mueterj

Last Thoughts

2011-09-25T14:38:00.000-07:00

Previously I have sung the praises of Zürich airport. Well, that was the arrival terminal -- the departure is another story, something of a zoo actually. Or is it that there are just too many people these days for the masses of travelers to be handled efficiently? After a $6 cup of coffee at the departure gate I boarded my flight for the US. The Swiss International flight was very pleasant. Once again the exorbitant prices in Switzerland deserve mention. A Greek salad at the restaurant down the street from my friend JJ's flat went for SF 22.50 (= $30). The same thing cost me 6 Euros in Greece ($8.50). One evening we ordered in some Chinese food. Granted, it was a lot and included two small bottles of wine, but the equivalent of $125 for mediocre Chinese take-out is something for Ripley's Believe it or Not. Ouch!!!

Just arrived at JFK airport. Every time I arrive back in the US after being abroad I am a bit ashamed. Why is everything so shabby, so badly organized, so chaotic? The flag wavers keep on telling us that this is the greatest country in the world. I have some shocking news for them. It isn't. Why can't the US be like the countries of northern Europe: clean, organized and efficient, with great social services? Because we would be living in a social democracy, where taxes are high but you get what you pay for. I recently learned that the tiny country of Estonia instituted a flat tax. They started the rate at 25% and dropped it to 17%. It takes an Estonian citizen fifteen minutes to do his/her taxes on line. Doesn't that sound wonderful? It will never happen here because of the corruption of the Congress and vested interests who would fight tooth and nail against doing something as reasonable as reforming our insane tax system.
I opted to fly into JFK and catch a connecting flight out of LaGuardia. The two airports are not that far from each other. What better way to spend the obligatory several hours layover time than in the adventure of busing from one airport to another? Besides, I grew up near LaGuardia airport and I thought it might be a bit of a nostalgic trip to see something of the old neighborhood again. As usual the roads were clogged and everything looked a bit down at the heel. We passed the former World's Fair grounds. There was an iconic structure that was kept as a symbol of that historic event. It now looks ready for the wrecking ball. Right near it was the building that used to house the skating rink we visited as kids. It, too, looks near collapse. I could not live in this city again. It is too frantic and seedy. During the brief shuttle bus ride I really came to appreciate the fact that I live in Kansas City where life is so much more pleasant and relaxed.
At LaGuardia airport the security check to the gates is so haphazard. You have to take your shoes off and walk on what appears to be a rather dirty, uncarpeted floor. Yuck! What would a Swiss citizen think of this? I am embarrassed at how shabbily things are arranged here.
It was a really long day. Maybe that is why I have been so kranky. I was ecstatic to flop into my own bed again, at long last. I am deeply grateful for the opportunity I have had on this trip, to experience so many wondrous things, and grateful for having been kept safe on my travels. I dream of the soft, gentle light of the Mediterranean.........

Lausanne

2011-09-25T09:23:00.000-07:00

I returned to Switzerland on a flight from Athens to Geneva via Paris. Charles de Gaulle airport wouldn't win any prizes for organization or design either. The morning after I arrived back at JJ's I pulled a muscle in my lower back. That put the kabosh on any plans I had for a long promenade along the lake. And it is too bad, because the weather was glorious. I barely managed to hobble down to the supermarket on the first day. On the second I made myself walk (slowly, slowly) down to Ouchy and back. Later in the evening, feeling much better, I hiked up to the high city which is crowned by the 13th century Cathedral of Notre Dame. The light was still sufficient to take a few pics. Lausanne enjoys one of the loveliest settings of any city in the world.

Cape Sounion

2011-09-18T08:32:00.001-07:00

As tired as I was yesterday from the exertions of the day (and it's a good thing I like to walk because I have been doing a lot of it), I headed out in the evening. This time I took the metro to Omonia Square and then walked to the Plaka, the tourist area at the foot of the Acropolis. I wanted to enjoy the spectacle of the city at night, its great monuments floodlit. It was gorgeous indeed. The Acropolis was even more imposing and the magnificent Temple of Hephaestos was bathed in golden light. Athens has made a very positive impression. It is a sprawling, vibrant city with too much traffic, but it seems prosperous and well taken care of. It is, in fact, one of the cleanest cities I have experienced. One would never guess that the country is on the brink of economic collapse. And the Greeks, in my experience, are friendly, helpful, polite and, above all, honest.
With little desire to see any more museums (if I have to look at another Attic vase I'll throw myself off the Acropolis), I made an excursion outside of the city today. There are many places I could have gone: Marathon, site of one of the most important battles in Western history where the vastly outnumbered Greeks outwitted the Persians and destroyed their seemingly invincible army; but there is little to see there except a commemorative plaque. And there is Eleusis, site of the Mysteries, but it is now located in an industrial area and has an oil refinery next to it. I would have dearly liked to visit Delphi, site of the famous oracle, but it is a three and a half hour bus ride each way. So I opted to go to Cape Sounion. It is the southern most tip of Attica and less than two hours by bus. Fortunately, the bus station for traffic to the south was just a few km down Alexander Avenue, the main drag near my hotel. It was a lovely ride down the coast, the sparkling sea on one side and well-kept houses and hotels on the other. It is a nearly barren, rocky landscape; a few trees and shrubs manage to survive. The ancient Greeks built a temple to Poseidon at the Cape. Its gleaming white marble was a beacon to sea travelers. It was built at the same time as the Parthenon, in 444 BCE. Twenty years before, the Persians had invaded and destroyed the important temples, including everything on the Acropolis in Athens and the temple at Sounion. It was all rebuilt, greater than before. Not only did the Greeks eventually defeat the Persians, they took their revenge when Alexander the Great later invaded Persia, routed the High King and burned his capital city Persepolis. Take that, Persians! Alexander the Great -- now there is someone who truly deserved the title! Anyway, back to Sounion. It is a wind-swept site, perched high above the sea. After a few tour buses left I almost had the place to myself. There is nothing else to see aside from the temple so I retired to the adjoining restaurant for a refreshing repast of food and drink. Why is it that a Greek salad tastes twice as good in Greece? I had the temple in view from my table and the wide expanse of glimmering sea to my left. The gentle breeze caressed the oleanders and Norfolk pines. It was another perfect day in Greece. I shall miss the gentle tempo of life in this blessed land. Byron visited the temple and was quite taken with it. He wrote: "Place me on Sunium's marbled steep, Where nothing save the waves and I , May hear our mutual murmurs sweep..." He also carved his name into a column. It is still there but one cannot get close enough to see it. I imagine it says something like: Byron wuz here.

Evzones

2011-09-17T10:47:00.000-07:00

I have commented on the honor guard, the Evzones, before. I got to see them in action a second time. With their outlandish costumes and bizarre choreographed movements they reminded me of some exotic, long-legged birds involved in a complex mating ritual. Here they are at attention in front of the Presidential Palace and the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier.

Ancient Athens

2011-09-17T10:45:00.000-07:00

1) the Temple of Hephaestion in the Agora, one of the best preserved ancient sites in Greece, 2) the Parthenon on the Acropolis, the temple to Athina Parthenos (Athena the Virgin); 3) the Erechtheion and the famed Porch of the Caryatids; 4) the remains of the Temple of Olympian Zeus, completed after 700 years by the Emperor Hadrian in CE 131; 5) view towards the Acropolis from the Hephaestion Temple.

Athens II

2011-09-17T10:12:00.000-07:00

The ancient sites of Athens. What can one say but OMG!!! I hadn't planned on visiting any sites yesterday but as I passed the entrance to the ancient agora I thought: why not? 37 years ago, after a month or so spent on the tranquil islands, I came to Athens. I stayed in a flea bag hotel, being poor, and was so horrified by the noise and traffic of the capital that I left as soon as I could and headed for Thessaloniki and an island in the north, the heavenly Thassos. But not before a short visit to the Acropolis. I got there at opening time and left when the first tourist buses arrived. It made a profound impression on me then, and it did again today. Wisely, I arrived at 8:30, as the gates opened. It was not too crowded, but within an hour, when the first tour buses pulled up, it became intolerablely crowded. The phrase from my guide book kept going through my head: this is the most important ancient site in the Western World. And so it is. And the Parthenon is without doubt the most perfect building ever erected. It may be just a shell of its former glory but it is still an awesome experience to be in front of it. This is truly holy ground, this is the monument that incorporates the best of human aspiration, the striving for what is good and excellent. When I thought of all the great beings who had trod these stones, a host of Athenian minds who literally shaped the course of human intellectual development, I was in tears. This is a monument to us, to our humanity. It is no wonder that huge sums are being spent to preserve and reconstruct the complex of buildings that stand atop the Acropolis. After that I went to the newly opened Acropolis Museum. It is superbly done and gives you an overview of the history and magnificence of the ancient city. Since I had all day, I walked to the National Archaeological Museum. Two museums in one day is a bit much, but how could I leave Athens without having seen it? It houses the finest collections of Greek historical objects. And what was the first thing I saw when I walked in? Nothing other than the famed Funeral Mask of Agammemnon. Whilst Sir Arthur Evans was scratching away in the dirt at Knossos, Heinrich Schliemann (who had already excavated Troy) unearthed a series of graves in Mycenae. What he discovered was a world sensation. He thought he had found the funeral mask of the great king mentioned in the Iliad, but it turns out he was wrong. Nevertheless, what he found changed our notions of pre-Hellenic Greece forever. And there was the mask that I had seen in photographs, one of the supreme treasures of the ancient world, staring me right in the face. There were many other renowned statues and objects and I was awed by each one, as tired as I was. Playing tourist is hard work. I had walked miles in the hot sun and hadn't eaten hardly a thing all day. As I walked back to my hotel along Leoforas Alexandros I came upon a wonderful restaurant, the answer to my culinary prayers. A half liter of Greek red later I was feeling no pain.

Athens I

2011-09-16T12:06:00.000-07:00

We were requested to disembark by 8 AM so that the crew could get things ready for the next cruise. I felt like I was being thrown back out into the cold, cruel world. Well, cold it certainly wasn't and the prospect of a few days in Athens is hardly a cruel fate. Still, the moment I stepped out of the cruise terminal I was left to my own devices. Since I couldn't check into my Athens hotel before noon, I had a lot of time to kill. Pardon me for reporting the mundane, but travel is not all razzle dazzle. It is in how one copes with the minor, sometimes unpleasant moments in a trip that determines a good or a wretched experience on the road. I was not going to pamper myself and take a taxi and was determined to get to my hotel using public transportation. First I had to find the bus that went to the Piraeus metro station. I am grateful for the kindness of strangers for pointing me in the right direction. The metro was constructed for the 2004 Olympic Games. It's a bit clunky, but it does the trick. I chose a mid-scale hotel in the nice neighborhood called Ambelokipi, just north of Lykavittos Hill. There are plenty of cheaper hotels in town, but they seem to be clustered in the Omonia area which is rife with drug dealers and pimps at night. No thanks.
And now some thoughts on the Greek's aesthetic sense concerning colors. They tend to like dull, neutral colors and avoid patterns of any kind. This sets then apart from their flamboyant neighbors to the west, the Italians, and even more so from the Turks who love to swathe themselves (the women, anyway) in clothing with bizarre color combinations and patterns. My hotel, the Proteus, is actually quite nice. It's clean and friendly. The lobby was done up in kitschy but subdued décor. You can't imagine my shock when I opened the door of my room to find a bright red carpet and furniture painted pepto bismol pink. To complete the 'ensemble' there are posters of the Eiffel Tower and the Arche de Triomphe on the walls, adding a certain je ne sais quoi to the whole effect. Oh, and I forgot to mention the floor to ceiling mirror on one wall. It looks like a room in a brothel. When I went downstairs later the concierge asked me if the room was okay. I said it was fine but would have liked to add: But wouldn't you rather be renting it out by the hour?
Some thoughts on the Greek alphabet. A surprising number of signs are written in Roman script. I think the Greeks must consider it cool and cosmopolitan. Among the changes from the ancient to the modern language there seems to have been a general trend to simplification. As far as I can tell there is only one 'o' vowel in the language, pronounced as an open 'aw'. But what is the point of having two different symbols for the sound, omicron and omega? The same thing seems to be true with the 'e' sound. There is no open and closed differenciation; both are open. But the aplhabet still has eta and episilon, yet both are the same. Diphthongs have lost their qualities and most seem to be simply 'i'. The letter beta is not 'b' at all, but is pronounced 'v' -- alpha, veta, gamma, etc. To write the 'b' sound you need m plus p, or MP. It actually makes sense when you think about it.
I intended to take the walking tour suggested by my guide book this afternoon. It took me 20 minutes to walk to the downtown. One of the more interesting sights was the honor guard at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier which is in front of the Parliament building. The two soldiers wear the most outlandish uniforms: pompoms on their shoes, tight leggings, a short skirt, a red hat with a tassle that comes down to their waists. It is quite a sight. They perform a choreographed strut, like a goose step in slow motion, followed by rhythmic stomping. Who thought this up? It is entertaining but rather strange. Down the street was the site of the Temple of Olympian Zeus. It was the largest ever built, took 700 years to complete. Of its original 104 columns only 15 remain standing. Still, it gives a good ides of the size of the place. I thought I would just walk around the circumference of the Acropolis. By mid-afternoon it was time to eat. Virtually in the shadow of the Acropolis I dined in a Greek taverna. I would normally eschew anything that smelled of tourist trap, but this place was authentic. I sat on the shaded deck, admiring the view. There was also a pomegranate tree hung with fruit. Are they kidding me? This is too perfect! And the food was delicious. I had egglpant baked with feta cheese (I have to try this at home), a salad of fresh tomatoes, cucumbers (the much nicer European variety) sweet onions, green pepper and olives. It was lightly seasoned and dressed with Greek olive oil. Molto delicioso! For desert I had Greek yogurt, so creamy and rich, topped with Thassos honey and chopped nuts. That was heaven. And the whole meal was very reasonable. I thanked the gods for leading me there. After that I ambled over to the site of the Athenian Agora, where Sokrates wandered. I love being here.

Santorini

2011-09-16T02:48:00.000-07:00

They saved the best for last. Truly. Santorini (also known as Thira) is one of the most unique and spectacular places in the world. I was here once before, 37 years ago, and remembered it fondly. Once you have seen it you can never forget it. The present configuration was created about 3,600 years ago when the entire island blew up (see previous note on Crete) in an unimaginably massive volcanic eruption. The center of the island sank under the sea leaving a broken circle, about two thirds of one, several hundred feet high. The villages are perched on the top of the rim. When first entering the caldera you think there might have been a considerable snowfall on the rim, but then you realize that it is a string of white washed houses. Only small ships can use the tiny port so we were shuttled over in a tender. There are three choices for getting to the top: either the cable car (built by the Swiss and costing only four euros to ride one way), by way of donkeys and horses (charming I'm sure, but not recommended) or hoofing it up under one's own steam. I took the cable car up and hiked down (strenuous but, oh my, the view!). The vista from the top leaves one speechless. There were four cruise ships in port (and again that darned Equinox!) as well as a few smaller sailing vessels. There is an uninhabitable island in the middle of the caldera, created out of lava that came up from the sea, and a few other small islands outside. The other side of the Santorini slopes down to the sea. The beaches sport black volcanic sand. Try walking on that on a hot day! Some people come to stay for a while despite the limitations of the island. There are some fine hotels here. Being on Santorini is like being in another world. Sunsets are said to be stupendous. We had to be back on board just before the crepuscular event. When the sun had set and it was dark it looked like the town, now a string of lights, was hovering in mid-air, an utterly enchanting sight.
During the night we sail through the wine-dark sea and arrive in Pireaus early in the morning. We have to vacate the ship by 8 AM. On the one hand I am sad that this magical voyage is coming to an end. Every day brought new wonders to enjoy. I loved being pampered at every turn and dining on superb food and meeting some interesting people aboard ship. On the other hand, I am getting tired of the crowds at the sites, waiting in lines for this and that (although everything was well organized aboard ship), getting up at 5 AM to make sure I didn't miss the departure of the excursions. That part was not relaxing. I now have three days in Athens to look forward to before I return to Lausanne.
Tourism has become such a huge industry. Ever more people want to visit the same places. And some sites, like that of Knossos, are relatively small and can only absorb so many visitors at one time. The Celebrity Equinox, the giant that followed us around this week, is only one of many ships of its size that are being built. I think Celebrity alone plans four or five more monster cruise ships. Where will it all end? When will the local inhabitants of these fragile islands say: Enough!

