Day 15 and 16 VIENNA Austria to the USA
21/22 June 2005 Tuesday/Wednesday
Vienna
My mother and I were among the first group to return to the US and thus we were also the first group to assemble downstairs. In the early light, we could appreciate exactly how close we were to the airport. Literally across the street.
Katya and Nela were already downstairs in the lobby, alert but somewhat worn. Slow trickle of GCT passengers. We greet each other. Some chose to go on to the airport with Nela to stand in line and leave. Some of us chose to wait the 5 –1 0 minutes for the free breakfast before going across.
I don’t know how it is for anyone else, but the trickiest part of travel is always the hefting of bags, densely packed as they always are, from the ground to any higher surface. It’s a heaving thing. So it was wonderful to have a hotel fellow with a large cart take our baggage across the way and into the now crowded and ever-filling airport lobby.
Farewell to GCT, our fabulous fellow journey men and women. My last glance of Nela was standing guard over the pile of bags, directing traffic. Gerald was back at the hotel with the travellers who would take the extended three days in Vienna. And Katya was back in the hotel lobby keeping the flow constant between the hotel and airport. Great thanks to all three.
We were told that we should stand in the long ever-increasing line of passengers waiting for the check-in desks to open up. If you kick or drag your hand carries and your luggage, it works though 15 minutes into standing there, I suddenly had a crisis of confidence. Were we even in the correct line? Nowhere did it say UNITED AIRLINES above any of the check out counters. I wiggled back to one of a familiar GCT fellow travellers who verified that we were where we were supposed to be (thank you so much for knowing the right answer!) and they told us that one of our group had gotten all the way to the check in desk to find that their tickets were misprinted! For the next day! And the moral of that story is, ladies and gentlemen, check your airline tickets as soon as they arrive in the mail! And the corollary to that tale is that mistakes can be made at any time. Thank goodness for Nela and Katya who were more than capable of finding the solution to even that very sticky problem. I wish I knew how that all ended up.
USA at last!
The trip from Vienna to Zurich was uneventful and once again familiar GCT faces were on that flight and even the one from Zurich to Dulles. Customs was easy, and as usual, my mother’s titanium hips rang every security control point along the way. Gives me time to put on my shoes while they do the usual check on my mom.
Even hand carry bags can be quite heavy since ours have no wheels. AND the distances between gates seemed to have increased since the last time we had passed the same route. Or was that because our day had begun at 4 AM in Vienna a jillion miles earlier?
We had two more flights yet to take: Dulles to Houston and then the puddle jumper from Houston to Austin. On both those flights were our GCT colleagues from Texas. Now we were all so exhausted as to be mute, but two relatively short flights and we were home – to hot steamy Texas. Yi-pee ka-yay!
Day 14 MELK Austria
20 June 2005 Monday
MELK, AUSTRIA
6:20am
We passed into Austria about 6:30pm Somehow there really is a distinction that can be made between the German land and the Austrian land. We are putting to in the regular way. Come up to the pier, lay out the ramp and then secure the aluminum walkway by means of crane and such, The bank to the left has a ribbon of rocks and a bank that slopes up, then a thick wall of trees and the beyond the hills rise up. Yesterday neat buildings slid by, nestled in the dark green.
In the lobby, next to the pastry plate that sits out in the early morning before breakfast is served, one of our travellers speaks to the captain about his 40 years of boating. He speaks of the maintenance and the upkeep of his sailboat in an attempt to engage a fellow sailor in the rarefied language of water. The captain laughs,"I have never sailed not one meter. Only motorboats," he says. Politely excuses himself and steps outside the sliding glass doors to the sailors: weather worn men with fair hair and reddened skin and stout bodies. There is one lean fellow in particular. No nonsense. No frills. He strides around and up and down, he throws ropes and hoists and is completely unconscious of we ignorant passengers. Job to do. Never smiles. Rarely talks. Work work work.
This must be a difficult life. Months of sailing up and down the rivers. But the sailors, ever present, always wakeful as we pass through lock after lock after lock after lock. Now, every lock that we pass through brings us lower and lower, where everything up until about 2 days ago went higher and higher and higher. A long barge with a slender body like the snout of an alligator passes. The Sura from Luxembourg. Limp flag from Bavaria on the back to identify its German origins.
After many polite passenger inquiries about my emails, it is clear that I should make these electronic missives available to everyone and anyone in blogform. After a half hour of tossing late last night, I worked it all out smoothly in my mind and then felt better.
8:00am. Lots of activity in the lobby. I should be finishing my packing as we sail from Melk to Vienna between 11:00 am and 6:00pm. That should be more than enough time.
At Melk Abbey we will be seeing the monastery that was apparently the inspiration for Umberto Ecco's 'The Name of the Rose.' At 6:00 PM we will be leaving the boat for the musical performance in Vienna and then wake-up call at 3:00 am and suitcases out by 4:15 am. Then we are off to the airport at 5:00am for our short hop to Zurich and then our longer Atlantic hop to Dulles.
One woman, clearly not comfortable with heights, verifies with Katya that our bus does not have cling to the side of some precarious road up and up and up to the Melk Abbey. No. Don’t worry.
Boat rocking, and as the sliding door opens. Gerald, the program director of the red group wears a red shirt that proudly announces 'Osterreich'. Red on red. Now that’s Austrian pride!
Time to send. I am off.
Melk
The buses, we were told, were not far. They could not get any closer than they already were, so Katya sent off those who were ready. Just follow the path along the water and you will come to a parking lot.Yet another fabulously crisp blue-skied day. We pass several homes, including one set well back from the path, low white picket fence and some stone structures. We board the buses and settle in for the short ride to the Melk Abbey.
Katya boards, somewhat frazzled. She tells us that she had inadvertently left the voucher book on the ship and would we be so kind as to wait a few minutes while she ran back. Of course, since there was no entering the Abbey without payment. She returns, now thoroughly breathless.
Bad news, she tells us. Sometime during the night, one of the engines broke. Machine head damage. Was that the awful grinding metallic sound that I heard last night, thinking that this was yet another lock, or a scraping along the sides of the walls? Last night the ship was able to limp on to Melk on one engine but it was uncertain whether we would be able to get to Vienna reliably on one engine.
We are told that ship engineers are on their way from the Netherlands, but there remains an important question: How will we arrive in Vienna? By boat or by bus?
So it was a minor miracle that we could have been tied up so innocently at Melk. The River Harmony could have just as well been floating dead in the middle of the river with all engines disabled. We have been taking everything for granted. Silent thanks to the crew.
There is still the morning in Melk Abbey however. And despite the uncertainty, our morning is meant for Melk. The bus trip is a very short one, out of the parking lot, across a bridge, up a winding road to another lot. Only a bit of a descent on stairs to the Abbey grounds. It has all become an even greater adventure, and the spirit of the group is relatively undampened.
Cultivated gardens. Maze-like, I think, though we did not have time to examine them carefully. We walked on through a formal entrance into a large rectangular courtyard with modern metal sculptures. Our local guides are young 20-something Austrian women.
Our group leader tells us that this is not only an active Benedictine monastery (we have encountered many Benedictine communities on this trip!), but these buildings also house the public high school. Whoa. Handsome classical buildings are on all four sides, and most of the windows are wide open. I wonder how many classes are being held at this very moment, and how different the typical American public school would look! Perhaps it would not be so difficult to lure excellent high school teachers to the classroom if all high schools looked like this. For sure.
Within the four facades are modern paintings interpreting the four Benedictine philosophies. The only one that remains in my mind is Faith, though I am impressed with the Benedictines. These modern pieces displayed a degree of artistic enlightenment.
Exhibit of interesting interpretations of symbol and icon and history and historical figures. Artifacts and reliquary and vestments. One artist documents a day in the abbey with projections on all four walls. There is a chest with dozens of antique locks. A scale model of the abbey rotates slowly on a rectangular table.
Out to a terrace overlooking the town of Melk. As always, picturesque gathering of neat roofs and streets that snake between and gardens and the Danube beyond. It was at this point, in view of the lovely Austrian hill and dale, that I wanted to really get home. Almost all the space in my brain was completely taken up with postcard after postcard of German and Austrian vistas.
The terrace curved around and we stood amid towering shelves of books. Ah! This was the famed library that inspired Ecco’s ‘The Name of the Rose." However the movie version was far more primitive, windowless, dreary and grim. And the books were not for public viewing, but hidden away as all knowledge in the medieval days was not deemed ‘safe’ for common consumption. These books that we were seeing were not the most valuable naturally, only the younger ones capable of withstanding an unregulated environment. So all books were still not available.
Through the church, once again an elaborate testament to Benedictine devotion and then down a deceptive spiral stair with a clever mirror at the bottom. A device to remind the viewer of illusion and reality. Lots of cameras came out to record that little trick.
At the other end of the church visit, our tour guides informed us that our ship was indeed going to remain in Melk for repairs. Our mission was now to return to the River Harmony and pack before lunch. Instructions would be given at that time. Purpose set in heavily.
There was a choice to be made for we visitors of the Abbey: either wait for the GCT bus at the designated spot in Melk, or walk. And it was not a bad walk becauseof the downward direction. There was a row of stores that needed to be examined albeit swiftly.
Bright blue band of sky, square church tower ahead but no time to peek inside. The walk across the bridge and between the two rows of towering trees was gorgeous, though in our minds we were already packing and zipping and squeezing all the excess air out of our luggage.
Lunch was still scheduled for the same time, but I was very aware that we would be seeing these warm Slovakian smiles for the last ship’s meal. Last buffet, last soup, last coffee regular with soya milk, last fruit cup. My mother and I still had about an hour of the final tucking and crushing and checking under things to be ready for our trip home. Key deposits, tips dispersed. Hugs all around.
We were all to have our suitcases outside our rooms by 3:00 pm with the proper bits of yarn conspicuously tied to the handles. Bags needed to be loaded on the appropriate buses, but not brought out to the narrow halls until the staff was ready to move them.
Our departure was an orderly affair with the entire crew on hand to systematically recede. All in all a simple affair.
Our bags were placed beneath the buses and we made our final farewells to the crew as they stood on either side of us on the ramp. Appropriately ceremonial, though the most dear farewells were made between the crew and the tour guides.
