The sun has come up over the Aiguilles east of us, and I have returned from a trip to the hotel lobby, bringing back a fresh baguette. It is crusty and the same size as a police billy club. The French may be known for their rich sauces, but for breakfast it's bread and jam. The apartment we are in has a real coffee maker, and with the ground coffee we brought home from the market we brew up whole pots.
We plan two more days in Chamonix, and although Laura has come down with a cold it just couldn't be much nicer. This little town is Aspen with a French accent only bigger, more spectacular, more developed. I hiked up to the top of the ridge opposite Mont Blanc yesterday and now I have to take back my comments about an unimpressive hump. Awe inspiring is more like it.
I practiced my growing French vocabulary on fellow hikers. I am trying to get down the sweet sound of this most proper and dainty of languages. Bon jour comes out like bohhhh jhoouu, with a little lilt on the last oouu. Monsieur sounds like mohsheur, with the lilt on the eur. Never make the n sound, or you sound like a hack. Merci beaucoup is meersee bokoo, but don't forget to emphasize the last syllable and raise the pitch as you draw out the oooo.
For some reason the television coverage of the Tour de France is in German instead of French. I miss Phil Ligget and Paul Sherwin and their British expressions. Just not the same in German. "He's cracked!" "He's opened a gap!" "He's looking comfortable on his machine!" "I believe he's in a spot of bother!" I can't understand a word of the Schwarzenegger sounding German.
Ah well, Bastille day is Thursday, and the locals here are excited about a major fireworks display tomorrow. Explosions sound the same in any language, so we will be out with the French down by climbing wall in the center of town to watch. I was told today, "Mohsheur you must see zis."
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
Sunday, July 10, 2011
Chamoneeeeeeeee
In contrast to the outgoing, emphasize everything with the hands Italy, we've entered the world of the delicate French, where the language sounds a little prissy. Sounding a little like "excuse me while I speak as prettily as I can," the words end in " we we" or "dwa," "eau," "eee," and "elle." Pardon, merci, Bordeaux, Louieeeeee. Very dainty.
Even so, there is nothing dainty or prissy about the range of mountains just west of us here in Chamonieeeeeee. Mont Blanc itself, although the highest mountain in Western Europe, is unimpressive from town. The summit is a rounded mass of snow and ice, with the actual elevation undetermined since it changes year to year based on snowmelt. The latest surveys show it to be 15782 feet, which towers over the town of Chamonix at just over 3000 feet. Much more impressive to look at are the Aiguilles, french for needles, which form a ridge above the valley resembling the blades of a sharp saw.
The first successful ascent was accomplished on August 8, 1786. First woman to the summit, 1808, by Marie Paradis. Since then, it has become very popular as a snow and ice climb, with 20,000 ascents every year. An airplane landed on the 100 foot summit in 1960. After one accident caused by an avalanche where bodies couldn't be recovered, they were disgorged at the bottom of the glacier up to 40 years later.
So heavy is the use of the most popular climbing route, portable toilets were placed at 14,000 feet in 2007. I speculate that in 2047, hikers at the base of the glacier will be stepping around piles of frozen sheeeeeet.
The balcony here at our little chateau looks out directly onto the entire range, from the needles to the massive bulge of the completely white and snow covered Mont Blanc. If we had more time here, I would be tempted to make a go of climbing something. As it is, we are hiking the various trails around the valley which provide awe inspiring views.
We've been to a French supermarket to purchase the fixins for a home cooked meal, the first in six weeks. Laura cooks, I do the dishes. Tomorrow we may make a train trip over to the Eiger, just because I was so impressed last time I saw it. Or there is a world climbing competition downtown in Chamonix. We watched practice this morning and it's like watching a fly climb a brick wall.
We hear of floods in Denver, Rockies collapse, high gas prices. But here in Chamonix we are still trying to adjust to our sixth language in six weeks, so that when we hear Bon jour in the morning we can respond with something more than wee wee.
Even so, there is nothing dainty or prissy about the range of mountains just west of us here in Chamonieeeeeee. Mont Blanc itself, although the highest mountain in Western Europe, is unimpressive from town. The summit is a rounded mass of snow and ice, with the actual elevation undetermined since it changes year to year based on snowmelt. The latest surveys show it to be 15782 feet, which towers over the town of Chamonix at just over 3000 feet. Much more impressive to look at are the Aiguilles, french for needles, which form a ridge above the valley resembling the blades of a sharp saw.
The first successful ascent was accomplished on August 8, 1786. First woman to the summit, 1808, by Marie Paradis. Since then, it has become very popular as a snow and ice climb, with 20,000 ascents every year. An airplane landed on the 100 foot summit in 1960. After one accident caused by an avalanche where bodies couldn't be recovered, they were disgorged at the bottom of the glacier up to 40 years later.
So heavy is the use of the most popular climbing route, portable toilets were placed at 14,000 feet in 2007. I speculate that in 2047, hikers at the base of the glacier will be stepping around piles of frozen sheeeeeet.