Crete, the Palace of Knossos

2011-09-15T08:47:00.000-07:00

One of the reasons I chose this particular cruise was that the itinerary included a stopover in Crete and a visit to the Palace of Knossos. During the summer I re-read two of my favorite historical novels, both of which take place during the glory days of the Minoan culture. Mary Renault's "The King Must Die" and its sequel "The Bull from the Sea" imaginatively recreate the story of Theseus, his voyage to the Palace of Knossos as a bull dancer, his defeat of the Minotaur, the journey through the Labyrinth and his abduction of the Princess Ariadne. (He eventually dumps her in Naxos, but that's another story). That is, I suppose, what put the idea into my mind to visit Crete for myself. Well, today, by the grace of Poseidon Earth Shaker, I did.
The site is not very big and the press of tourists was enormous. One asks oneself if it is really worth it to visit these popular sites since there is always such a mob scene. But I did have a moment of awe and wonder, a frisson at the realization that I was standing in the ruins of a great civilization, one that can be traced back 4,000 years. The Cretans are still something of a mystery. To this day their written script, known as Linear A, has not been deciphered. Their culture was highly advanced and sophisticated, their art sublimely beautiful, their power in the Mediterranean matched only by Egypt. Then they suddenly disappeared. The latest theory is that powerful earthquakes struck the region, then Santorini, a nearby volcanic island, blew up in the biggest explosion to have ever happened on the planet, causing a series of tidal waves to sweep over Crete. (Could not an enormous tsunami have been the great flood mentioned in the scriptures of several ancient cultures?)
We again docked quite early in the morning. Our bus took us through the non-descript city of Iraklion, the island's biggest, to the site of the Palace ruins. Excavation was begun here only in 1898 by Sir Arthur Evans. Some of his findings and methods have been controversial but we must acknowledge the invaluable work he did. He took it upon himself to reconstruct parts of the great palace, not always using traditional materials. Purists who have their archeological heads stuck up their butts may sniff, but the rest of us are grateful to see something that can assist our imaginations in envisioning the glories of the ancient site. Authentic or not, it is close enough. Fortunately, many frescoes survive to give us an idea of what life was like in Minoan Crete. The palace complex itself (and there are three other known such palaces in Crete) was enormous, with something like 1,500 rooms (and it is quite possible that this is where the myth of the labyrinth comes from). The first complex was destroyed by earthquake and a subsequent fire, this second palace was begun circa 1,700 BCE. The size of the rooms are surprisingly small, even the Throne Room of the king. Apparently the Cretans were miniaturists. Crete is the largest Greek island and is definitely worth an extended visit. For now I will have to content myself with a taste of the best it has to offer.
Cruise ships like this do their best to provided nightly entertainment for the passengers. Of course there is a casino where one can lose one's money, but thare are also shows of various kinds. Last night there was a concert of classical music. There are a number of musicians on board who entertain us in the cocktail lounge or at poolside. Nadia and Yuri, piano and violin, presented a program of popular classics. Nothing wrong with that -- I was hardly expecting a Prokofieff sonata. The two young artists had my sympathies. Granted, I am going to be the toughest audience to please, but I also know what it is like to be up there on the stage. The piano was shoved into a corner, turned the wrong way around, horribly out of tune and obnoxiously amplified. Both pianist and violinist are graduates of Russian music schools. I would put them on the level of our better graduate students. They played well enough but neither is about to win the Tchaikovsky Competition anytime soon. The violinist was probably the better of the two, but once he started playing I found the grotesquely amplified sound of his instrument most unpleasant. I left half-way through the program. Sorry, guys.

A trick photo

2011-09-15T08:44:00.000-07:00

By late morning the Old Town of Rhodos was teeming with tourists. I had taken a shot of this lovely square earlier but it came out too dark. When I returned later in the day the street was like Grand Central Station: people were constantly walking past or hanging out in the square. I waited patiently until, miraculously, the square was empty and, for two seconds, nobody was walking past. The shot looks like it is a serene and quiet place. In reality it was anything but. I am glad I took the time to get this shot. It is an illusion.

Rhodos

2011-09-15T08:42:00.001-07:00

Rhodos is enchanting. It has been declared a World Heritage Site and is considered the jewel in the Dodecanese island chain. The Old Town is still entirely enclosed by its medieval fortifications. Several impressive gateways and much of the double moat are still there as well, along with many buildings in the inner city. These include the houses of the Knights of St John, several mosques and Byzantine churches. Throughout its long history the island has endured a variety of conquerors: Alexander the Great, the Romans, The Byzantines, the Knights of St John (in 1309), the Venetians, the Ottomans and the Italians. During their 35 years of occupation the Italians, led by the rabidly nationalistic Mussolini, were particularly nasty. They outlawed the Orthodox Church, attempted to make Italian the official language, and randomly razed buildings. They had the idea that since the original Knights were Italian the Greek islands should be theirs. They were kicked out in 1947 and the island was returned to Greece. I have reported before on Italian misbehavior in my blog on South Tyrol.
Rhodos is one of the bigger islands and one of the farthest east. It is famed for its natural beauty and historical treasures. Since we docked quite early I was out and about by 8 AM. The town was practically deserted, the shops were still closed and it was deliciously cool. I reveled in the peace and walked for hours through the winding ancient streets and lanes. By 10:30 hordes of tourists arrived. I returned to the ship for lunch (scrummy!) but went back in the afternoon to enjoy this unique place some more. Among the highlights were the ramparts, the elegant Suleyman Mosque and adjoining library, a fifteenth century Byzantine church, and ancient medieval streets with façades of honey-colored stone. There were three cruise ships in port. Once again we were in the shadow of the gi-normous Equinox. In the late afternoon we set sail for Crete where the Palace of Knossos awaits.

Patmos

2011-09-14T00:12:00.001-07:00

Two ports of call in one day! It is a lot to take in. As we sailed through the Strait of Samos, a narrow strip of water between the island and the Turkish mainland, I remembered that 37 years ago, whilst on Samos, I paid a visit to the little town of Pythagoros which lies on the Strait. Turkey and Asia were only a stone's throw away. Guess whose home town it is? He of theorem fame. I was awed to be in a place that was so ancient and still inhabited and the home town of someone from the distant past.
Patmos is a charming place, like Mykonos but without the tourist zoo. It is also topographically much more interesting. The main draw for visitors is the fact that Saint John the Divine spent his last years in exile here and scribbled his feverish Revelations in a cave that is, wouldn't you know, a big tourist site. There is the Monastery of Apocalypse which is, in the words of my guide book, "built around the cave where St John received his revelation. Inside you can see the rock that the saint used as a pillow, and the triple fissure in the roof from where the voice of God issued". Really? Maybe the rock pillow explains his demented visions. Or was it something he was smoking? Anyway, it is ludicrous that anyone would ascribe 'divine truth' to these rantings, though some do so.
I decided I needed some strenuous exercise so I climbed to the top of the mountain to the town of Chora and the monastery. It was five km each way and a bit too warm to undertake a hike up and down a mountain, but it was worth it. The 12th century monastery was beautiful, despite being crammed with people. Many of the original frescoes remain though they are blackened by centuries of burning incense. The Eastern Orthodox rite is all about The Mystery. Their churches are elaborate but not ostentatious (as in RC Baroque). They are filled with dark icons framed in gold and lots of candles. If a religion doesn't offer connection to the mystery of the ineffable divine what good is it? One only need to sit through a barren, eviscerated, mind-numbingly dull service of nearly any Protestant denomination to experience religious rites with every last ounce of mystery wrung out of them.
Anyway, the hike wore me out but it was lovely. The views from the top were magnificent. I love the laid-back vibe of Patmos. We sail overnight and arrive early tomorrow in Rhodos.

Ephesus, Kusadasi

2011-09-14T00:05:00.000-07:00

This morning we docked before sunrise in Kusadasi. We are in Asia! This is one of Turkey's busiest ports and a prime tourist destination for Turks and foreigners alike. Just before we disembarked another cruise ship pulled in beside us, the Celebrity Equinox. It is HUGE, almost scary. It dwarfs the Louis Majesty, taking it down a few pegs on the majestic scale. The ocean going ships of today are a far cry from the style and elegance of the past but, Holy Shiva, they are big!
I signed up for the shore excursion since the site of Ephesus is about 18 km from the port. These excursions are ridiculously expensive, but are sometimes the best option. Ephesus was one of the great cities of the world, becoming rich as a port city on the Asian trade routes. It was also a center of religious worship in the ancient world, especially of the Great Mother Artemis who had a temple here. It is said to be one of the best preserved of ancient cities. One uses the word 'preserved' lightly here. It is a pile of rubble mostly, with a few re-constructed bits. Still, one can walk along the main thoroughfare of the city and get some idea of its grandeur, but it takes a lot of effort to imagine it. Ephesus must have been a splendid city, opulent and vibrant. During its long history of thousands of years under the Greeks, Romans, Byzantines and later the Ottomans, the city went through many transformations. And then there were a number of devastating earthquakes along the way. The coup de grâce to the city's fortunes was the fact that the river, the Meander, silted up and made the harbor unusable. The Meander meandered and the party was over. The seacoast today is five miles away. Sic transit gloria mundi.
The two biggest monuments of the ancient city are the library (which has been partially reconstructed with the assistance of the Austrian government) and the 24,000 seat amphitheater which is still in use and boasts phenomenal acoustics. After the buses brought us back to the town proper we had some time to explore. There are the narrow lanes of the bazaar, just what one would expect in Turkey, but I was looking for, and found, something else -- a café with free wi-fi. It annoys me that, although wi-fi is available aboard ship, it is expensive. I christen thee the SS Louis Tightwad. I payed a small fortune to ride this tub and I don't appreciate being nickeled and dimed at every turn. But it seems to be the way things are in cruise land.
At this moment I am sitting in a shady spot on the top deck. We are leaving the port. It is a perfect day, the wine-dark sea is glistening in the warm sunlight, the town dazzles on the hillside. What a life! (even without free wi-fi.) In about four hours we arrive in Patmos.

Mykonos

2011-09-12T10:19:00.000-07:00

There are various dining options aboard ship. I had lunch in the Four Seasons, the elegant restaurant. It was very fine, indeed. My waiter was quite chatty. I asked him where he was from and it turned out he was from Egypt. I expressed my concerns for the on-going tribulations of his people and congratulations on the ousting of the dictator Mubarek. This set off a torrent of commentary from him. I could only nod in sympathy. The poor guy has been through a lot. He did comment, however, on the fact that I was traveling alone. Well, I don't mind it at all. I'm used to being alone. It makes me think of those words of wisdom of some Tibetan lama or other: you born alone, you die alone -- inbetween much suffering. I would care to amend that statement and add that, before you die you get to indulge in two for one cocktails at Happy Hour and get potted even before arriving in Mykonos!

We set sail at 11 AM and reached Mykonos at 6 PM. I have been here before. In the wild days of my youth, after I got tired of living in Germany, I packed up and set off for Greece. I spent a few weeks island hopping, eschewing the popular destinations and opting for the quieter isles like Thassos, Ikaria and Samos. When I craved human society again I stopped in Mykonos. It has always been a magnet for tourists. I think the term 'tourist trap' may have been invented for Mykonos. Egads, what a zoo! But it does have its charms. It is wall to wall people here. Several cruise ships at a time spew forth their human cargo. When I was here back in '73, that's 37 years ago, I left the town of Chora and hiked to the other side of the island. I am perhaps the only person in the history of Mykonos tourism to have done that. I remember how dazzling the ocean was, contrasted with the arid, rocky landscape and the white- washed houses with their dark blue doors. All that is still here and still delights the eye. What a special place this island must have been before the onslaught of the tourist industry. But, on the other hand, it has made the natives rich.
Tomorrow we stop in Kusadasi, Turkey to visit the ruins of ancient Ephesus. This is the real thing. I am so excited!!!

To Hellas

2011-09-12T09:55:00.000-07:00

Sunday was a travel day. It happened to be 9/11. That was probably not the best choice of travel days, considering what might have happened in the world, but all worked out just fine. From leaving J.J.'s door in Lausanne to arriving at my hotel in Piraeus, it took me twelve hours. It was a long and tiring day. I spent two hours in the Rome airport, waiting for my connecting flight. It was announced, first in Italian then in English, that a minute of silence would be observed at 2:46 in commemeration of the victims of 9/11, that all activity in the airport would cease at that time. I was deeply touched by that tribute. The horrors of that day, now ten years ago, have profoundly affected the entire Western world.

The flight from Rome to Athens was quite spectacular. By luck I had a window seat. Our flight route took us first down the Mediterranean coast, just past Naples, then inland across the Italian peninsula. The Adriatic sparkled in the sun. Soon we were over the Ionian Islands, then the Peloponnese. HELLAS! Below was the sun-drenched soil of Greece, the very site of thousands of years of history, of a culture whose genius has shaped Western culture. Just don't get me started on Ancient Greece! What the Greeks have bequeathed us in terms of architecture, sculpture, theater, musical theory, philosophy, poetry, literature, mathematics, government, and scientific inquiry is staggering. It defies comprehension that one culture could have achieved so much of lasting value. Have I left something out? Okay, they weren't so hot in the realm of medicine, but their score card is otherwise formidable. And they bravely fought off the Persians -- Marathon, Thermopylae, Salamis, Plataea. Thank you, Ancient Greeks! I studied the Ancient Greek language intently for a few years. Only recently did I discover that the modern alphabet is pronounced differently. It is only to be expected, considering that Greek is one of the oldest European languages. It goes back 4,000 years; the written language 3,000 . But still, darn! I'm afraid I might sound like Demosthenes asking for directions to the nearest Starbucks.

Back to my trip. The bus ride from Athens airport to the port city of Piraeus was one long traffic jam, a regular jam-athon (when in Rome...). The airport and the seaport lie on opposite sides of the megalopolis of Athina which is famous for its horrendous traffic. I had done my research on mapquest and made myself precise directions from the bus terminal to the hotel. It seemed a walkable distance. It's a good thing I opted to take a taxi because it was several miles! After a comfortable and restful night in my lovely hotel (and a bargain, too! Thank you, internet!) I asked for a taxi after breakfast only to be informed that the taxis were on strike. Travel is adventure and dealing with the unexpected. I managed to negotiate the mysteries of public transportation and got to the cruise ship terminal in plenty of time. The Louis Majesty is part of the fleet of one of the biggest cruise lines that ply the Mediterranean waters. 'Majesty' is a bit of a stretch for this ship but it is nice enough. After the initial excitement of sailing out of the port, accompanied by much horn blasting, we had the obligatory lifeboat drill. Keeping in mind that a ship of this very cruise line sank off the island of Santorini a few years ago (it hit an unmarked reef), one needs to take this seriously. The passengers seem to be a nice mix of older and younger (I'm not ready for the geriatric cruise yet!). One hears a variety of languages. I suspect there are few Americans on board. That is fine with me.

Switzerland

2011-09-11T14:00:00.000-07:00

The spectacular ride on the MOB train; typical houses in Zweisimmen and Gstaad.