The quiet trip to Vienna in the Austrian countryside took less time than planned. Our previously optional program of ‘Musical Vienna’ had became a free concert for all at the Kursalon. Our early arrival enabled us to take two loops through busy Vienna. This was by far the most populated city we had entered throughout the entire trip. Monuments and civic buildings and tram lines and cars and buses and MacDonald’s/Starbucks and advertisements. It was a sort of segway back to the present.
And there was a small segment of the Danube within the tall buildings and billboards; a dirty strip of water between two narrow walls. Is that what had happened to the cheerful little watery way that we had left behind in Melk? Somehow that was an unpleasant letdown. Our wonderful water journey had ended so abruptly that we were never really able to bid a proper farewell to the Danube.
Our buses deposited us a bit early at the Kursalon, a building for both dining and concert going. There is time to walk about the park before the tables are set for our dinner. We all walk around and perch on various benches before walking in for our meal.
It is a fine meal, lots of wine. Can’t remember anymore than that. The performance is upstairs with some very talented musicians and vocalists. Particularly memorable was a young man and woman with beautiful operatic voices. By the end of the performance I know that we were relieved. There was very little time to rest before the final trip home.
The upscale nh Vienna Airport Hotel boasted very chic accommodations. Every bit of furnishing, lighting, and space was integrated and well designed. The translucent shower wall between the bath and the sleeping area was INTERESTING, however I for one would have loved to have had more days at that hotel. Our bags were already delivered to our rooms and we asked for a 4 o’clock wakeup call. Barely unpacked. Light sleep before our long trip home.
Day 13 PASSAU Austria
19 June 2005 Sunday
We are late by about 45 minutes and will be at Passau by about 10:00 am instead of 9:15 am as we thought. Presently we are in a lock that seems locked up with barges (excuse the pun). And in front of me, the program directors at the desk below are speaking English, I can hear them mocking the travellers that will come up to them whining at the very last moment having to cancel optional trips that they have already scheduled. When they joke in English, I know that they don't might me overhearing since they could absolutely lapse into Flemish or German. Perhaps they grow tired of English from time to time.
Passau
The confluence of three rivers, the 'Venice of Germany." We all raised our eyebrows at that appellation, wondering how that could possibly be without canals running through it. Perhaps there were canals. There were some buildings with the pointed windows and some banners from windows, but the colors of the buildings made me think of Greece. Surprising Mediterranean blues yellows pinks greens one against the other.
Curious little snafu at Passau. When we pulled up to the dock in Passau the gate at the end of the gangway was locked. Chained. So there we were, all prepared and standing in neatly waiting for the gate to be opened. One of our passengers had friends waiting on the other side. Apparently these were parents of a German student who had stayed in an American home. Great excitement and frustration.
Clearly someone in possession of the key must have gone to church or taken off for the weekend. Calls were made. Permission eventually obtained to make an important snip. Finally one of our unsmiling sailors connected two lengths of extension cords and cut the lock in half with an electric cutty thing. Hooray! The chains fell away and in our color coded groups, we flowed towards St Stephen's Cathedral.
Sunday Mass in the cathedral with the largest organ in Germany. And not only was it an impressive instrument, it made an enormous sound. HUGE. After one mass there was an elaborate rush of earth-shaking music. My hair stood on end, the low rumbling making me jump out of my skin. We sat for the next mass and just before the bishop and his entourage came up with glorious procession in gold vestments and scarlet skullcap. Incense, fantastic soloists and the choir that filled the cavernous cathedral.
Just before the procession began, an impressively large fellow in an imposing grey coat and silver buttons shooed away any staring tourists, who were easily identifiable since they standing with their backs to the altar looking at the organ. Many community members were dressed in the traditional garb: Lederhosen for the men and the German dirndls(sp)and checkered dresses with ornate silver buttons. Later on, my foot travels through Passau, and I would see these garments on sale with exorbitant price tags. Lederhosen – in a soft brown suede for men – 235 EU. Felt hats with twisted rope trim. Vests, hats, embroidery for adults and children available.
Interesting winding cobbled roads reminiscent of Italy and Greece. And with the bright sunshine and the tanned tourists and the colors all around, it really did seem like the Mediterranean.
After church we made our way back to the ship for lunch and then I changed for a quick walkabout. Most of the stores were closed as it was Sunday but the souvenir shops and ice cream shops were open. I purchased my bracelet charms for Passau. Didn't feel like buying postcards, so I took many shots to make up for that. I spent no money in that area.
But I did wander all the way down to St Paul's Church, a lovely pink church with an elevated path that rose up from the sidewalk so you couldn't help but go through. An evangelistic piece of sidewalk that rose up and forced the pedestrian right into the church. One would be innocently walking along, minding their own business and then WHOOPS! Quiet, white walls, high dark oil paintings, white ornamentation in the ceiling. And very few people there on that lovely Sunday afternoon admiring the side chapels and the high altar. I walked through slowly, a shadow only, and then emerged onto the street renewed with missionary zeal. Not.
Walk walk walk walk all the way back in time for high tea and the all important disembarkment discussion.
Changed for high tea by switching earrings only. There was supposed to be an apfelstrudel demonstration by the cook in the lounge. Pity we didn't have a mirror over head to see his hands and how he flipped the dough and filling and rolled it neatly with the tablecloth as his ally. This I did not witness with mine own eyes, but could imagine it in my mind. There were trays of small samples of Austrian pastries, small and beautiful to even a non-eater of sweet things. Pretty to see nonetheless. When the demonstration was over, and the poor overworked cook was finished and had bowed at the applause, ice cream was scooped out and plates arranged and dessert eaten before the champagne toast and the captain's dinner.
Disembarkation talk. Clear and not clear though we got the clarification later on and everything was fine. 15 minutes before the captain's toast and we went to our cabin and then up again. When I saw what people were wearing I flew down again, jumped into the shower for the world's zippiest shampoo and shower and then up again with my wet hair combed down and then clipped up formally. Glass of champagne with our fellow travellers and then the stream to the dining room.
The captain's dinner was an ambitious affair as was the first sailing dinner: appetizer, hot appetizer, sherbet, entree, dessert. 5 full courses. I have learned to eat very selectively and still I feel like an elephant.
Poor overworked staff! Hope they sleep as well as we will tonight!
Day 12 REGENSBURG, Germany
18 June 2005 Saturday
5:45 am
Sailing quietly toward Passau, our last city in Germany before we go on to Hungary. Bright sunshine on the Danube River. We are sailing more towards the left bank, which is lined with lush forest all the way to the very edge of the bank.
One difference is that there is a line of rocks that is visible at the edge where the Main/Danube Canal's banks tended to dropped directly into the water. All this is still completely domestic scale. None of this fantastic middle Rhine River castles and green hills time. Still very Beatrix Potter. We are passing yet another unnamed town with a church with a square yellow tower and a black metal onion dome. Can you just imagine a river and banks so very clean and neat. NO adverstisements on the river, only distance markers which may have a number that is meaningful to the captains of the ships that pass.
Now tall oak type trees with fields beyond and much further distance away is a line of tall deciduous trees, a dark border against the distant horizon. There have been some overtones of Fayetteville TX in the springtime before the heat of the summer burns everything away to crispy brown. I can see some of the European influences in the land in Fayette County, and even more in the Fredericksburg area translated West Texas style
Even as I have been writing, the trees have grown up suddenly next to the bank and obscured the view beyond, but the river waters continue quietly. Occasionally we pass an area of the water from which little bits of steam rises up and we glide by at about 10 - 15 mph or so.
There are some who are up as early. One woman reads, her husband is picking at the fresh pastries, another walks about in his white T shirt with a cup of machine generated coffee. A woman in capris and very short white hair has stepped out beyond the sliding glass doors and drinks orange juice at the railing. The few of us who are stirring speak quietly, greet each other cordially, but are favoring the morning bubbles of private silence.
A temporary settlement of little colorful pup tents now sprinkled near a bank. We are told that trailer parks are not permitted in Germany, but vacation campers may camp temporarily. The banks of the Danube River are as good as any travel spot. Funny how Germans are said to be as numerous and obnoxious as the Japanese, and when we descend upon one of our destinations with our GCT tags hanging around our necks with our names and our American cities and states identified and our colored dots, I think about that. We represent euros for the local community, but we must also appear as gawking pests joining the throngs of other gawking pests.
DANUBE GORGE/WELTENBERG MONASTERY/KELHEIM/REGENSBERG
I am still pondering the death of our watches in Nurnberg. It was as if Hitler's evil still was infused into the stones of the city. I did not feel like speaking very much through dinnerIt was as though we had lost the sun for months and I was severely malnourished. It occurred to me that I could just pick up the phone and tell Katya at the desk that I wanted to cancel going to the optional tour the next day to the Danube Gorge. I just wanted to sit and think about Nurnberg. But then again, perhaps Katya was already in her quarters, so I fell into a deep forgetting sleep of my own.
When I awoke, I got up, walked up to the receptionist desk, found the two emails - one from you and the other from Kristin, and all was much more right with the world. By the time the ship was really stirring, more than just the industrious staff who polishes the brass railings, the marble tiles, dusts the padded library chairs and generally makes the ship just right for we spoiled passengers.
I was at the computer with my endless cups of coffee tapping away when we pulled up to the little dock near Kelheim. Took photographs of the sailors who jumped ashore and pulled the ropes and directed the small crane to bring down the aluminum walkways. Routine, precise, coordinated and so fascinating that I hadn't noticed the fantastic round temple structure high atop the hill.
A round yellow knob with copper dome and statues all around. Classical references for sure, and just looking down at us beyond the fields and borders of trees. We had enough time to have breakfast before we set off for the optional tour. Those of us who had chosen the Danube Gorge Tour walked the short distance to the buses (2) and the rest were to stay aboard the boat that sail on to Regensberg and meet us there for lunch. This was only a morning tour and then after lunch on the ship, we were to take a walking tour of Regensberg with local guides and then be entertained by Hans O in the evening.
My mother had opted two days ago to forego the Danube Gorge trip because she was beginning to anticipate the trip back (still 3-4 days away at the time) and I knew that she was walking slower and slower.
I took some photographs of the wheat growing and the road side before I jumped onto the bus, and then off. Short trip in the green and then disembark. The path we are to take goes beside sheer walls of limestone that rise up. A complicated wire fence has been erected to keep any falling limestone bits from leaping off and striking the cars below. We walk the 1/2 mile to the Weltenberg Monastery because buses are not allowed to take the route so as not further weaken the road.
