Cemeterio – Recoleta

Yesterday we had a fine lunch at a place in La Boca, recommended by an artist who had a stand at the Plaza. No, we did not eat at La Perla, the recommended place of the tour guide books. We found a nameless, small place frequented by the locals. The Asada (grilled ribs) we had was great. One portion was enough for the two of us. Food here is mainly beef, grass fed and different tasting than what we are used to in North America. I met lots of people that think it tastes better, more natural than the corn feed, antibiotic laced meat we are used to.
After lunch we jumped back on the yellow line to proceed on our interrupted tour. It was hot, 34 C and sitting on the top of the bus, moving from red stop light to red stop light it became a chore rather that a pleasure to be on a tour. We, again, jumped off the bus as soon as it was near our apartment and took a taxi home. Sweet, air-conditioned, home!
We did not even go out for dinner but ate some Chorizo Sausages we had in the refrigerator for dinner. A slice of bread and a glass of local wine rounded the day off, just fine.

We had passed the famous Recoleta Cemetery on our bus tour and had read much about this place. It is the ‘THE’ cemetery for the most important people of Argentina.

The history of the place is straightforward. At the end of the 18th Century, way out of downtown BA at the time, a rather large Cemetery was established next to a monastic church. With the establishment of the rich district of Recoleta and the moving in of the elite around this monastic place in or around 1820, the cemetery soon became the place for the rich to be buried. Someone, seeing an opportunity, bought the whole of it and even today it remains a private enterprise. Graves are sold to the highest bidders and there are plenty of bidders, the whole of the place is filled up.

Only if a grave is abandoned by the family or the family no longer exists, then it is taken over by the owners of the land and resold. Or if a body is moved by the family, the plot can be sold again. This Cemetery is for the truly top of the Argentine elite and society. Since plots cost Millions of US Dollars, this place, with a total of over 6,400 graves, is a goldmine. Some crypts even have a multi level arrangement, stairs lead down to a lower level, sometimes 2 levels down with coffins stacked on each level.

It is in the heart of the most expensive real estate in BA. Right down the street from this burial site are highest end jewelry stores or boutiques in the world,

The area is very competitive and only the best run stores or the smartest marketing will survive here. This also seems to translate to the cemetery.

Even in death, you have to outdo your neighbor, your competition, your enemy even. The need to be seen, to be recognized, to show you count for something is strong in Argentina.
And yet, they are dead. Dead as dead can be. No matter how much money was spent on the plot, on the mausoleum, on the upkeep, on the image directed towards the living, all are quite dead.
Evita (Maria Eva Duarte Perón) is buried here.

So are other ‘famous’ people, far too many to mention. To see the opulence with which the dead are revered is to understand some of the psyche of Argentina. Belonging to the upper crust bestows honor to the individual and is a deep seated need of the Argentinean people. The display of a recognizable image, an image of being noteworthy, generates pride even after death and seems so important to the deceased and their families. The need for those ‘images’ by the living is nevertheless, translated to the dead as well.
May all those ‘important’ buried people rest in peace!

La Boca Tango

A good way to see a new city is to use the tour bus, not to take the tours, per se, but to get an overview as to what the new city has to offer. We chose the yellow, hop on/off line, because we saw them a few days ago and knew their starting point downtown. Like Porteños, as the locals call themselves, we now know the subway system. Knowing the bus route is quite another matter and we are still learning. So we chose the yellow bus line, a double-decker arrangement and took a 2 day ticket for 90 pesos instead of the daily for 70 Pesos.
The first points of interest shown to us from the bus were the Cathedral and the Pink House. It became instantly clear that taking this bus would not give us an ‘in depth’ tour but just an indication of the highlights of the city. To show, in general terms, what the city has to offer for later, more detailed explorations. So we bounced along, on the upper most deck, plugged in to a recording, listening to all the details of the construction of a building, of an ‘important’ General, of dates, dates and more dates. Naturally, I just heard the drone of it all and did not retain one building, one date or one important person. All of that does not matter; I am more interested in seeing how the Porteños live, how they spend their daily lives, how they think of themselves. I look pictures of real people, not the monuments or statue of the few and the accolades bestowed. to the selected..
From downtown, the original B.A,. we rode through the town of San Telmo, and we were told we must visit this part on a Sunday to experience the market and street tangos, so we need to come back. Then we were taken to the district or area of La Boca, the Mouth, a formerly swampy area that has always been the working stiff section of B.A. Houses were built with material that was at hand as the owners deemed fit. Electricity was only introduced as needed, so was plumbing. Yes, it is a bit wild looking as far as styles are concerned, yet according to locals is has tremendously improved over the last decades.

This area is home to the famous Soccer club /Club Athletico Boca Juniors/ (CABJ), in its famous Blue and Yellow colors, the colors of the Swedish flag. (The color is based on a Swedish ship in the harbor when the colors needed to be picked). Soccer is a very serious Sport in Argentina; people have been killed if the wrong team was promoted in the wrong neighborhood. So watch which team you route for, make sure you are not in the wrong bar or neighborhood. We are in La Boca, so… Viva la CABJ!
La Boca, a wild neighborhood, formerly seedy, now just a bit dangerous at night. So please leave the area before sun down or leave in a taxi. All the Guide books advise it. But also, please come and visit, we have something to show you, so what to do?

We visited, along with bus loads of people and all of us ‘tourists’ were feeding the local economy, it was frenzy for them, we were their meal tickets. We stepped off the yellow bus at the stop called Caminito.

Let the feeding begin. Even early in the day, around 10 AM, all the stores were open, the vendors in make shift tents had their wares displayed and life was in full swing. Pictures or figurines of Tango dancers were everywhere - Tango! Tango! Tango!

This dance was invented right here, right in the bars around us, right off the pier, right along this waterfront along with the rhythmic music and the unmistakable way to dance it. Amazingly, Tango is still a huge part of this area. In Vienna it might be the Viennese Waltz, but in Argentina, in Buenos Aires for sure, it is the Tango! Born in this seedy neighborhood, constrained by religious values, driven by hormones, it is a dance still evolving. It is the national dance of Argentina, no doubt.
Hold your lady near you, but not too close. No, do not look her in the eyes; you are too suave to admit you like her. But do not let go of her, either. Your left foot steps to the left and you pull her with you, but only until you bring your right foot one step in front of you. While you walk one more step toward her you turn only your upper body towards her. At the pause of the music you pull her in front of you, close this time, and let your upper body take a more natural position again. Yet you look to the left and give her a little rest, or fan her to your right side, show her off to others, from the left, from the right, Until you step once again forward with your left leg and then quickly to the right and wait and sway, waiting for the music to catch up,

just holding her, not too close. Now use your feet to slide between her legs, see what she can do to avoid it or how fast she can move her feet, too. How cold and reserved she can look yet, how close she pushes her body against you. Like a dance of birds, of storks perhaps, gaining good footing during a mating dance. Sensuously pulling, tugging, sliding, circling each other, helping to set the mood yet never admitting it is what each wants. These are movements of back and forth, of danced emotions. Hidden as they might be; shown for all to see but never bluntly stated. The elegance, the basic desires intertwined in the fancy foot work yet controlled with the rigidity of the upper body, the reserved look of the false disinterest.
Tango is Argentina, is Argentina like the Tango?
La Boca, the birthplace of it all, We danced in the streets, danced in the store, to the amusement of the people, of the locals, of the customers, but I did not care. I felt the Tango, I danced it!

