The mountains around Schliersee

We took a long weekend south of Munich in the Alpine foothill town of Schliersee situated on the lake of the same name. On arrival, Lisa wanted to take a warm-up hike, nothing too strenuous and she’d found the perfect easy trip in a hiking book we’d brought along. So after checking into our rather nice hotel we took off down the road for a light hike up the Wendelstein Mountain towards one of it’s high alpine pastures. See some of the pictures by clicking here.

Here’s my mistake, I didn’t look at the book Lisa was using to pick the short trip. Can you say over 2,000 vertical feet up? Their idea of a mild walk was probably accurate for experienced hikers … Lisa, and to a lesser extent myself, are not. We had a nice beer at the top with some local mountaineers who continually teased Lisa about her Franconia dialect and seemed amused at her distressed queries about a car that might drive her down. So after we’d been to our pasture and had our beer down we went … the wrong (read much longer) way down; but it was nice day all the same. The hotel bar proved worthy.

On day two, we opted to simply walk around the local lake and take it easy. The photos around the lake weren’t as nice as I’d have liked due to low clouds but we did get Lisa some walking sticks for day three. The town happened to be celebrating its lake festival … we had a table right on the lake with a magnificent view of the mountains … without our trusty camera (sigh).

Day three, another hike, another mountain. We found a lovely mountain hut that the book said served drinks, no food. The owners turned out to be very interesting folk of the robust Bavarian mode and we ended up having a great hearty soup to go with a beer. Lisa toured the upstairs rooms for rent declaring that I needed to come back for an overnight (note that she didn’t include herself here, no normal bath and the only way up is afoot). The somewhat older owner (possibly seventy), with white beard and hair, an earring, tattoo and deep tan, sat barefoot on the porch chatting with a guest while sipping a beer; the wife picked me for American immediately (usually, they think I’m Dutch, maybe English) … and then told of their month in Chicago cycling through the town in Bavarian traditional dress (him in leather pants … I had to laugh at that thought!). The question, who was more out of place?

The Island of Rhodes

There was certainly an inauspicious beginning; the hotel’s lovely outdoor restaurant was actually a bombing range for birds. From my perspective, the direct hit on my neck and brand new linen shirt didn’t bode terribly well although Lisa got quite a long laugh from it our first evening. It got better from there thankfully … a week sucking up sun and downing ouzo, playing beach volleyball and touring the island of Rhodes. Of course we took nearly a hundred photos but didn’t score too many great ones; some can be seen here.

The hotel was not the best, nor worst, we’ve visited over the years but it certainly was more than adequate. In response to the ever shrinking dollar (far be it from me to complain about the effects of national debt financing a war and tax cut), Lisa opted for a nice 3-star “active” hotel on Stegna Beach in a small cove on the East coast of the island. The German speaking entertainment team generally stayed up by the pool while we stayed on the beach where the Italian entertainment team amused and confused us. There was international beach volleyball twice a day (I got progressively better and then worse over the course of the week); the Italians in general were a blast if not necessarily always effective opponents. I will long remember the amused look of disdain and blast of Italian from a very fit seventy year old when a young German told him how to position for a serve; none of the Germans, nor the single Russian and American understood the words but the meaning came through so well that the rest of us laughed for five full minutes. All games were followed by a swim in very cold clear water to clean off the sand acquired by frequent brilliant diving saves and the occasional clumsy trip-up (I’ll leave it to the reader to determine which was really more frequent).

Rhodes has a long and colorful history, with the influence of many conquering cultures over the millennia showing up everywhere, especially the city of Rhodes and Lindos. We rented a car for a day of sightseeing and then again for a second evening in Lindos … and let there be no doubt about the plethora of tourists, we were among many thousands wondering the Island’s two main cities. Both cities are ancient enough to be delightful walks with small streets and alleyways that defy all but the smallest of vehicles. The Palace of the Grand Master, Knights of St. John, was especially impressive with imposing walls and halls. Lisa and I both found the cobblestone mosaics used throughout the island very pleasant and even considered if they could work on our terrace at home.