On the way, Katya stops at a pillar-like monument with German on one side and English on the other. Apparently in 1975 three American soldiers were on some mission on the road above and slipped/fell from the limestone path and died in the Danube River. Ironically, one of the three names was Lucky. Not so. Dodging the lone car or bicyclist, some of whom drove up the path to the unassuming monastery, Katya stopped at a statue of St. Nipacook (sp) and proceeded to tell of the King who was suspicious of his wife's possible affairs. He demanded that the bishop of the area (her confessor) reveal to him any sins she may have confessed. No no. Sworn an oath of silence on all confessed sins, so even when tortured, the bishop refused to speak and was eventually drowned at the king's instruction. Now the bishop is saint of all sailors and for those who may fall into perilous waters. Discussion of baroque and then the extreme exaggeration of that which is known as roccoco. Why we would be having this discussion in front of a monastery?
We walk into the open area within the monastic walls and cross what is clearly a beer garden. There are already other travellers drinking their pre 10 o’clock beers. We are told that this is a very thick dark beer though there are many many different types in this brewery. No one from our group tries beer of any color.
Brother Antonio of the Benedictine clothed in black robes greets us smiling. A grey haired man with a gentle voice and flawless English. He leads us through the church which is swathed in reconstruction covering and .... oh my goodness, the most elaborate and church interior that we have ever seen. Gold leaf, frescoes, gilded panels, statuary, a frescoed dome and huge oil paintings. We are speechless, or at least I am. The most unexpected treasure that had once been only for the Benedictine Order monks now has services attended by the community.
Brother Antonio takes us through the history of the saints, and refers to the three levels of the church and the stories and references and allusions by pointing his flashlight and illuminating the spots which he speaks. And we sit with our mouths wide open. Finally he leads us (in a bold missionary way) in a Taize chant: Jesus Remember Me, When You Come Into Your Kingdom; Jesus Remember Me,When You Come Into Your Kingdom. Practice and then we sing. Some of us know this and others find themselves singing despite themselves. We leave the church feeling somewhat overwhelmed.
I head quickly to the gift shop and buy the Kloster (Cloister) Weltenberg Monastery charm for my bracelet and the little postcards. On to the WC and then to the ferry boat dock.
Imagine if you will Big Bend. Do you see the sheer rocks that rise up straight from the water on either side? Add green to this and then in the distance, place several rectangles with clay tiled roofs and the yellow knob of the classical Liberation Hall of Ludwig I. And a bright blue sky. And sit atop a large ferry boat with your fellow passengers. Announce in both German and English, and then serve late morning beer in tall clear glasses and just float. Glorious glorious little trip. And this made me definitely want to schedule a Big Bend trip (is anyone listening out there?) The cool of the spring and the sun. We arrive in Kelheim completely refreshed, though not with beer which was extra. At Kelheim, there is a bus for those who cannot negotiate the walk through the small town center to the (yes) the beer garden. And there are several who do need to make use of the bus, particularly the two mothers who are now thoroughly exhausted. These two mothers incidentally do not walk through Regensberg and since my mother is ready to go, she is fresh for that walk.
Kelheim is a little town with real stores and a farmer's market. Oh! We have forgotten that it is Saturday and the farmers have brought their fresh wares to the little center. Unlike Nurnberg that had a huge market of vegetables and fruits and cheeses and meats and plants and flowers and on and on and on. Spragel, white asparagus a speciality. This was a humble little affair, but one of our travellers touched the glass meat case as we passed and found out that yes, you could buy the meat and cheese because it was refrigerated. Our sense was that this was a real town with real stores and thus real prices. Unfortunately no charm for my charm bracelet however.
We are ready for the beer (even us NON beer drinkers) by the time we arrive at the beer garden. We have been told that we must compare the three-in-a-row Nurnberg sausages with the white sausages of Regensberg. Something about the minor competition between cities for the oldest and most delicious sausages. Costumed waitresses, in the familiar young German Miss outfits, serve us tall slender-waisted glasses of a welcome amber beer, a large soft pretzel, and the white sausage. I sit with some folks, photograph our lovely Jamaican waitress in traditional German hostess wear, and then photograph some of our jolly group that grows more jolly with the consumption of the beer. The beer garden itself is a large area with a surrounding white wall and the most beautiful climbing red roses trained by strings. Trees offer shade and are a perfect backdrop for the tables of travellers.
Our two program directors, Katya and Gerald, who have now sampled several of the available beers, lead us in an unsteady toast whose words I absolutely cannot remember, just the laughter. Drink and eat, eat and drink. By the time we stand up, we are weaving a bit, but we do have enough time to make a quick circle of the open stores. Maybe a watch? Maybe that inexpensive duffel bag to stuff last minute purchases. Everything is wiggly with beer, that was unabsorbed by pretzel or white sausage. Even though I had eaten one of the small packages of Mestemacher bread (rye bread) from my purse, everything is loosened.
In a stationer’s store, I find a roll of wrapping paper and two refills for the pen I purchased in Nurnberg . I resist any more purchases, though the colored pencils call so piteously - especially the blues and greens. No time to draw.
We board the bus that waits beyond a yellow church with white trim and the square tower. We do not peek in this church, as we are reeking, we think, of beer fumes. We might frighten the pious. On the way back to the boat, we pass an unassuming area of houses - the sign reads: Pentling. Pentling is where the former Cardinal Ratsinger (now Pope Benedictus XVI) and his brother have a house. Anecdote of Ratsinger's used Golf that was ebayed for an outrageous amount is re-retold. Still worth mentioning, and we pass wondering what it would like to be a pope, and wonder again of the status of things in the universal Catholic Church. And how does this area of Germany give rise to a man who would be pope and is?
Lunch is on the boat. My eyes are still full of the church at the Weltenberg Monastery and I feel all of sudden that the entire trip has been put in perspective, and that perhaps all of this was about the discovery of the little church jewel in the hills. More new people at our lunch table
and by the time we finish, we have 10 - 15 minutes before we get off at Regensberg, which is another story entirely.
There is a sudden glare off the water even as I am typing. I know that if I just wait for a little while, we will pass this patch. Gorgeous clear morning continues and now the ship stirs seriously with breakfast eaters. 7:30 am and we will be getting ready for a walking tour in Passau. Coat or no coat. One woman approaches the Germany Hotel Manager and tells him that in America it is Father's Day. Oh Father's Day in Germany is in March, he said, but maybe we will announce this on the intercom. Meanwhile, I change the heading of this email to honor the two fathers who will read this email and then think about the Hyde Park Tour and the fence that is finished and how nice it will to be back home and how we will miss Germany at the same time. How can that be?
Day 11 NURNBERG, Germany
17 June 2005 Friday
Nurenburg
It did not occur to me until Bamburg that we were approaching this notorious place, and in fact, when I pulled the curtain aside yesterday morning, it was appropriately cloud covered. Edge to edge clouds. Grim.
We had a young professorial fellow come aboard as we were docked at Nurnberg and provide an excellent lecture on the events leading up to WWII and the time directly afterwards. Deep memories of European Government with Susie Bourque Gov 210B. So this young man skillfully brought to light details of post WWI Germany and the conditions that led to ripening of the charismatic mad man. I asked several people whether they were aware of this history, because of course this was exactly what we were taught. Some knew pieces but the great majority lived through the World War II years as young kids or teenagers or young adults, and the understanding came later and the learning of the historical details came after that. It was a chilling assembly of puzzle pieces, and the familiar picture comes clear. Humiliation of WWI, desperate economic situation, a charismatic leader who was at the right place saying the right things, hypnotic promises, order and purpose, German Teutonic pride and voila, the systematic destruction of everything that was not perfect in one megalomaniac's eyes.
You must know that as we were approaching Nurnberg, I toyed with the thought that I would stay on the ship rather than touch ground here - silly thought. Nurnberg had been historically the meeting place of princes, a place of impressive power. Perfect for Hitler who loved to refer back historically to justify himself at any and all times.
Incidentally I looked up to the window to my right and found that the bank of the canal has suddenly widened by several hundred yards, and the bank on that side is no longer a Jeremy Fisher paradise of clumping flowering bushes. A line of trees 10 meters from the bank and then a neat field of mowed grasses before the edge of the pine forest rises up until the very top of the hill creating a spiky edge to the light blue sky. The same on the other side now.
Bus to Nurnberg and we pass through the industrial area and then into the small city and then to the Dokumentation Center. An unfinished structure built to the shape and proportions of the Colosseum, Hitler with his notorious architect Schpiel (sp) appropriated that chilling severe architectural form. Repetitive, endless, predictable and obedient. Buildings that were once headquarters of the German army, now immigration offices.
We drove to the Zeppelin Field with its stadium and structures for the elaborate parades of obeisance that were part of the Nazi ritual. I will do anything you say. We love you and only you, they said. There was construction going on, and chain link fence and large equipment but in our minds we could still see the rows and rows of uniformed beautifully formed Aryan ideals, shouting in unison, marching, offering up everything they were. I am still somewhat freaked out. I picked up a small jagged rock, put it in my pocket and felt its edges from time to time throughout our day.
On to Courtroom #600. The Nurnberg trials took place between Nov 1945 and October 1946 in a building near the medieval portion of the city. In the room that became famous through the films of the time, we sat in the audience seats facing the place where 21 Nazi leaders were tried. A handsome young 20 something tanned blond Aryan type, one whom Hitler would have idealized, painted the entire picture in flawless English. And we sat speechless. Excellent questions from some in our group. Later the sepia photographs of the area brought it home once again. 21 defendants. Three important characters missing: Hitler, Goebbels and Himmler- already burning in some hell whose fires were stoked by darkskinned Jews and minorities.
I had a dream that night. It was one of those tangled dreams that comes of a trip that goes on and on while travelling through land with a black history. I dreamt that you had fallen asleep while driving, and though I was sitting beside you, I could not wake you up at all. At all. I took the wheel and pulled the car into a restaurant that was closing down and persuaded the waitresses to at least let me make a phone call. I don't know whether you did wake up at that time but everything was harried and crumbled and strange.
Which oddly coincides with the dying of both our watches. It stands to reason that since both batteries were replaced at the same time, that both should also die a simultaneous death. And so they have. Now that wasn't going to be a problem under any other circumstances. We are however facing the last tricky part of the trip: the coordination of the trip back home. Now, an intrepid passenger might try to negotiate this sans hours minutes and seconds, however I do not think that I am one of these. Thus I might have discovered another small task... how to find the very least expensive timepiece possible for these next two days.