The balcony here at our little chateau looks out directly onto the entire range, from the needles to the massive bulge of the completely white and snow covered Mont Blanc. If we had more time here, I would be tempted to make a go of climbing something. As it is, we are hiking the various trails around the valley which provide awe inspiring views.
We've been to a French supermarket to purchase the fixins for a home cooked meal, the first in six weeks. Laura cooks, I do the dishes. Tomorrow we may make a train trip over to the Eiger, just because I was so impressed last time I saw it. Or there is a world climbing competition downtown in Chamonix. We watched practice this morning and it's like watching a fly climb a brick wall.
We hear of floods in Denver, Rockies collapse, high gas prices. But here in Chamonix we are still trying to adjust to our sixth language in six weeks, so that when we hear Bon jour in the morning we can respond with something more than wee wee.
Thursday, July 7, 2011
David and the Goliath
While on a train today to the old, old walled town of Lucca, I noticed the massive white faces of the marble quarry outside of Carrara, Italy. These were the faces first exposed when the Romans needed stone for their monuments and churches, back in the heyday of the empire around the birth of Jesus. Better yet, when Michelangelo was commissioned to carve a statue and call it David, he was given a prime piece from Carrara. David is 17 feet tall, with a huge head, monstrous hands, and an oversized, notably uncircumcised....... whatever.
The marble quarries brought to mind all things Italian. There is no mistaking where you are when you step off the train in Italy. Damp laundry flutters from clotheslines stretched in front of rectangular windows, adding random colors to buildings already painted peach, rose, and pale yellow. Flowers add even more colors, running up drainpipes, filling roundabouts, resting on window sills.
But watch out below, as bicycles weave through streets already full of pedestrians and whining scooters. Who needs rules? A good Italian scolding is a pleasure to behold. Sometimes from mothers, sometimes clerks, but mostly from best of friends just being full of being an Italian. The ever present wire rack behind wide, cushy bicycle seats adds a load, carrying dogs, small kids, cats, maybe another adult. Rattling bikes seem to have been made in the forties, out of iron perhaps, with chain guards to protect skirts and baby legs. One handed steering is necessary because the other is holding groceries, lit cigarettes, maybe a small dog.
Fabio is back. Long, dark wavy hair. Women's shoes. Painted nails. Swarthy skin. More shoes. School age boys and girls playing late, kicking a patched ball in the street, already shouting and scolding in sing song, beautiful Italian. Stray cats, sleeping on restaurant chairs. Dogs on a leash inside the meat market. A breakfast bar, with locals standing at the bar, drinking their espresso and cappuccino as chaos rules around them.
We have been watching it all, much as the ever present eyes of the old men and women who lean out windows to watch the world below, shaking heads in dismay at the ways of a new generation. Italians have such a passion for living that it makes one want to keep returning. Doesn't seem like anywhere else.
We plan a beach day tomorrow here in Levanto. Surf, sand, beach balls, healthy women. Kids, sun, reading, snacks, alcohol. Umbrellas, more reading, more alcohol, and watching the locals wave their hands as they speak rapid fire Italian.
It will be hot, sandy, hotter, sandier. Who cares? It's Italy!
Nic and Dora, thanks for the comments. We miss you guys!
The marble quarries brought to mind all things Italian. There is no mistaking where you are when you step off the train in Italy. Damp laundry flutters from clotheslines stretched in front of rectangular windows, adding random colors to buildings already painted peach, rose, and pale yellow. Flowers add even more colors, running up drainpipes, filling roundabouts, resting on window sills.
But watch out below, as bicycles weave through streets already full of pedestrians and whining scooters. Who needs rules? A good Italian scolding is a pleasure to behold. Sometimes from mothers, sometimes clerks, but mostly from best of friends just being full of being an Italian. The ever present wire rack behind wide, cushy bicycle seats adds a load, carrying dogs, small kids, cats, maybe another adult. Rattling bikes seem to have been made in the forties, out of iron perhaps, with chain guards to protect skirts and baby legs. One handed steering is necessary because the other is holding groceries, lit cigarettes, maybe a small dog.
Fabio is back. Long, dark wavy hair. Women's shoes. Painted nails. Swarthy skin. More shoes. School age boys and girls playing late, kicking a patched ball in the street, already shouting and scolding in sing song, beautiful Italian. Stray cats, sleeping on restaurant chairs. Dogs on a leash inside the meat market. A breakfast bar, with locals standing at the bar, drinking their espresso and cappuccino as chaos rules around them.
We have been watching it all, much as the ever present eyes of the old men and women who lean out windows to watch the world below, shaking heads in dismay at the ways of a new generation. Italians have such a passion for living that it makes one want to keep returning. Doesn't seem like anywhere else.
We plan a beach day tomorrow here in Levanto. Surf, sand, beach balls, healthy women. Kids, sun, reading, snacks, alcohol. Umbrellas, more reading, more alcohol, and watching the locals wave their hands as they speak rapid fire Italian.