Les amis du blog

2011-09-11T12:57:00.000-07:00

Les amis du blog

After a long and (thankfully) uneventful flight I arrived in Zürich Friday morning. The SSB, efficient as always, brought me to Lausanne in two and a half hours. For Saturday my friend J.J. and I planned to make an excursion on the MOB, the Montreux Oberland Bernois panoramic train. In Switzerland there are a number of private railway companies that operate train lines, mostly of the scenic variety. The MOB leaves Montreux then ascends into the mountains. The first leg affords ever more spectacular views of Lac Léman as it rises higher and higher. We had to book this journey weeks in advance. Not knowing what the weather would be like on the day we wanted to travel, it was something of a gamble. But the gods smiled on us and provided us with a sensational day, warm but not hot, nearly cloudless skies. After the train reaches the high country, le pays en haut, it stops in a few towns like: Chexbres, Les Avants, Chateau d'Oex, Rougement. I love these names. Just before Saanen we crossed the invisible language border, where suddenly everything is in German, not French. The scenery was breathtaking. The green of the alpine meadows was so intense it almost hurt my eyes to look at it. The last two stops were Gstaad and Zweisimmen. The terminus is a lovely Swiss alpine town but nothing special. After a leisurely lunch and a walkabout we decided to head back to Gstaad. This is a bigger and much more attractive place. It is the playground of the super rich with the shops and hotels that appeal to the high flying lifestyle. Many persons of note have homes here, Roman Polanski for one. It was a bit crowded and touristy, but still a beautiful old town. We got back to Lausanne in the evening. It was a splendid day.

Anyone who has traveled lately will have noticed that all airports are pretty much the same -- crowded, uncomfortable, with over priced, usually bad food. On my way to Athens today I had a stopover on Rome's Leonardo da Vinci airport. It wouldn't win any prizes for efficiency, organization or comfort, but the place has a one thing in its favor: food. I enjoyed a delectable focaccia a la Caprese and, after that, a divine cup of cappochino. The Italians are really good in the food department. Much to my dismay I discovered that, although I can download my pics from my digital camera to my new iPad2 I can't post them on my blog or facebook. Aaaarrrrgh!!! Maybe there is a way to do it, but I haven't found it yet. And I have some really neat pics!

Presentation of the Rose

2011-07-27T21:45:00.000-07:00

Two pics from the scene from "Der Rosenkavalier" that was inserted into the final performance of "Fledermaus". Meaghan Heath (Octavian) is wearing her Cherubino costume from "Figaro". As Emily Murdock (Sophie) was singing Adele in the performance, she already had a gown. The guests at Prince Orlofsky's party are taking it all in.

Castles in the Air

2011-07-27T21:36:00.001-07:00

Someone took pictures during the scenes program. Here is the scene from my opera "Everlasting Universe" that contains the duet "Castles in the Air". Mary Shelley (Meaghan Heath) is reading her letter from London while Claire Clairmont (Sarah Bauer) is obsessing over the note she has just found from Lord Byron banning her from the villa. John Polidori (Cameron Young) is introducing the scene before he rifles through Byron's papers, finds Albe's love poetry to his half-sister Augusta and then has an emotional melt-down. As this is a scenes program props are minimal and everyone is wearing stage black.

Adieu aux Arks

2011-07-22T08:03:00.001-07:00

The name 'Ozarks' is thought to derive from the French 'aux Arks' = in the land of the Arkansas Indians. The Ozarks are actually not a mountain range in the strict sense of the term, but rather a vast plateau that was eroded during the last ice age. This would explain the fact that the elevation is modest and that the area consists of sharp mountain ridges or, as they are known here, razorbacks. We live on such a ridge. The state highway 62 runs the length of it and sometimes it is so narrow that there is a precipitous drop-off on either side of the road. Two thirds of the Ozarks are in Missouri.

Our Opera Scenes Program was, in a word, fabulous. Somehow we managed to put the right singers in the right roles for each of them. Everyone rose to the occasion. The large audience was quite enthusiastic. We heard eveything from Monteverdi to contemporary composers. From the former there was one scene from "Ulisse" and one from "Poppea"; two scenes from Britten's "Midsummer" -- the Awakening Quartet (for which we had a pair of horns off-stage to play the horn calls) and the Quarrel Scene; the Third Act Quartet from "Bohème"; the Card Trio and Quintet from "Carmen"; the Act II finale Quartet from "Abduction"; the Quintet (three Ladies, Papageno and Tamino) from "Magic Flute"; and, for the finale of our program, two duets and "Weekend in the Country" from Sondheim's "A Little Night Music". "Every Day a Little Death" always has me in tears; it is so poignant. We also heard a scene, "Castles in the Air" from my opera "Everlasting Universe". It was beautifully done and was well received.

As the annual convention of the National Federation of Music Clubs was in town during the last week, the participants were able to attend the last three performances of our three main operas and see "Pirates" at another venue. The final performance of "Fledermaus" was a gala event with three scenes inserted into the second act, Orlofsky's party: a scene from "Showboat", the luscious Garden Scene duet from Prokofieff's "War and Peace" and, as a special treat, the Presentation of the Rose from Richard Strauss's "Der Rosenkavalier" I took it upon myself to re-orchestrate that scene to fit our modest ensemble here. It was a time-consuming project, but a labor of love. The end result was worth it. The singing and playing were splendid. The orchestra members were thrilled to play the piece.

We all had to vacate the premises by noon on Saturday. I bid Bubba's BBQ Pit goodbye (no kidding -- it's right down the road) and headed down the mountain one last time. I enjoyed the leisurely four-hour drive north to KC (a welcome change from the 25-hour drive home from Schroon Lake) and was glad to sleep in my own bed, cook my own food and chill out (quite literally) in the luxury of central air. I left OIO with a feeling of sadness, but also with great satisfaction in a summer well spent. After the final performance of "Little Women" (finally a bit cooler in the theater after thunder showers) there was the traditional singing of "Climb Every Mountain" with everybody participating, and many tears at the realization that our tightly-knit group would be thrown to the winds the following morning. Whatever has a beginning has an end.

Le Nozze di Figaro

2011-07-21T13:59:00.001-07:00

Our lovely set for Figaro was also used for the Opera Scenes evening program.

Die Fledermaus

2011-07-21T11:47:00.000-07:00

Scenes from Act II, the party at Prince Orlofsy's.

Little Women

2011-07-21T08:55:00.000-07:00

Here are a few pictures from the OIO production of Mark Adamo's opera "Little Women", the four sisters: Meg, Beth, Amy and Jo. More to come later. Stay tuned!

Music in them thar hills

2011-07-13T18:06:00.000-07:00

We are in the seventh week of the season here at OIO. The shows are being done in rotation, to surprisingly small houses. I am told attendance will pick up by the last week. Of the two other special programs in the works, we have performed a chamber music concert on Monday in a venue not far from here. It was modern church with a fine piano and great acoustics. The orchestral players organized this for the most part. The program was varied, interesting and very well done. The highlights were the first movement of the Brahms Clarinet Quintet and at the end the program we heard a movement of the Bohuslav Martinu Nonett, a fun piece. I played in several works: the Mozart aria "Parto, Parto" for mezzo soprano from "La Clemenza di Tito" (it has a substantial clarinet obbligato part) and a trio for violin, trumpet and piano by the American composer Eric Ewazen (he teaches at Juilliard). The hit of the program was the Schubert Rondo in A Major for piano four-hands which I performed with my colleague Michael. I say that not because our playing of it was extraordinary (though it was pretty darned good), but because the Rondo is so beautiful. It is vintage Schubert: delectably sweet with that flavoring of Viennese melancholy that pervades the composer's soul. I doubt if anyone in the audience had heard it before. I performed the Rondo two summers ago in Graz on a faculty recital. It was lovely to do it again. The nicest comment I heard was: you can play that Schubert Rondo for us every day!

Of the scenes I am preparing, one of them, the Presentation of the Rose from "Der Rosenkavalier" will be performed during the second act of "Die Fledermaus", the party scene at Prince Orlofsky's. Many of the donors and supporters of the OIO program will be in attendance at that final performance of the opera. I volunteered to arrange the duet for our orchestra. It was a monumental task, but a labor of love. Strauss's orchestration is HUGE. I had to pare it down to what we have here. I can't wait to hear it. The instrumental players are very excited about doing it. Strauss meets Strauss.

We have endured blazing temperatures for many days. Only today did a front sweep in to cool things down a bit and saturate the thirsty earth. It was so warm last night that it was decided to do Figaro without wigs, costumes or make-up. It was 97 degrees in the house at curtain. Last Sunday I went on a hike with a visiting voice teacher who was here to do master classes. Linda di Fiore and I know each other from the Seagle Colony and from Graz. It wasn't the best day to go hiking -- it was 103 degrees!! We must have been nuts. The pic is of Leatherwood Lake, clogged with water lilies. The lake is tucked away in a side valley.

The Holidays

2011-07-06T18:18:00.000-07:00

With a major holiday like the Fourth on the horizon most people would head for the hills. I did just the opposite and went back to Kansas City for a few days. It happened that I had three days off in a row. What would be the point of hanging about the OIO campus? It is too hot to do anything outside except go to the beach -- and an hour of that would be enough for me. It was a bit weird to return to my own home at the beginning of July. I haven't been in KC in mid-summer in sixteen years. But I certainly did enjoy sleeping in my own bed (zzzzzzzzzz!), cooking my own food (fresh Kansas sweet corn on the cob, for example) and enjoying my usual distractions. I was also able to replenish my supply of books and cd's.
I spent nearly all of Sunday with Jason, one of my dearest friends. We had a lovely meal together, visited the Monet exhibit at the Nelson Atkins Museum, hung out at his house, listened to music and finally went to see a film -- it was a near perfect day! I left mid-afternoon on Monday to return in Eureka Springs in time for the fireworks display. I didn't entirely retrace my steps but took a different route for the final segment in order to have dinner in Rogers, Arkansas. The road south of Joplin to the Arkansas border is surprisingly lovely. The road goes through several passes cut through the limestone hills. The area is sparsely populated and heavily forested. At the state line that all changes and one enters an extensive commercial zone. Bentonville, home to Walmart, is here. I am told it is one of the fastest growing areas in the country. I am no friend of the Big W, that predatory operation that has single-handedly destroyed the economies of thousands of small towns throughout the country, practices job discrimination and provides paltry benefits for its employees. Walmart is an example of the worst form of capitalism unchecked.
After a scrumptious dinner at my favorite Chinese joint (I have favorites now? I must be here too long!) I headed up the mountain (if one can call the Ozarks mountains -- they are more like large hills) and enjoyed a gorgeous ride in the twilight. Adding to the buoyant mood was the cd of Bryn Terfel singing Rogers and Hammerstein. It doesn't get better than that.
We are now geared up for the opera scenes evening and the chamber music concert.

La vie ozarkienne

2011-06-28T17:14:00.000-07:00

Life is good here. As we have passed the mid-point of the program we are in high gear. Three of four shows have already opened, the fourth, "Little Women", opens tonight. I have enjoyed a lull in my activity since we have only started putting the opera scenes program together. Along with that there will also be an evening of chamber music organized by our orchestral players. I have been asked to play in a trio for violin, trumpet and piano by the American composer Eric Ewazen. It is fun to play chamber music again. My colleague Michael and I are also preparing the Schubert Rondo in A Major for piano four-hands, a work I played a few summers ago in Graz. It is wonderful to resurrect it.
I have to admire our two stage directors Linda and Laura, and our artistic director, Tom. The stage director is ultimately responsible for every detail of the production, making sure props are built and painted, lighting is implemented, props are found, costumes are built or procured, not to mention the basic business of moving people around the stage in a meaningful way. Taking care of one production would be a lot, but doing two at the same time is really a big assignment. Likewise with the duties of the artistic director. He conducts all the rehearsals then, for each of the two casts, conducts the Wandelprobe, the tech dress, the dress rehearsal and all the performances. Doing that for one show and one cast would be a lot, but two shows double cast is plenty. Besides that, he also runs the OIO program and takes care of a myriad of details. Believe me, I am not complaining when I don't have enough to do.
I was asked to help out with running super titles. Of course, I agreed. It means following the score carefully and clicking to the next segment on the computer program. Basically a simple (and boring) task, but one that is easy to screw up. The "Little Women" score is particularly complex to follow. As all three main shows have supertitles, it means that a few of us are helping out in this capacity. If I have developed a case of 'tennis elbow' from playing the piano (even though I don't play tennis), I may develop a case of 'mah-jongg index finger' from operating the super titles (I don't play mah-jongg either). It's an occupational hazard, I guess.

Feline Dignity

2011-06-18T17:17:00.001-07:00

Beat the heat at the Spa

2011-06-18T17:13:00.001-07:00

The Big Cats

2011-06-18T17:05:00.000-07:00

I had Saturday morning off and decided to head to the Turpentine Creek Wildlife Refuge. It lies about 15 miles to the south of Eureka Springs. The Refuge specializes in rescuing big cats and providing them with a permanent home. They house over 100 animals, mostly tigers, with a few lions, cougars, leopards, and cheetahs in the mix, not to mention two brown bears, one lonely coyote and a forlorn baboon. It is not a zoo per se, but it is designed so that visitors can view these magnificent animals and hopefully provide financial support for the efforts of the Refuge. Just to keep the animals fed they go through 1,000 lbs of meat a day.
There is something deeply sad and disturbing about seeing wild animals robbed of their natural habitat and freedom. But the TCWR does an admirable job of saving the animals from abuse and certain death. Some animals are confined to smaller eclosures near the entrance, but this arrangement is only temporary. On the official tour we got to see the much more expansive areas in the back. The animals live there in rotation to enjoy the more natural setting of grass and trees. In that way many more animals can be accomodated. The staff know their animals by name and are familiar with their personalities. They are obviouly dedicated to the well-being of their charges. It was a hot, humid day. The tour was a long walk in the blazing sun, but it was worth it.
Each confined area has info with the names of the animals and their histories. You could just weep at some of the agonies some of these creatures have been through. It staggers belief that there are people out there so stupid that they think they can keep a tiger or a lion as a pet. It never works out well. Sadly, there are breeders who are making a business out of providing exotic animals to these deluded individuals. Some of the animals endured sickening fates. One leopard was found nearly starved to death because its previous owner had broken off its four canine teeth with pliers. The teeth were infected, the animal was unable to eat. One cringes to imagine the suffering it endured. It got dental care and fillings and is now healthy. Many animals suffer the effects of inter breeding. Another owner, when his tiger was too much to handle, drove to a far off forest preserve and abandoned it there. In a few days the animal was back on his doorstep. (Amazingly, no one had reported seeing a tiger on its journey.) At that point he decided to bring it to the shelter. Smart move, that.
I am both grateful that these animals are looked after in the most humane manner possible and saddened by the treatment they have suffered previously. I am also angered by our spineless politicians who, under pressure of lobbyists, will not outlaw the breeding of exotic animals. In the state of Missouri a referendum was passed last year by the voters to restrict and regulate the breeding of dogs in the state. The conditions these animals are kept in is sickening. Our legislators then proceeded to gut the proposed law entirely, making it worthless. Money talks, and it has no care for the victims of its greed.

Un bon vin rouge

2011-06-13T18:00:00.000-07:00

On Saturday evening we had a special event, one that turned out to be beneficial for all. A few friends of the Artistic Director, connected with opera companies elsewhere, breezed into town. Tom decided that a presentation of scenes from our four productions should be done for them and the rest of the assembled multitude here at OIO. All the shows have been blocked, but we just moved into the theater. That meant a new space to work in. Each show is still a work in progress. It was a learning experience for the performers to see where they were at in the process. Some things went well and some didn't. And it was a chance for the rest of us to have a sampling of the shows and cheer everyone else on. This is a very good group of young adults.

Sunday was another day off (hurrah!). As the weather was inclement in the morning I opted not to go hiking in the forest preserve south of here. Instead, I drove to Fayetteville, home of the University of Arkansas. It lies west and south of here. I initially took the road we had taken last week for our Taste of Opera concert. When descending from these ancient hills the flat landscape is filled with endless commercial strips. It's hideous. Then there is the interstate south -- and that's boring. Fayetteville has a nice historic town center which houses the main campus of the university. I took a different route back, east then north. The last part, directly south of Eureka Springs, is really pretty. I am getting to know this corner of the state. Next week Arkansas celebrates its 175th birthday.

In the evening I went out to dinner with a colleague, one of the stage directors. We splurged on a really nice meal at a local eatery, even downed a bottle of wonderful Bordeaux (I'm usually a one glass per meal guy), so this was really livin' it up! Life is good in the Ozarks.