A Crappy Day

Saturday, and we are off to see part of downtown BA. Just make a left out the front door and walk seven blocks to get to the Subway, here it’s called the Subte. A long walk, made even longer by not turning left, but first scouting out more of the artsy neighborhood around us. The name Palermo Soho seems appropriate since the stores, galleries, trendy boutiques; eateries are a reminder of a Bohemian lifestyle, of the Nouveaux Riche way to shop. We are in an area that seems to be trendy with the young folks. Parties on the weekend are de rigueur for the young. We are tourists, even look like tourists with our clothes carefully selected to hold up to travel usage. And since we are older now, not the typical party attendee and sure not dressed to stop a bus full of fashionable teens, we do stand out. I think we look the part of retired, North American tourists, walking slowly to absorb life around us and just people watch.
Taking detours to expand our understanding of our new home base, we finally come to a subway station and buy a 10 trip ticket that gives us some leeway in just hopping on/off when we need to without too much worry whether we have a ticket or not. We looked at the Subte line logically and I was sure we were on the correct track side but something told Carol we were wrong. She checked and sure enough, we had to cross over to the other track side. Out of the turnstiles and again faced with paying a full fare I just opened a gate and we walked in without paying (again). A police man stood right there said nothing. I guess we do look too much like tourists. I believe he could not be bothered with checking our tickets; the fare is only 2.50 pesos (abt. 65 cents) each.
So, we rumbled along below ground counting off the stops from our map. Hawkers came by, giving us scissors to buy but since we didn’t want them, retrieving them again after some moments. We were offered a map for the busses, but again we were not buying. Then a trio walked in with speakers and amplifiers tied to a hand cart fuelled by a car battery and for one stop, some rock and roll music filled the car. A sock was passed around and some people paid for the entertainment provided, most just sat bored, waiting for their stop.
After about 20 minutes of such entertainments we arrive at the Cathedral station, as far down town as the green D line will take us. End of the line station for us. We take the elevator up, just because we want to try anything different and do things we normally do not do. We pop up in the middle of the sidewalk, in the middle of a block with daylight all around us. It felt strange to pop up in a glass cage at the side of a Boulevard.
So, now where is the Metropolitan Cathedral? Being used to spires and towers attached to a cathedral we looked skyward but no bell towers are in sight. Mmmm!

So I asked a cab driver and with a look of surprise on his face, he pointed to a columned building that looks a bit like a fancy old fashioned bank front. No towers above it. The inside sure looks like a typical Catholic Church with all the holy Saints, pictures of Christ on the Cross, naves and pews and creaky wooden benches. People walked about, talking, taking pictures, being fascinated by the display of gilded silver decorated altars, cherubs and auras represented by halos.
After Carol took some pictures, we stepped outside and now where do we go? Downtown BA is huge, and spread out. On the map we had we saw a sign for an information stand and headed for that spot. Not easy to find but after asking a passerby, we do get there only to find it is more of a ticket booth for a touristy bus tour. We looked around and even asked a young woman in English about the particulars of this bus tour. We might take it at a later date but for now the day would be too short to spend all this money on a few hours tour on a hop off, hop on kind of system. So this young lady asked, “Did you see the pink house yet?” Not knowing anything about a ‘pink’ house we looked puzzled and were told that this is the answer to the U.S. ‘White’ house, but Argentinean style. Naturally we were off to give this a visit.

Casa Rosada, as it is called, is actually the office of the President of Argentina. The balcony of the house was made famous by Eva Perón giving her speeches to the masses of protestors or the proletariat standing below it in awe.

The inside tour we took gave me a view of some of the furnishings and offices and relayed some of the history. Yes, I walked into the official office of the President of Argentina,

guarded by two guards and roped off, but it was very formal and a bit showy. I felt like I was walking about in a museum rather than into a modern, 21st Century political office. I felt rather like being caught in a time warp and being pushed back to circa 1910. What happened to Argentina for the last 100 years? The tour we attended was given in Spanish only, and our guide spoke more of the history or the men of the past than of today’s new world. While interesting as a historical place it is not a copy of the White House, nor is it intended to be. Casa Rosada is a museum, certainly a place in the hearts of every Argentinean, even a symbol of the past, or an Icon of her politics but to me it looked worn, old, and not up to date with the computer age.
Having spent at least 2 hours waiting and then touring the ‘pink’ house, we had had it for the day and walked back to find our subtle line D again. The first entrance we found was closed, so was the 2nd one. How do we get below ground? I remembered the elevator we took coming in and we headed for this glass case. We pushed the button for the elevator and the doors opened up when I felt something wet hit my shoulders and the back of my shirt. I looked at Carol and she too, seemed to have been ‘rained’ on. We looked at each other and thought, well, some water and started to walk into the elevator car when a middle aged couple waved us back out. She was holding her nose and pointed in to the sky. Yes, it stank but why is she calling me back out? Not knowing what to do we did, never the less, step back out into the street when he lady said;” Agua!” and handed me her small bottle of water and a little piece of paper. I am puzzled, yes it stinks but …. Oh NO! We were bombed by a pigeons. Brown, runny, long tracks of excrement, ok, shit, hung all over Carols back. Her pants got the most of it. Her pink blouse was christened with dots and streaks of crap. That is what I saw, but all of that stuff is also all over me. Luckily Carol and I wore a broad brimmed Tilley hats; it caught a lot of goo that would have been like shampoo otherwise. And this stuff really stank. The couple was very good to us. He cleaned my backside the best he could using napkins and some water and I and the lady did a fair job on Carol. While they were cleaning us I thought, are they pick pocketing us, is this a scam? I am so conditioned but no, they truly were Samaritans. We thanked them for their help and supplies of water and paper tissues and after some time had to face the fact that we have to go back ‘home’ stinking still. We sat alone on the bench in the Subte, nobody wanted to sit next to us. We walked back our seven blocks from Plaza Italia to our apartment conscious of our odor. Man we stank! People gave us a wide berth. Finally we entered our place and after checking carefully, we noticed this brown mess, now dried, still sticking to us in places we missed before. That pigeon really did a job on us.
Standing in the tub, running hot water and soap all over me, stripping do the skin and washing and scrubbing hard, I finally felt clean enough. All the soiled clothes, the knapsacks, the fanny packs, Tilley hats had to be washed, even the camera case. Good thing it is summer here, the weather is mild and we have sunny days. Our balcony here was filled with everything we’d been wearing – all spread out to dry..
What a shitty day this turned out to be! Well, the end of it, anyway, but we learned a lot, too. We for sure learned to dodge pigeons.

The Sock Thief

Getting to our rented apartment at 1832 Thames, Unit 5A in Palermo was easy enough.
While we mostly communicated with Jeffrey from www.RestinginBuenos Aires.com while in Toronto, our contact here in BA is Guillermina. We had arranged for pick up from the airport and sure enough, a lady with a sign was there to guide us to Aldo, our driver who drove us to our rented flat. On the way I received my first lessons about BA and also in language. Aldo preferred Spanish and I agreed that this would be easier. Naturally I missed a bunch of words, but I got the basics.
BA is an assortment of smaller towns, there is no single town called Buenos Aires.

The district is Buenos Aires and so is the county called Buenos Aires. Similar to NYC, where there is no NYC but five boroughs that make up what people call NYC. About 20% of the total population of Argentina lives in BA proper, so the area is huge but relatively clean and green; not at all what I have experienced in Central and South America. Aldo’s diction was clear, so I could understand him well; much better than I thought I would. The drive from the airport was about 35 KM and took about 45 minutes.
At the apartment, Guillermina‘s father, Miguel, gave us a hearty welcome and showed us the intricacies of the A/C ,

the use of the strange keys, the internet connections and passwords, etc. We have not yet met Guillermina but she called us on her cell phone to make us feel welcome. After initially feeling strange in our new surroundings, we quickly felt at home. We did not go out that day because of our sleepless overnight flight and just crashed to sleep like babies until the next morning.
Our first trip out was to find some provisions and that was an easy chore since the Supermarket is just one block away on the next street over. The prices are less than in Canada or the U.S. but not cheap. We could find everything we wanted just not in the quantity or variety we are used to. We bought bread, cheese, butter, milk, eggs, o juice, wine, beer, fruit and we are all set for a few days.
So, now where do we start?

Walking in ever increasing circles from where we live now is a good system. So we walked around the block in ever increasing spirals. Sure enough, not far from where we are, we find Plaza Serrano, a well known spot to find handmade jewelry and artsy knick knacks. In an open air setting local artists try to sell their wares. No yelling, no pressure, no haggling. You like it, you buy it. Very low key and very friendly. This is a nice spot in Palermo’s Soho, which they call our part of town. In fact we liked it so much that we sat and had our lunch right there. The establishment we chose was set like an open air café. We had a special coffee each and tried a cheese and ham Empanada. Our neighbor, a young man of about 25 years of age, preoccupied with his computer tablet and his cell phone paid us no mind. The weather was pleasant, sunny and mild and with a slight breeze the feeling that life is good came over me.
As is customary here, people come up to you and just put an item they want to sell on your table, leave it there for a few moments, then come back and retrieve the item or you just give them the money for the item, Yes, the try to sell you what they have but there is no pressure, you have the choice. Leave the item where it is for retrieval or buy it. Very simple, no arguments and perfectly understood by all participants. So I was a little surprised when my young neighbor was approached by two men in their 20s who peddled socks this way. Both of them fanned a stack of socks out so that all colors were visible and I believe you could make your choice. It seemed very harmless and they did walk away without an argument when the young fellow with the computer did not want to buy any socks. In fact they walked away rather quickly and separately. And seconds later our neighbor with the computer yelled;” Hey, where is my cell phone”
Then things happened extremely fast. Both sock men tried to run away but one was not fast enough. The proprietor of restaurant grabbed the sock man by the neck and held him until the police arrived. The first Policeman to arrive was on a bicycle. While the Officer was busy with the suspect, a bystander yelled at the Proprietor and they even came to blows and kicks and fists for calling the police. Then a police car showed up, then another police car and finally even a private car with men dressed in civvies, toting clipboards and official looking badges. The bike officer was sent to find the run-away sock man but it was fruitless. A lot of commotion and heated arguments were exchanged yet somehow I just sat and watched it all. It was like a live TV show, emotions ran high, tempers flared and even kicks and punches were exchanged yet somehow the attitude was to not take life too seriously. Yes, the young man with the lost cell phone had to tell the police his story but he was calm and smoked a cigarette and just stood there. Yes, the police arrived quickly and in force but they knew their limitations and did do the paper work and the bystanders, too had their opinions. Even the thief took his fate in stride, sitting on the ground waiting for something to happen next.