It will be hot, sandy, hotter, sandier. Who cares? It's Italy!
Nic and Dora, thanks for the comments. We miss you guys!
Tuesday, July 5, 2011
What Fourth?
Well, the fourth is a real dud over here in Italy, understandable since their independence day is March 17, 1861. We were trashed anyway from the all night train ride from Vienna to Milan. Had a sleeper car, but I think maybe a drunk driver. Rocked and swayed, jerked and vibrated the entire night. Things improved once we arrived in Levanto.
Bella weather and ocean views. We have been doing some hiking on the trails around these hills, just around the bend from Cingue Terra. Tomorrow we plan to hike over to Monterosso, the biggest of the five villages. This has been a great trip but we are both homesick as well. Miss some of the small things in life and some of the big ones also.
Italy is definitely breakfast challenged. Bread, cheese, minuscule espresso or cappuccino. Maybe a pastry, small juice, tomato slice. We have been drinking the nescafe in our room and waiting for lunch. So I am dreaming about pancakes and coffee refills.
But the lemon trees, grapevines, bougainvillea, olive tree orchards, wild gardenias, palm trees and Volkswagen sized agave cactus make up for a lot. It's pretty much plant paradise between Italian rock walls around here. What an Italian can do with rocks!
We are way out of touch, but haven't heard anything bad so we are thinking all is well back home. Tim and Dora, we will keep trying to Skype. Heather, don't have that baby yet. Nic, don't get married before we get back ok?
By the way independence days of note are:
660 BCE - Japan
221 BCE - China
301 CE - San Marino
843 CE - France
976 CE - Austria
10th Century CE - Denmark
1001 - Hungary
1143 - Portugal
1206 - Mongolia
1238 - Thailand
1278 - Andorra
August 1, 1291 - Switzerland
1419 - Monaco
15th Century - Spain
1502 - Iran
June 6, 1523 - Sweden
January 23, 1579 - Netherlands
1650 - Oman
May 1, 1707 - United Kingdom
January 23, 1719 - Liechtenstein
1768 - Nepal
July 4, 1776 - United States of America
January 1, 1804 - Haiti
July 20, 1810 - Colombia
Sept. 16, 1810 - Mexico
Sept. 18, 1810 - Chile
May 14, 1811 - Paraguay
July 5, 1811 - Venezuela
July 9, 1816 - Argentina
July 28, 1821 - Peru
Sept. 15, 1821 - Costa Rica
Sept. 15, 1821 - El Salvador
Sept. 15, 1821 - Guatemala
Sept. 15, 1821 - Honduras
Sept. 15, 1821 - Nicaragua
May 24, 1822 - Ecuador
Sept. 7, 1822 - Brazil
August 6, 1825 - Bolivia
August 25, 1825 - Uruguay
1829 - Greece
October 4, 1830 - Belgium
1839 - Luxembourg
February 27, 1844 - Dominican Republic
July 26, 1847 - Liberia
March 17, 1861 - Italy
July 1, 1867 - Canada
January 18, 1871 - Germany
May 9, 1877 - Romania
March 3, 1878 - Bulgaria
1896 - Ethiopia
June 12, 1898 - Philippines
January 1, 1901 - Australia
May 20, 1902 - Cuba
November 3, 1903 - Panama
June 7, 1905 - Norway
Sept. 26, 1907 - New Zealand
May 31, 1910 - South Africa
November 28, 1912 - Albania
December 6, 1917 - Finland
November 11, 1918 - Poland
December 1, 1918 - Iceland
August 19, 1919 - Afghanistan
December 6, 1921 - Ireland
February 28, 1922 - Egypt
October 29, 1923 - Turkey
February 11, 1929 - Vatican City
Sept. 23, 1932 - Saudi Arabia
October 3, 1932 - Iraq
November 22, 1943 - Lebanon
August 15, 1945 - Korea, North
August 15, 1945 - Korea, South
August 17, 1945 - Indonesia
Sept. 2, 1945 - Vietnam
April 17, 1946 - Syria
May 25, 1946 - Jordan
August 14, 1947 - Pakistan
August 15, 1947 - India
January 4, 1948 - Burma
February 4, 1948 - Sri Lanka
May 14, 1948 - Israel
July 19, 1949 - Laos
August 8, 1949 - Bhutan
December 24, 1951 - Libya
November 9, 1953 - Cambodia
January 1, 1956 - Sudan
March 2, 1956 - Morocco
March 20, 1956 - Tunisia
March 6, 1957 - Ghana
August 31, 1957 - Malaysia
October 2, 1958 - Guinea
January 1, 1960 - Cameroon
April 4, 1960 - Senegal
May 27, 1960 - Togo