Reflections on Genius

2011-06-07T18:14:00.000-07:00

I have been immersing myself in the life and music of W.A. Mozart these past few weeks. Spending hours a day coaching solos and ensembles from "Le nozze di Figaro" (occasionally playing conductor's rehearsals) here at OIO only increases my delight in and admiration for the work. There is no end of detail that reveals the genius of the composer. Brahms wrote this of the opera: "In my opinion each number in Mozart's "Figaro" is a miracle, it is totally beyond me how anyone could create something so perfect; nothing like it was ever done again, not even by Beethoven." If it is beyond Brahms to fathom the genius of the opera, it is certainly beyond us mere mortals!
We all have our favorite parts of "Figaro". The Act II finale, all of ninety pages in the Schirmer score, is a masterpiece of musical architecture and expression. It is matched only by the finale of "Don Giovanni". I especially admire the Andante, 6/8, B flat section. A simple repeated three-note motif meanders through various keys and combinations, takes on a variety of characters to give perfect expression to every nuance of unfolding events and emotions. It is pure genius. And then there is the Act III sextet "Riconosci in questo amplesse" in which the mystery of Figaro's true birth parents is revealed to the stupefication of all. Tua madre? Suo padre? It is at the same time amusing and sublime. Only Mozart could bring that off with such ease.
I have also been exploring the piano concerti chronologically, acquainting myself better, and in context, with the earlier concerti first. Any one of these, even those composed when Mozart was a mere 17 years old, can blow his contemporaries out of the water. Clementi? Hackneyed, boring stuff. Even Haydn wrote no concerti that could even remotely compete with Mozart's output (though Haydn gives Mozart a run for his money in the quartet and symphony departments). Haydn, a kind and generous soul, was once asked to provide an opera buffa for someone in Prague. He basically replied that he could not compete with Mozart, remarking "...how inimitable are Mozart's works, how profound, how musically intelligent, how sensitive...", calling Mozart 'a jewel'.
Lastly, I have been reading Wolfgang Hildesheimer's revealing essays on the composer. He de-constructs the popular mythologies and romanticizations that have encrusted the memory of the composer, digging deep into psychology to debunk many favorite theories. In the end, Mozart is more of a mystery than ever. I am convinced that he had Aspergers Syndrome. The classic symptoms are all there. One can say that Mozart was just passing through this world, leaving us his treasures, disappearing again with hardly a trace. He was a man who rarely revealed himself in his correspondence. There is no portrait that satisfactorily conveys his physical essence. Isn't it fitting that we don't even know where he is buried? Hildesheimer writes: "...on December 6, 1791, when the fragile, burned-out body was lowered into a shabby grave...the mortal remains of an inconceivably great mind were being laid to rest---an unearned gift to humanity, nature's unique, unmatched, and probably unmatchable work of art."

The Big Black Dog

2011-06-05T07:27:00.000-07:00

We adopted a dog here at OIO. Last week a stray showed up, a long-haired black lab, perhaps two yeas old. He had no collar but seemed to be comfortable around people. We all yearned to pet him but could not because the poor doggie was infested with ticks. Some of the people in the office gave him the tick repellant and then took him to the animal shelter to get shots and have a bath. The ticks fell off and he became our official mascot. First he was called Ticky (for obvious reasons). Other names were suggested, like Wolfgang and Poochini, (operatic inspirations, of course), even Ozark, but just plain Oz seemed to stick. He was a beautiful dog. I say 'was' because he is no longer with us here. A relative of a student drove all the way here from Connecticut to collect Oz and bring him to a new permanent home on the East Coast. It's the best thing -- the animal needs a permanent home. But we all miss him already.

Eurekan Charm

2011-06-02T13:06:00.000-07:00

A few shots of the Town of Eureka Springs. The so-called Flat Iron building burned down twice. The current construction is built with materials from its previous incarnations. The town offers many old-style hotels and bed-and-breakfast inns.

Eureka Springs

2011-06-02T13:02:00.000-07:00

A few evenings ago I went into Eureka Springs proper to get to know it a bit better. It is less than ten miles away, but since the road is a winding one, it takes a while to get there. No matter -- it is a beautiful drive. ES is built on the side of a mountain, where the ridge we are on splits into two. It has some very steep streets. One might consider Eureka Springs the Lausanne of the Ozarks (or maybe not). Many of the late 19th century buildings remain. The small downtown is quite charming; the surrounding residential area sports many Victorian homes, some in better repair than others. The populace is a mix of New Age neo-hippie types, artists, tourists and Bible-thumping Christians. It seems that they all get along.

BTW, I find it telling that Christians, when they refer to atheists on the internet, invariably use the term 'militant atheists'. In their eyes anyone who dares to raise his voice, however meekly, in opposition to the Christian monolith is deemed a militant. Call me a militant, then. They do not care to be reminded that for millennia anyone who dared question the tyrannical authority of the Church faced persecution, torture and murder. Many suffered unspeakably horrible fates at the hands of 'christians' for challenging the official view that the earth was flat, that the earth was the center of the solar system, etc. One could be cast out of a community for not attending endless hours of church services on Sunday. (Oh, the boredom one had to endure!). The elderly (especially women) were burned at the stake by the hundreds of thousands as witches because they exhibited signs of senility. One senses that the Christians are reacting out of desperation. They had their chance and they lost the game. Science has conquered ignorance, superstition and religion. Misfortune pisses on all alike, the just and the unjust. There will be no Second Coming, no Rapture. The universe will go on its merry way according to its inscrutable laws. Someday people will mature enough to see that religion has nothing to offer but empty promises and illusions.

Tempus fugit

2011-06-02T12:59:00.000-07:00

I have been here a week now. It feels like a month. The artistic director (may his name be praised) is very considerate and always tries to give the coaches one segment of the day (morning/afternoon/evening) off. That suits me just fine. There were too many times at the Seagle Colony when I worked from early morning until late at night. I don't care to do that anymore. Another major difference with the Schroon Lake program is that here at OIO the four shows are done in repertory. That means that all four are in rehearsal and need to be staged in these first weeks. The logistics of that, balancing the schedules of cast and chorus members as to where they should be and when is, as one might imagine, something of a nightmare -- but they get it all worked out. There are two conductors, two stage directors (each of which take on two shows) two senior coaches (one of whom is moi) and two workhorse pianists who play the rehearsals. I am grateful I don't have to do that either. Hey, I'm liking this set up more and more!
THis evening we do one of several out of town outreach programs, A Taste of Opera. We are taking a quartet of singers to Fayetteville to sing for a dinner event attended by prospective rich donors. (One recalls the ancient Chinese adage: blue hairs bring green bucks.) I have been asked to play for it. We are performing popular opera and musical theater selections. Should be fun. Dinner is included. Later on there will be a Taste of Opera for the people down in Bentonville (= Walmart = even bigger bucks).

Blue Spring

2011-05-30T07:25:00.000-07:00

I am a bit embarrassed by the thinness of news I have to report. This summer there will be no Baroque churches, no imposing snow-capped peaks, no delectable Austrian cuisine and no museums crammed with treasures to enthuse about. Yet, life is lovely here in the Ozarks. I count my blessings in being here in a country environment, doing what I love to do. The hours can be long, but the work is rewarding. I spend most of my time coaching "Little Women", a formidable piece even if one has done it before (as I have), and I have done a bit of work with "Figaro" and "Fledermaus" as well. Those lovely tunes from Strauss's masterpiece make me nostalgic for Graz and Austria.

Finally the storms and their attendant tornados have moved off, leaving us with cloudless skies and warm weather. Yesterday, Sunday morning, I explored the neighborhood a bit, hiking down a side road, just across from OIO, that goes down to Blue Spring. This is advertised as a historic site. The walk down was very pleasant, affording splendid views of the White River valley. Blue Spring is a natural spring that spews 38 million gallons (I have that fact memorized by now) of pure water into the river every day. It was a sacred site to the indigenous dwellers of the area. Later on, healing properties were ascribed to its waters, giving birth to the town of Eureka Springs as a kind of spa. With a convenient mill on the river the town also became the center of a logging industry.
The spring itself has been dammed and expanded into a wide pool surrounded by gardens. None of that was to be seen today as it is all underwater. The pic shows the swollen White River. The Blue Spring site has the inevitable gift shop, but also a small museum that offers a short video about the history of the area. I found that worthwhile. Otherwise, there wasn't a whole lot to see down there apart from water everywhere.

Tulips

2011-05-27T18:07:00.001-07:00

My friend Jason Pollen created this pic of tulips. He is a wiz at photo shop and made it look like it was painted.

OIO

2011-05-27T18:01:00.000-07:00

During the first two days here we heard auditions. I am very impressed with the level of talent at OIO. The artistic director has a great attitude and a winning sense of humor. He has set the tone for a friendly atmosphere of mutual support and cooperation. I am housed in a unit that resembles a budget motel, but I am very pleased with it. I have a nice, clean single room with a bathroom all to myself. I brought along a large Tibetan tangka and an oriental rug to add a bit of class to my rural digs (one must not let one's standards slip!). It is very quiet here in the evening, I think I will get along here very well.
The pics show the views to the north and the south.

Back in the Mountains

2011-05-27T17:52:00.000-07:00

Isn't it curious how, if one simply goes with the flow of what life has to offer, one door may close and another one, completely unexpected, opens in its place? That is how things seem to work for me anyway. I was, of course, disappointed in not returning to Graz this summer. It was the way things worked out. I didn't look forward to a long hot summer in KC with nothing intersting to do. Just by chance, I happened to play for the auditions for the Opera in the Ozarks program a few months ago. The Artistic Director really liked my playing. When I later e-mailed him and asked if he needed a coach for the summer I got invited to be one of the senior coaches at Opera in the Ozarks. So here I am in Eureka Springs, Arkansas.

I have known about this program for a long time. We had many students from the Conservatory participate over the years. I even came down once or twice to see productions here, but that was at least fifteen years ago. Opera in the Ozarks (henceforth OIO), aka The Inspiration Point Fine Arts Colony (IPFAC), has been around for 60 years. It is very similar to the Seagle Colony. Both are training programs for young singers. I can't help but make comparisons between the two. Both OIO and Seagle are picturesquely located in areas of mountains and lakes; both are fairly small, although OIO is a bit bigger and has a resident orchestra. The resort town of Eureka Springs is located just across the Missouri border, in the Ozark Mountains. The last leg of the road here runs along a mountain ridge. From the OIO property we can see the White River Valley to the north and Beaver Lake to the south of us. It is a lovely spot. (I will post some pics when the weather clears enough for me to take some shots.)

Instead of the 25 hour drive to New York State I used to undertake to get to Schroon Lake -- a matter of three days of driving and two overnight motel stays -- I enjoyed a leisurely five hour drive to get here. Most of that was on secondary roads. I passed through small towns and traversed pleasant farm land. There is one place named Marais des Cygnes (and god only knows how the locals pronounce that!), a reminder that French trappers were the first Europeans in Missouri. Beaver fur was all the rage in Europe for a while and the Missouri River valley was one of the prime sources for it. One of the larger towns is Carthage. There was a sign for the Civil War Battle of Carthage site. For a fleeting moment I could imagine a bel canto opera: La Battaglia di Carthago. It's too bad Bellini wasn't around to think of it. Just south of Carthage is Joplin. My thoughts turned to the recent catastrophe that has befallen that unhappy place. A third of the town was obliterated and over 120 inhabitants lost their lives just a few days ago. I didn't see any of the destruction -- nor did I want to. I have witnessed the carnage a tornado can cause before. It is not a pretty sight. Further south I did pass through a smaller town that was recently damaged. Uprooted trees and tree limbs scattered the area. Tornados are ferocious events.

I stopped for lunch in the small town of Pierce City. One wonders how a small burg like this would have the appellation 'city' attached to it. Did someone have big plans for their little town when it was founded? It was nice enough, with a few 19th century buildings, a pretty church and some more recent additions. These American towns are generally haphazard, built without any real planning. What older historical core many of the rural towns had was either torn down or has fallen into disrepair. It'sad.

Straßengel

2010-08-08T09:31:00.000-07:00

This was the weekend of my Liederabend and Liedersoirée. The first performance took place Saturday evening to a standing-room only crowd in the Festsaal of the Odilien Institut, a venue conveniently located just around the corner from the Heim. After weeks of coaching, preparations and a little anxiety, the concert came off splendidly. Each one of the twelve vocalists and three pianists under my direction did their very best. If I may pat myself on the back a bit, I have a knack for finding just the right song for each vocalist and I do know how to put together an interesting and varied program. There were a few selections that no one had heard before, in particular the Mendelssohn and Peter Cornelius duets I programmed, as well as a few Robert Franz songs. The second performance took place Sunday morning in the Meerscheinschlößl. Everyone gasped when they entered the room. I had forgotten just how beautiful this little rococo treasure is with its frescoed ceiling and grand chandelier. The second performance went even better, to an equally enthusiastic audience.
After a few days of rain it finally cleared up. I was eager to get away a bit after the late morning concert and decided to visit the town of Straßengel (which I discussed in the previous blog entry) in order to inspect its famous church. The pilgrimage church of Maria Straßengel sits on a hill in the middle of the small town. It is visible from the train when traveling north from Graz. Built in the mid-fourteenth century, the church is considered one of the best examples of High Gothic architecture in all of Austria. That may be, but in my humble opinion, the Frauenkirche on the Hauptmarkt in Nürnberg is prettier and not desecrated with the usual Baroque overlay. Still, the Straßengel church is charming and beautifully situated. In 1788 someone had the bright idea of tearing down the church and using the stones to build a school. A noble idea, but a stupid one, matching the barbarity of later ages. The local inhabitants were so incensed at the prospective loss of their pilgrimage church that they protested and petitioned the Emperor. Eventually the order was rescinded and the church stayed.
As I have noted in these pages before, Austria is unmistakably Roman Catholic. Not only are there countless churches around, but in the countryside one finds many roadside devotional altars. Most of these are dedicated to the Virgin Mary. This type of simple rustic devotion seems to me to stem from the same impulse that has existed in Europe for millennia, an expression of homage to unknown forces, the simple, naive wish that some deity out there can provide us with protection if we appeal with sufficient sincerity. Before Christianity people made their entreaties (ie. put their faith in) the imagined spirits of the forest. In pagan times, when the matriarchy predominated, the Great Mother was worshipped in many forms. The Virgin Mary is just another incarnation of the same. In effect, Christianity is the same game with a different name. There is nothing at all wrong with this, of course, but isn't it time that humanity grew out of its superstitions?

Names

2010-08-03T23:50:00.000-07:00

In a previous blog I mentioned the town of Deutschfeistritz. There are a number of place names in the area that contain the word 'Deutsch' in them, such as Deutschlandsberg to the south of here. It is a curiosity that merits some explanation. Graz is located in the extreme southeastern corner of the German-speaking world. The Slovenian border to the south and the Hungarian border to the east are each less than an hour away. Since the dissolution of the Roman Empire until the 17th century this area was the first defense against the incursion of Slavic and Magyar tribes, and later against the expansion of the Ottoman Empire into Central Europe. The decisive turning point which saved Europe from becoming a Moslem vassal state was the Battle of Vienna in 1683. In the Middle Ages the apellation 'Deutsch' would have referred to cultural affiliation, not to a political entity.

On the way north by train from Graz, or on the Autobahn, one of the first towns is Judendorf-Straßengel. I wondered about the derivation of the name Judendorf and have since discovered that there are many towns with similar names in the German-speaking world. There is a Judenburg to the west of here as well as several other towns with the name Judendorf in the Steiermark. As I suspected, these names were acquired in the Middle Ages, when Jews were sometimes given permission to live in designated towns. Reading the German-language wikipedia entry or the official website of Judendorf-Straßengel, there is no mention whatsoever of the derivation of the first part of the town's name, although the derivation of the second part is given (it stems from a Slavic word, 'straza'). I was only enlightened when I read an article in the Jewish Encyclopdia on-line which offered a comprehensive history of the Jews in the Steiermark. It is the usual tale of persecutions, brutality, disenfranchisement and evictions. Perhaps the worst atrocity, only outdone by the total annihilation of the Jewish population by the Nazis, was an event which took place in Judenburg in 1421, when seventy Jews were burned at the stake by their Christian neighbors on the ridiculous grounds of having 'desecrated the host'. One can only surmise that the official website of Judendorf-Straßengel wishes to avoid this sticky part of its history and its treatment of Jews throughout the centuries.