It was a bit surreal and not at all as hectic as it would have been in NYC for example.
My lesson from this incident is to not leave my camera lying on the table nor to have anything loose hanging off my belt. I now clip the camera to my belt and have the belt of my fanny pack clipped to a steel loop that was part of the set up of the fanny pack. Argentina, it seems has thieves.

Seat 23A

January 10, 1212, it still feels strange to write 2012, I still have to pay extra attention when writing the date for the New Year. Tomorrow we will fly to Buenos Aires, Argentina but I have to print the boarding cards and confirm the seats I chose awhile ago. Once the boarding cards are printed, I am guaranteed this seat. United Airlines and Continental Airlines have merged for 2012 and each website tells me to go to the other website. I hope there will not be any confusion since I really booked on Continental but now do all the answers and printing on the United website. While the official date for the joining of the two airlines is March 1, 2012, the beginning of the year brings the dreaded paperwork, the joining of websites, computers, etc, into play. Without me knowing it, I booked the flight during the transition period; let me see how it will work out. For the first leg from Toronto to Washington, DC I booked seats 5A and 5B. For the longer trip from Dulles to Buenos Aires, I printed the Seats 36A and B.

January 11, 1212. We are seasoned travelers, Carol and I have packed many times and still, every time we pack we pack either too much or forget something. In my mind now I pack just like always for a motorcycle trip, even though this will not be a trip made on a bike. I priced motorcycle rentals in BA and the daily rate is $140. – US each, way too much to spend. A rental car would be $40. – US. In order to make our trip easier and not be restricted with small cubes and balanced weights, we went and bought old fashioned suitcases, albeit the latest creation from Samsonite. No, this is not the suitcase you have someplace in your closet, this is the year 2012 and even suitcases have developed. I am amazed. The handles to not stick out, a hidden tag pocket for your address on the side, locks that the TSA can open, four rollers that swivel well and the suitcase does not tip when standing on end, no matter what. The pull handle retracts easily and is long enough to wheel the contraption along well, etc. This is the “cat’s meow” in the latest of the latest in luggage and is guaranteed for 2 years against any defects. I am well pleased with it.

The taxi is ordered for 3.30 PM even though the flight is not until 7.30 PM. I hate the rush at the airports, I like to take my time and not be chasing the clock. I take a Kindle along so I can always read a book and watch the other travelers who do chase the clock and seem to be in such a hurry at all times. Besides, I do not want to get stuck in traffic on the highway in the taxi at the start of rush hour at 4:00 PM, so planning for a leisurely trip is my way to go.

We dropped ourselves off at the Continental counter, since we booked through Continental but we needed to go to the United counter since we really fly with a United flight. Here is where I learned something new, never mind where you book, go to the counter of the actual airline that flies you. OK, so, since it is just around the corner that is an easy change for us, we have plenty of time. Amazingly, there is no line, a gentleman, friendly as pie, takes all of our paper work and chats with us. I have never met a friendlier person to book us in. He acknowledged our boarding passes but asked if I minded if he upgraded us. On the flight from Dulles to BA he could give us seat 23B and 23C, we would have better leg room and maybe we could switch with someone near us in order to sit next to each other for the long, almost 11 hour flight. I thought it was nice of him to do that and agreed. After this pleasant check in, we rolled our suitcases to the conveyor belt for loading and after waiting a few minutes in line for the TSA we were ready to fly. No hassle, no hurry, a very pleasant friendly experience. Planning is everything.

The first leg to Washington, DC’s Dulles Airport took off about 10 minutes early since all were on board and the captain managed to get a clearance by the tower for an early lift off. It did not help us much on the U.S side; we had to circle and were 15 minutes late on arrival which was not nice since we had to search out the new take off gate in another terminal. I have had bad experiences in London, Heathrow with changes of planes and changes of terminals. I do not like them at all. I really prefer direct flights, but there were none from Toronto to Buenos Aires. We had 75 minutes between flights in Dulles and now, due to the delay we are down to 50 minutes.

After landing and looking at the board we learned we have to walk, luckily without going thru customs, about 15 minutes to reach our new terminal. There are no shuttles, no carts that one could use to get to the new destination. Fortunately, we had a rucksack as hand luggage, so, while heavy with paper work and portable computer, etc, it was a good way to carry everything. We made it on time yet I wonder if that system could not be improved upon, not everybody is fit to haul their belongings in and out of planes. People carry more belongings on them today because to check in baggage for short flights there is a $25. - US charge for checked in luggage. A complicated system of rates has been established to haul freight while flying and some bags are allowed while others are not. The same system or a similar one, is now being tried with food services. It was not clear if we had food for the long trip to BA since our confirmation specifically read ‘NO” food services available. But I am jumping the gun. We did not have any food service from Toronto to Dulles but it was only a 1 ½ hour flight.. We are boarding now to fly to BA.

Boarding pass in hand we enter the plane and find seat 23B and C, our designated seats. Since nobody sits in Seat 23A, we smile and I move to seat A, We are now seated next to each other and the plane is filling up, when a woman, dressed in a grey top with khaki pants, big glasses, curly, frizzy unruly hair, overweight, stands next to us holding a suitcase and a huge bedroom pillow. I smile at her since it is obvious she wants her seat, seat 23A. I offer her my designated C seat as an exchange but no, she insists on having her window seat. Without putting up a fuss, we yield and I move to my originally allotted seat but Carol is unable to take her seat as the lady has her baggage all over both seats so Carol sits on my arm rest temporarily to allow passengers to get by. We will now have an aisle between us for the duration of the 11 hour flight. Or so we think!

Well, Carol makes a long face but such is life, I know she would have preferred to sit next to me, yet what can we do? My seat neighbor, a young man with long hair and dressed like a business man asked if Carol would want to change. He does not mind sitting next to someone, he likes to talk. Wonderful! So while I remain in seat 23C, Carol now moves to seat 23E. Between us is an empty seat, a middle seat and we both have lots of leg room.

So we have the frizzy haired lady, the young Business man, an aisle, my seat an empty seat and then Carol, then an aisle again. The business man is happy; he starts talking to Ms. Frizzy. Well, Ms Frizzy is not happy. I forgot to mention that young man was a bit heavy, I noticed his body odor and I am not sure I would have liked his talking but he volunteered and our new seating arrangements are rather nice now.

A few minutes go by and due to her complaining, a stewardess gives Ms Frizzy a new seat someplace toward the front of the plane. The young man now has 2 seats to himself. He moves to the window seat and makes himself at home; he spreads out his computer, his pillows, opens up all his business papers and is totally settled in.

Now Ms. Trouble arrives. She brings a “wheel along” suitcase that does not fit in the overhead bin. She has a blowup neck support and additional pillows. Literally she is 4 feet wide and 4 feet tall. Her hair teased up and she oozes out ‘trouble’. A Stewardess is with her, she is the last person to board the plane and she insists her assigned seat is, yes, 23A although she has no boarding pass.

Now what? The young man is puzzled, he packs all his stuff back and is ready to yield the seat but it becomes obvious that both do not fit in the seats. The stewardess offers the lady a seat up front in business class but no, she wants seat 23A. She insists. What to do, offer the same seat to the young business man? NO! He gets assigned a seat further back in the plane and amazingly, he is happy, he has a neighbor one seat removed he can talk to. All is well, right? Not yet!