The engine of the ship rattles and shakes. We are sliding on the narrow Main/Danube Canal. At Bamburg we left the Main River and took a bit of a southward bend on this water path that is the mixture of the Main and the Danube waters. It reminds me of the land of Jeremy Fisher, Jemima Puddle-Duck and Toad of Toad Hall. Tally ho!
Trees high and sudden from the banks of the little river, bushes wild and untamed. We have grown very accustomed to floating purposefully on this greenish breenish water with a screen of upright Teutonic pines behind. I have taken virtually no photographs of the land as we pass and thus commit to some today.
Today I will go on the optional tour to the Danube Gorge, just a morning trot to a place that includes an early beer tasting. Not only is this supposed to be beer drinking before lunch, but it happens several times in this brewery and is to accompany by a tasting of white sausage from Regensberg. If we had tasted the three in a row sausages of Nurnberg, we were supposed to have answered the age old question: Which is the better sausage? The one from Regensberg or the one from Bamburg? As a non-meat eater, I will be unable to enlighten anyone on any of these important questions.
Day 10 BAMBERG, Germany
16 June 2005 Thursday
Bamburg
This medieval town was miraculously spared from the bombing of WWII probably because there was no contribution to the war effort. Color coded buses to Bamburg with squares and fountains new and old. Facades and cobbled pavements.
There were three distinct areas: one for the bishops, one for the gardeners and one for common people. Of the 15 churches of the area, only 2 of these were actually available to the common folk. The others were reserved for the clergy or the monasteries or the convents. What a change of attitude when it comes to church! There was one building that had a fabulous 16th century fresco painted on two sides, and heavily carved faced and crests and as in almost all buildings, there were Madonnas and children built right into the corners and sides of buildings.
By the way, presently there are some dissatisfied travelers, grumbling because they cannot go up to the sundeck. Lowbridges from here all the way to Nurnberg (Nuremburg). You may go upstairs, I say to one person who is puzzled by the chain across the outside stair to the sundeck, if you want to get decapitated. No takers.
Katya had told us on the bus to the market place center that she was quite nervous because her fiancé had had dinner with his father last night at home in Belgium and he had called her late last night having had clearly too much to drink. She had extorted a promise that he would call after he had driven home, and when he had not called last night and then not responded to his cell phone, and was not at work, etc. Katya was a tearful wreck by the end of the morning. She finally was able to get her mother to check in on her fiancé and presumably had finally heard from him by the early afternoon. The only problem with mentioning this to a busload of parents and grandparents and mothers, is that everyone had taken the opportunity to express their concern and tell their own anecdotes of late spouses etc. Poor Katya is no doubt very very sorry that she mentioned anything at all.
Anyhow I did find my Discovery object. Don't tell anyone but it is a little puzzle of one of the Bamburg facades that I found in one of the vintage bookstores. Incidentally I did pick up several tiny children's books in German for John Heimsath's brood and did I tell you yesterday that I found a fabulous old Albrecht Durer books with color plates glued in the old way which can be cut up into framed pieces. No one would believe that this cost a whooping 2.50 EU, or would anyone have found it because this required my everpresent laser vision. Besides most shoppers were probably put off by the nude Adam and Eve but NOT I. I will disassemble this book and use the noncontroversial Durers in the classroom.
We went up as a group to the fantastic St. Stephen's Church that had the famous horse and rider statue. It is unheard of according to the local guide, to have a horse and rider of actual size during the medieval times, but there is a story that accompanies this - naturally.
There was at the time a lovely sister of the emperor Giselle whose loveliness had spread throughout the entire world (all the way to Hungary) to the ears of a pagan king. This pagan king was so enthralled with the stories that he had heard that he jumped upon his horse and traveled to Bamburg. Despite all the wild life and the weather and the possible robbers and the wild rivers and lack of roads and hotels, this pagan king made this journey all the way to Bamburg, and without even stopping to pray or pay homage at the cathedral (he was pagan after all). This pagan king went all the way to the castle to meet the famed Giselle. Naturally they fell in love, or at least he fell in love with her and though lineage was clearly not a problem, he had to promise to convert to Christianity in order to be able to marry the beautiful Giselle. And indeed this king; now King Stephen became a Christian, and thus converted his whole kingdom to Christianity. He has been thus named St. Stephen King of Hungary. And to remember this, his statue was placed in the cathedral to remember him for all time.
For some strange reason, Hitler decided that this was the perfect Aryan ideal and he protected this statue by building a wooden wall around it during the war. The last laugh is on Hitler because he obviously did not know his history since Hungarians are in no way shape or form Aryans. hahahahaha.
We crossed the wide cobbled square to the famous rose garden that was established 5 centuries later (dodging the bikes and cars whose path is marked by different colored stone pavings) The wall of the garden had wires to which the climbing roses were tied. And inside the rose garden were thousands of gorgeous healthy roses, all organized by color. We noted that yellow roses were not yet opened. I took a photograph of the triangular rose frames holding up some of the climbing roses to look like rose trees. My mother began to ruminate about roses and how to plant another wall full of roses at home.
Down the stairs to the restaurant where we were served the smoky beer of the region. A pre-lunch beersnack: dark beer that tasted like liquid smoky BBQ. It is said that one of the Bamburg breweries caught fire,and because the grain was only partially burned, and these hops were used for the beer and thus was born a new, distinctive and highly popular beer. These small glasses of beer were served with large soft pretzels, which held off everyone's hunger until lunchtime.
Along the way, one of the brewery iron signs was pointed out. An apparent star of David, or two overlapping triangles, was actually not a Star of David but the sign of fire and water, which together meant BEER. Breweries and wineries were very popular because they were not taxed.
Free time. More postcards and I found more charms for my Germany trip charm bracelet. I did see some lovely garnets in both necklace and ring form. Mommy expressed possible interest in a beautiful garnet ring/necklace set that we would have had time to look at if she had only said something! Grrrrrr!
Back on the bus, my mother was impatient because I ducked into yet one more store, even though she had walked on with fellow travelers. So little faith! Then back on the ship for lunch and talk.
Tonight, we will be entertained by the multitalented crew that will not include our program directors. Whoops! Sudden darkness, chandeliers rattling as we gently bump bump through another low bridge!
Day 9 Sailing Day
15 June 2005 Wednesday
Schweinfurt
Yesterday those of us who did not go to the Roethenburg Castle, took a walking tour of Schweinfurt. The process of taking a walking tour goes like this: If the entire ship goes to a site whether by bus or by foot, we divide into our three color coded groups that were established from the very first day. On a day where there are optional tours, generally two of the program directors will go with the optional tour and one program director will be left with the group at the ship.
Our three program directors range from their mid twentys to mid thirties. Katya told us early on that she will be retiring after this year to get married and to do something else. She is blonde with a very short haircut. She wears hip huggers and thick belts and snug Ts. The work must be wearing since Katya looks and admits to feeling worn. One can just imagine how stressful things can be with a shipload of passengers and their individual needs. I only hope that we are a less needy group than others.
Schweinfurt was the location of a ball bearing plant during WWII and thus was severely carpeted bombed as a result. Ironically as we were standing and waiting for the walking tour to begin, I felt something under my sandal. A silver bead - a relatively large silver bead with a large hole right through. (!!)Do you remember the green glass beads that I picked up on the streets of Rome? Well, I strung that silver found bead along with several other beads that I bought in Wertheim at the glass blowers studio, and have an eclectic little leather necklace around my neck.
ANYHOW, while we were waiting by the side of the ship, we were informed of a Discovery Hunt or Challenge. Each of us was given a two Euro coin. Our mission is to find something for two euros that represents something significant or memorable about our voyage in Germany. We have been given four days to find some one relatively inexpensive object to then wrap up in some way and randomly exchange when we reach Regensburg. For a sense of scale: a small book of postcards, the ones that are connected together, costs anywhere from 2.50 to 3.00 EU. So 2 EU really is very very little. The group that had been taken to castle was given this same challenge, and some of them may have used their Euros while they went in and out of the Christmas markets at the Roethenburg Castle marketplace. Anyhow, with our Euros in our pockets, we started off with new purpose.
This little walking tour of Schweinfurt was going to be merely a quick trip to the market square and then we were off to our reconnaissance. We looked at the elaborate city hall (Rathuis) which had dark timbers and white plastered walls, gorgeous window boxes of bright deep red geraniums etc. The square was broad and wide with the square paving stones. A bronze statue of the obviously important Frederich Ruckert sat in a prominent spot, and meanwhile we saw a great number of strolling shoppers, some schoolchildren, and basically a leisurely afternoon in a minor urban city of Germany.
My mother and I took our map, noted our locations, and wandered around the little stores in and out. In a store that was once again like a Woolworth's, we found a little padded whirligig sewn flower and spiral tail that was meant to hang from a tree. I reminded my mother that we had seen such a thing hanging in a wonderful pocket garden that was memorable for its gorgeous row of heavy headed white peonies. In fact, the peonies were so very heavy that the gardener, a proud white haired fellow, had built a frame to rest those ponderous blooms neatly. This cost 1.25 and was thus well within the proper amount of money.
We poked in and out of the various stores. Including the H&M store which we have also in America. With my naturally laser sight, I found two matching tops on the 50% off rack: one fuschia and one turquoise. My mother stood by very patiently and watched me go in and out and about as quickly as I possibly could.
On our wandering way back to the boat, we popped into a tourist information center and picked up some information (brochures to be cut up and pasted into my journal). Ironically there were also free little stickers of some past museums exhibits at the local museum. I came back with a wealth of little things to assemble in my journal.
We got back to our cabin and dressed for dinner. I ironed the two tops and discovered that one had a somewhat loose elastic on the shoulder - nothing that can't be fixed later. Oh well.
Dinner and then the evening entertainment was Elvis.
Yes, I did say Elvis. Since his apparent demise, Elvis has been present in a myriad of places all over the world, but also in Schweinfurt Germany. Elvis is now a 30 something fellow in a white jumpsuit and a white macramé belt with ends hanging down and metal ornaments. He was really quite convincing, with his brown pompadour and love handles. Karaoke system, and a CD with 350 of Elvis' songs. Obviously he has practiced all his Elvisms and had done a relatively good job. At one point he had me wipe his sweaty brow with a napkin, and at other times he had various individuals hand him his chilled water and apple juice. Wiggling and gyrating and singing his soulful songs. Elvis also danced with one of the bold woman in our group. Good for her!