Just prior to travel, Lisa had received a temporary filling on a tooth. While there, the pain got worse and after calling the dentist, she pried out the filling (to her relief) and made a dental appointment for the afternoon we were to return home.

With inauspicious beginnings, also come inauspicious endings and the whole trip was nearly unhinged by the travel company messing with our trip home. We returned around midnight our last night from an evening in Lindos and watching a European Cup soccer match at the hotel bar to find a fax changing our flight. Instead of flying mid-day to Nürnberg (where our car was parked) they now had us on a fly an rail package … flying in the late evening to Munich where we could take the train to Nürnberg. Mind you, their idea of catching a train at midnight wasn’t exactly a viable option; in fact we’d have waited five hours for a train and gotten home well into the next morning. Besides Lisa’s dental appointment, it was also Chris’ twenty-first birthday and we had promised to take him and his girlfriend to the restaurant of their choice. The very short version: Lisa slept none (therefore neither did I), we spent a small fortune in international calls from my mobile phone, ended up paying the airline direct for the “last two” seats on the flight we had a voucher for from the travel company, took a cab to the airport only to have the travel company call while in route and say they’d get us on with our voucher (certainly fearing the bill we were going to send them,) Air Berlin cancelled the charge and an uneventful flight home. I had firm plans to walk up the hills with the camera that last morning to snap some great views of the small cove of our beach but had to scratch it; much to my annoyance … they would have been super.

Anyway, all’s well that ends well … it was a good trip. Chris decided on a Greek restaurant.

Italy by train and trail

Closing up another business trip to Vicenza, Italy seems to demand a story, something that always seems to be the case when I go there, no matter the transportation mode. I opted for the train this time and had an uneventful trip for the most part albeit with five different trains each way (10 hours down, 9 back). Both coming and going, all the trains were new, fast and nice with one exception; unfortunately the Italian trains between Rosenheim and Verona, through Austria and the Alps, was of much older stock with unwashed windows obscuring the magnificent view. From Verona to Vicenza the conductor informed me I had to pay an additional €9 in what I annoyingly considered highway robbery. I handed her a €10 note, received €11 in change and for the first time in my life did not correct her error; pocketing a €1 annoyance fee. The Italian train system always manages to do something to make a great trip somewhat less so; and then make up for it.

From the Vicenza station I took a bus, stayed at the Inn on post and on the recommendation of the front desk walked to a local restaurant notable for its tiny interior and enormous cook (400 lbs if an ounce). I doubt 20 could be seated but the food was good, plentiful enough for the cook, and more than reasonably priced (€13 including wine and water). I’ll save you the tale of changing my tickets to a later train due to an unplanned meeting this morning … suffice it to say I’ve no clue how I’ll file my travel voucher. I vowed to plan my next trip better and spend more time exploring the old city of Vicenza itself; it shows promise of a great old city to wander aimlessly through with a camera.

This morning was the absolute highlight; I’d been invited to join a group for a “trail” run with the promise of a fantastic view. A trail in my part of Germany is through a tended forest … wide trails, only very moderate hills, and good footing (read no slick rocks or steep bare ground). So when the four of us drove toward a large mountain bluff and parked in a picturesque and ancient town at the base of enormous cliffs I had the sinking feeling that my 47 year old tail had gotten itself into something it shouldn’t have. A Navy Commander led the way commenting it was fortunate it hadn’t rained or this trail would be dangerous (me wondering what the Navy was doing charging up steep hills). It was over a mile up the steepest climb I’ve ever actually “run” (between 500 and 600 vertical feet according to Google Earth). Yeah, when the undergrowth got too thick or the rocks too slick, we slowed to a fast walk; but otherwise we did, indeed, run. As we paused at a level meadow to take on the first of many great views I was convinced my calves would explode and heard myself saying we needed to go on just to loosen them up. Let me assure you, the view from this large hill overlooking ancient towns, churches, country villas, 400 ft cliffs with houses built into them half way up and the valley below was worth every second of the fight up … and the run down was possibly the most satisfying I’ve ever had. Unfortunately I had neither camera nor time to return.