Ms. Trouble settles in now, her suitcase needs to be stored under the seat in front of her. She just stood there, she was too fat to bend over to do it, and so a Stewardess came and had to help her. All her pillows are unpacked and she settles in seat 23A, next to the window. Her feet do not reach the floor, she is too short. Naturally, she needs a blanket right away and again a stewardess brings her one. She cannot figure out how to turn the lights on/off and I made the mistake of showing her, but I quickly realized she is trouble. I totally ignored her from then on but watched never the less. She confused the light switch with the call button for the stewardess every time. Instead of turning the light on, she called a stewardess. But finally, Ms Trouble is settled in when Ms. Frizzy came back with her suitcase and her pillow. Now what? A stewardess is called. It seems the seat assigned to Ms. Frizzy had been claimed up front and she needs to go back to her original seat. But Ms. Trouble refused to move. Now that she is all settled in, she wants to stay. And here we stand, at the gate, ready for takeoff but the seating has not been settled.

A second stewardess comes to help in the conflict, and then a third shows up. We have a stand-off. Ms. Trouble sitting in her seat, luggage all around her, pillows propped to help her sit, blanket pulled up to her huge, no neck double chin and Ms. Frizzy, indignant by now, demanding her window seat; this cursed window seat 23A. One more steward show up in order to settle the arrangement and to get the flight off the ground as we are by now 20 minutes late. Ms. Trouble refuses to budge. I do not understand the conversation by now, since Ms. Trouble switched to Spanish even though her English sounded native. It is mayhem, Ms Trouble feeling slighted, Ms. Frizzy indignant and 5 Stewards/ Stewardesses trying to reason with any of the two ladies. Since possession is 9/10ths of the law, Ms Trouble won the battle. Ms. Frizzy was given an aisle seat, exactly like the one I originally offered her. She did not get her window seat. The business man however, happy as a clam had a talking neighbor, Carol and I were happy and Ms. Trouble??? Well, she was still sitting on the plane at the end of the flight in Buenos Aires, nobody helped her with her luggage and since she could not bend over to retrieve it from under the seat, she might still be there, I don’t know, I left the plane, wondering why some people are so obstinate, so downright ignorant and even stupid.

After a sleepless all night flight, it was nice to be met at the airport and driven to our apartment.

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Mexico 2011

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On the way to the MOA 2010

Here we are stuck in Duluth, MN, with no way out.
We left early in the morning only to be in line on I-35 due to construction and a car disabling the traffic because it ran out of gas. What are we to do?
Sitting for about 40 minutes with no way out is very frustrating. Especially if you have about 1500 Miles to go to your destination and you are riding against the clock. We should be in Redmond, Oregon by Wednesday July 14, and here it is, Saturday Morning July 10 and we are only in Duluth.

I planned the trip, but not this delay and the high charges for Motel 6 in Duluth, MN. Arriving on a Friday night, we were under the impression that hotels in the business districts are empty. Moreover, yes, they were empty. Somehow, a policy passed that for weekends the charges for Motel 6 rooms increase quite a lot. I had to pay $ 97.49 for one night. That hurt! The Motel 6 in Duluth was not that great by the way, it could use a lot of elbow grease.


We had left Toronto and rode around Lake Superior, visiting Wawa and Thunder Bay. Now we are stuck in Duluth. I went to see the Aerostich Shop to pick up a ‘gift', which turned out to be a sticker of something green. I threw it out after receiving it. The whole stopover in Duluth was a waste of time. This was the third time I have visited Andy Goldfine’s place and each time I was disappointed.
I will say Good-bye Aerostich! Now, after paying a ransom for a hotel room, I am stuck on this one way Highway with no way out. All of Duluth was not a good experience.

Kirchheim

Good morning, we are finished with our 2010 Europe trip.
Nothing new fits into my brain. I need to sort all the newness out, need to find familiar things, need to clean up, repack up for the trip back to Canada.
I believe Carol feels the same way. Enough is enough.
It is strange how these feelings creep into me. There comes a point where, after almost 8 weeks on the road I look for the familiar. Our most familiar place in Europe is Stefan Knopf’s B&B and we are off this morning to rest there for a few days before we fly to Toronto.
Taking the Autobahn from Bayreuth to Heidelberg took us about 4 hours and we were lucky, Stefan had a room for us. We had made reservations but they only started tomorrow, we are a day early.
I build in some spare time, a day or so because one never knows if the bike will break down, how the roads will be or if the weather will cause delays. I do not like to ride under the gun to get anywhere. Having time to spare is fine with me.
The actual ride to Kirchheim was uneventful. It was typical Autobahn riding. I stay with the trucks in the right lane, going about 100 or 110 km per hour. I learned that this is a much safer way to travel than speeding along, even though I know that in certain sections the Autobahn has no speed limit. Germany’s Super Slab, the Autobahn is still a free road system. No tolls are charged. Compared with the rest of Europe this is a great and fast way to travel. There are no vignettes, no tollbooths, and no charges for travelling on the Autobahn. Just do not run out of gas, as there are few gas stations on these roads. Even getting off on an exit does not mean you will find gas immediately.
At Stefan’s we cleaned both bikes, wrote emails, sorted out pictures, slept in until 8 AM, took a shower in hot water, washed our clothes, updated the blog, had breakfast without planning where to go and we met interesting new people. Stefan’s place is a little like a pigeon coup, a constant in and out of people dropping off their bikes or picking up their bikes. The place, every time I have been there, is always busy.
The total miles we rode on this trip were a measly 4411 miles. This is nothing compared to riding in the U.S. but then we were not riding to break a record. We stopped often to smell the roses. We spent a good deal of time meeting people and talking to them. From a Serbian police officer to the new couples we met at Stefan’s, namely Richard and Sylvia Hutchinson, who live in Guatemala and Bruce and Petra from British Columbia. One never knows when, on the roads we travel, we will run into each other again. We found new people, new stories, and new trips and learned so much along the way.
Germany played England on the Sunday we were there. I lost $ 5.00 and a coke to Stefan. Germany won 4:1 and I bet on England. I paid up and still have a credit now with Stefan since he did not have change.
We left Tuesday morning; Stefan drove us to Heidelberg to catch the bus to the airport. We had a good trip, a great time and we are planning to see Romania and Bulgaria next year.