In the forest

2010-08-01T13:58:00.000-07:00

I stopped for lunch and sat on a log somewhere in the middle of the forest on top of the Schenkenberg. Looking up I could see the blue, blue sky and the crowns of the trees bathed in sunlight. I shall think of this moment on some dreary winter day.

Blumengarten

2010-08-01T13:55:00.000-07:00

This is just an ordinary house in the village of Adriach, outside of Frohnleiten. The garden was exploding with color. The Austrians (and Germans and Swiss) do love their flowers.

In Waldeseinsamkeit

2010-08-01T13:43:00.000-07:00

I knew that today was maybe the last time I had to do some serious hiking. Since my Liederabend programs takes place next weekend I can't do anything then. After a few days of cool, rainy weather (which we all loved) today turned warm and sunny. I finally invested in a Wanderkarte, a hiking map, of the Graz area. I planned my hike and set off by train early this morning. After traveling twenty-five minutes to the north I was in the town of Frohnleiten. (I have visited this charming little town before and posted some pics of it on this blog -- it is perhaps the prettiest town in the whole Steiermark.) The plan was to follow a marked trail up a nearby mountain, walk along the top, and back down further south where I could catch the train back from Peggau-Deutschfeistritz (now there's a very Austrian name for you!). On the way to the start of the trail I passed through the tiny village of Adriach and went by the local church. Mass must have just gotten out. Virtually every person was dressed in Austrian national costume, the ladies in their pretty dirndls and the men in Lederhosen and smart Tyrolean jackets. What a fine looking group of people they were! It was quite a strenuous hike until I reached the top of the mountain. Most of the trail was in deep forest but occasionally there were clearings which afforded panoramic views of the area. One photo shows Frohnleiten in the valley of the Mur (the same river that runs through Graz). Both the major train line north and the Autobahn to Vienna run through this narrow valley. It is surprising to find dairy farms at such high altitudes, but they have managed to create pasture land on the steepest slopes. On the way down I somehow got off the marked trail and ended up somewhere I didn't expect to be. With my trusty map I found my way and made it to the train, many extra kilometers later. It was another of those adventures one must expect hiking in unknown territory. I figure I must have walked at least 16-20 miles today. The day ended with a superb dinner with colleagues at a place called the Gasthof Jobstl (another very Austrian name), which sits on a hill overlooking our neighborhood and the mountains beyond.

Liederkomponisten in Graz

2010-08-01T13:33:00.000-07:00

A few months ago the director of the program here asked me if I could come up with something special to celebrate the 40th anniversary year of AIMS in Graz. Short of conjuring up the spirit of Hugo Wolf in a séance, I couldn't think of anything. But one day it hit me that I already had a ready-made program. During my two previous summers here I learned some of Graz's musical history and had accumulated a few stories of visits to this city by various composers. With a bit of research in the library I was able to piece together a lecture/recital program of stories of various composers in Graz interspersed with songs they wrote about the times of their respective visits. The lecture part practically wrote itself. When I got here this summer I just needed to find the best singers I could to participate on the program -- and the ones I asked all did so eagerly. I lucked out with engaging some of the finest Lieder singers here. The recital took place last Monday, July the 26th in the Pfarrsaal Sankt Leonhard. Here is the musical portion of the lecture/recital:

“Der Lindenbaum” Franz Schubert (from Die Winterreise), “In Waldeseinsamkeit” and “Vergebliches Ständchen” Johannes Brahms, “Freundliche Vision” and “Kling!” Richard Strauss, “Oft denk’ ich, sie sind ausgegangen!” Mahler (from the Kindertotenlieder), “Nacht” Alban Berg“ (from the Sieben Frühe Lieder) and "Durch Einsamkeiten” by Josef Marx.

The last song was written by a composer who was actually born in Graz. I had some misgivings about including that piece in the program, but was glad I did. It is written for Mezzo-soprano, viola and piano. It was exotic and lush and virtually nobody had ever heard this song before. I was fortunate to enlist the help of a fine young violist from the AIMS orchestra (who is actually an American living in Graz full-time). The concert hall was nearly filled and the program was very enthusiastically received. I also went to the trouble of printing out texts and translations, something that is ordinarily not done here. I wondered if there was perhaps too much talking on my part, and if the program was perhaps a bit too high falutin' in tone. But everyone said later that it was just right, very interesting and entertaining. Not to sound immodest, but I think this was the classiest program presented here all summer. It was a lot of work to get it all organized, but it was a great experience for me to do it.

Bericht II

2010-07-17T06:21:00.001-07:00

I thought I wouldn't include any more photos of Graz, but I snapped these of the courtyard across from the Sankt Leonhardkirche, our charming Baroque church just down the street. These buildings are probably mid-nineteenth century. With the roses and old trees it looks like a corner that has been forgotten by time.
A few nights ago we had our grand Gala to celebrate the fortieth anniversary of AIMS in Graz. Instead of holding the opening concert in the Aula of Karl-Franzens-Universität, the festivities took place in the lovely Stephaniensaal downtown (and a big plus was that the S-saal was air-conditioned -- sort of). The program opened with Rimsky-Korsakov's "Russian Easter Overture". It was followed by a few arias sung by alumni of the program who were brought in for the occasion. The first half ended with the "Fledermaus" Overture. The second half continued with various arias and ensembles from the same operetta and ended with the finale thereof. It was all very nicely done.
Meanwhile, the heat wave continues. Today it is supposed to be 35 C (in the upper nineties), with ever rising humidity. Getting on the non-AC tram is like taking a ride in an oven on wheels. Now we know what a Thanksgiving turkey feels like. Storms are promised for this evening and a cool-down. I have yet to hear an Austrian complain about the heat. They just put up with it as a fact of life. I thought of escaping for the weekend to the mountains and looked into the possibilities, but I thought of it too late to make the necessary arrangements. The Salzkammergut, the area of lakes and mountains outside of Salzburg, is just two hours by train. The Styrian Alps are less than an hour north of here. Maybe next weekend...

Bericht aus Graz

2010-07-14T23:11:00.000-07:00

I don't intend to report much on my doings here this summer because they are much like last summer. The program is now in full swing. I have a great studio and enjoy my work. I love being in this pleasant and civilized city. Along with coaching I also deliver a series of six lectures on Lied composers and, in celebration of the 40th anniversary year of AIMS in Graz, I am doing a special lecture/recital entitled "Liederkomponisten in Graz". For this event I have had to enlist a number of vocalists to sing the selections I require. But I managed to line up someone for every Lied I want to have sung on the program.
Ever since I got here it has been hot, with no end in sight. The mid 90's (that's 34 Celsius) may not sound too bad to someone in the States, but there is no air-conditioning here. We live in the heat all day. Fortunately, it cools off at night. And Austrians (along with the Germans) have a silly superstition that a draft will make you sick, so they close all the windows. The street cars are stifling. Last night we went out to the fabulous Eggensberger Schloss for the gala reception. The Baroque castle (actually built as a hunting lodge) never fails to impress. The surrounding park is gorgeous. There was a (thankfully) short program in the Planetensaal, the splendid hall. The candles were lit to re-create the proper atmosphere and, of course, they closed all the windows! It must have been 110 in there.
The other day I experienced a little encounter that reminded me how different the Austrians are from the Germans. I went to the university music library, to which we have access, to find some music. I only needed to copy two pages. There is the usual set-up with a copy machine for which one needs to buy a card. Not wanting to go through all that for two pages, I asked the nice man at the desk what the procedure was. He pulled out a card, apparently left over or discarded and said: Here, use this, it still has a few copies left on it. It was a kind and helpful thing to do. From my experience, and that of others, such helpfulness would be unlikely in Germany. There, you would be scolded and told what the rules were. The Germans can be insufferably narrow, unbending, petty and downright rude. I never experience that here in Austria.

Die Ankunft

2010-07-05T13:28:00.000-07:00

I arrived happily in Graz about midday. The drive north took five hours. It rained lightly in the mountains, something welcome after being in parched Italia. The autostrada route took me first east, past the exit to Venice, then in the direction of Trieste, the eastern most Italian port on the Adriatic. I turned north before that, passing the city of Udine. The countryside was flat farmland until the Alps rose up majestically from the plains north of Udine. As I anticipated, the traffic was light on this road. It was a beautiful highway, a pleasure to drive on. The toll was a bit steep, but well worth it.
As much as I love hearing spoken Italian I have had my fill of it for now. The radio stations in Italy are horrible -- heavily commercialized and playing insipid rock music, accompanied by a steady stream of moronic chatter. And contrary to popular belief, not all Italians can sing; some of the warblers I heard on the radio would be well advised to take a few voice lessons. There was not one single classical station to be found on the Italian airwaves, whereas both Austrian Radio and the Bavarian Radio each have a station dedicated to cultural programming. Crossing into Austria I was happy to pick up OE 1 and hear an extensive interview with the great Austrian pianist Alfred Brendel, interspersed with his marvelous playing.
I pulled into a rest stop outside of Klagenfurt and was dazzled by its modernity, cleanliness and appeal. There is something to be said for being in a country with a high standard of living. Arriving in Graz it felt that I had only left a few days ago. It is like coming home. But wasn't it only yesterday that I was in Venice, baking in the Italian sun, dazzled by the magic of that city? It seems like a dream.

Venezia III

2010-07-04T13:10:00.000-07:00

A few more random pics. I think I will be dreaming of La Serenissima tonight...

Venezia II

2010-07-04T12:50:00.000-07:00

It never ceases to amaze me how unadventurous people are. The hordes of tourists all go to the same places and few venture from the beaten path. Part of the fun of exploring this city is walking aimlessly down narrow alleyways and crossing side canals. Sometimes I found myself nearly alone in some quaint piazzetta. The term 'sun drenched' comes to mind with some of these pics.

The Rialto Bridge

2010-07-04T12:36:00.000-07:00

After a few previous wooden bridges on this site were either burned or collapsed, a permanent stone structure was erected. It was finished in 1591. The designer's name, in an amusing coincidence, was Antonio da Ponte. It translates as: Tony the Bridge. Only a few bridges span the Grand Canal. This is the most impressive of them and it has become one of the icons of Venice.

Piazza San Marco

2010-07-04T12:23:00.000-07:00

This is one of the most famous public squares in the world. On one end is the basilica with the Doges Palace attached to it. The tower is on the other side. The two pillars, one with the Lion of Saint Mark, are by the Grand Canal. It was in reading a book about the history of this city ("Paradise of Cities" by John Julius Lord Norwich) that inspired me to write my opera "Everlasting Universe". When Byron lived here he swam the canal from the piazza to the Rialto Bridge. He must have been in great form! You will not find a pic of the Bridge of Sighs because, alas, it is under wraps for renovations. Sigh.

The Horses of Saint Mark

2010-07-04T12:08:00.000-07:00

This equestrian group has a long history. They are ancient, from classical Greece, and originally adorned the hippodrome of Constantinople. When that city was sacked in the Fourth Crusade (to the eternal shame of Christendom) they were looted and brought to Venice where they were placed above the entrance to San Marco. When Napoleon arrived in 1797 and put an end to the thousand years of the glorious Venetian Republic, he in turn looted them and brought the horses to Paris. They were returned to Venice in 1815. The horses outside are copies. The originals are in the museum, and here they are! By a stroke of good fortune nobody was around, and no guard to reprimand me for snapping a photo. The Horses of Saint Mark! They are magnificent!!

San Marco II

2010-07-04T11:46:00.000-07:00

I have been to Venice before, but that was a long time ago, perhaps forty years. When I planned my itinerary I thought: let me see Venice once more before I die. I am so glad I made the effort to come here.
The Basilica of Saint Mark was originally consecrated in 1094 and expanded for centuries afterwards. If it seems oriental that is because it is, being heavily influenced by Byzantine style. The basilica is shaped like a Greek cross and it has five magnificent cupolas.
When I was here before I remember just walking into the church. Those days are now gone. I had to wait in line first in the hot sun to visit the loggia (affording great views) and the museum. There was a service going on at the time, so the church itself was not accessible. But we could hear the choir singing -- and it was magnificent. Later the screens blocking the view of the nave were removed and we could see the interior from the upper loggia. Breathtaking! I came back later to go into the church (and had to stand in line again). There are so many people here. Forty years ago there were fewer people on the planet and since then, with the liberation of Eastern Europe and Russia, the pool of tourists has swelled even more. (I have run into Russians and Chinese everywhere.)

San Marco

2010-07-04T11:08:00.000-07:00

If Venice was the highlight of my journey, the church of San Marco was the highlight of Venice. To a musician this is hollowed ground. In this very church, virtually unchanged since the sixteenth century, Claudio Monteverdi was the choir master, followed by Giovanni da Gabrielli. Antonio Vivaldi worked near here. This is one of the greatest buildings in the world, steeped in history. The entire surface is done in gold mosaics. As the floor has settled over the centuries the building is leaning here and there, the floor uneven -- but it is exactly the same as it was centuries ago. The atmosphere is dark, mysterious, almost oriental. Pictures were strictly vietato, forbidden, but many tourists ignored that and snapped away. I was awed to be here and moved to tears. San Marco!!

Venezia I

2010-07-04T10:54:00.000-07:00

What can one say about Venice? La Serenissima e bellissima!! I opted to leave my auto in the hotel parking garage and take the train in. It took 25 minutes. Again, it is really hot (upper nineties). I joined the steaming masses to hoof it through the winding streets and over countless bridges. When I got to the Rialto Bridge, despite the throngs and the heat I had a moment of epiphany: this is Venice! the light, the life, the joy of the place! La vita, i colori, la gioia! It is a miracle, like no place else on earth. Later, at the Piazza San Marco, traipsing along on the hot stones in the blazing heat, I thought: We are all crazy to be out here, but that is what you do because Venezia is so special. There is no lack of photo opportunities; I took 54 shots. One becomes snap-happy. Here are some to start. I can only post a few because I don't have the right plug in order to re-charge my computer battery (every country in Europe has different plugs; aaargh!). I am leaving very early tomorrow morning, taking the autostrada north towards Udine, crossing into Austria at Villach, and on to Graz.

Padova

2010-07-03T12:31:00.000-07:00

Padua is a fine old town with a long history. It was important in Roman times but was completely destroyed in the 7th century. It survived several ups and downs. The heart of the old town has winding, arcaded streets. I took the quick, three-hour walking tour. The most important site, the Scrovegni Chapel with its Giotto frescoes, I will not get to see. One needs to get tickets beforehand. It's a pity because I adore Giotto. I have seen his other magnum opus in Assisi. The photos show a typical street, the famous Prato della Valle with the basilica of Santa Giustina, and the 13th century basilica of San Antonio. The latter includes the tomb and various relics of St. Anthony (who was from Padua). The relics are housed in a separate chapel, totally over-the-top Baroque. To the Roman Catholics ostentation equals veneration. The church is quite impressive, though it is a goulash of styles. Santa Giustina also houses relics of various worthies, especially the corpse of Saint Luke. He was buried in Greece, but his coffin was 'miraculously' unearthed next to the church centuries ago and the then pope declared it authentic (and how the hell would he know?) The gullible need their relics, I suppose, and the church has a donation box by every single one of them.
Padua also boasts one of the oldest universities in the world. It is a mere 800 years old and counts Galileo Galilei as one of its former faculty.