At the very very end Elvis gave me the perfect photo opportunity by hugging Mommy which was very funny because this guy was about 6 foot 4 inches tall. I was HIGHLY aware of my mother's discomfort so I quickly got her out of that situation and then realized that I had TRULY missed a great photo op. Silly me, but my mother was glad to be out of the situation as quickly as possible.
It is so interesting to note that most people have an opinion one way or another about the comparisons between the large ocean liners and river cruises. No matter what people say about the myriad of foods, activities and entertainment available on the ocean liners, I cannot imagine the overwhelming numbers on those large trips. It just does not seem attractive to me no matter what anyone says. Some say that the waitstaff is very young and inexperience (even as I typed that one of the young waiters inadvertently dropped a wineglass on the marble tiled floor while walking across with a whole tray of glasses.)
Incidentally, many have just come back from the kitchen tour, which was offered, to all on the tour. I chose not to go because I would have had to get up from my comfy cozy perch on the computer. I have had very little competition on the computer though many of my fellow travelers have come by to peer at my screen and make encouraging noises at me. I have had to explain many times what I am doing and why and how and when and where and who and what. This is alright.
Uneasy sleep again. I keep on getting up at 3:30 - 4:30 am. I have written a bit, sometimes read a bit of "The Eight", which is supposed to be similar to "The Da Vinci Code." Not a very good author, which makes me irritated. There is nothing worse than being in the middle of a mediocre book with few alternative options at hand. I am too far into it to just give up, so I am slugging along.
We left Schweinfurt at 1:00 am and were sailing all throughout early morning until about 8:30 am. Occasional we would bump on the sides of the lock. Lock after lock after lock we have traversed as we travel the Main River and approach the Danube River. Bamburg by breakfast.
Day 8 WURZBURG, Germany
14 June 2005 Tuesday
Wurzburg
The River Harmony arrives at Wurzburg at bit early, and we are able to walk around before lunch. I am reminded again how fabulous it is to be able to daily walk off the ship AND to be able to always see land on either side of us. Very civilized. My mother and I follow the group to the bridge and then veer abruptly to right, just to poke around on our own. It is a busy city with people beginning to take their mid day meals. Bookstores, jewellers, pharmacies, offices and schools. It is a bustling place.
We walked away from the river and then turn parallel to the water for a time before turning back again. As long as one is oriented to the water, one can really never get lost UNLESS one wants to!
We will remember this town for its remarkably exuberantly elaborate Wurzburg Residence of the prince-bishops. The bus let us off in the square in front of the magnificent residence, and we were met by yet another local guide. Katya had suggested that we imagine ourselves guests of the prince-bishops, with horses and carriages as our transport. One could just see an enormous entourage with servants and ladies in waiting, footmen etc.
As most of these cities and towns, 80% of this town was destroyed by Allied bombing. An American officer Skelton (sp) assessed the aerial damage of this elaborate residence of mirrored halls and tapestries and frescos and marbled staircases and opulence. He then had a wooden roof structure constructed that kept the rest of the castle from being thoroughly water damaged. He is remembered well for his forethought.
Thus we were all properly impressed and overwhelmed by the level of expense and conspicuous consumption of these noblemen. The buildings are now protected by UNESCO and millions of dollars are being poured into its extensive renovation. Even as we toured, we saw the electronically programmed scaffolding for the fresco restoration. It is truly an enormous project. Room after room was more magnificent than the next – no expense spared.
We also saw the private chapels of the residence, and noted once again the resplendent gold leaf and elaborate carving and paintings. We could take no photographs in the residence, especially around the Tiepolo frescoes, but we were permitted to take photos of the chapel. I bought postcards of both since my photographs would do no justice.
The palace gardens boasted topiary pines and such lovely flower beds that I know that Mommy will surely decide to pull up all of her flower beds and start all over again!
Notable too was the trip to the Juliusspital where there was a well-known winery associated with the renowned hospital. Roetgen was one the Nobel-Prize winning scientists associated with the University of Wurzburg. Roetgen, clever fellow, is credited for the discovery of the X ray.
Wine for health – we say to ourselves during this hospital visit. We had a chance to descend into the wine cellars that were beneath length of the hospital itself. Free wine tasting of three different wines. The first Franconian wine was very dry, the second more fruity and the third even more sweet. A dessert wine. Dark bread was available and then stillwasser to clean the palate.
Now quite jolly and a little wobbly, we walked amidst the huge oaken wine barrels, some of which were heavily carved. It is a miracle than none of us stumbled and not a single one of us dropped any of our wine glasses! My mother and I ended up with a total of 4 wineglasses, which we may or may not be able to transport safely back to the US. Mommy and I did not buy any wine but I felt better when many of our group did buy wines.
Later Katya would tell us that the young woman who gave us the tour of the Juliusspital had very recently had hip replacement surgery. She obviously recovered very well, with only the slightest of limps. Wow. Thirtysomething with a hip replacement. Scary.
We returned to the ship with the elaborate rooms and gardens of Wurzburg still dancing in our eyes. Medieval music later tonight but I don’t know if I can possibly stay awake.
There is a lecture going on presently, just audible from where I sit at the computer in the ship's library. "Mein is the most important tributary, flow together towards the city of Mainz distance of 326 miles, erratic course, changes directions from time to time, also called the 'curved snake.' Red wines due to the reddish soils. Main separates Germany into two halves, the equator of Germany. Area is known of the row of priests, three missionaries who catholicized the area, traveled along the Main and Christianized many of the Frankish tribes. Coal mineral water, coffee, wine."
The student in me feels a bit guilty that I am not sitting in the lounge with the others, but not guilty enough to get off the computer. You know how I much prefer to be writing longhand with black black ink on thick white paper, but emailing back relieves me somehow. I know that I can keep most of the events clear in my head – I hope!
Day 7 WERTHEIM, Germany
13 June 2005 Monday
Contact at last!
I had sent the first email on Thursday and figured that your weekend had been completely computer-free, and thus resigned myself (sadly) to an empty box day after day after day. This morning however, I saw several folded pieces of paper in the box of #211. YAY!!! I am thrilled that you were as delighted as I to discover this FAR more immediate method of staying in contact.
Wertheim
Home of Great Worth. When we talked to the Filipinas who had traveled on the Rhine in the opposite direction from Vienna to Amsterdam, the good doctor had mentioned that Wertheim was her favorite because of the home-hosted visit. The way that she and many have pronounced it was 'Werth- eim.' I have corrected my mother at least with 'Wert - Heim', (you know, Mom, Heim of Heimsath, not Heims - ath.)
We pulled up alongside the pier, and the sailors put down the ramp in their ever so efficient way. We waved at the white swans with their wobbly brown feet, and assembled ourselves for the walking tour. Our blue group was in good spirits and we were off.
We walked beneath the street which brought us through a narrow walkway between buildings to the glassblower Karl who was energetically waving a huge American flag to indicate the entrance of his demonstration glassblowing studio. Beautiful English. Loves to tell a tale and show off his significant skills that go back six generations. How many of us can say that about our professions?
Karl, who looked like the stereotypic beermeister, uses only the finest clear Corning material, virtually unbreakable. We all sat facing his table as he joked and expertly showed us how he created "'free-style, no tools!" hangings and ornaments. Terribly fluid gestures. Effortless.
The Galileo instrument (clear tube with small colored bubbles of liquid with the metal tabs hanging down) in Germany is made only by his workers in Wertheim... not breakable, while those made in Asia are breakable (affirmed by one in our group.) He had Bill, one of our fellow GCT travellers take a swig of Jaegermeister (a flavored liquor) and then blow an ornament, with the decorative coloring made by rolling the clear hot glass in crushed bits of colored glass. (Your grandchildren will be able to tell what you were drinking many years from now, Karl giggled.)
After his demonstration, Karl invited us to visit his wife's shop, at the end of the walkway. We were also invited to stay in the studio, use the facilities, send or check our email, and have a free soda from the refrigerator. Such a generous invitation could not be passed up by many of us.
Plastic bottle for donations to the Wertheim Retirement House (probably for his house payments.)
I wanted to pick up some items for my dad, so I bought two bottles of wine (2.50 EU each mostly for the wine labels) and some small cute bottles of flavored liquor. I was even able to buy a tiny bottle of Jaegermeister, which Karl had during the demonstration. More postcards, and a bracelet that had some charms of Wertheim. Since the links of the bracelet itself is not very good, I will remove the charms and reassemble them on one of my own silver bracelets.
Incidentally, my plan of collecting the charms of various cities has given me some shopping-purpose. So far I have found the little enamelled charms that say Koln, Heidelberg, Deutscheland, Bavaria and Wertheim. They are usually found in the classic ticky tacky tourist souvenir shops that we all love so well, usually somewhere near the cash register. They used to be a common purchase, assembled when the trip is done, but my sense is that this is now a more rare purchase. Each charm costs anywhere from 2.60 to 3.00 EU, though it will add up in the end.
The highlight of the trip was supposedly this Home Visit that Karl, clearly one of the First Citizens of charming Wertheim, had organized. He had thought, or so he said, that most Wertheim people would not be so interested in opening their homes to anyone, much less to American tourists. Nevertheless, he wrote an article in the local newspaper to see if he could get any takers. Twenty four families responded (!!!) and they have since assembled a list of sixty families who participate in this Grand Circle Tour sponsored home visit.
For this tour, we were divided into about 6 - 8 groups of various numbers and a bus dropped us off (school style) at various locations around Wertheim. We were arbitrarily assigned by virtue of our bus seating, and ironically our group had the three mother/daughter sets, the first cousins (Flo and Fran) and one other husband wife couple besides mom and I. Again, I am embarrassed to be unable to recall all names, but that is due to my weak memory and no insult to all our fantastic fellow journeymen and women.
The bus with our group wound around and about and through Wertheim to one of the outlying communities. A suburb of sorts. While we were in the more historic part of Wertheim, we had clandestinely watched one woman hanging out of her window, cleaning the inside outside sills of her apartment window. She was the very essence of the neat hausfrau. Made me want to check all of our screens for spiderwebs and dirt and invisibles motes!
Robert, yet another beermeister-looking fellow, met us at our bus stop, shook all of our hands and brought us into his house. I took pictures (with his permission of course) and we wandered about his two story house. Retired postal worker whose wife works occasional weekly hours at a small food market in town and his 14 year son.