Bayreuth

I have a purpose today and feel much better, thank you. We did not take the Autobahn to Bayreuth, our next stop since were only about a 100 km away. Since Bayreuth falls into the ‘theme’ of Opera, the theme we had for the last few weeks, it makes sense to visit. We rode a winding, pastoral road to Bayreuth and arrived by midday.
Part of Bavaria, Bayreuth is world renown for the yearly Wagnerian Festspiele. In fact, the Opera built for and by Richard Wagner is not an opera, per say, but a Festspiel house.
This Festspielhaus, yes, it is an Opera, specifically built for Wagnerian Opera (http://www.bayreuther-festspiele.de/english/english_156.html) is part of Bayreuth. It is the holy shrine of Wagnerian Opera. Nothing else plays at this Festspielhaus, only Wagnerian Opera. If all this sounds strange, it is. Compare it to having an opera built just to hear Mozart’s Operas. Weird, but such is the case with Richard Wagner. I am not sure I understand all of the implications but those are the facts.
I decided to visit Bayreuth and see this place for myself.
Checking in with our friends, the Info center people, we found an affordable hotel, the Hotel Weihenstefan, just outside the center of everything. Close enough for us to walk to the bus depot and to visit the city and attractions Bayreuth has to offer. We parked our bikes in the back of the hotel next to the kitchen, secure and away from public view. The space was tight but we managed to get the bikes close together and away from the kitchen traffic, too.
The hotel Weihenstefan is an old place, not very posh yet Weihenstefan has been making beer since the year 1040. Weihenstefan is the oldest brewery in the world still making beer every day. I am not sure if our hotel had some connection with the brewery specifically, but since we were in an old place with the name Weihenstefan in its name, there might be some connections. http://www.brauerei-weihenstephan.de/index2.html?lang=eng
The beer certainly was good and the ratings given by others are excellent. http://beeradvocate.com/beer/profile/252/731
For the afternoon, we decided to walk the town. The Info center gave us a city map and with that, we were all set. Our first stop is the Margrave Opera, a building built in 1748 in an all-wood construction in the most decorated Baroque style I have seen. Gold leaf decorated everything. There were audience boxes for the elite and common floor space for the paupers. I could truly feel the atmosphere of the place, the old set up certainly adds to the feeling of authenticity. This is an opera house as they should be, as they used to be, very festive and formal.
We were the only visitors and had the place for ourselves. I sang an aria from Mozart’s Magic Flute from near center stage but no applause followed. Carol then sang Skinamarink and even though the acoustics were phenomenal, the thunderous applause could not be heard. Bummer! Maybe we picked the wrong song; it could not have been our voices, could it?
This Margrave building is wonderful. Nominated as a world heritage building by UNESCO, it needs to be preserved. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Margrave%27s_Opera_House
Going back to our hotel we had a pizza/pasta dinner and then watched, along with many others Germany play Ghana in the 2010 World Soccer cup. Since Germany lost the last game against Serbia they would be out of the competition should they lose! The tension was high. Young people had their faces painted with small German flags. Grownups drove past us with flags mounted on their cars. Honking and blaring their horns when Germany scored a goal. When Germany won with a 2 to 1 win, everybody cheered and the mood, helped by all the alcohol consumed, made for a noisy affair. Carol used her earplugs to sleep that night. It was fun, it was nice to see the pride and the good time everybody had. I could have done without the flag waving, but so be it.
The next morning we decided to visit the Festspielhaus.
The bus depot, I read, is important because to visit the Festspielhaus you need to take the bus. Sitting on the ‘Hügel’ (hill) a bit outside of town, in the middle of a small park, the Festspielhaus had closed when we got there because rehearsals were scheduled. Yes, we tried to sneak into the building but we had no luck. Caught in the act and after receiving a small reprimand, we were back outside. No matter, just seeing the general layout of the place, its surroundings and the scenery for various Operas stacked outside, made me realize that Bayreuth is for connoisseurs, for Wagnerian fans. The seats inside the building, I heard, are very uncomfortable for the performances. Some performances run for over three or 4 hours. I wanted to see all of this myself but it seems not everything is going my way. I took some pictures of the Festspielhaus from the outside, including some of the stage backdrops. We walked around the surrounding park of the Festspielhaus a bit and, naturally, took some pictures of the statue of Wagner, too.
I did not realize, but found out while photographing Wagner’s bust, that Franz Liszt was the son in law of Richard Wagner. Oh, how much I do not know about the world.
After the ‘visit’ of the Festspielhaus, Carol wanted to visit the Hermitage. We took the bus. The royals of the area, in about 1717, a sister of the German Kaiser named Wilhelmina, improved the already existing Hunting lodge and a small zoo with, for the times, a revolutionary idea, a landscaped garden. This was the first such garden on the European continent and included water fountains, a temple dedicated to Apollo with gilded busts of 40 Roman Emperors, nymphs, stone gardens, a dragon grotto, Japanese temples, etc. Whatever the fantasy could create, was presented to us in statues and buildings, planned and spread throughout this garden. This is a huge layout, miles of walking trails and garden paths. We did what we could, even managed to see the hourly fountain display before we returned via bus, to Bayreuth proper.
On the way back, we stopped off at Wahnfried, the residence of Richard Wagner, the place where he wrote some of his music. The name Wahnfried is a strange name. Wahn translated means mentally deficient. Fried means peace. So a place where Wagner found inner piece from his mental burdens?
He certainly was a mental case. Yes, he was talented and he knew it. Constantly in debt, he was ruthless in begging and showing off his talent, all in order to get money. He used everybody, including the very young King of Bavaria, named Ludwig. The King was just 18 years old when Wagner met him. Wagner was the original egomaniac. Wagner was so conceited, so full of himself, that reason failed him. On the other hand, was he a product of his time? When I read some of the letters on display, they all sounded contrite to me. All of the writing was too fickle or considered inappropriate today. Talk of love, talk of heroes, talk of heroic actions, or self-denial, of wanting this, of poets and poetry, of false and real or overpowering music and a somewhat sheltered life. I read about a lifestyle long past that was in its own stratosphere. Reality, the daily grind, work in factories, sports were not part of the lifestyle of Wagner. He was like an orchid, living only in his protected world. It seemed to me he knew little, if nothing, about hard work and labor. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Richard_Wagner He wrote drama plays, not opera. He wrote constantly, letters, opinions, music and his own lyrics. He lived in his own world, loved by some and hated by others. Having had a difficult youth, his father died a few months after his birth, he matured into a peculiar character. The critics then and now are many. His music however was new, was powerful, was loud and substantial. Even today, the overtures to his operas play like symphonies. Wagner was different, his house, the name he gave it, and all other things about him make the man for some people a demigod.
Right next to the Wahnfried house is the residence of Franz Liszt. He was another tortured soul. There was no question that Liszt was a superb pianist. Chopin and Liszt were equal in their dexterity and could display their emotions musically. While Chopin composed, Liszt played for the elite. So much so, that, after years of submitting himself to the whims of the few, Liszt burned out. Liszt was very religious. In fact, he became an ordained monk in his later years. That Liszt was the son in law of Wagner surprised me. I did not realize it but yes, all these musicians lived at the same time. Even Chopin, whom Liszt knew well (they even played fourhanded piano together or gave concerts), was a contemporary. I think I need to see a timeline of all composers.
The small museum in the Liszt house, packed with anecdotes of his life, again is for scholars. So much information is given that it becomes overwhelming. I just love the music of those men, and yes, I am trying to figure out what made them write, what made them compose, what made them so special. Could they write music the way I write sentences? Did they hear the music in their head before they wrote it down? Did they dream in music? Could they think musically? Why did we have so many composers at this time but none now? Sorry, I do not call Rap Music, music and I hate Techno Sounds. So what happened then? Why could Vivaldi just sit down and write music the way I write words? I find it amazing, maybe because I know nothing about music. I just know what I like to listen to, but cannot spell out to you why I like this piece and not that piece. Music is a mystery to me.
As a side note to the Wahnfried Museum, when we entered there was a showing of the life of Arturo Toscanini, the conductor. I did not come to Bayreuth to visit Toscanini or learn about his life but could not help myself. The exhibition showed the transition in music from live performances to performance for the record industry. The world certainly changed and playing the piano, as Liszt did most of his life, was no longer needed or interesting when you can hear music from a record. Toscanini was instrumental, pun intended, in working on this transition. The show certainly gave me ‘food for thought’.
After a day of searching the city for what it has to offer and taking in all these impressions I get tired out and there comes a point when I am too full of newness. I have had enough museums, parks, ideas, etc. Maybe I need to come back to Bayreuth once more to see other things but for today, this is it.

Amberg

Waking up, we need to decide where to go next. We have no target, no plan for the day. We have plenty of time left over; we do not need to be in Heidelberg until the end of the week and today is Tuesday.
Not far from Passau is the town of Regensburg. I heard the name mentioned often but have never been there. I know nothing about Regensburg so let us go there and spend a day or two finding out about Regensburg. What do you say, Carol?
So, off we go, really meandering down the roads, from small town to small town, looking left and right, drifting towards Regensburg and get to this large city around noon. Again, I know nothing about the town but that is ok. Let us just find a motel, hotel or something and stay a few days. The old part of town looks interesting enough.
So here we start. The first hotel, on the edge of old town Regensburg wants 140 Euros for a room. I pass. The next Hotel around the corner, a not so nice place wants 90 Euros without breakfast and no parking. We get back on the bike, ride around some more, and find a hostel but all is “sold out”. The folks at the hostel send us to another place but there is no room in this place, either. Yes, there is a place around the corner, but when I try there, the place only opens up at 5 PM. For us to be waiting for 4 hours, and then to find they are sold out too is not an option. What do we do? By now, it is 2 PM, we looked for a hotel for two hours and yes, they have them, but I refuse to pay these prices.
Good-bye Regensburg maybe I will see you some other time.
So now what do we do? The next bigger town is Amberg. I never even heard of this town. Let us go and see what this town has; maybe they have a hotel that is ok for us, for just one night. We ride the short distance to Amberg, taking the Autobahn to get there faster, just in case we run into problems again.
With a few questions, we find the hotel Altstadt in Amberg. At 72 Euros with Breakfast, it is not great, but better than paying 140 Euros in Regensburg. The parking for the bike is in front of the hotel, all is well. We have a room for the night. Now let us go and explore the town.
Like so many towns in this area, Amberg, too lived off salt. Salt was so much in demand that whole towns, whole counties could live off the money it created. Yes, Amberg had a wall around the city; yes, Amberg has cobble stone streets and the former market area is still active, still visited. A river running through the town still brings visitors, still runs along its old path. After visiting Amberg, walking its old streets, I still do not know why the town is there, what it did in the past. I am sure Amberg traded salt, but what else did Amberg do?
After some visits of European towns, no matter the county, no matter the area, the towns start to look alike. Walled off from invaders, giving their tradesmen work, having a protective royal patron, being blessed by the church, they existed for some reason. They had to be famous for something, produce something. I never did find out what made Amberg famous. Only after I checked Wikipedia on line did I learn we missed the ‘famous’ smallest hotel in the world. Rats!
We are getting tired of travelling; it has been a long trip. It is time to go home!
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Amberg

