on the color of our tag, and must be off the ship by 8:30 or 9. Off to Barcelona!