It was his wife who had baked the multilayered cake with a layer of cherries and a cheese cake layer and a hazelnut topping. After the house wandering and then the garden examination, we sat around the dining table and had a conversation. Robert's English was excellent; his son's English is unknown. "How was school?" his father asked in German."Not so good," said the 14 year old in German. The son Sebastian dutifully came in and shook hands all around but disappeared after the initial introduction. The photos of the son's room will yield posters of some rappers or singers whom I am sure that Andrew would recognize. The neatness of the room had everything to do with Robert's cleaning abilities however. Probably not the son Sebastian, who had minorly spiked hair but was dressed like the more typical absent 14 year old of America.
Our conversations flowed in and around the cake and the coffee and spilled onto many different topics. Education, professions, recipes, Wertheim, health insurance etc. All of us had introduced ourselves briefly and somehow we skipped past me, probably because I was sitting right next to him and had introduced my mother, who was immediately to Robert's right and therefore the beginning of the group. That created a little bit of awkwardness that later one of my group would remark upon. It was certainly not an intended slight and I would have surely said something except that I was finally just tired as it was mid afternoon, always a low energy time for me. By the time the bus came to pick us up again sequentially, we were very happy to say farewell. Delightful brief peek into a German household.
Others would have descriptions of their visits around the evening meal. All groups had different experiences, including one who visited a former ambassdor's home, an inherited in the old part of town town house. They had a very different experience with these very well traveled people in their 80's. This house was furnished with family heirlooms, but the residence itself was chopped into many smaller rooms and the maid’s kitchen was never opened up for examination.
Meals are generally interesting though there is always that awkward moment of where to sit. Something like choosing up teams. Open seating. Mommy generally prefers that I do the talking, though she engages in conversation as she pleases. Even at this point of the trip, there are still conversations to be had with people with whom we have not sat.
Wine loosens all of our tongues, though I do confess to becoming tired of listening to my own voice. Sometimes Mommy worries that I talk too much, though I feel as though my part is as facilitator and hopefully not monopolizer. That thought alone makes me want to do more listening than I am doing. And with that, I will still my fingers, and snap my mouth shut for the evening. SNAP!
Day 6 MAINZ, Germany
12 June 2005 Sunday
HEIDELBERG
The next day, breakfast as usual, but then we split into the tour group to the Heidelberg Castle and our bus, and the group that would walk to Heidelberg with one of the guides. As this was a Sunday, my mother went to St Stephens church to look at the Chagall windows. They had to return to the ship by noon, as it was to sail to Frankfurt. Our bus would meet the group in Frankfurt after our castle visit.
Two buses left for the castle, and Katya, our guide told jokes and relayed light information about the area. After one hour on the autobahn, we pulled off to Ladenburg and the MercedezBenz Automuseum. A museum full of vintage convertibles, racecars, touring cars, motorcycles, bikes, typewriters, radiator grills, gramophones etc. I looked over the meager items for sale thinking that daddy would love something of this, I found nothing but PERHAPS one of the silk ties, which were so hidden that even the saleman didn't remember they were there. No. I didn't like the width, nor did I like the pattern and all I could think of was that I would be able to find this at a different time, for a different price. 30 minute bathroom stop and then we re-boarded and were off much lighter and relieved.
The Heidelberg Castle was at the top of a winding road, and our bus driver skillfully negotiated the turns and then the full turn to get into a rather improbably diagonal parking spot parallel to other touring buses. By then there were many busloads of tourists, and we joined the throngs following the GCT blue flag.
Walk walk walk up up up and when we reached the top, past souvenir shops and icecream shops, we saw the gate erected (supposedly in one night) by one of the many many Frederichs for his beloved English wife Elizabeth Stewart. Fortifications, portcullis, watch tower, garrisons etc. and a significant part of this was destroyed by lightning. We went into the large square within the castle walls, and were told that weddings and performances took place here. Imagine that! On the posted schedule in mid June was (!!!) the Carmina Burana! More cobbled stones and paths, terraces that overlooked Heidelberg and the wonderful Main River and the tight tight buildings.
There was one rather morbid tale of the architect’s two young sons who had unwisely not listened to their father’s warnings about playing around the high ladders etc. Tragedy resulted and the grieving father refused to continue work on the castle until a dream came to him and he had carved the stone shield with his two sons with angel wings that hung over one of the doorways. Certainly a morality tale for any and all children, especially those of architects!
There was an absolutely gorgeous view of Heidelburg from one of the terraces. Densely packed rooftops, squares, neat buildings. Everything looks so toylike from the distance. We gather around some particular dents in the stone terrace and Katya tells the tale of an errant knight visiting the queen and his hasty retreat upon the king’s return. A jump from one of the high window and the escape! One wonders how much of history is merely clever fiction!
Quick stop at the shops before we reboarded the bus and had lunch at the Kulturbraerer, a charming restautant with its own brewery and a set menu for us. As usual, only the vegetables for me. I thought about how our boys would have loved the sausages and the dark breads. In fact, the entire trip would have been an EAT-O-RAMA for both of them.
Local guides were provided for our trip through Heidelburg. Our group is further divided into four groups with whom we were able to see fountains and the squares and Sunday crowds of Heidelberg.
Particularly memorable was the newly renovated Jesuit church with bright white walls and crystal chandeliers. After so much heavy stone in the churches and cathedrals, this church was remarkable modern, with dark wood pews with no ornamentation at all. I found it refreshing. The tour guide also showed us a sign for bar or bordello whose text faced one way but whose side facing the church was completely blank. I guess they didn’t want to upset the Jesuits!
There was a fascinating Student Prison for rowdy students of the 17th and 18th century University of Heidelberg which had then become the chic place that all students HAD to spend a week or so during their university sojourn. Up narrow stone stairs and small dark chambers with uncomfortably narrow beds, almost every square inch of the smoke-smudged walls was covered in signatures and shadow profiles and presumably witticisms from generations of students. ‘Inmates’ were allowed to have guests and fellow students took class notes for them during their brief colorful stay. One can just imagine the candles and black paint! How some of those profiles were painted on some of the more difficult to reach corners one can only guess!
We re-board the bus at the designated time and as usual, no one is late. I am impressed with our general punctuality and have decided that the River Harmony has a particularly considerate group of travellers. Considerate and prompt, which I am certain is not always the case for all groups.
Katya reads jokes to us over the bus intercom all the way back to the ship. Just outside the Frankfurt city limits, K’s cell phone rings and we are told that the ship has just docked and we arrive at almost exactly the same time. Perfect timing. I only wish I could remember some of those jokes and sayings I’d heard.
Our bus drove very briefly from the autobahn into the city, which seemed very modern and very populated. We have become so accustomed to the small scale city, that I know I had no interest in investigating this place. It is different to understand a land through its waterways. It all makes sense. We barely touched Frankfurt soil and were immediately off again.
Dinner and then sleep.
Day 5 MAINZ, Germany
11 June 2005 Saturday
MAINZ. More sailing, bumps during the night and we made our way through the various locks. The River Harmony is lifted or lowered by means of a system of locks. From time to time we push aside our cabin curtains to find that we are staring at walls less than 8 inches from our window. We will be passing through a total of 66 locks altogether!
The most memorable feature of Mainz was the Gutenberg Museum. We knew this as we prepared ourselves for the walking tour armed with our daily agendas, information sheets and the map of Mainz. My mother on this day was walking more slowly and leaning heavily and complaining lightly when I had to pull her along while in the middle of the street with traffic waiting. I have to say that the numerous bicycles of Amsterdam have long ago lessened, and we no longer really have to worry about the killer bikes. Now, it is the barely patient natives of the town, waiting on the narrow streets to speed away after we slowly navigate our party across. Remember that our large group is usually split into the three so we are rarely the ENTIRE group at any one place at the same time.
In Mainz, we came ashore and walked. Overheard a wonderful young singing group in one of the many squares, three rows of singers swaying to African songs of their own performance. Lots of people walking about.
The cathedral at Mainz was particularly grim, and felt odd. Later I would realize that there were two altars and we were entering on the side. The uncomfortable feeling I had was probably enhanced by the jacketed people standing at the donation boxes at each of the side chapels. Left no money there! We toured ourselves silently while the local tour guide waited outside for us. In and out. Meanwhile we made our way to the Gutenberg Museum, a modern building with three large metal panels with various interpretations of the printed word.
Tickets paid and then the demonstration of the movable printing press was given by our guide who athletically pulled and pushed and worked the enormous wooden press. Black and red letters. We all sat obediently and properly oohed and aahhed as the printed paper was pulled from the bed. One lucky man of the group (John) was awarded the sheet and we were led to the next exhibit. 180 Gutenberg Bibles were created and now only 49 exist including the one bible that UT owns. We saw the hide of an unfortunate calf stretched and had the appalling mathematical realization of how many calves hides were needed to create the 180 bibles. There are two rubbing tools that look like two large burnishers to work the ink in well to the type. And these two leather tools are made from the skin of the dog's belly because there are no pores on that part of the canine. Poor puppy. I don't think you need to share that information with Ostia.
I realized that if I was interested in the museum shop that I would have to slip away downstairs, so I told my mother that I was going to the shop downstairs and that she should meet me down there. What I didn't know was that my mother was not aware of the location of the store even though it was just down the stairs. The museum store door was locked, with us inside as the last customers of the day. I could see my mother through the glass door, but she could not or did not see me. So while I was finishing up, she was outside by the statue of Johann Gutenberg panicking. The young Asian clerk, who spoke flawless German and English, was busy tending to us and adding some freebies to my bag, did not go as quickly as I would have liked, so by the time I finished up, mommy had worked herself into a small lather. "I could see you the entire time," I told her, but she was enormously relieved when she caught sight of me.
Walk back to the ship and quiet evening meal. My mother was somewhat undone by the Gutenberg experience and so when I asked if she wanted to cancel her portion of the Heidelberg tour, which I knew would entail some walking, she was very relieved.
Day 4 KOBLENZ, Germany
10 June 2005 Friday
When we left Amsterdam and through Koln and onto Koblenz was all the Lower Rhine area which was clearly an industrial area. Lots of barges and factories from the Rhine, but none of the filth and dirt and pollution that we associate with industry. The Rhine water is a dark green, relatively calm, traffic light but constant. The barges we pass have the flag of the company on the front and then the flag of the country in which they are travelling. We were told that GCT no longer ever flies the American flag on their ships outside for any reason - for security reasons. Hmmmm.