Passau

Breakfast was in town. We had to get packed, get dressed in full gear to ride back to town. Get undressed again, to have coffee and cold cuts and the typical German Brötchen (or Semmeln). Our proprietor from last night had a good time serving us. At 72, she runs a bar in town and the Gasthaus we were in last night. Spry and nosy too, she wanted to make sure we were well before we left town. The breakfast was good, the whole experience last night unique.
In a light rain, we left Untergriesbach and the way to Passau was a mere 30 Km. We left town in no hurry thinking we could be there in 40 Minutes. After some 10 KM, we ran into a blockade. The road totally closed down. I tried to ride around the blockade, but no, we had to go all the way back to Untergriesbach to find a new route. Passau was not easy to get into. Even coming close to the actual town of Passau, an old, medieval town, we had to take a long detour.
Luckily, I saw a sign for the Info center in Passau. Those folks in the Info center are a Godsend. Without them, it would have been tough to negotiate the cobble stone roads, the hilly terrain, and the one-way streets. With the help of the woman at the Info center, we had a hotel in no time. Our hotel was immediately on the Danube River. The Danube in Germany changes name and is called the Donau.
Passau is an old town situated at the confluence of three rivers. The Inn, Ilz and Donau, all three are navigable Rivers and come together here. This makes for a unique situation and the position of Passau is such that even in olden days, people took full advantage of this uniqueness. All shipping in years past had to pay the city a toll to pass through. The benefactors were the King and the Bishop of Passau. People in a castle, high on the hill, watched ships come and go and made sure they paid their tolls. Passau became so rich and was so famous that the King of Austria came here during the attack of Vienna by the Ottomans. Passau had and still has lots of money. The old buildings ooze voluptuous rococo and show old money. I am sure the King of Austria and the Habsburgs, could not have found a better place to find refuge from the Islamic attack.
The town itself sits on a huge triangle formed by the Rivers Inn and Donau. Due to the recent rains in the area, a lot of the shoreline, even some minor streets were flooded. This did not affect our stay yet it shows that the rivers still play a most important part in the town. High water was always part of the town; the rivers ruled and still rule today. The transport of salt, a necessity in the middle ages, made Passau rich. Today the money comes in from tourism. Boatloads of people from all over Europe stop here. River cruises, a popular way to travel on the Donau (Danube), come from as far away as Bulgaria on the Black Sea and dock here. Passau is worth a visit; it has charm, has many nooks and crannies and caters to most everybody’s taste. The history buffs love it, the water lovers find it interesting, and the café and restaurant eaters find their Mecca, too. A large number of people rode in on bicycles since Passau is a hub for five major ‘highways’ for enthusiasts of this sport. Travelling on bicycles, using the very rural, for bicycle only, created roads is the way to go. If only I were younger…
We just explored whatever struck our fancy. We stood by and it fascinated us that River Cruise ships were loaded by hand. Each box of supplies made its way to the hull or storage on the ship via a human chain. Each case of beer, cereal, orange juice, fresh vegetables, meat, etc. was passed on from hand-to-hand until it disappeared inside the ship. It is a strange thing to see today, this handing off from person to person. You would expect a machine to do the work, a conveyer belt maybe, but no, not here. Somehow, they find it more efficient to stock the ship the old-fashioned way.
We are in a much more relaxed mood. Getting to places is not important. We are more adrift now. We do not have a target. In fact, we look at each other and do not know where to go next. Where do you want to go to next, Carol? Wherever, you pick it! Exploring churches is now off limits, we saw too many of them. Climbing up a steep hill to see another castle seems too much work. We discriminate now when we see a restaurant. Now we want to find a place that is unique, it is not that we are that hungry that any food will do. I think we are near the end of our allotted time, near the end of our trip. We both know it. We are looking forward to some peace and downtime. Our brains are loaded up to capacity with newness, we need time to digest the info we collected.

Passau? (Untergriesbach)

The word Passau popped up in my head many times in the last year. I cannot say why, but is has a certain ring to it. It seems in my head that pass (like a pass in the mountains) is in this world and the word ‘au’ which means meadow in old German. So what will the town look like?
Riding along the back roads, finding my way out of Vienna, which is not that easy, I am thinking about where to we stop that day? We are going west, the sun is at our back but it is not warming us that much at 54 Degrees F. Adding a few layers to our outfits helps a lot. The roads I choose are back roads, curvy but not difficult. Some detours even bring us past fields of wheat, corn and potatoes. Riding, after so many days in Budapest, Szentendre and Vienna, is a pleasure. Yes, it takes all day to get from Vienna to the German border but crossing the border is hardly noticeable, one sign spells out “Thank you for visiting Austria” the other “Welcome to Germany”. It could not have been more pleasant.
On the way to Germany and with Passau still in my head, I see this wonderful restaurant around noon. Many cars outside indicate to me a popular place. We are seasoned travelers now, we stop when we feel like it, do not chase the sun any longer and we stop for lunch when it feels right. The fried Zucchini, the fresh pressed apple cider with a piece of pie as desert gave us new strength. A birthday party for ‘Margaret’ was in progress during our stop over; she was turning 80 years old. Just before we left I walked over, sang her a ‘Happy Birthday, dear Margaret’ song, gave a Canada pin as a momentum and made her day. She might still be wondering who this ‘young’ man was that sang for her that day. It made all of us smile.
In late afternoon, close to Passau but too beat up by the cold weather and just before it started to rain seriously again, we came into a town named Untergriesbach. Yes, it is easy for me to say that and for all you English readers, yes, those German words are long, and I know it.
We decided to stop for the night; it was late enough, even if we did not get to Passau yet. I checked with two hotels in town but their prices were too high. A one-night stay for 80 or 90 Euros is just too much for my budget. The last hotel, a nice enough place with a 3 star rating, pointed to a little Gasthaus nearby, that might have room for us. Driving up to it, we found it closed with just a note in the window, “See us in town at this address”. Ok, off we go and we do find the woman running this place. She drives back in her car; we follow her on our bikes. It was somewhat of a comedy but we agreed to take the room for the night (what choice did we really have, it was raining by now?) for 50 Euro incl. breakfast. The problem was this guesthouse was way out of town. There are neither restaurants near us nor any other shops, just a few other houses. Even for breakfast, we have to ride back into town again, tomorrow morning. For that, we have the whole house to ourselves. There is nobody in the whole place. Even the woman leaves again in her car, leaving us to take care of things. We have a living room, we have the choice to sleep in as many as eight bedrooms, we have access to the beer, to TV, and it is literally our house for the night. It feels a bit strange, I must admit. It feels like we just ‘moved’ to Germany and now have this furnished house to live in. The bikes, parked securely under an overhang since the garage has ‘stuff’ in it, are ok. For dinner, we had an apple and a banana, food we had in our bags as left over from breakfast this morning. As it turned out, the lunch stop was a good thing; at least we had some food in us and the beers we found, the soccer match we watched of the 2010World Series, made up for not having dinner.
After riding in cool to cold weather, we were glad to be dry and comfortable and the sleeping experience, even if it was a bit surreal, added spice to our trip.