June 30, 1960 - Congo, Republic of the
July 1, 1960 - Somalia
July 26, 1960 - Madagascar
August 1, 1960 - Benin
August 3, 1960 - Niger
August 5, 1960 - Burkina Faso
August 7, 1960 - Cote d'Ivorie
August 11, 1960 - Chad
August 13, 1960 - Central African Republic
August 15, 1960 - Congo, Dem. Rep. of the
August 16, 1960 - Cyprus
August 17, 1960 - Gabon
Sept. 22, 1960 - Mali
October 1, 1960 - Nigeria
November 28, 1960 - Mauritania
April 27, 1961 - Sierra Leone
June 19, 1961 - Kuwait
January 1, 1962 - Samoa
July 1, 1962 - Burundi
July 1, 1962 - Rwanda
July 5, 1962 - Algeria
August 6, 1962 - Jamaica
August 31, 1962 - Trinidad and Tobago
October 9, 1962 - Uganda
December 12, 1963 - Kenya
April 26, 1964 - Tanzania
July 6, 1964 - Malawi
Sept. 21, 1964 - Malta
October 24, 1964 - Zambia
February 18, 1965 - Gambia, The
July 26, 1965 - Maldives
August 9, 1965 - Singapore
May 26, 1966 - Guyana
September 30, 1966 - Botswana
October 4, 1966 - Lesotho
November 30, 1966 - Barbados
January 31, 1968 - Nauru
March 12, 1968 - Mauritius
Sept. 6, 1968 - Swaziland
October 12, 1968 - Equatorial
June 4, 1970 - Tonga
October 10, 1970 - Fiji
March 26, 1971 - Bangladesh
August 15, 1971 - Bahrain
Sept. 3, 1971 - Qatar
November 2, 1971 - United Arab Emirates
July 10, 1973 - Bahamas
Sept. 24, 1973 - Guinea-Bissau
February 7, 1974 - Grenada
June 25, 1975 - Mozambique
July 5, 1975 - Cape Verde
July 6, 1975 - Comoros
July 12, 1975 - Sao Tome and Principe
Sept. 16, 1975 - Papua New Guinea
November 11, 1975 - Angola
November 25, 1975 - Suriname
June 29, 1976 - Seychelles
June 27, 1977 - Djibouti
July 7, 1978 - Solomon Islands
October 1, 1978 - Tuvalu
November 3, 1978 - Dominica
February 22, 1979 - Saint Lucia
July 12, 1979 - Kiribati
October 27, 1979 - Saint Vincent and the Grenadines
April 18, 1980 - Zimbabwe
July 30, 1980 - Vanuatu
January 11, 1981 - Antigua and Barbuda
Sept. 21, 1981 - Belize
Sept. 19, 1983 - Saint Kitts and Nevis
January 1, 1984 - Brunei
October 21, 1986 - Marshall Islands
November 3, 1986 - Micronesia, Federated States of
March 11, 1990 - Lithuania
March 21, 1990 - Namibia
May 22, 1990 - Yemen
April 9, 1991 - Georgia
June 25, 1991 - Croatia
June 25, 1991 - Slovenia
August 20, 1991 - Estonia
August 21, 1991 - Kyrgyzstan
August 24, 1991 - Russia
August 25, 1991 - Belarus
August 27, 1991 - Moldova
August 30, 1991 - Azerbaijan
Sept. 1, 1991 - Uzbekistan
Sept. 6, 1991 - Latvia
Sept. 8, 1991 - Macedonia
Sept. 9, 1991 - Tajikistan
Sept. 21, 1991 - Armenia
October 27, 1991 - Turkmenistan
November 24, 1991 - Ukraine
December 16, 1991 - Kazakhstan
March 3, 1992 - Bosnia and Herzegovina
January 1, 1993 - Czech Republic
January 1, 1993 - Slovakia
May 24, 1993 - Eritrea
October 1, 1994 - Palau
May 20, 2002 - East Timor
June 3, 2006 - Montenegro
June 5, 2006 - Serbia
February 17, 2008 - Kosovo
Bella weather and ocean views. We have been doing some hiking on the trails around these hills, just around the bend from Cingue Terra. Tomorrow we plan to hike over to Monterosso, the biggest of the five villages. This has been a great trip but we are both homesick as well. Miss some of the small things in life and some of the big ones also.
Italy is definitely breakfast challenged. Bread, cheese, minuscule espresso or cappuccino. Maybe a pastry, small juice, tomato slice. We have been drinking the nescafe in our room and waiting for lunch. So I am dreaming about pancakes and coffee refills.
But the lemon trees, grapevines, bougainvillea, olive tree orchards, wild gardenias, palm trees and Volkswagen sized agave cactus make up for a lot. It's pretty much plant paradise between Italian rock walls around here. What an Italian can do with rocks!
We are way out of touch, but haven't heard anything bad so we are thinking all is well back home. Tim and Dora, we will keep trying to Skype. Heather, don't have that baby yet. Nic, don't get married before we get back ok?