After breakfast, the group who had selected the optional tour to the Marksburg Castle got on their bus and drove away. Only 55 of the 137 went. We were warned that there were many many steps and uneven surfaces. That is enough to put many off. The rest of us took a walking tour of Koblenz, a lovely little city that sits on the confluence of the Mosel River and the Rhine River. Sweet city with some lovely shopping areas. Squares, facades, fountains, churches. We were taken on a walking tour with Gerald, which meant that we followed a red flag on this day. Sights featured the Liebfrausenkirche, the Jesuplatz, the Augenroller (more story to come on that later) etc. The map on the back of our agenda allowed us to find our way back to the boat.
Meanwhile, my mother and Evelyn of Florida, whose husband had gone to Marksburg Castle, sat at one of the lovely little cafes (I felt like I was in Rome) and thought about the rest of the afternoon. By this time we have had so many lovely conversations with oodles of interesting people. I only wish my memory for names could be better. Thank goodness for the nametags, though they really should be double sided. It is hard to discreetly glance down and check names if tags are inadvertently flipped over!
Lunch on the boat and then my mother went to rest and I went back to the little square not far from the pier. At about 2:30 PM a local silversmith of Koblenz, whose family had been making traditional silver jewelry for hundreds of years, set up a table in the lounge and demonstrated his art. He sat with his blowtorch, materials and implements. Handsome filigree. Traditional design. Credit card purchases for nothing less than 50 EU. I was tempted for a very short period of time, but was pleased to be able to turn around and walk off the ship.
Poked around Koblenz and actually was able to look around extensively - back to the stores that had been calling to me before. I found a wonderful store with a combination of clothes and gifts and studio and material. The co-owner/artist assembled a small necklace for me, a handmade silver piece shaped like a seashell along with the natural cone shell. Lively conversation. The two owners had only just moved from Heidelberg and opened their shop three weeks ago.
Change for dinner, and then the meal itself. Traditional dancers, young people 20 somethings in traditional German garb. Moves that were reminiscent of square dancing and polkas. Stomping and slapping and such. There were those of us who were chosen to then dance - I took off my shoes and discreetly rolled up the band of my long black skirt and easily followed the lead of the dancers - faltering only when in the hands of my fellow travelling men. It was fun.
The industrial plants that floated by gave rise to the castles on the left and castles on the right. And after a while, there were carpets of vineyards, neat lines of planting running in parallel lines in regular patterns. The Mosel River and the Rhine intersected and gave rise to the settlement of Koblenz. Some of our party took the bus to the optional tour to Marksburg Castle and effectively disappeared until our late lunch. We went to town on a walking tour of the little town of Koblenz. Generally speaking, if there is an optional tour, two of our three guides will go with the group and one with stay back with the people who choose to stay with the boat. We were among the latter, and had the pleasure of walking with young Gerald 29 of Lower Austria.
Koblenz's old center had squares and a main cathedral and was organized as most of the towns and cities of Germany. We walked about, and I secretly marked the places to return in my mind. When Gerald then dismissed us to wander back to the ship on our own, my mother and I found ourselves with Evelyn, of Florida whose husband was on the Marksburg Castle tour. Coffee and sitting at one of the now open cafes was our mission, and we found one area that overlooked the Liebfrauhausenkirche, a church that had had several additions as monies would allow. We popped into that church and found the stained glass windows to be somewhat unsatisfactory. We were told that somewhere in the windows there was a Star of David, and though we looked with some intensity, there was no star to be found. Later Evelyn would go back with her husband and find the Star in right hand window behind the altar.
After lunch on the ship, I left my mother to wander about on my own. It is important to note that almost every little town is cobbled with neatly set square stones. After so many days if travelling, some of the party are walking more heavily.
At this moment, I can overhear one woman asking Katya very pointedly what exactly today's walking tour of Wurzburg will entail. Canes have emerged for some, and others have chosen to nap and rest rather than tour. It is a forgiving touring pace.
It is appropriate to speak of the 130 + individuals on the tour. The great majority are retired, mostly couples, some widows, three mother/daughter pairs and some cousin pairs and relatively few travelling alone. Most have traveled extensively, and almost all have tried the ocean liner cruises first and are only now trying the river cruises. I have only heard one complaint about the relative inexperience with the service of the young Slovakian waitstaff - Josef speaks English slowly and clearly and LOUDLY for example. I suppose that I am not so particular about wait service, so everything is fine with me.
Naturally most of the conversations take place at the dining tables and any one of the three meals per day. The fact is that if you sit down, even the shyest of us eventually ends up engaged in conversation.
Dinner, pleasant conversations and then bed.
Day 3 KOLN, Germany
9 June 2005 Thursday
We pulled into the port at Koln at about 2 PM after lunch. Divided into our three tour colors and disembarked. The big sights at Koln were the Koln Cathedral. Tour was led by a Dr. Utte who seemed to me either an art or architectural historian. Excellent English and very knowledgeable. This was the oldest largest cathedral in Europe. Left relatively untouched by WWII bombs. Evidence was that the Allied bombers deliberately avoided this glorious cathedral that took over 600 years to complete. ENORMOUS interior. Soaring stained glass windows. Mosaic floors, ornate wood. Stone. And this was not at all the most beautiful of the cathedrals I’ve ever seen. There were some lovely portions (one triptych in particular) but no more for me.
I took as many photographs as I possibly could, and then the power in my camera gave out altogether. We were left to our own devices to make it back to the ship on our own, which my mother and I did do, heading the entire time towards the Rhine.
Thus far, my mother has not suffered too much. She rests when she needs to rest and naps. The pacing and timing of the tour is just right for her. Hurray!
I have JUST discovered this little library on the ship. (It has taken me long enough!) Shelves with novels and magazines. A guitar! A violin! Boxes of puzzles, board games, and a false fireplace. And luckily, a computer where we can send a message for $2.00 which will be charged to our room account. Such a deal! Now we can stay in constant communication, which means you folks HAVE to write back.
In the end, Koln was somewhat overcast and dreary. Somehow I was hoping for a brilliant day, but this was not a day like that. I was glad to get back on board and clean up for our evening events. Port Talk and dinner. Entertainment was far better than the first. A'Capella group of young people singing. I think you all would have enjoyed the evening and I couldn’t help but remember Kristin’s Carmina Burana Concert in Worcester. Uplifting.
Day 2 AMSTERDAM, The Netherlands
8 June 2005 Wednesday
Breakfast in the morning, which means that you go to the dining room which is miraculously transformed into sun-filled room with new views all around. A wonderful chef would make omelets by request every other day. Breakfast buffet always includes fresh fruit and half a dozen cereals. Pastries, coffee tea milk juice breads toast and on and on and on. Every meal that is provided is enough to feed one for the entire day. Really !
On this first touring day, we had been assigned colors, which corresponded with one of the guides. Katya/Blue Angels, Nela/Yellow Sunshine, and Gerald/Red Devils (I think). Our Canal Tour of Amsterdam began with a late canal boat, which put off our departures. Each group was to leave 10 minutes apart. We walked off the River Harmony onto the pier and waited several minutes for the small canal boat, which appeared in time. The Canal Boat Tour took us on a 45 minute tour around the older part of Amsterdam. Facades of the more ornate buildings of wealthy commercialists, small houseboats tied along the walls. Flower boxes. Thousands of bicyclists, Blond Blond Blond people. Tall. We slowly motored along, feeling at least as though we were really ready to begin our trip. Each portion of the canal was named, and since the canals were free to all, quite busy. One can just imagine how expensive even the tiniest houseboat is. One among many anecdotes, thousands of stolen bicycles are fished out of the canal every year. Railings were put up to keep cars from accidentally falling in.
When our boat made its three point turn to head down one of the portions of the canal, the boat accidentally hit the side quite hard. One of the women who was seated at the very back outside deck, fell off the long bench and hurt her hip. Consternation and concerns. One of the doctors in the group, Katya our leader and tour guide/captain of the little ship went rushing back. Sore and shaken but nothing broken – luckily!
Boat tour took us to the dock of Gassan Diamond Factory. Demonstration and discussion of diamond polishing was very very brief so that the main mission of this tour could be achieved. SELLING DIAMONDS. The Jews of Holland were naturally known for their extraordinary Brilliant Cut diamonds, which refers to the way in which each facet is cut. Admittedly gorgeous. The flawless one carat diamond that the saleswoman displayed in the crease between her forefinger and middle finger was worth a cool $66,000. "Did you buy anything?" we asked each other. "In my mind I bought everything." I said. Free refreshments from the Gassan but in that separate building was a demonstration and display of Delftware. Clearly all opportunities to sell were exploited!
From the Diamond factory, we boarded buses to the Van Gogh Museum. On the way, we drove and looked around. Neat Amsterdam. Relatively clean and bristling with bikers riding the sturdy unbeautiful black touring bikes. We were warned over and over again about the Killer Bikes. Look left and right! We were warned because if you were very lucky, the rider MIGHT right their bell just before they hit you. So... ding ding PAS OP! Look out!
Got off the bus at a lower level parking garage, walked a few blocks to the Van Gogh Museum, and then were herded in to make our own way through the four levels. Wonderful collection as you can just imagine. Eccentric wildly unappreciated and talented Vincent. Ever poor, relied heavily upon his brother Theo for financial and emotional support, died very shortly after his brother died. V. was influenced by Gauguin, Millet. etc. Thick impressionistic brushstrokes. Color. Wonderful portraits, self portraits. Paintings of fields and vineyards.
After viewing as much as possible in the limited time, I bought several posters which were boxed up for travel. I was so inspired, that I could think of nothing but really beginning with my travel journal. Colored pencils, Sharpie pens. Making a line come alive and then grinding in the colors. I can just imagine where the posters will go in the classroom. I’m also designing at least one bulletin board in my mind.