Vienna, Austria (Wien)

No, there are no Kangaroo’s in Austria. I loved that T-Shirt. Getting to Vienna is easy enough although we had lots of one way streets. No passport control, we just needed to exchange the Hungarian Forints into Euros at the border. Finding the exchange office was not that easy since a real border does not really exist any longer. I asked a policeman who sent me to a retired banker who had a small office set up in his house to just change Forints into Euros.
The way to Vienna is busy, busy, and busy! Finding a reasonable hotel seems impossible without previous reservations and getting a parking place in the old city? Forget about it! Vienna is the ultimate in tourist places. The art of getting the most out of tourists was written here. With a very polite, thank you, a smile but never the less a stern yes or no, the Viennese get what they want. Please do not go to Vienna expecting to find bargains. There are none! Vienna is purely business, purely nice, and purely wonderful but you must have the money. All that said we stopped at a few hotels on the way and some just looked at our raggedy clothing and smiled and said they are all booked up, even at 180 plus Euros per room. Asking a taxi driver only resulted in him telling me I cannot stop here, would I please move on. Another cabbie told me try out of town, in town is too expensive. I resorted to looking at Ibis for Euro 90 per night but, again, all sold out and no, no breakfast included and parking? We cannot help you, sorry, but with a smile. It was frustrating! I found the bridge going out of town when I rode past the Prater, the famous Ferris wheel, and found a 3 star hotel that advertised 35 Euros per night per person and I stopped to inquire. Well, we looked at the room on the 4th floor, we saw it had a small elevator; it came with breakfast and had space for 2 bikes in the backyard. To get to downtown Vienna we had to walk 15 minutes to the nearest subway station but then could get a direct train to the heart of old Wien. Downtown was 8 stops or about 25 minutes away. It was not the most posh place so we took it for one night, thinking we can find something better the next day. Let’s see how this place works out for us. Wi-Fi costs extra unless you book on line, which we did not know, of course.
We put our stuff upstairs, got into our walking shoes and off we went to explore. The first thing we had to learn was how the subway system works. There are hardly any personnel. Everything is automated. We just got on the train figuring we could buy the tickets there since we could not understand the machine on the wall. Mistake! Once we got off the subway at the Opera we were in a huge, below ground transfer station where 3 or 4 lines come together. We asked someone who looked authoritative how the system works and he guided us to a small booth and we bought a 24 hour ticket and once validated at a stamping machine, it would allow us to ride anyplace on the system. Great!
Then we had to find the exit to the Opera house, since we made this our first stop. That was a good choice since it is centrally located but once we popped up to ground level, we were a target for ticket sellers in 18th Century costumes. These folks are legitimate as I found out later but I was taken aback by being swamped as soon as I hit the pavement. I was reluctant even to talk to them. Good for Carol to keep her wits and listen, we found the info we received helpful, because the official info booth was swamped with people and they would have told us the same thing. We needed to orient ourselves; Vienna is old with twisty roads and small side street. It is easy to get lost and a map is helpful. Luckily one of those costumed ticket sellers had the right map. He also had the info about the opening time for the Opera Tours, he had tickets for a concert the next day and he told us where we could get the Hop On/Hop Off Bus tomorrow. The guy came from Kosovo, spoke English and German well and made his money on the commissions from selling tickets. All was done and said with a smile. He helped as much as he could and we never felt overly pressured but he was keen on selling his tickets, in the nicest way. We walked around a bit, looked around to find the info booth again but after some time came to realize that this guy in period custom was right and was our best bet to get started in Vienna. We went back and bought concert tickets for a Mozart and Strauss concert the next day at the Palais Auersperg, an old Palace where Mozart had played.
We just wanted to get our feet wet on this first day in Vienna and see what it was all about and our first impression was wow, this will take some time. It is impossible to see it all. To make the best of this day we had a good meal. Naturally, we had a ‘Wiener Schnitzel’, but the key was to find the right restaurant. We went back to our ticket seller guy and asked him for the best place and without hesitation, he recommended the restaurant “Figlmüller”, which has been making Schnitzels since 1905 and proclaim to serve not only the best, but also the biggest Schnitzel. So, off we went in the direction indicated.
On the way to the Restaurant we discovered the Swarovski Crystal Museum and, naturally, went in to investigate. Carol had a good time checking out the details of the place and I liked the many ideas the people from Swarovski show.
After the visit, a bit further down the pedestrian street we see the St. Stephen’s Cathedral and in comparison to the same named Basilica in Budapest, Budapest wins hands down. There is just no comparing the two, but then there never is an answer as to why one cathedral is more elaborate, or larger, etc. I think it might have to do with the money at hand at the time of building. St. Stephens in Vienna is the center of the old city. All streets seem to lead to it and, like always in Europe, it probably was the heart of the community in years gone by.
While walking towards Figlmüller we saw a sign on a house telling us that Mozart rented an apartment here for several years. Today this apartment is made into a museum by the city of Vienna. It was too late in the day to enter but on my next trip back to Vienna I will go inside and see this place.
Idling along, always towards Figlmüller, we find peculiar alleyways, which connect one street with another. These are left over passages from years gone by when the right away for people was given to the populace. You have to enter into a large doorway at a house but behind the doorway a large passage opens up with shops, restaurants and stalls on each side. These passageways extend for quite a distance; we did not finish walking all of them.
One of those alleyways allows you to enter the restaurant Figlmüller and right away, after you enter, you feel at home. Yes, it is elegant and busy but not overdone. Very efficient, very cozy with small rooms in a homey atmosphere arranged in such ways that you feel you are eating in a small house. Some parts have upstairs sections. We were lucky to be given a small table beside the window and the service was friendly and efficient. Figlmüller is a good restaurant, a pleasant place. Yes, the schnitzel was so huge that I had a hard time finishing mine. Carol could eat only about 1/3 of hers. The beer to wash it down with was a Radler; a combination of beer and lemon and very tasty. No need to order anything else, just the Schnitzel will fill you up, it is that huge!
After dinner we needed to walk, and the walk back to the Opera house did help to settle the food. Being quick learners we took the subway back to our hotel and walked another 15 minutes back to our hotel. I realized that this works well for us, taking the train into the city, having us land right in the middle of the old city, being able to walk away from it at night and getting a cheaper rate for the hotel room all worked out well enough.
The next morning, after a good buffet breakfast, which was included in the room rate, I extended our stay at this hotel for another 2 days. While we were gone yesterday, a huge load of teenagers was delivered via bus to the hotel and the morning breakfast buffet was lively and busy. There was enough space, however to accommodate all and the food was plentiful. This hotel (www.lenas-hotel.at) is as good as it gets and we slept well and our bikes were safe, too.
Taking the subway, we again landed at the Opera house and as soon as we popped up to above ground level other folks in costumed, period attire tried to sell us a concert ticket. We, however, took the Hop On/Hop Off Bus for our ride around town. Our first trip was on the red line bus, which drove us for an hour, without letting us off, on a circle tour of the inner city. This gave us a rough overview of what the city looked like and showed us how large Vienna really is. And since Vienna is so large this Hop On/Hop Off line had 3 tours so we bought a ticket for all 3 sections. When we returned after our first tour, we had an hour to kill before the green line, our next section of the tour, took us to Schönbrunn (Pleasant Spring) Palace. This Palace was the summer residence of the Habsburgs, especially during the reign of Empress Maria Theresa.
To get a focus, let me explain that the Habsburg house, the dynasty of the Habsburgs started in the year 1273, when the German Rudolf the First became the King of Germany. He was the start and through marriages, through annexations, through wars, through acquisitions and/or power plays the dynasty grew and extended. The King of Kings in German is called a Kaiser and a Kaiser who is Kaiser of more than one country is called an Emperor. After many years, after many powerful mergers, the Habsburg dynasty reached its pinnacle, many say, when the Empress Maria Theresa (1717-1780) was in charge. During her reign Hungary became part of the German Reich (Holy Roman Reich of German Nations). This Holy Roman Reich of German Nations was a huge concept. Established in the Middle Ages, after or during the Crusades to protect the regions from Islam and to protect the Catholic Church, it was a mutually beneficially set up. The Church took care of the Royals; the Royals took care of the Church. All this ended after World War 1 but let’s not go that far. Let us stay in Schönbrunn.
The green line bus dropped us off at the gates of Schönbrunn and, yes it is a tourist factory. Well arranged, well thought out the whole affair runs like a well oiled machine. You can pick from a menu of tours at different price levels and in different depths. You can study the Habsburgs in so much detail that it will take you years to get it right. You can spend lots of money taking a very expensive, in-depth tour. It is all on the menu. We chose the standard tour, just to give us an overview, especially since my European schooling made me into a tour guide already. Before we went into the Palace itself, I opted to take a Fiaker (Viennese Horse drawn carriage) to see the huge landscaped section surrounding the Palais Schönbrunn. These gardens, Versailles in France has a huge set up, too, were the rage of the 18th Century and Schönbrunn has one of the best representations of this extravagance of gardening. Unfortunately, for the standard price we paid, the Fiaker does not stop for picture taking but hurries along its bumpy ride, not even good enough for good pictures. Yet, the layout, the sheer size of it can be judged and it is impressive.