The trip home has been uneventful, if much later than originally planned; I’ve finished some reports and read the better part of Donna Leon's latest novel. A late lunch consisted of a three course meal in the restaurant car riding through the scenic Alps with a small bottle of wine … pleasure pure. Dinner in the Munich station was a quick but good Chinese dish. At the moment, I’m sitting in a new InterCityExpress (bullet train) from Munich en route Nürnberg listening to a mix of blues and jazz from this computer; we're approaching 200mph riding smooth as silk while passing a few Porsche on the adjacent autobahn. Life is good, even if it has been a terribly long day. I wonder how my legs will feel tomorrow.

p.s. legs were fine the next day.

Chris and the Ammersrichter Kirwa

My son Chris the traditional dancer? The latest version of “Shock and Awe”.

A Kirwa is a local festival that originated on religious grounds that have largely melted away … there must be a church or chapel nearby and a service but the rest is pure fun. If you’re so inclined to read the German version of Wikipedia you’d learn that each region of Germany has its own name for it, as well as their own customs and traditions. Here in the Oberpfalz (Upper Palatinate) region of Bavaria it certainly includes young unmarried dancing couples with a very rowdy weekend. For the rest of us, there is a beer tent, music and food … oh, and did I mention beer?

Anyway, it was with more than a bit of surprise two months ago when we asked Chris why he’d bought traditional lederhosen (leather pants) and learned from his girlfriend Vanessa that he was a “kirwabursch” … I laughed for several hours till I cried! My introverted, non-dancing son in such a troop? I think Vanessa has him around her little finger … she of Ammersricht.

Chris left the house Saturday morning at 5 a.m. to help find and cut down the tree … last night it was serviced by scalping the bark decoratively and then erecting it outside the large beer tent. I understand he got four hours sleep after pulling guard (shame to the entire village if another group of youths from the neighboring towns steel your tree) and this afternoon (Sunday) he and Vanessa were among 32 young unmarried couples who, in various states of sobriety, provided an hour and a half long traditional dance around said tree. If you look at the pictures, this afternoon was not in lederhosen but at least he had a corny hat that Vanessa had made for him. It was actually quite fun to watch and we even got to meet Vanessa’s parents on a lovely sunny afternoon. Click here to see more photos

Passau

For those of you interested in the sights of Germany, Lisa and I spent three days in Passau, a beautiful university city near the Austrian border and on the confluence of the Danube, Inn and Ilz rivers. It was a very pleasant trip, but of course not without some oddities. Follow this link to the photo gallery.

The first oddity came Thursday evening. We had a very pleasant Croatian dinner and then looked for a bar with a TV to watch the European Cup soccer game between Bayern Munich and the Spanish team FC Getafe. Bayern, a powerhouse in European soccer with lots of very well paid superstars needed a strong showing to make it to the quarter finals. Getafe has no real stars and ranked near the bottom of the Spanish league … they’ve been incredibly lucky during the tournament just to get this far. We found a small bar run by students with a big screen TV and settled in with a couple beers for what turned out to be a very exciting game that went into overtime tied 1:1. Soon Getafe was ahead 3:1 and after the 15 minute overtime we went home thinking Munich had lost. Oh, did I mention we’d had wine with dinner and an after dinner schnapps on the house? Or that we had three beers at the bar with two schnapps on the house? The first news story the next morning was how Luca Toni had saved Bayern in the closing minutes of overtime … the second overtime period. This of course clinches my status as a soccer genius. By the way, my hung-over four mile run the next morning along the River Inn was even less inspiring.