We walked back to the bus and discovered that someone had shoved the money into the parking ticket validation slot of the machine and time was lost having to find the proper person in charge to dig out the offending money and re-set the machine. Rush rush back to the boat to lunch. Katya called ahead to the kitchen to tell them that we were about twelve minutes off our schedule. And later we would find out that the kitchen staff liked to stick to a very strict schedule, and thus we were highly discouraged from ever being late. Hurray because I also prefer to be desperately PUNCTUAL. After lunch there was time to settle just a bit, and I took the time to try to run back to town to buy hose, personal feminine products (just in case), a razor and a corkscrew. From the clock, I had exactly one hour to find what I had to find before we set sail for the first time. 3:45pm we were told that we had to be on board OR ELSE we could find a taxi to our next stop at Koln Germany. Not a small trip. In case you wanted to know, when we arrived at the boat, we gave all our passports to be placed in the ship's safe. The routine is that we surrender our keycards when we leave the boat, and we are given a card with our room number and the GCT telephone numbers. That way it is easy to know who is on the ship and who is missing. One would have thought that considering the number of ships that dock with hundreds of tourists who come on and off, there would be a whole series of small convenience shops with all manner of small necessities. Not so. The directions I got from the young girl at the souvenir store for the Albert Markt were so vague that I got more and more lost. The minutes ticked as followed the curved little side streets. What I did discover is a treasure of Asian restaurants and markets just beyond the pier. . No time to stop. Tick tick tick. At last I bumbled into a small corner store, where I bought a bottle of white wine (which sits still unopened). The seller pointed to a distant unseen corner for a pharmacy (another American, probably New Yorker, had come in asking for the same kind of pharmacy) and I gave up. 20 minutes and I still had to cross several busy streets and race down the pier. Turned back to see if I could buy a corkscrew. No but I can open the bottle for you. No, I don't want to open it now, I said, but in returning I noticed that there was a small package of feminine products, and a razor! Yay! So then, in the end all I really needed was the hose (which I never found) and a corkscrew.
Ran back, somewhat warm and we pulled away. Quick change. Sailing away drinks. We pulled away from the pier at Amsterdam, engines rumbling slightly, waters churning, and off we went.
At 6:45pm every evening, one of the guides presents a Port Talk in the sitting room, which gives us the information of the following day. This corresponds with the typed agenda we find on our turned down beds after dinner. During the Sail Away gathering, we were given a glass of champagne each and toasted to our new adventure. Our first evening entertainment was a large disappointment. The entertainer's quavering voice sent most of the travelers rushing out of the lounge. Earnest but not at all what we wanted. My mother and I never crossed the threshold. We went back down to our room and quietly got ready for bed.
We pulled away from Koln in the evening and headed towards Koblenz. Dinner more conversations and then off to bed.
Day 1 AMSTERDAM The Netherlands
7June 2005 Tuesday
The inadvertent discovery of the River Harmony’s library computer and its email capacity changed the face of my correspondence. Postcards have far too small a writing area for me to tell a story properly. There is only enough room for haiku, or severely abbreviated sentences SO when upon discovery that a dense email could be sent for $2.00 AND I could receive replies GRATIS, I quickly shifted all my writing focus to the screen and keyboard.
FLIGHT FROM AUSTIN TO AMSTERDAM. Day #1. Monday.You know of course that our flight was made in bits - Austin -Houston (uneventful) and the Houston - Dulles (on a new jet, so new that the plane did not properly connect to the tunnels. We actually had to disembark, walk several meters and then climb back on OLD SCHOOL.) Not very attractive feature of this flight. We had to really move quickly to get from the gate in Terminal D to the gate in Terminal C that was in the furthest corner of Dulles, or so it seemed. It had become very clear at that time that my job was to really stay right with my mother, watching every step and being aware of every possible convenience and inconvenience.
In the Dulles Airport Gate C#7, we had been met by a red-jacket Grand Circle Tour representative, who checked us off her list and informed us that we would be joining 31 of the GCT members on this flight. We were identified by our GCT nametags, our black GCT travel bags and our blue tags attached to the side. There were brief greetings among those identified, but we all fell into the quiet of travel. The flight from Dulles to Amsterdam took about seven hours on a particularly comfortable wide-bodied 777 plane. We had more than enough space to be comfortable, and were congratulating ourselves for forethought for purchasing fruit and bringing our own bottles of water. One movie later (to be discussed later) and some reading and some sleep and we were there.
(Arrival Time 6:30 am) We were more than ready to leave the airplane after the trip. There had been several somewhat turbulent moments on both the latter flights, so I was silently VERY thankful to be down again. The most challenging hurtle was ahead - that is the baggage claim portion of our show. Passport Control - where the passport inspector had a red-cheeked giggle when my mother stood stoically behind the yellow line despite my apparently humorous attempt to get my mother to stand next to me while he checked and stamped our passports. Mother/Mother/MOM! Our bags were pulled off onto the free rolling cart, arranged and I had one moment of having to scold my mother who was about to leave all our baggage untended while she looked for another cart that we didn't need after all. Grrrr. In the end, with our bags neatly organized, one atop the other, we rolled through the sliding double doors and VOILA, we were in the main terminal of the Schipol International Airport.
Despite the usual bustle and movement of an airport, we were easily able to identify our DCT representative, a thirtysomething blonde Flemish woman Katya. Too much sun, paled but fluent. Our group began to gather each with their baggage carts, pointing inward like quiet cattle. It became clear that there were still some of our group missing. Remember that there were those who were coming from the Brussels Pre-trip, and those who were coming from all over the country. We would eventually have to leave without the three unnamed individuals and get on the bus, which was merely across the street. Apparently there was a series of storms that had affected the East Coast and therefore some flights had been delayed behind the other, and therefore a few of our fellow passengers were affected.
Motorcoach with cushy chairs, we were tired beyond tired. Twenty minutes or so through light morning traffic, we arrived at the River Harmony, ship for cruising the Rhine. Low, wide and quite unlike the HUGE ocean liner that we saw docked at a glass building many many stories high. Clearly our 137 fellow travelers were nothing like the hundreds and hundreds who would be travelling on the enormous ocean liners.
The River Harmony had just made the trip from Vienna to Amsterdam with one group and this group was waiting in the lounge. Their baggage would be loaded onto the bus and our rooms were swiftly being prepared. In that time, we were able to meet several of the outgoing travelers - including some Filipinas married to Indians who were on their way off to London UK. After the usual hesitation (on the Gutierrez Heimsath part) we had a wonderful extended conversation. The Filipina doctor (now retired by and large) from Michigan, recommended Wertheim (homevisit) and Vienna. The Filipina nurse and her doctor husband enjoyed Heidelberg etc. It was clear from the beginning that a clever conversationalist would be greatly valued.
At this time it would be important to point out the endless number of meals, well served by the tireless crew of forty plus members (!). It is critical to wear one's tag so as to be properly identified by name and by area of the United States. The great majority of our fellow travelers are frequent travelers - and those who sport the gold tags have been on Grand Circle Tour at least four times. Most, like my parents, began with the large ocean liners and have done those enough times to want something else, more intimate. From what I gather, this river tour is much more detailed, less formal is some ways, but preferable for most.
Our room (#211 on the Sonata Deck) is quite lovely. Key cards were issued to both of us. Tiled bathroom with toilet, sinks and shower. Two racks of thick white towels, changed everyday. Two upholstered loveseat sized seating areas, comfortable single sized beds pull out from the walls and between the two seating areas is a small fixed table. Double lined curtains, personal thermostat, and two separate closets with hangers, one with a small metal safe, and a desk with a handsome chair. Small television (that we have never used) and a telephone which never rings. On this our first day on the boat (Day #2) of our adventure, my mother and I unpacked, systematically hanging and folding and organizing our space. My mother had wisely brought additional hangers, which both of us needed desperately. Hang hang fold fold.
I have to say that when we had our first exposure to the Dutch weather, I was very concerned that I had packed inadequately. The brisk air was 55 -60 degrees Fahrenheit. Whoops. Brisk stiff wind despite the bright sunshine, and I only had the one light lined coat and my short denim jacket. Not even one pair of denims, lots of skirts and dresses and formal wear. Oh no. Then we would be told by other travelers that formal wear would be altogether unnecessary, 'Smart/Casual' for any more formal affairs. Great. No hose for warmth. No turtlenecks or sweaters. No sweatshirts. Everything was wrong. Then I discovered that I didn't have any Tshirts, etc etc etc. Aggravating altogether. Still - nothing to be done but to marshall on.
The first lunch and then dinner involved what we would discover was the routine. Find two seats with different groups of people. Talk talk talk talk talk. Lots of seventy plus people. There are at least three mother/daughter teams, few single older men (including intrepid 90 year old Werner Hebenstreit.) First you shake hands and identify what part of the country in which you live. Compare travelling notes and family and interests. Mostly retired. Grand parents. Familiar travelers.
One enters the boat via sliding glass doors and to the immediate right is the reception desk with a clerk, on the wall (I'm presently staring at this and describing this to you at the same time) are cubbies for keys. The entry way is tiled in marble, lots of polished red wood. Turn to the left and there is a pair of red carpeted stairs and brass railings. Seven steps curving from the right and left up to the hallway that take you to the Level 4 room hallway and at the end of this is the gracious seating area. Round tables, long tables, all covered in linen tablecloths, silverware, linen napkins, leather covered menus of the day's meal everyday. Uniformed waitpeople (mostly Slovakian) wear sharply starched white and black. Cleaning people wear light blue polo shirts with collars and khakis with white Keds. Chefs wear the proper chefware and of course the captain and his immediate crew wear the formal jackets with brass buttons and occasionally don their hats as well.
We have three group leaders: Kayta (30 something Belgian/ Flemish speaking), Gerald (mid twentys German) and Nela (24 very blonde and Belgian/Flemish). All three speak flawless English and Flemish/ German and French. Katya is the most experienced of this small group. The two younger ones are newer at this but clearly fun-loving. By this our Day #6, we have had a chance to have dinner with Katya and Nela as part of our dining group. So interesting - clearly a taxing job. While it sounds very romantic to be guiding groups up and down the Rhine, all of this crew including the GCT guides are on, 24 hours, to make our trip as enjoyable as possible. Every one of this crew lives on tiny rooms on the lower deck, but they rarely see their beds. There are rooms for guests on the 4th, 3rd and 2nd level. The fourth level has windows that open up to small balconies. The third level rooms are slightly larger than our 2nd level rooms, but all frankly are very comfortable, and if ours are smaller, there is more than enough for all of us.
The name of the game was to stay awake as much as possible until the true night hours of Amsterdam. Miraculously, my mom and I were able to stay awake (kind of) until 9:40 PM and then gratefully fell dead asleep on our beds that had been turned down (yes chocolate). During dinner, for which we had dressed up, our beds had been pulled down; fresh linen set up out, a small chocolate on the pillow and the next day's agenda neatly typed up. We hung up our jammies, got ready for bed and fell asleep HEAVILY.