L'autostrada

2010-07-03T07:40:00.000-07:00

Today is a travel day. I left early in the morning headed south along the lake towards Como. If I were unadventurous I could have simply gotten on the freeway that heads towards Milano, circled the city and continued east. But I wanted to avoid the big city congestion. From Como I continued on a secondary road towards Lecco, on the southern tip of the other arm of the lake, then south to Bergamo where I picked up the autostrada. It was not a pictureque ride at all, rather another long stretch of modern Italian commercial/residential blight. That is what happens when you don't have strict zoning laws. Those people who complain about the intrusion of the government into our lives should think of the alternative. Germany, Austria, and especially Switzerland all carefully control what can be built where, and the result is an enviornment that is pleasing to everyone.
When I finally entered the autostrada I thought it would be clear sailing. Boy, was I wrong! We inched along, bumper to bumper, for about forty minutes. If it is like this all the way to Padua, I thought, I won't get there until tomorrow! But 'il traffico intenso' cleared after a while. Everyone is going somewhere. The freeway system is like that in the States: you get a card when you enter the motorway and pay when you leave. There are periodic rest-stops and eateries. I stopped midway for a bite of lunch. The service area was complete bedlam; there were far too many people in it. You had to pay for your selection first, then go elswhere to have it prepared. All sorts of pizzas and hot sandwiches were offered. I had a Rusticella = a kind of thin pita bread stuffed with ricotta and mozzarella cheeses as well as spinach. It was thrown onto a grill press for a short while - and it was delicious! The ladies at the counters worked at a frenzied pace, slinging sandwiches onto the grill or tabulating change, but they were all polite and patient with lots of 'pregos' and 'grazies'. I hope they get paid a lot! (Fat chance!)
My route passed Brescia, Verona and Vicenza. I considered making a quick stop in Verona to see the sights, but the thought of driving into the town, driving in circles to find a parking garage, then traipsing about in the hot sun seemed too much. I was in Vicenza just a year ago. I will take a look at Padua this evening and go into Venice for the day tomorrow. Venezia is only about 25 miles away.

Map of Lago di Como

2010-07-02T12:51:00.000-07:00

Here is a cosmic coincidence: eighteen years ago J.J. and his then wife Monica came to Lago di Como in the off season. They took a boat part way up the lake, got off and walked a long while until they found a hotel that was open. Yesterday at breakfast J.J. realized that this was the very same hotel he and Monica stayed at all those years ago. Of all the hundreds of hotels on this lake I could have chosen to stay at I ended up in this one, the Hotel Riviera in Cadenabbia.
In case, dear reader, you have not pulled down the old atlas and dusted it off, here is a map to show you where I am. Varenna (not shown) is on the east shore of the lake, just north of Bellagio.

Cruisin' on the lago

2010-07-02T12:30:00.000-07:00

My friend J.J. wanted to get an early start back to Lausanne, so we left for the Lugano stazione right after breakfast. On the way back I stopped at a small lake on the Italian side of the border, in the mountain pass, the Lago di Piano. (And is there a Lago di Fortissimo, perhaps? Or a Lago di Saxaphone?) It is a very small lake, by New England standards a pond. The guidebook I consulted said that one could walk entirely around the lago. They lied. Still, it was nice to have a bit of a walk in such a beautiful spot.
I wanted to spend some time in one of the several villas on the lake, one with a botanical garden, but it is just too hot to be traipsing about. Instead, I purchased a day ticket (at the reasonable price of eleven euros} for the lake ferries which allows one unlimited travel to a half dozen towns in the mid-lake area. I sailed Cadenabbia-Bellagio-Varenna-Menaggio and return. (There is no connection between Menaggio and Cadenabbia or I could have completed the circle.) It is really hot, in the low 90's, weather only for mad dogs, Englishmen and tourists to be out and about. Spending the afternoon and early evening on the water was a good idea. Lago di Como is stunningly beautiful.
I know some of my readers are very curious to know what we had for dinner last night in Menaggio. It was a memorable meal. J.J. ordered lake trout which was lightly fried in a sesame batter and served with chard sautéed in butter. I had a saffron risotto. As a primo we both had a superb insalata mista. The only option for dressing is virgin olive oil and balsamic vinegar. What else would you want to put on such a beautiful salad? Surely not the gloppy dressings that Americans seem to love, laced with sugar and salt, smothering the delicacy of the greens. J.J. ordered us a bottle of fine local Merlot. For dessert I enjoyed a 'penna cotta al mou' which is a fine soft cheese, something like ricotta, with caramel drizzled over it. Heaven!

Menaggio

2010-07-01T12:29:00.000-07:00

We drove back north, passing Cadenabbia to the next town of Menaggio. It is the prettiest and most elegant town on this part of the lake. We lazed in the shade, admiring the view, watching the ferries and sailboats glide by. We liked Menaggio so much that we returned in the evening for dinner, dining at a lovely restaurant with a view of the lake. We experienced every tourist cliché in the book, including a wandering accordion player. It was heaven.

The Duomo in Como

2010-07-01T12:23:00.001-07:00

After breakfast we headed south along the lakeside to the main town of Como. I had wanted to go by boat but the schedule didn't work out for us. The drive is very pretty but entails going through town after town with very narrow streets and impatient drivers. Apparently the locals get annoyed if you don't drive twice the posted speed limit. Oh, these hot-blooded Italians! Then there is the hassle of parking and driving around in circles. Having a vehicle is nice, but sometimes it is more trouble than it is worth.
The town of Como was settled in Celtic times. Julius Caesar himself ordered that the swamp be drained and the settlement moved down to its present location at the south end of the lake. Both Pliny the Elder and Younger lived here and Cosima Liszt (who later married Wagner) was born in Como. The main attraction is the fine duomo with its façade erected and decorated in the mid-fifteenth century. The interior is quite spacious. The cupola is late 18th century.

Views of Cadenabbia and Bellaggio

2010-06-30T12:57:00.000-07:00

The view of Cadenabbia and our hotel from the ferry, and the view from Bellaggio.

Hotel Riviera

2010-06-30T12:54:00.000-07:00

The view from my hotel window just after sunrise.

Lago di Lugano

2010-06-30T12:42:00.000-07:00

There are three large lakes in the region north of Milano: Lago Maggiore, Lago di Garda and Lago di Como, as well as several smaller ones. Como is perhaps the most famous. It was a destination of vacationers even in ancient Roman times (Pliny had a villa here) and it has been visited by many poets and artists. Mussolini was captured and executed in a town just down the road from here.
Some views of Lago di Lugano. The lake straddles the Italian/Swiss border. It is so beautiful one wonders if it is real.

The Cadenabbian Connection

2010-06-30T12:33:00.000-07:00

Doesn't that sound like a great title for a John Grisham novel? Since this summer I didn't go to Lausanne to visit with my friend J.J., I suggested that he come to Lake Como so that we could spend a few days together here. He left very early in the morning for the five hour train journey to Lugano where I picked him up at the train station. As the crow flies it is not all that far, but since there are mountains in the way it requires a lengthy detour north to Zürich, then south to Lugano. From Cadenabbia, on the western shore of Lago di Como, it is about twenty miles to drive into Switzerland. But this took about an hour as the road goes over a mountain pass and then along a very narrow road along the lake. But what a route! The scenery is some of the most spectacular in the world. Lago di Lugano is the closest thing to paradise one will find on this planet. Once again, photos can only poorly render the splendour of the scenery.
After getting J.J. sorted out in the Hotel Riviera we had a wonderful lunch in the restaurant downstairs then hopped on a ferry (which leaves from a pier just down the street) for the short ride over to the town of Bellaggio, the town immediately across the water. It is really warm, so walking in the sun was not appealling. I did climb to the top of the hill in the old town and visited the Romanesque church of San Giacomo, begun in the eleventh century. The interior is built in a black stone and makes an unexpected impression. Since the interior was Baroque-icized in the 17th century and restored to its original form in the early 20th, I suspect not too much of the decor is original. Still, it is quite pretty.
We returned to Cadenabbia for a superb supper. It is no secret that the Italians know how to cook. We shared a lovely antipasto of lightly grilled veggies, then a scrumptious pizza ai porcini, washed down with a fine local red wine. After a luscious dessert of gelato we were in a good mood indeed.

Through the Alps. Again

2010-06-29T23:51:00.000-07:00

I am driving through Austria at one of its narrower points. I could take the autobahn and go around Innsbruck, down through the Brenner Pass and west towards Merano. But I've been there, done that (just last year, as a matter of fact). As I am always up for the new alpine experience I am taking secondary roads. This route will traverse three different mountain passes and skirt the Swiss border before entering the South Tyrol (which is in Italy, if you have been paying attention to my blog!). The scenerey is spectacular, jaw-dropping. Most of my pics, taken in breathless rapture, cannot convey the majesty of what I saw, so I will post just a few.
The first two passes, the Fernpass and the Reschenpass are easily negotiated. The third one, the Stilfserjoch is unbelieveable. How did they even build such a road? It climbs steeply with over 42 hairpin curves on the way up (they're numbered) with a relentlessly steep incline. It takes virtuoso driving. My little Polo is really working hard today. I could only use first and second gear the entire time. This pass is much steeper than the Furka Pass I did two summers ago. The photos are taken near the top of the pass, before the descent. Going down is a bit easier. The lake is the Lago di Resia at the top of the Reschenpass.
Entering into the province of Lombardy I am now in the real Italy. The scenery is still magnificent, but the rest is disappointing. Town after town is hideously ugly, a mess of post-war apartments and commercial strips. Apparently there are no zoning laws in Italy. The few buildings of historic interest are mostly castles and monasteries perched high in the hills or the local church. They are forever marooned in this ocean of urban ugliness. I am driving directly west to reach the north end of Lago di Como. That, at least, will be pleasing. But when I finally get there (cursing the Italians for not putting up enough signs) I am again aghast. It is so built up I can barely see the lake; and the traffic! It's bumper to bumper for a while. Then it thins out and it's clear sailing. I am staying in a tiny town of Cadenabbia on the western edge of the lake. Como is shaped like an upside down Y. Cadenabbia is just across from the tip of the peninsula, where all three arms of the lake converge.

Pfronten im Allgäu

2010-06-29T23:41:00.000-07:00

After a lovely walk through Bavarian meadows and forest I was on my merry way. I wish there were some way to bottle this country air; it is redolent of new-mown grass, blooming wild flowers with a soupçon of cowshit. (Well, this is the country, after all!). I'm on my way to the Italian lake of Lago di Como. I head south towards Reutte in Tirol, the next town just over the border in Austria. Before that I drive through Pfronten im Allgäu. I wanted to stay in this town because I had been here before, but no hotel options came up on Expedia (and I have been booking all my hotels at expedia.com). I stopped long enough to take the photo of the parish church with a background of mountains. It just doesn't get prettier than this. The weather is still gorgeous, though it is getting warmer and warmer (but I'm not complaining).

Castles

2010-06-28T12:33:00.000-07:00

The original castle of the Wittelsbachs, the ruling Bavarian dynasty, is Hohenschwangau (the yellow one). König Ludwig II built his dream castle, Neuschwanstein (the white one) on a neighboring hill. The cost of this whim, along with several other of his castles, bankrupted the state. Now Bavaria cashes in big time on these major tourist attractions. This was not on my agenda and I really didn't feel like joining the throngs of tourists to go up the hill. Besides, I've been here before. So, I took the mandatory photos from a meadow and left. From most of the photos of Neuschwanstein it looks like it is in the middle of the Alps. But that is not the case. It is on the very edge of the mountains -- it depends which direction you are facing. How deceptive photography can be!

The Prince Regent

2010-06-28T12:29:00.000-07:00

After the mad King Ludwig II was removed from the throne (he drowned soon afterwards under suspicious circumstances), Bavaria was ruled by a Prince Regent. This is his statue in Füssen. Yesterdays post-soccer revelers adorned him with a lei in the German national colors and crowned him with a beer bottle. Today's headlines: Crown Prince gets lei-ed in Füssen. (Well, it's about time!)

Füssen

2010-06-28T12:22:00.000-07:00

I booked a hotel in the town of Nesselwang. It is in an area of South Bavaria known as the Allgäu, where the famous fairytale castle Neuschwanstein is located. I drove into Füssen first to have a look around. It is the biggest town in the area, but it is still quite small. It's a real charmer; nearly every building in the town is historic and high mountains surround it. I stopped for lunch and had a local specialty, Hausgemachte Käsespätzle, that is, homemade noodles with cheese, topped with fried onions and scallions. I washed it down with a golden, frothy stein of Bavarian beer. Ah, the simple pleasures of life! I remember the days when a side salad in Germany would mean various veggies (usually carrots and celery root) grated to a mush and served swimming in a few inches of vinegary water. Yuck! Things have improved a great deal. The salad I was served today would have sent a rabbit into nirvana. Note the emerald green waters of the river Lech.

Unsere Liebe Frau

2010-06-28T12:17:00.000-07:00

On the other side of the Hauptmarkt is the Frauenkirche. The outside may be wearing a chador, but the inside is accessible. This is the one Catholic parish church in this overwhelmingly Protestant city. The brief history of the building states plainly that, in the 14th century, the Hauptmarkt was the location of the Jewish ghetto. There was a pogrom, most of the inhabitants were killed and their synagogue was destroyed. (Vicious attacks like this one occured all over Europe for centuries encouraged, if not ordered, by various 'Christian' rulers, and not just in German lands.) This church was built on the very site of the former synagogue, "to the glory of god". The sheer hypocrisy of these Christians is staggering. Anyway, the Frauenkirche is a jewel of Gothic style, much smaller than its neighbors. After the Reformation it became Protestant but reverted to the Roman church when this area became part of Bavaria in the early 1800's.
I confess. I went to Starbucks the other day. It is not that I am such a big fan, but I forgot how awful German coffee can be -- bitter, bitter. I saw several Starbucks in the city. Maybe the Germans, now that they have unravelled the mysteries of making a decent salad, can get the hang of brewing a decent cup of java. Two things I will not miss: driving through the narrow streets of the Altstadt to get to my hotel, negotiating one way streets, pedestrian zones, bicyclists, etc. I was so frustrated yesterday that I inadvertently entered a one way street (clearly marked, but I missed the sign) and had to back up half a block. People stopped to stare and no doubt thought: Who is that idiot Austrian who can't drive? (I have Austrian plates.) Let them think what they will. The other thing is getting in and out of the Agneshof parking garage. It is a sardine can. The spaces are so small you need a shoe horn to get into them. I saw many traces of paint on the walls where it had been scrapped off of other vehicles and I was sooo careful not to leave any bits of the fire engine red Polo behind.

Sankt Sebald II

2010-06-28T12:05:00.000-07:00

I'm not done with Nürnberg yet. Before my departure I took another short stroll to St. Sebald and photographed a few of the saints who are keeping vigil in the nave.

Lauf an der Pegnitz

2010-06-27T12:07:00.000-07:00

The marvellous weather continues to hold. I chose to go not too far afield and do a hike about 30 km from here, in the Hersbrucker Schweiz (how many Switzerlands can there be?). I remembered the village of Simmelsdorf-Hüttenbach because it was the end station of a small train line. It was often the goal of a hike starting elsewhere because it afforded a way to get back to the city. I remember, forty years ago, that the DBB wanted to terminate service on this line because it wasn't cost effective. But there was such a hue and cry from the hikers who use it primarily on weekends that it stayed in service. I wondered if it was still running now. I found Simmelsdorf by intuition and good luck. I have no map and just made a rudimentary one from the internet. Although the old station is abandoned and boarded up, the train still runs. Instead of the pre-war choo-choo that ran on the line 40 years ago there is a spanking new electric train. It's only two cars, but it runs once an hour. This exemplifies the difference between a democratic socialist state, such as Germany, and one where services are privately owned. The government is apt to make choices in favor of the common good while the private companies are only concerned with their profits. There was a large map with all the possible hiking trails well marked. I chose a tour that would bring me back to S-H in a few hours. It was lovely except for the fact that part of it ran by the autobahn. The sound of cars whizzing by is not anyone's idea of rural peace. If Herr Wolff had been here he would have seen that fact and chosen another trail. One pic shows the village of Simmelsdorf nestled in the hills. Note how much forest land there is around it.