We took a river ship ride Friday with lovely weather and were among the five youngest on the entire ship of 350 passengers. And surprise, we accidently got on the Kristallschiff (Crystal Ship), a 262 foot three decked, 700 passenger river ship decked out with millions of Swarovski crystals. The tickets weren’t too expensive, neither was the on-board meal, but add in the drinks (only one beer thank you) over five hours and they did make some money off us. The 300+ group of elderly folk got off on the return voyage and left roughly 30 of us on board for the last hour or two. Of particular interest was going through a set of locks with another ship.

The last day held a trip to a nice museum, really lousy weather and a drive home.

Washington Dulles Airport ...

For those of you who think air travel is fun or exciting, let me rule out the former and elaborate on the later. Last month I flew to Norfolk, Virginia via Washington Dulles Airport. As some of you know, Dulles is my least favorite airport in the world … I’ve been to third world airports that are more efficient. The efficiency part basically held to norms but this time there were at least some silver linings.

On 2 March I departed Frankfurt late and listened to a dead-heading Purser sitting next to me complain about how his team had been treated getting on the flight (I wasn’t real happy either, having been led to believe my upgrade would clear, which it hadn’t). We landed late in Dulles but to my amazement I breezed through customs and would have made my connection had it not been canceled. The good part was that during the 5 hour wait for the last flight to Norfolk I met an American reporter for the magazine “The Economist” while having a beer. If you don’t know the publication, it’s a very strong news magazine … much more cerebral than most, thicker and more expensive. Living in London, she was in the states covering the campaign (her flight to Houston was also delayed; she was linking up with the Obama campaign). At any rate, I had a fascinating conversation hearing her take for the candidates, all of whom she’s been interviewing for years.

I arrived in Norfolk near midnight and the hotel nearer 1 a.m. (the conference started at 8 a.m.) but my suitcase didn’t show up for two full days. Where normally the airlines know where the bag is, this time they had not a clue and I feared for the first time it might truly be “lost” … a very good thing I wear a coat and tie and carry on two days of shirts and underwear J.

Going home on the 8^th and 9^th of March had just as much “excitement”. The weather forecast was less than great, resplendent with a tornado watch for Norfolk and high winds in Washington. My one hour layover looked iffy so I rebooked to an earlier flight out of Norfolk which predictably was late. The overseas flight was also late but it didn’t matter much since my upgrade had cleared. I went to the business class lounge where the only open seat was at the bar. The waitress ignored my signal for another beer and a guy standing next to me calls out loud enough for her to hear … it was a nice gesture and we traded a couple lines before he took his drinks to his seat. When a large flight was called seats opened up and I took one, only then noticing I’m sitting across from the guy and his female partner. After about five or ten minutes I realize she’s Vallerie Bertanelli, having recognized her primarily because I’d looked at her new bestselling book the day prior at a Barnes and Noble. They were late to LA, and a small group of us had a nice, somewhat rowdy, conversation while debating being how many times they could move flight back by 15 or 30 minutes. My flight departed first, 3 hours late.

Score for the trip, 4 flights late, one outright canceled … excitement pure. I’ll give Dulles one thing, since you’re likely to get stuck there you at least might have some interesting conversation.

Sunny skiing, Jagatea, Lunar Eclipse ... a GREAT TRIP

Wow! Sitting at my keyboard the morning after our trip, wow, seems to be the best way to summarize it. My pal Chip and I had five straight days of perfect cloudless, windless, relatively warm days skiing. For the uninitiated, that is pretty rare in the Alps, and certainly neither of us remember such luck. So despite less than perfect snow conditions and a smaller area to ski than we were used to, this was clearly the best ski trip I’ve ever had.

Expectations were high, as anyone sending an email to my work account would have seen with my automated out of office reply:

I am on leave skiing in Austria through 22 Feb and, subject to my ability to defy the whims of gravity, will be back in the office on the 25th. When not taste testing the various local beverages, I’ll be on a mountain trying to prove I’ve really not aged while avoiding too many auditions for the Wide World of Sports “Agony of Defeat.” Although I’d really like to read and respond to your email immediately, it probably won’t happen …

For the record my only fall (which Chip says doesn’t count) was from a full stop; this despite having flown down quite a few advanced (very steep) runs. Why is that up front you ask? Because it’s very unusual for me and all the more amazing following a two year hiatus sliding down mountains with skinny high tech boards strapped to my boots.