I put the ride in the Fiaker before the tour of the Palais because the weather looked threatening. Sure enough, once we started our inside tour of the Summer Palace, it started to rain and it rained heavily. Timing is everything, we timed it right to get the inside tour when the outside is swamped with rain.
Maria Theresa, the Empress, was a smart and cunning woman. The mother of 16 children, mostly females, she married them off for political advantages. Marie Antoinette, the wife of Louis the 14th of France, was a daughter of Maria Theresa. Yes, Marie Antoinette was beheaded at the start of the French Revolution in 1789 but her mother, Marie Theresa, the Empress of Austria/Hungary had died by then. Ever planning, ever thinking how to further and promote the Habsburg line, the Empress Maria Theresa became, along with the Habsburg Dynasty the most powerful Royal House in Europe. The marriages arranged by the Empress made her the mother-in-law to many other Royal Houses. Schönbrunn was her summer residence. Carol and I, on our tour, visited mainly her living quarters. Decorated in the style of the times, opulent and baroque, it gave us an understanding of the way the Habsburgs lived. While not as gaudy as Versailles, Schönbrunn has its own style; it does show the mindset of Maria Theresa and the Habsburg line after her.
During the 18thand even the 19th Century, if you could afford it, you spent the hot summer months outside the city. Since sanitation was not what it is today, the smell of human existence drove you away from the masses in the city. So a summer residence was a normal set up for most of the elite. The gardens around the residence also helped to eliminate odoriferous living. Flowers, sweet smelling vines, perfumes, all helped in giving your nose a break. Since a bath only happened once a month at best, it was not really the best of times.
We took our tour, duly impressed with the splendor around us, but glad to be living the 21st Century and not being like the Royals or Maria Theresa who sacrificed her 16 children in the name of politics. The tour ended and we took the green line bus back to the center of town. We had to wait a few more minutes since it still rained it sheets, yet I could see the light section in the sky and knew the heavy part of the rainfall was almost over. We could have gotten off at other stops but my mind was on overload, so we opted to take a break instead and forget another Hop On/Hop Off ride.
We went to another famous Vienna Landmark, the Hotel Sacher. It is famous for the Sacher Torte, a rich chocolate cake that is the epitome of Viennese cakes. Vienna without the Sacher Torte is like Coney Island, NY without a hot dog or Paris without a baguette. Sitting in the outside café of Hotel Sacher was not as glorious as it sounds. We were allowed to eat the cake of course, even have a coffee but when we tried to take a look at the Hotel lobby, we were ushered out; this part of Hotel Sacher is only for registered guests of the Hotel, please. All said with a smile but the way was barred.
Travelling, constantly seeing new things, getting new impressions, is not as easy as it seems to be. I wanted to just zone out, wanted to just walk about but that is not easy to do either. Wherever you walk, something new is in the way to look at. We were off to find the Palais Auersperg and do some window shopping on the way. I do not buy anything while being on a trip, my bike is packed to capacity and I really do not need anything anyhow. So window shopping is really exactly as it sounds like. I look at things; look for things that are different, unique, weird, unusual, and extraordinary.
We asked for directions but it seems not many people knew exactly where the Palais Auersperg was located. In the brochure it looked lovely, old and full of gilded halls, full of old charm. So where was this place? Concert tickets in hand, we proceeded forwards slowly. We passed the city residence of the Habsburgs, now called the Hero’s Square because a large monument was set into the courtyard to honor fallen soldiers of all wars. We passed gardens and parks; we passed statues dedicated to Mozart. We approached the Austrian Parliament and finally found the Palais Auersperg. It its heyday it might have been impressive, but now it is on a busy street and no longer stands out. To call it a Palais is just a leftover of speech, I presume. Larger than a normal house, it is not a concert hall; it is not a castle so I guess it will do for tonight’s performance of the Wiener Residence Orchestra. I am a bit leery about the whole set up but it turned out to be a delightful affair. The hall was packed; the Soprano sang with a powerful voice, the Tenor as a soloist was wonderful but in a duet lost out to the Soprano. The music was Mozart and the pieces well known and light and wonderful. During the intermission I was asked “A glass of champagne Sir”? I passed at 5 Euros/glass. The program changed to all Johann Strauß after the intermission and the violinist, playing on a violin from 1776, played in outstanding form. One piece, a Czardas, really made her shine. She was an amazing violinist. Interlaced with ballet performances the whole concert was over way too quickly. The applause at the end, the encore given, would give you an idea of how the evening went. It was a great experience, totally Vienna, even if a bit touristy.
Since we were this close to Parliament we wandered over but it was closed. Walking in the general direction of St. Stephan’s Cathedral, we zigzagged our way back to the old center. Finding our way was no longer that difficult as we had built up an inner road map of old Vienna in our heads. Passing parked Fiakers, the drivers chatting among each other, hearing the rattle of closing store shutters made us realize we needed to head back to our hotel,
The next day was a bonus day. When we awoke we heard the rain and it rained hard. Checking our phone messages on the computer we needed to call Carol’s mom but with a 6 hour time difference we had to wait until at least 3 PM to call Toronto. As it turned out, it was just that her mom wanted to hear that we were ok, so all is well. We ventured out despite the rain because Carol wanted to take a picture of the Johann Strauß statue, inside the city park and we wanted to see the inside of the Opera house and the tour is only given on Saturdays. So rain or shine, we decided to go out. By now we had the routine of walking to the subway station, taking the train, even changing lines, down to a science. We enjoyed Vienna, had a lunch of Bratwurst with Sauerkraut and a beer in the beer garden and it was time to for our Opera House visit. The rain had stopped by now and the weather cooperated.
Austria, especially Vienna is a master at handling visitors, tourists. Long lines move fast, once inside the Opera House sections were set up according to languages. We took the English tour naturally, and our guide was cheery and knowledgeable. Each section of the Opera House was explained in detail and you could ask about anything you wanted to know. I learned that there is a different Opera performed each night during the Opera season. Each day the stage is broken down and a new stage is put up. Hundreds of workers work on setting up, each day. The Opera has many choirs, many singers and actors. Each performance is practiced as well and the whole place is like a bee hive.
The annual budget of this one building along is a staggering 100 Million Euros; 55% of that money comes from ticket sales or tours given or from subscriptions and the remaining 45% is subsidized by the Austrian Government. The draw of this place is huge. Connoisseurs of music visit many times during a month. The cheapest admission price is 3 Euros, way up in the balcony and is standing only. Box seats can cost you 3000 Euros for a single performance. Most nights, the place is sold out. Day in, day out, this place hums with activity. While we were given the tour, a stage back drop was being installed for the same night’s performance. The workers did not stop; they worked around the many visitors from all countries of the world. Technically the stage is the most modern set up one can imagine. Yet each Aria is sung without the use of any microphone. The performances remain pure; remains the height of the art of opera. Whoever sings here, needs to be top rated. The audience knows and can differentiate between good, mediocre or terrific. This is a top notch set up, we just came to visit and we were astounded. Once you see how all is set up, how all the backdrop works, you want to go to a performance, too. You want to just see a complete performance. Had they had the Magic Flute listed I would have gone that night. The way it is, I will come back someday and see Mozart’s Opera in this kind of set up.
Not only does the place serve Opera, but for the Ball of the Debutants, the coming our party of the young people into society, an old European custom, the whole place is transformed into a huge ballroom. Even the seating is removed to make room for the dance floor. All is done with elegance and tickets for this event, a one night affair are 17,500 Euros per person. The place is sold out long in advance, even at these prices. Each young man or young woman at 16 or 18 will attend this ball in Vienna. Without it you have not entered Society and will remain unknown. But before you can attend an audition and test of your skills in dancing a left hander Waltz is performed. These are strict old rules. You must pass these basic requirements, no matter how much money you have.
After our Opera house visit we decided to take a look at the Prater and take a ride on the landmark of Vienna, the old Ferris wheel (Riesenrad). The almost last, but certainly the most popular Emperor of Austria was Emperor Franz Joseph, the First (1830-1916).For his 50th Birthday in 1880, the citizens of Vienna presented him with this Ferris wheel, a totally new invention in its time. This gift was so much liked by all, even the Emperor that it became the symbol of Vienna in years to come. The Prater, the Ferris wheel are an intricate part of Vienna, then and now. The Prater itself is a permanent Amusement Park with the Ferris wheel being one of the oldest attractions. We visited, ate some junk food and then left to prepare for our departure from Vienna but with the knowledge that we certainly have not seen all of what Vienna has to offer. I guess we will be back; it just depends on when we find the time again.