By the way independence days of note are:
660 BCE - Japan
221 BCE - China
301 CE - San Marino
843 CE - France
976 CE - Austria
10th Century CE - Denmark
1001 - Hungary
1143 - Portugal
1206 - Mongolia
1238 - Thailand
1278 - Andorra
August 1, 1291 - Switzerland
1419 - Monaco
15th Century - Spain
1502 - Iran
June 6, 1523 - Sweden
January 23, 1579 - Netherlands
1650 - Oman
May 1, 1707 - United Kingdom
January 23, 1719 - Liechtenstein
1768 - Nepal
July 4, 1776 - United States of America
January 1, 1804 - Haiti
July 20, 1810 - Colombia
Sept. 16, 1810 - Mexico
Sept. 18, 1810 - Chile
May 14, 1811 - Paraguay
July 5, 1811 - Venezuela
July 9, 1816 - Argentina
July 28, 1821 - Peru
Sept. 15, 1821 - Costa Rica
Sept. 15, 1821 - El Salvador
Sept. 15, 1821 - Guatemala
Sept. 15, 1821 - Honduras
Sept. 15, 1821 - Nicaragua
May 24, 1822 - Ecuador
Sept. 7, 1822 - Brazil
August 6, 1825 - Bolivia
August 25, 1825 - Uruguay
1829 - Greece
October 4, 1830 - Belgium
1839 - Luxembourg
February 27, 1844 - Dominican Republic
July 26, 1847 - Liberia
March 17, 1861 - Italy
July 1, 1867 - Canada
January 18, 1871 - Germany
May 9, 1877 - Romania
March 3, 1878 - Bulgaria
1896 - Ethiopia
June 12, 1898 - Philippines
January 1, 1901 - Australia
May 20, 1902 - Cuba
November 3, 1903 - Panama
June 7, 1905 - Norway
Sept. 26, 1907 - New Zealand
May 31, 1910 - South Africa
November 28, 1912 - Albania
December 6, 1917 - Finland
November 11, 1918 - Poland
December 1, 1918 - Iceland
August 19, 1919 - Afghanistan
December 6, 1921 - Ireland
February 28, 1922 - Egypt
October 29, 1923 - Turkey
February 11, 1929 - Vatican City
Sept. 23, 1932 - Saudi Arabia
October 3, 1932 - Iraq
November 22, 1943 - Lebanon
August 15, 1945 - Korea, North
August 15, 1945 - Korea, South
August 17, 1945 - Indonesia
Sept. 2, 1945 - Vietnam
April 17, 1946 - Syria
May 25, 1946 - Jordan
August 14, 1947 - Pakistan
August 15, 1947 - India
January 4, 1948 - Burma
February 4, 1948 - Sri Lanka
May 14, 1948 - Israel
July 19, 1949 - Laos
August 8, 1949 - Bhutan
December 24, 1951 - Libya
November 9, 1953 - Cambodia
January 1, 1956 - Sudan
March 2, 1956 - Morocco
March 20, 1956 - Tunisia
March 6, 1957 - Ghana
August 31, 1957 - Malaysia
October 2, 1958 - Guinea
January 1, 1960 - Cameroon
April 4, 1960 - Senegal
May 27, 1960 - Togo
June 30, 1960 - Congo, Republic of the
July 1, 1960 - Somalia
July 26, 1960 - Madagascar
August 1, 1960 - Benin
August 3, 1960 - Niger
August 5, 1960 - Burkina Faso
August 7, 1960 - Cote d'Ivorie
August 11, 1960 - Chad
August 13, 1960 - Central African Republic
August 15, 1960 - Congo, Dem. Rep. of the
August 16, 1960 - Cyprus
August 17, 1960 - Gabon
Sept. 22, 1960 - Mali
October 1, 1960 - Nigeria
November 28, 1960 - Mauritania
April 27, 1961 - Sierra Leone
June 19, 1961 - Kuwait
January 1, 1962 - Samoa
July 1, 1962 - Burundi
July 1, 1962 - Rwanda
July 5, 1962 - Algeria
August 6, 1962 - Jamaica
August 31, 1962 - Trinidad and Tobago
October 9, 1962 - Uganda
December 12, 1963 - Kenya
April 26, 1964 - Tanzania
July 6, 1964 - Malawi
Sept. 21, 1964 - Malta
October 24, 1964 - Zambia
February 18, 1965 - Gambia, The
July 26, 1965 - Maldives
August 9, 1965 - Singapore
May 26, 1966 - Guyana
September 30, 1966 - Botswana
October 4, 1966 - Lesotho
November 30, 1966 - Barbados
January 31, 1968 - Nauru
March 12, 1968 - Mauritius
Sept. 6, 1968 - Swaziland
October 12, 1968 - Equatorial
June 4, 1970 - Tonga
October 10, 1970 - Fiji
March 26, 1971 - Bangladesh
August 15, 1971 - Bahrain
Sept. 3, 1971 - Qatar
November 2, 1971 - United Arab Emirates
July 10, 1973 - Bahamas
Sept. 24, 1973 - Guinea-Bissau
February 7, 1974 - Grenada
June 25, 1975 - Mozambique
July 5, 1975 - Cape Verde
July 6, 1975 - Comoros
July 12, 1975 - Sao Tome and Principe
Sept. 16, 1975 - Papua New Guinea
November 11, 1975 - Angola
November 25, 1975 - Suriname
June 29, 1976 - Seychelles
June 27, 1977 - Djibouti
July 7, 1978 - Solomon Islands
October 1, 1978 - Tuvalu
November 3, 1978 - Dominica
February 22, 1979 - Saint Lucia
July 12, 1979 - Kiribati
October 27, 1979 - Saint Vincent and the Grenadines
April 18, 1980 - Zimbabwe
July 30, 1980 - Vanuatu
January 11, 1981 - Antigua and Barbuda
Sept. 21, 1981 - Belize