Lisa’s Personalized Tours (a very low cost travel agent … or extremely high, depending on how one looks at it) again set us up, this time in Maria Alm, a small Austrian town in the Hochkönig ski region just south of Salzburg. The Hotel Lohningerhof was more than adequate with half board and a great sauna area to relax after long days on the slopes. I will never cease to be amazed with how many good conversations get started in saunas; certainly the hotel had plenty of interesting people. Half of them were Danish with rowdy small kids (Denmark being on school vacation this week); most of the rest, Germans curious with the oddity of two Americans who spoke “perfect” German (something our wives or any semi-legitimate German instructor would strongly disagree with). The ski area was relatively small even if our ski ticket covered a huge area (if one wanted to drive) but it boasted very short lift lines and remarkably un-crowded piste (trails or runs). The slopes also had more than the normal share of skihütten, small restaurants that would have been very cozy inside had we not always opted to sit out in the sun with our lunch, beer or jagatea (not sure what jaga translates too, but suffice it say it was hot and has a very pleasant kick to it). Thanks again to Lisa!

Maria Alm itself is a rather sleepy little town dominated by a small church with towering steeple and only a couple bars (at least bars that aren’t part of the score or so hotels); put another way it has less nightlife to offer than most ski areas. We took the offer up on our last night all the same and closed down a very lively little place just in time to see the full lunar eclipse with mountains in the foreground. For those of you who know my proclivity for early retirement to bed, you’ll be more than a bit shocked to know closure was sometime after 4 a.m. Our luck with cloudless skies held to that point and the eclipse was an incredibly cool sight to behold, even slightly inebriated at 20° F. Our plans to ski yesterday morning were scratched in favor of recovery before driving home; more luck on our part, since yesterday morning … it started to rain.

Playing for Pizza and other good reads

Just in case you’ve an impulse to pick up a new book or two … below are some good books I’ve read in the last few months.

First and foremost, Playing for Pizza by John Grisham is the most enjoyable book I’ve read in years. Yes, the John Grisham that brought you A Time to Kill and other great lawyer thrillers … but the only lawyer (judge actually) in this book is an Italian running back who thinks he’s Franco Harris. The idea is fabulous, a 3^rd string NFL quarterback blows the AFC championship game and overnight becomes the worst QB in NFL history while lying unconscious in the hospital. Unemployed, he winds up with the Parma Panthers of the Italian Football League that allows up to 3 American “Pros” per team. I’d given the book to my pal Gerhard with a twenty minute short course on American football (nope, most Germans have no clue what a quarterback is) and had to chuckle several days later when he text messaged me “you said this was a book on American football, I’m reading a book on Italian food!” It says much on both cultures, American and Italian, and it does so with a tremendous amount of fun. Most of the Italian players are in it for the love of the game (they love to hit) and the post practice pizza with their comrades … which may be why I enjoyed it so much, since one of the great things about playing in a German basketball league is the culturally obligatory beers after practice. Pick it up, you’ll enjoy it.

Other notable books I've read of late:

Napoleon, by Frank McLynn. What amazes me most about this long and well written book is how much it covers of Napoleon’s life, his psychological makeup and his achievements and yet leaves so much yet to ponder. Clearly one of the great men of the ages, Napoleon remains enigmatic … rarely dealing with betrayal by those close to him he nonetheless once said the loss of a million soldiers meant nothing to him.

And finally, from David Baldacci, I strongly recommend the The Camel Club series (The Camel Club, The Collectors and recently released Stone Cold). Thrillers, they are of full of conspiracy and all the normal trappings … what sets them apart are the misfit oddball heroes of the series. Lovable and quirky, all three books are great, although the latest is much darker than its siblings.

Our intrepid cameraman on the campaign trail

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