On the way back I stopped in the town of Lauf an der Pegnitz, another cute little medieval town in Nürnbergerland. There happened to be a Volksfest going on with the usual booths offering food and drink with a live wind band for entertainment. I couldn't help thinking of a similar event I attended just a year ago in the South Tyrol. There, the event was hosted by an oppressed minority, the German speakers, reveling in their culture. This one was much more laid back by comparison. Tomorrow I leave Nürnberg heading south to the Bavarian Alps and reaching the Italian lakes by Tuesday.
[Soccer update: Germany beat England 4-1. I was out on the street at the time and heard some brief whooping and hollering, but they haven't torn the place apart yet.]

Der schöne Brunnen

2010-06-27T11:42:00.000-07:00

Here is a monument that truly deserves its title, a beautiful fountain. It's in the northwest corner of the Hauptmarkt.
I indulged in a bit of nostalgia this afternoon. Well, more curiosity than anything else. I wanted to visit the neighborhoods I lived in forty years ago to see what they were like. First I walked out to Rennweg, in a nice residential area north of the Altstadt. I found the house I lived in during my second and third years here. It looked much the same, even had the same door. Isn't it interesting how one forgotten object can evoke so many memories of the past? A few blocks away is the Stadtpark, in its day one of the nicest parks anywhere. The lovely restaurant/café I remembered, situated on a pond, has closed down and is now overgrown with weeds. The formal gardens, once meticulously kept up, are now pretty shabby. The lawns need a good mowing. It is a bit sad to see the park go downhill.
Not a lot has changed in Nürnberg. The biggest thing is the subway that was built about twenty years ago. The city already had an extensive tram/bus network but it built a subway system as well. And not just a few stops -- it goes everywhere. I can't help thinking of Kansas City, a much bigger city, which has a laughable public transit system and has been dithering for the past twenty years about building a modest tram line.
I took the subway (Untergrundbahn) out to the south part of the city to visit the street I lived in during my first year in Nürnberg. I haven't walked down that street in forty-two years. It was much the same. I opted to walk back to town. Many people were out and about on the warm summer afternoon, chatting on cell phones, walking with friends and family. I hardly heard a word of German spoken the whole time. I heard Russian, Turkish and dog knows what else. Like most countries in Europe, Germany has been overrun by other nationalities. I walked out to a vegetarian restaurant I had located on the internet. It was a bit of a schlepp, but well worth it. Vegetarian cuisine in Germany (when you could find it) used to be a little weird. This was faaaabulous. I had the Aryuvedische Teller which was basically an Indian dinner. Fragrant rice with veggies in a mild curry sauce, some yellow dahl sambhar for protein, cucumber raita and two chutneys, one of walnut/apple (I think it was just these two items mixed in a blender) and apricot. Delizioso!

Sankt Egidien

2010-06-27T11:30:00.000-07:00

I seem to be blogging Nürnberg's churches. The one I am omitting is the lovely Frauenkirche, but only because it is being renovated and is currently obscured by scaffolding.
Nürnberg is a Gothic city, but it does boast one single Baroque church, one that I have always been fond of since the days I lived here. Sankt Egidien (that's St. Gilles in English) was originally built in the Middle Ages, then burnt down (there seems to have been a lot of that happening). It was rebuilt in the Baroque style, dedicated in 1718. It survived until the conflagration of 1944. It was decided after the war that rebuilding it in its original form was impossible, so the interior of the new church was modified and simplified. I love the simple, classical look of the decor. It is mostly white, with some tasteful decorative elements. This is a Protestant church after all, much more reserved in feeling.

Sankt Sebald

2010-06-27T11:20:00.000-07:00

Sebald may be a bit more somber, but to me its architectural impact is greater. When I went in the other day, in the early evening, I was deeply moved by the spirit of the place, its grace and majesty. There are many photos around the church taken after the bombing. This building stood here for seven centuries and in one night it was reduced to a pile of smouldering rubble. There was hardly anything left of it. But after ten years of painstaking work the church was re-dedicated. You wouldn't even notice anything had been amiss, that is how masterfully the rebuilding was accomplished. When you think of the destruction of a magnificent monument like this one, you could weep. Our cultural treasures proclaim who we are. This is what, as a human race, we have done, this is our best, the product of our genius, of our aspirations, of our higher nature. To see so much of it destroyed is a loss to everyone. War sucks. I think the Germans have sincerely dealt with their history and have realized the consequences of aggression. If another destructive war arises, it will not be from German soil.
The ceiling seems to float above the clerestory windows. My little camera did a good job on the interior shot. BTW, Johann Pachelbel (that's right, he of 'canon' fame) was organist in this church from 1695 to 1706. (Sometimes I can't remember my own telephone number but somehow I remembered that useless fact.)

Sankt Lorenz

2010-06-27T07:51:00.000-07:00

There were originally two towns here, one on each side of the river, hence there are two parish churches. When the walls were put up in the 14th century Nouremberca became one city. That is how N. ended up with two glorious Gothic churches. St. Lorenz is the larger of the two, with flying butresses to support the outer walls. This innovation, originally developed in France, enabled the builders to build bigger, with more space for windows -- stained glass windows, of course. The two Nürnberg churches are by no means the largest in Europe, but they are mighty fine. Lorenz, especially, is crammed with treasures of the Middle Ages: paintings, exquisite wood and stone sculptures. It's rosette window is spectacular. One can get snap happy in this town as there is so much that is photogenic. My modest camera cannot do justice to an interior shot so I have borrowed one from the internet. No photo can convey the magnificence of a space like this. Two of these photos were taken early Sunday morning; I practically had the city to myself.

Auf der Kaiserburg

2010-06-27T07:39:00.000-07:00

After I completed the pradakshina, the circumambulation of the Altstadt, I went up to the Kaiserburg. It is an extensive complex, with a fine museum, ancient buildings and a few gardens. The view of the city shows the towers of St. Lorenz on the left, St. Sebald on the right, and the opera house in the middle.

A bit of irreverent humor

2010-06-27T07:33:00.000-07:00

Well, he said he wanted to be buried in his Steinway, so here goes: one, two, three, heave!

Hotel Sorat Agneshof

2010-06-27T07:22:00.000-07:00

I LOVE this hotel. It is so comfortable and, most of all, quiet. There is no traffic to be heard at all. Walk to the end of the short lane, the Agnesgasse, and there is a view of a great Gothic church. [As I am downloading these pics I am sitting in the bar/lounge of the hotel. The much anticipated soccer match, Germany vs England has just commenced. First the national anthems of each country were played. Germany's is, of course, composed by Haydn -- top drawer, and "God Save the Queen" a rousing hymn. I can hear thousands of fans chanting and singing, Germans and Brits. No American sport gets as intense as this. There are a few hotel guests watching the proceedings; they are jumping out of their chairs at every good play of the German team. If the German team wins, the party will go on all night in this country.]

Fachwerk Häuser

2010-06-27T07:10:00.000-07:00

This top pic is of the oldest, still inhabited Fachwerk house in Nürnberg, from 1338. What do you think the workmen who originally built this house, who fitted the timbers and slapped on the plaster would have thought if they had been informed that their handywork would still be standing and inhabited 672 years later? They would have been astonished. The middle pic is the house of favorite son Albrecht Dürer. At the bottom is another of the Fachwerk jewels of which one finds many in the Altstadt.

Nürnberg II

2010-06-27T07:01:00.000-07:00

O, Nürnberg, wie bist du schön! This is a glorious city. It is no wonder people travel from all over the globe to experience it. This morning I decided to take a holiday from driving. I didn't come to Europe to sit behind the wheel of a car. After breakfast (again, yummers!) I undertook a walk around the entire periphery of the Altstadt. Just how big was a major medieval city anyway? (FWI, it took me an hour and fifteen minutes. I can't imagine anyone in the fourteenth century would have had the idea of putting on their hiking shoes and strolling around the town -- walking for pleasure is a relatively modern phenomenon.) The moat has long since been filled in. It has become one long park with lots of trees, lawns, sports facilites and plots that people can rent for their private gardens. The walk afforded many wonderful views of the city and the massive fortifications. The tower is the Kaiserburg, the Imperial residence of the Holy Roman Emperors. In the distance from the view from the moat is the Nürnberg Opera House.

Bamberg

2010-06-26T12:20:00.000-07:00

Bamberg came through the war unscathed by bombs. It is a maze of twisting old streets with buildings from the 12th century to the present. It is one of the prettiest of German cities. It has a population of only 70,000 but it has been declared a UNESCO World Heritage Site. The river Regnitz runs through it along with several canals diverted from the river. Tanning was once a major trade here. The crown of the seven hills of Bamberg is the cathedral of Sts. Peter and George with its four towers. The church has an altar at each end, a somewhat unique arrangement. It is Late Romanesque, dating from the 12th and 13th centuries. Across the Platz is the Bishop's Palace, a magnificent Baroque structure. I suspect one could wander the streets of Bamberg for weeks and always find new architectural treasures. One of the most famous is the Altes Rathaus, built on an island in the river and handsomely decorated.
Soccer again. Nearly every restaurant and café has mounted a flat screen tv outside so that people can follow the progress of the World Cup. Soccer is not just about a sport, it's about tribal identity and national pride. I see the German national colors everywhere, proudly displayed from balconies and fluttering from car antennas. On the radio I have learned that on Sunday it's Germany vs England, two strong teams. It will be shown live at 4 PM (I have heard this bit of info about fifty times now). Everybody in the country will be watching. Everybody, that is, except me. Someone invented a kind of plastic horn for the games, the vuvuzela. Virtually every South African must have one. These ghastly things are blown non-stop creating a wall of noise. It is driving the Europeans and South Americans crazy. It sounds like you're inside an enormous wasp nest that has just been hit by a rock. Buzzzzzzzz.

Auf Wanderung

2010-06-26T12:13:00.000-07:00

The Germans love to get out into the country and find an idyllic spot like this restaurant, far from the madding crowd. It is next to a brook, on the site of a former mill (long since gone).

Gößweinstein

2010-06-26T11:57:00.000-07:00

After the long drive of the day before, and the weather being superb, I decided to go out into the countryside. My goal was the village of Gößweinstein. It is in the center of the Fränkische Schweiz and it happens to have a gem of a church. I had been to G. once before but the church was closed then and I never got to see it. The church of the Holy Trinity (a basilica minor, to be precise) was designed by one of the greatest architects of the German Baroque, Balthasar Neumann. It was constructed from 1730-39. How this little burg managed to swing bringing in the hotshot architect of the time is a mystery (a promise of 70 maidens? Whoops! Wrong religion!) But here it is and it's the pride and joy of little G. (It would be like East Cornstalk, Kansas having Frank Gehry design a building for them.) The decor is a bit more subdued, downright ascetic compared to Melk. The color scheme is white and pistachio green. Go figure.
The choice of hiking paths was a bit overwhelming but I chose, without realizing it, just the thing for a hot day (it got to the upper 80's -- too hot for hiking, actually). The route kept me mostly in a cool, serenely quiet forest preserve, by a pretty brook and up the hill again. By the last stretch, on a country road, I was sopped and panting like a Saint Bernard. But it was worth it. The predominant tree of the forest is beech. The area is famous for its outcroppings of huge boulders (see pic). My short Wanderung through the German forest brought back memories of happy times long ago, and gratitude for the happy time of the now.
It was still only the middle of the afternoon and I wasn't too far from Bamberg, another place on my list of destinations. So, to Bamberg I went. And here, dear reader, I must confess that driving is not all fun and games. I got into another traffic jam and inched along for quite a while. It took me a lot longer to get to Bamberg than I anticipated. I filled my tank in G. for the first time. It cost 60 euros (= $75). Boing. And it's a small car.

Nürnberg

2010-06-26T04:31:00.000-07:00

In 1968 I earned my BM degree and set sail on the SS Hanseatic for Germany in August of that year. I chose Nürnberg as the place to further my studies. Although I had been to Europe twice before, I had never been to Nürnberg. I suppose I chose it because it was a historic city, not too big or too small, and it had a Conservatory of Music. I was young and naive about a lot of things, but somehow everything worked out splendidly. I immediately found a job working in a music store and studied with a fine teacher at the Conservatory. I have always loved this city and have long wanted to return as a tourist and enjoy it from that perspective. My three years here were some of the happiest of my life, also the most transformative. During my time here I discovered that my true calling was to be a coach/accompanist (and don't ask me why I hadn't figured that out already). I was also introduced to the German tradition of hiking, thanks to an older colleague in Musikhaus Soldan, Herr Georg Wolff. He showed me all the best places to go and we spent many a happy weekend marching through the countryside. The region north of the city is known as Die fränkische Schweiz (the Franconian Switzerland). It is an ideal enviornment for hiking with its thickly forested hills, ruined castles and charming villages. Marked trails criss-cross the entire area.
I booked a hotel in the old city, just north of the St. Sebald church, at the foot of the Imperial Castle. (One of my readers will know exactly where that is.) Nürnberg still retains much of its medieval character. After the fire bombing of the city during WWII, many of the important buildings were painstakingly reconstructed, as were the old city walls. New structures had to adhere to a strict code to fit into the aesthetic scheme of the city. Nürnberg was founded in 1040 (known then as 'Nourenberc'). The site was chosen because of a high hill, a perfect place to erect a defensible castle. The city became the meeting place of the Holy Roman Emperors and their governments for centuries. In the early 1340's the city defences, the walls and moat surrounding the city, were built. For a brief period Nürnberg was on the overland trade route from the East. It became fabulously wealthy and a center for arts and crafts, mostly gold and silver smiths as well as wood and stone carving. Some of the greatest masters lived and worked here. This is also the birthplace of the great German Renaissance artist Albrect Dürer. (As a matter of fact, his house is just down the street from my hotel.)
The local stone used for building is happily a sandstone with a reddish, light brown hue. All of the old city was built out of this pretty sandstone. Nürnberg sports two exquisite Gothic churches, St. Lorenz and St. Sebald (both Protestant) as well as the smaller Catholic Frauenkirche. All are gems of Gothic style. Nürnbergers resent that their fine city was chosen by AH to be the the symbol of the Aryan German nation during the Nazi era. It has always been, and still is, a progressive left-leaning worker's city. Unfortunately, Nürnberg was a prime target for the most destructive of Allied bombings and the city was reduced to ashes in 1944/45.
The photos show the Hauptmarkt with Sankt Sebald and two other views of the same church. Nürnberg is so beautiful. I am thrilled to be here again. It is, however, very crowded and, shockingly for Germany, a bit dirty. I think the clean-up crew just can't keep up.

Regensburg

2010-06-25T14:01:00.000-07:00

I entertained the possibility of making a quick stop in the town of Regensburg on my way to Nürnberg, but as the trip took longer than I anticipated, I decided not to. But The Great Spirit in the Sky was determined that I have my wish anyway. At first driving on the Autobahn was fun. The novelty soon wore off. There are about as many trucks on the road as there are cars. Fortunately, they are not as big as the monster 18 wheelers which terrorize the American road. Some drivers do drive fast, really fast. (I still haven't figured out if there is a speed limit or not; sometimes a 130 kmph is posted, sometimes nothing.) There is a lot of lane changing (to bypass the trucks which drive more slowly) and one must be very careful. A vehicle that looks like it's a mile behind you in your rear-view mirror can be on top of you in two seconds. I was able to get on the Austrian A1 right at Melk and proceed west, bypassing Linz. From there the road bends slightly north towards the German border town of Passau. And, thanks to the European Union, there is no border anymore, no identity check and no customs. Nothing. Right at the border there was a turn-off for the town of Braunau am Inn. That would not ring a bell for most people, but it happens to be the hometown of one Adolf Schikelgruber aka Hitler. (Would history have been different if he hadn't changed his name? Can you imagine the frenzied throngs shouting Heil Schikelgruber?) Braunau would prefer to forget its (in)famous son. The birth house of AH still stands, but there is no plaque, of course, and visitors are discouraged from loitering on the premesis.