Sept. 19, 1983 - Saint Kitts and Nevis
January 1, 1984 - Brunei
October 21, 1986 - Marshall Islands
November 3, 1986 - Micronesia, Federated States of
March 11, 1990 - Lithuania
March 21, 1990 - Namibia
May 22, 1990 - Yemen
April 9, 1991 - Georgia
June 25, 1991 - Croatia
June 25, 1991 - Slovenia
August 20, 1991 - Estonia
August 21, 1991 - Kyrgyzstan
August 24, 1991 - Russia
August 25, 1991 - Belarus
August 27, 1991 - Moldova
August 30, 1991 - Azerbaijan
Sept. 1, 1991 - Uzbekistan
Sept. 6, 1991 - Latvia
Sept. 8, 1991 - Macedonia
Sept. 9, 1991 - Tajikistan
Sept. 21, 1991 - Armenia
October 27, 1991 - Turkmenistan
November 24, 1991 - Ukraine
December 16, 1991 - Kazakhstan
March 3, 1992 - Bosnia and Herzegovina
January 1, 1993 - Czech Republic
January 1, 1993 - Slovakia
May 24, 1993 - Eritrea
October 1, 1994 - Palau
May 20, 2002 - East Timor
June 3, 2006 - Montenegro
June 5, 2006 - Serbia
February 17, 2008 - Kosovo
Sunday, July 3, 2011
Schindler's List
This is the coldest, wettest July 3rd I have ever been a part of. Like a gray March day in Denver. We are thanking our lucky stars because we are on railroad tracks, not bicycle wheels. Just looking out the big window in our train cabin makes one want to shiver.
Fortunately, yesterday's weather was decent enough for us to take our tour of the Nazi's former concentration camp at Auschwitz. The scope of the whole thing makes it really impossible to get any idea of how it could have happened or what it was like for the one and a half million people killed in this and various other camps. This complex was the biggest; Hitler's pride and joy, where as the result of diabolical planning, a system was devised to effectively work the prisoners to death. When someone was deemed too weak or frail to help out the war effort, they would be killed by lethal injections, Cyclon B gas, incinerated, or maybe shot. Even after death, the Germans figured out a way to use them; ashes to fertilize farms or to firm up muddy roads, hair to make carpet, and on and on.
Seemed a little strange to get back to the cheery real world of Kracow only minutes away, but that's what we did, with Laura making a shopping trip to the mall while I sipped beer in an old town Irish pub. Any preconceptions we might have had about Polish people being dour or old fashioned have been dashed. Upbeat, modern, progressive, young, party town would be more like it. As we left this morning at 6am for the train station, folks were still carousing in the streets after pulling an all nighter.
There has been some question about the most famous Pole ever after learning that Karol Jozef Wojtyla lived just down the street from our hotel when he was a mere mortal and student. After he was elected Pope in 1978, he served the second longest term in history, over 26 years. More remarkable yet, he was the first non-Italian Pope since Adrian (Dutch) in 1522.
Reluctantly we leave Poland, which we have liked better than any other country so far, and are taking a train back to Vienna, where we will spend the day before climbing aboard a night train to Venice. By the evening of the 4th we should be in Levanto, Italy, next to a beach.
We miss seeing everyone back home, along with the summer weather. Most of all the two H's. Skype has worked once or twice and we will keep trying that. Happy 4th to all. Don't think we will see any fireworks this year.
Fortunately, yesterday's weather was decent enough for us to take our tour of the Nazi's former concentration camp at Auschwitz. The scope of the whole thing makes it really impossible to get any idea of how it could have happened or what it was like for the one and a half million people killed in this and various other camps. This complex was the biggest; Hitler's pride and joy, where as the result of diabolical planning, a system was devised to effectively work the prisoners to death. When someone was deemed too weak or frail to help out the war effort, they would be killed by lethal injections, Cyclon B gas, incinerated, or maybe shot. Even after death, the Germans figured out a way to use them; ashes to fertilize farms or to firm up muddy roads, hair to make carpet, and on and on.
Seemed a little strange to get back to the cheery real world of Kracow only minutes away, but that's what we did, with Laura making a shopping trip to the mall while I sipped beer in an old town Irish pub. Any preconceptions we might have had about Polish people being dour or old fashioned have been dashed. Upbeat, modern, progressive, young, party town would be more like it. As we left this morning at 6am for the train station, folks were still carousing in the streets after pulling an all nighter.
There has been some question about the most famous Pole ever after learning that Karol Jozef Wojtyla lived just down the street from our hotel when he was a mere mortal and student. After he was elected Pope in 1978, he served the second longest term in history, over 26 years. More remarkable yet, he was the first non-Italian Pope since Adrian (Dutch) in 1522.
Reluctantly we leave Poland, which we have liked better than any other country so far, and are taking a train back to Vienna, where we will spend the day before climbing aboard a night train to Venice. By the evening of the 4th we should be in Levanto, Italy, next to a beach.
We miss seeing everyone back home, along with the summer weather. Most of all the two H's. Skype has worked once or twice and we will keep trying that. Happy 4th to all. Don't think we will see any fireworks this year.
Friday, July 1, 2011
Bye- Bye Wheels
On to Poland. Entirely flat, and unfortunately located directly between the Soviets and Germany, this nation has been marched across by both of those armies time after time. So much so that Polish jokes began like; How do you stop a Polish army on horseback? Turn off the carousel.
Our trip here started with a bike ride to the Budapest train station. After pleading with the conductor to let us bring the bicycles on board, he still would not budge. Very emphatic "no" motions. Ah.......shit. We wrote out two quick "free" signs. We leaned our faithful machines on a post, and I shed a tear or two as I waved them goodbye. Laura's email address was on the note also in case the lucky Hungarian wants to thank us.
An all day train ride back through Vienna and further east got us here around 9:30 pm. Much of the ride was spent in conversation with two Polish gals and a Norwegian couple about our age, Hilde and Thomas from Oslo. Very interesting few hours, and we will probably see the Norwegians again.
Kracow has a million people, but it doesn't seem like it around our hotel in old town. The square is one of the best we have ever seen, the Poles are friendly and extremely nice and helpful. We have hit a bad stretch of rainy, cold weather. Today is so wet we can't even walk around with our umbrella. But being in the same square where Nicolas Copernicus spent time makes up for it. He is the most famous Pole of all, formulating the theory of the sun being the center of the universe in the early 1500's.
Laura bought some scissors to give us both a cheap haircut, but we haven't used a washing machine in over a month. At times our room looks like a Chinese laundry. We are finding the food here a little more like what we are used to. Hot dishes for breakfast, refills on coffee. I actually had pancakes for breakfast this morning while you were all sleeping.
Tomorrow we have a tour lined up to Auschwitz. That will be depressing, but interesting as a part of history. I have been wanting to see it.
One more joke seems appropriate: Who wears a dirty burlap sack and rides a pig? Lawrence of Poland.
Our trip here started with a bike ride to the Budapest train station. After pleading with the conductor to let us bring the bicycles on board, he still would not budge. Very emphatic "no" motions. Ah.......shit. We wrote out two quick "free" signs. We leaned our faithful machines on a post, and I shed a tear or two as I waved them goodbye. Laura's email address was on the note also in case the lucky Hungarian wants to thank us.
An all day train ride back through Vienna and further east got us here around 9:30 pm. Much of the ride was spent in conversation with two Polish gals and a Norwegian couple about our age, Hilde and Thomas from Oslo. Very interesting few hours, and we will probably see the Norwegians again.
Kracow has a million people, but it doesn't seem like it around our hotel in old town. The square is one of the best we have ever seen, the Poles are friendly and extremely nice and helpful. We have hit a bad stretch of rainy, cold weather. Today is so wet we can't even walk around with our umbrella. But being in the same square where Nicolas Copernicus spent time makes up for it. He is the most famous Pole of all, formulating the theory of the sun being the center of the universe in the early 1500's.
Laura bought some scissors to give us both a cheap haircut, but we haven't used a washing machine in over a month. At times our room looks like a Chinese laundry. We are finding the food here a little more like what we are used to. Hot dishes for breakfast, refills on coffee. I actually had pancakes for breakfast this morning while you were all sleeping.
Tomorrow we have a tour lined up to Auschwitz. That will be depressing, but interesting as a part of history. I have been wanting to see it.
One more joke seems appropriate: Who wears a dirty burlap sack and rides a pig? Lawrence of Poland.
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
Hot Water
All things Hungarian. Who knew Buda and Pest were two separate towns until 1873? Joined now in name and also by four very pretty bridges crisscrossing the Duna. Only Hungarian High Altitude flour, along with Hungarian gulyas, rings a bell.
Gulyas, which in Hungarian means herdsman or cattle stockman, is a stew made of meat, potatoes, carrots, spices. Under my careful preparation when I used to cook for my kids, it morphed into everything I could find in the refrigerator combined into one pot.