Just at the Regensburg exit I saw what every driver dreads: a long back-up. The Germans call it 'Stau'. I saw a few drivers veer off onto the exit and I thought I would do the same. It appeared to be a smart move, but just for a moment. I had no map and had no idea where I was. Duh! But a bit further down the road I saw the unmistakable sight of two Gothic towers. Downtown Regensburg was just ahead, so why not? It is a nice city, famous for its imposing cathedral and the boys choir (Die Regensburger Domspatzen) which resides there. I found it disappointing. The facade of the cathedral is in sad shape. It is blotchy, like it has a skin disease of some kind, with spots of gray, yellow and brown. The towers were only completed in the early 19th century. Many of these grand cathedrals in Europe took centuries to build. Some were never finished. The inside is wonderful. I find that entering a Gothic church can be a spiritual experience. The graceful vaulting of the ceiling seems suspended in the air, floating on light. The cool, dark interior makes one feel insignificant in the presence of some mystery, only hinted at. The Baroque churches, on the other hand, although they can be awesome, are often ostentatious and oppressive. The decor speaks of the overbearing nature of the Catholic Church. The space doesn't entice you, it overwhelms you. So I say, buck the Faroque! Gimme life, gimme love, gimme Gothic! Anyway, the Regensburg cathedral is a nice foretaste of the next place I am visiting, the medieval city of Nürnberg. The photo is taken from my seat at the Café Dombrowski, where I stopped for some necessary fortification (in the form of Kaffee und Kuchen).

Melk III

2010-06-25T13:33:00.000-07:00

I must talk about food again (and fear not, gentle reader, I will not be filling you in on every meal I eat). I had lunch at the Stift restaurant. The setting was lovely; one could sit outside on this warm summer day and enjoy the sight of the garden and the monastery. There were several meatless choices on the menu. I had potato/cheese fritters. They were deep fried and delectably light and crispy, served with a sour cream sauce. Not only was the food excellent (and the price surprisingly reasonable), but the presentation of the meal was delightful; the plate was imaginatively decorated as in the finest restaurants. That too is part of the Austrian culture: everything is done with elegance and style.
The village of Melk sits at the foot of the hill. I understand that it has been raining in this part of Europe for weeks and that the weather changed only yesterday. I guess I lucked out on that too.

Melk II

2010-06-25T00:14:00.001-07:00

Stift Melk

2010-06-25T00:04:00.000-07:00

The young man at the front desk asked me where I was headed this morning. I told him I was planning to visit Stift Melk. It's about two hours further north, on the Danube. He suggested I take a scenic route, one that was actually shorter than the route I planned on taking. He then went to his computer and printed out the directions for me. Now that is gracious hospitality! It was a lovely drive indeed.
Stift Melk is one of the most glorious of Baroque structures in all of Europe. It was built in the 17th century in the throes of counter-Reformation zeal. I found it curious that the written history of the events of that century that I read in the monastery acknowledged that the church had become lax (avoiding the term 'corrupt') and glossed over the fact that the Hapsburg realm had actually joined the Reformation for a while before being forcibly re-catholized later on. The monastery, an enormous complex of buildings, perches on a hill overlooking the Danube. It is visible from the train on the Salzburg-Vienna line. I have seen it before, from a distance, and it is a jaw-dropping sight. Today was my chance to finally visit it. The jewel in the crown of Melk is the library which holds over 100,000 volumes. I surreptitiously snapped a pic (flash photography verboten) when the guard was otherwise occupied. The church itself is another jewel. If Mariazell was riotously Baroque, the Melk church can be described as a veritable orgy, a Baroque Bacchanale. Egads! Every single inch of space is decorated in the most flamboyant manner. It's gorgeous, but a bit much for my taste.

Mariazell II

2010-06-24T14:47:00.000-07:00

Last night I had dinner in the hotel restaurant, a charmingly alpine room with antlers adorning the dark wood panelling. I had something typically Austrian: gebratene Knödel mit Eier, that is, fried dumplings with eggs. The dumplings are sliced and fried in butter, then eggs are added and stirred until scrambled. It is delicious and a treat -- if you don't think about the cholesterol count. Along with it a lovely green salad and a stein of frothy beer. A meal fit for a king! The hotel owner told me that the USA had won the soccer match against Algeria and moved into the next round in the World Cup Games in South Africa. Quite astonishing as soccer is not a strong sport for the Americans. I told him that most Americans would have no idea about the importance of that victory. He said that the American team played well, with style. That is quite a compliment. Soccer is not just about winning, but about how the game is played. It can be graceful and elegant. Soccer is HUGE in Europe and the rest of the world. Only in the USA is it a curiosity.
The small pleasures of life. In that I include breakfast, one of my favorite meals in Europe. They certainly know how to put on a good breakfast here. This morning the buffet included delicious Brötchen, those light, crusty rolls, as well as the more substantial multi-grain breads; there were trays of cold cuts and freshly sliced cheeses, several varieties of jams (and I suspect these were homemade), a huge bowl of fresh yogurt that was probably produced by the cows down the road. (It was, if I may say so, udderly yummy!). In other words, everything is of the highest quality. This is quite unlike the barely edible breakfast buffets one finds in American hotels, with their canned and pre-packaged foods and practically inedible bread. The photo is of the Hauptplatz, immediately in front of the basilica, in Mariazell. As I said, it is picturesquely situated.

Mariazell

2010-06-23T11:48:00.000-07:00

I wanted to avoid the mistake I made two years ago when I drove much too long on my first day here and nearly fell asleep at the wheel of my rental car. That is an experience I do not care to repeat. I booked a room at the Hotel Drei Hasen (The Three Hares) in the town of Mariazell, about a two hour drive north of Graz. It is an important pilgrimage destination. The town was founded in 1157 and it recently celebrated the 850th anniversary of its existence. A monk brought a wooden image of the Virgin Mary to Mariazell at that time, claiming it had special powers. And so a legend was born and the superstitions that resulted in the creation of the imposing basilica here. There was first a Romaneque church (burnt down) then a Gothic one (ditto) and then another. In the 17th century the church was remodeled in the Baroque style. Well, most of it was. You can see from the photo of the facade that something is amiss; the central Gothic tower was left intact and two side portions in a Renaissance style were build on to it. (The middle portion is partially obscured by the yellow and white papal flag; the pope visited here a few years back.) The whole thing just doesn't add up architecturally and makes an aesthetically odd impression. Inside is another story. The decor is extravagantly, riotously Baroque. (I didn't snap any pics because I didn't want to disturb the pilgrims. Wasn't that nice of me?) The now ancient wooden image is housed in an elaborate central chapel adorned with tons of gold and silver. I thought of entering into the guest book the following (but I didn't): I entered this church an atheist and left it an atheist; but I did admire the creative genius of the men who created this beautiful place.
There are ample opportunities to empty one's pockets in the church, donating to this and that, buying all sorts of trinkets. It all smacks of the same corrupt practices of the church in past centuries. (Didn't these people ever hear about the Reformation? Why do they think that happened??)
My hotel is an old building with spacious rooms and high ceilings that has been modernized. It even offers free wi-fi -- can't get more with it than that! The setting of the town in the North Styrian Alps is gorgeous. If Mariazell weren't the pilgrimage center it is it would be just another picturesque town in the alps.

The best laid plans

2010-06-23T11:23:00.000-07:00

When the best laid plans go awry it behooves one to go with the flow. I think I may have experienced a bit of instant karma on my flight to Europe. An hour after the departure of the first leg of my journey from KC to Philadelphia passed it was announced that the flight was cancelled due to mechanical difficulties. What to do? Just surrender to the Greater Power and let things unfold as they may. The young lady at the airline desk spent at least a half hour banging away on her computer keyboard to find me some kind of alternative connection. I said not a word and let her do her thing. There was no point in being reactive to the situation in any way. After she found me one of the last seats on a Chicago-Munich flight I thanked her for her persistence. My self discipline paid off. When I boarded the Munich flight I discovered that I had been upgraded to Business Class. She hadn't told me that. (I may have jumped over the counter and given her a big hug if she had.) It was a little gift from heaven. Let me tell you, BC is mighty fine: roomy seats that are like recliners, superb food and service. The wine and champagne flowed from an open spigot. The flight was even more enjoyable as I was seated next to a very interesting guy who worked for an international pharmaceutical firm that was developing new drugs. He was on his way to a conference. He was also of Indian background, but not a Hindu or a Muslim but a Jain. (At least that was his heritage, he is not practicing.) The Jain religion arose at the time of the Buddha and is similar to Buddhism. We had much to talk about.
I finally arrived at the Graz airport and deliberated how I was going to get myself and two heavy bags to the car rental place. I saw a booth that offered rides anywhere for a reasonable price (17 Euros). I picked up my car (a fire engine red Polo) and was on my way in no time. It all happened so fast that, when I was north of Graz, driving through spectacular mountain scenerey, I thought I was in a dream. How did I get here? Just a few hours before I was on an airplane and now I'm in another world. I stopped the car to inhale the bracing mountain air, redolent of new-mown hay, and to snap the attached photo. Austria is glorious! Two things strike me immediately: this country is SO mountainous and it is SO Catholic. More about that later.

Freundschaft in Limburg

2010-05-27T13:08:00.000-07:00

In conclusion of this travel diary I include a photo taken at a restaurant in Limburg. (This may have been a year later, actually.) I met this lovely woman, Uschi, there. She was also seeing MM and sniffed me out as a kindred spirit. We became friends for a number of years. Uschi ,a British subject, was actually born in Insterburg, in the former German province of East Prussia. She and her family fled as the Russian armies approached in 1944. This province was awarded to the Soviet Union after the war (they were eager to get their hands on a Baltic port) and is now known as the Kalliningrad Oblast. It is, from what I have heard and read, a total shambles. The main city used to be Königsberg, a great center of culture. Every stone of it was blown up by the Russians. I see that just fifteen years ago I was still trim and had hardly any grey hair. Sigh. None of us can escape the ravages of time.

Thalheim

2010-05-27T12:34:00.000-07:00

Thalheim is the village about an hour north of Limburg in the state of Hessen where Mother Meera lives. [Actually, a few years ago she moved to another village just outside of Limburg.] I had read about MM in an article published in "Yoga Journal" about a year before. Something about her fascinated me enough that I wanted to check out the scene personally. I had already planned this trip to Europe, so I tacked on a few days at the end of my itinerary to come up here.
As there are no accommodations in Thalheim itself, visitors must stay in the surrounding villages, or in Limburg (if one has a car -- the trains don't run very frequently on this line). Most of us stay in Dorndorf-Dornburg which is just a few miles away, a pleasant walk. As a result of MM's popularity in the past few years, D-D has experienced an economic boom. The surrounding area is nice enough, but it would attract few people for a holiday. MM gives darshan (a session in which visitors sit in her presence and receive, one by one, her personal blessing) four nights a week, Thursday-Sunday. Each darshan lasts less than two hours. I am in equal measures curious, wary and excited about the experience. Everything is well-organized. This ritual has been going on in Thalheim for years now and the organizers are very careful not to disrupt normal life in the village. One must make reservations by phone weeks beforehand. Only about 120 people can attend any given evening. Darshan happens in complete silence and, as I learn from subsequent visits, takes place in exactly the same manner every single time. I love the silence and the reverence. The energy is very powerful. I won't describe my experiences here except to add that I returned at least a half dozen times, traveling the distance form Kansas City to Thalheim just to sit in silence in a room full of strangers. [MM has made a few visits to the States in recent years and I have seen her here as well.] The picture is of the utterly unremarkable village of Thalheim. Well, I will share one experience I had: I think it was the second year I visited; I woke up in the middle of the night from a powerful, ecstatic dream in which MM appeared to me and took me to some celestial realm. She was wearing the same sari she had worn in darshan that evening. I could barely gaze upon her, so glorious was her presence. I felt myself re-enter my body and awoke in tears. From the window of my room in Dorndorf I could see Thalheim in the distance. Who are you?? I wondered. I still don't know the answer to that question. [There is a previous entry on this blog about Mother Meera on December 15, 2008.]

Limburg an der Lahn

2010-05-25T19:21:00.001-07:00

The town of Limburg an der Lahn lies about an hour north of Frankfurt. It is only half the size of Fulda and, like that town, escaped the ravages of war. Limburg boasts a superbly preserved town core. Its glory is the Cathedral of Sankt Georg (13th century), considered the best preserved example of late Romanesque architecture in Germany. This magnificent structure sits on a hill around which the town was built. Its seven spires dominate the landscape. Since 1965 It has been restored to its original color scheme (a bit gaudy to our tastes, but there it is). The warren of narrow medieval streets of the surrounding town are mostly built in the half-timbered style of the area. Although small, Limburg is a real gem. The famous (infamous?) stinky cheese is named after this town. Once you get past its stomach-turning fragrance, Limburger cheese is really quite delicious. [N.B. The inside shot is not mine, but the other two are.]

Fulda

2010-05-25T12:27:00.001-07:00

August 10. I've had my fill of big city life. After a train ride of less than two hours from Berlin I alight in Fulda. It's a small town (pop. 60,000) that is known for its many fine examples of Baroque architecture. Happily, it escaped the destruction of the last war. It is a lovely place with a long and rich history and I'm glad I stopped here. The photo (not my own -- this one is better) is of the magnificent Cathedral. [I checked the wikitravel site for some details. Fulda is described as follows: "Fulda's architecture mostly escaped the baroquization that took over much of Europe. The lack of decoration (of) the buildings gives the eyes a rest from the ornateness of other cities." Huh?? My German guide says: "Das 18. Jahrhundert gestaltete fast explosiv das Stadtbild von Fulda um und machte es zu einer Barockstadt." In other words, Fulda is most definitely a Baroque city. Whoever wrote the wikitravel article must have been smoking something, or he got off the train in Peoria by mistake. Have a look at the Cathedral. If this is not as Baroque as a Brandenburg Concerto, I'm King Tut.]

Berlin

2010-05-25T09:22:00.000-07:00

August 9. Berlin is more bustling than ever. The former East Berlin is now one big building site. Dozens of giant cranes tower over the city. Still, when you cross what used to be the dividing line, the place where the infamous wall stood, the difference is striking. Alexanderplatz, in Communist times a vast, empty, dreary expanse of concrete, has been adorned with some trees and grassy areas. Gendarmenplatz, one of the jewels of the city, is still under renovation. The communist authorities had renovated the exquisite Schinckel Theater, but one of the matching pair of churches on either side (the "French" Cathedral and the "German" Cathedral) is still in the same state of ruin as it was at the end of the war. (My photo shows the restored church.) A visit to the Museuminsel, the museum island, is thrilling, especially the Pergamon Museum. This houses many great treasures, the most important of which is the ancient altar from the Greek city of Pergamon that was brought to Berlin piece by piece and reconstructed here in the late 1800's. My other photos show the Protestant Cathedral and the Brandenburg gate. The Brandenburgertor used to straddle the border and was off-limits for thirty years. Now it has taken its place as the center of city life again. [Since then all the major museum collections of East and West have been combined and housed on the Museuminsel.]

By train through Mecklenburg

2010-05-25T09:19:00.000-07:00

August 8. Arrive Travemünde 8 AM. This small port town is northeast of Lübeck and on the border with the former DDR (Deutsche Demokratische Republik), the Communist German state. Embark by train going east and change in Bad Kleinen. The wait at the station is like something out of the twilight zone as the platforms are completely deserted. I am the only traveller there. Where is everybody? What I see of towns in the former East Germany has that grey, dull look of all of Eastern Europe. It has only been four and a half years since the wall fell and the two Germanies were reunited. On the way south to Berlin, just north of Schwerin, the train breaks down inexplicably in the middle of nowhere. It is really hot again and we are stuck for over an hour. One of the passengers in my compartment, a woman in her forties, complains that this is what she would expect of the Reichsbahn (the former E. German railway) but not of the Deustsche Bundesbahn (the W. German national railway that has now taken over running the entire system). "I thought things are supposed to get better", she remarks indignantly. It is, I think, typical of the expectations people in the eastern side have, that life in the West is a bed of roses and everything goes smoothly. Well, it doesn't -- not always.