And Hungarian High Altitude Flour has a Colorado connection. John Mullen patented the process of milling flour using the method started in Hungary. He brought it to Colorado, founding a flour milling empire that made him one of the richest men in Denver. The Flour Mill lofts by my townhouse were once a part of his Hungarian High Altitude brand. The high altitude part is simply because the flour was grown in Colorado, Montana, and the Dakotas.
Not many have heard of "taking the waters" in Hungary, but we jumped in today. A trip through Budapest on the bikes brought us to the center of City Park, where we locked the wheels outside an old, ornate, peeling yellow building. A complex built in 1913, when statuary and decoration were in fashion. The Szechenyi Spa and Baths. After being assigned a changing cabin the size of a coffin, we closed the door behind us and changed into swim attire.
Squeezing out and walking the few steps into the pool area, we had our choice of; left, a wave pool; center, a huge lap pool; right, a warm, 25 degree celcius pool. We chose the warm but, I wanted to go inside a small door on the far wall promising more hot water and soaking.
We took the plunge, entering a tomb-like cavern. Slick rock floors. Dripping. Steamy. Echoes. Bodies. Butt cheeks. Pot bellies. Fountains. Water.
One 40 degree pool, next to a 20 degree pool for the heat-ice experience. Laura partook, I declined. Pools behind low arches and mysterious corners where only the veteran Hungarians appeared to go. More arches, columns, mosaic tiles, doorways. Dripping, echoes, puddles, low ceilings. Enough of the cave, we walked outside after a half hour or so.
In the warm pool again, I noticed a sign reading szauna, pointing down a stone stairway. Laura declined. I made my way into a long room. More flesh. Arm to arm on long wooden planks, two deep, three high. I was reminded of chickens roosting in chicken coops. Sweat. Heat. Dripping. Sweat. Men, with the occasional bikini top mixed in. Squirming, sweat, sighs, drips, heads in hands.
Back outside, we tried the wave pool, where people of all ages and nationalities bumped and stumbled around a circular course, laughing like two year olds being tickled. Then back to the warm. Laura tried a power nap as I watched men playing chess on a watery board placed on a step of the pool. Conversations with strange sounds. Vratch, schzra, kooch, vlut, zloty. Every so often I heard a word like John Travolta or something actually familiar to my language challenged brain.
Tomorrow we will board a train for Kracow, Poland. After i post this, for the last time we are heading to an etterem, (restaurant) with genuine Hungarian flour and gulyas.
Gulyas, which in Hungarian means herdsman or cattle stockman, is a stew made of meat, potatoes, carrots, spices. Under my careful preparation when I used to cook for my kids, it morphed into everything I could find in the refrigerator combined into one pot.
And Hungarian High Altitude Flour has a Colorado connection. John Mullen patented the process of milling flour using the method started in Hungary. He brought it to Colorado, founding a flour milling empire that made him one of the richest men in Denver. The Flour Mill lofts by my townhouse were once a part of his Hungarian High Altitude brand. The high altitude part is simply because the flour was grown in Colorado, Montana, and the Dakotas.
Not many have heard of "taking the waters" in Hungary, but we jumped in today. A trip through Budapest on the bikes brought us to the center of City Park, where we locked the wheels outside an old, ornate, peeling yellow building. A complex built in 1913, when statuary and decoration were in fashion. The Szechenyi Spa and Baths. After being assigned a changing cabin the size of a coffin, we closed the door behind us and changed into swim attire.
Squeezing out and walking the few steps into the pool area, we had our choice of; left, a wave pool; center, a huge lap pool; right, a warm, 25 degree celcius pool. We chose the warm but, I wanted to go inside a small door on the far wall promising more hot water and soaking.
We took the plunge, entering a tomb-like cavern. Slick rock floors. Dripping. Steamy. Echoes. Bodies. Butt cheeks. Pot bellies. Fountains. Water.
One 40 degree pool, next to a 20 degree pool for the heat-ice experience. Laura partook, I declined. Pools behind low arches and mysterious corners where only the veteran Hungarians appeared to go. More arches, columns, mosaic tiles, doorways. Dripping, echoes, puddles, low ceilings. Enough of the cave, we walked outside after a half hour or so.
In the warm pool again, I noticed a sign reading szauna, pointing down a stone stairway. Laura declined. I made my way into a long room. More flesh. Arm to arm on long wooden planks, two deep, three high. I was reminded of chickens roosting in chicken coops. Sweat. Heat. Dripping. Sweat. Men, with the occasional bikini top mixed in. Squirming, sweat, sighs, drips, heads in hands.
Back outside, we tried the wave pool, where people of all ages and nationalities bumped and stumbled around a circular course, laughing like two year olds being tickled. Then back to the warm. Laura tried a power nap as I watched men playing chess on a watery board placed on a step of the pool. Conversations with strange sounds. Vratch, schzra, kooch, vlut, zloty. Every so often I heard a word like John Travolta or something actually familiar to my language challenged brain.
Tomorrow we will board a train for Kracow, Poland. After i post this, for the last time we are heading to an etterem, (restaurant) with genuine Hungarian flour and gulyas.
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