September 30, 2014


You have to love a city where they serve prosecco with salami and pickles for breakfast.

And bake bread into musical shapes.

Salzburg is a charming city under any circumstances, devoted to Mozart and his fellow musicians,
Even the Archbishop Dresses for the Festival

but we happened to arrive for St. Rupert’s Festival, a celebration of the patron saint and founder of the city. His feast day is celebrated in Austria on September 24 (although it is celebrated in March in much of the rest of the Roman Catholic Church).

The festival takes over the city on one side of the river. Booths of craftsmen, vendors, and food are stuffed into all the squares. Beer gardens bloom in every open space; carnival rides and games are squeezed in as well.

Musicians play everywhere.

And beer arrives by the wagonload.

Beer and music often mix

That's the conductor on the stage with the mug.

Many people who attend the festival wear
lederhosen and dirndls. Whole families are decked out in the traditional clothing. Little girls wear their aprons over their skirts, mature young women wear tighter (and lower) blouses, and older women wear refined wool jackets over their traditional skirts. Men of all ages wear lederhosen of varying lengths; even boy scouts wear them for the festival.

Small children look like dolls in their outfits. One toddling boy concentrated on his feet, perhaps wondering why it was more difficult to walk in his leather pants; one little girl pulled up her skirt, revealing her diaper. I met one woman who confessed to buying lederhosen for her three-month old son, “because it looks good.”

Me, trying to decide if I can eat the Whole Thing

The city is filled with painted eggs (real ones).

They even sell plain eggs, already blown and cleaned for you. Since I collect eggs I thought I should buy one. I was especially taken with the one that had ladybugs glued to the egg, surrounded by flowers. Then I wondered how I would get it home and didn’t buy it. And then I saw the egg with the teddy bear (which I also collect) playing a musical instrument. It came home in an egg carton in the top of my purse. Fortunately, it made it intact. They are intended for Easter egg trees, but mine will join the other 118 bears on my Christmas tree. 

September 22, 2014


We traveled to Bavaria for a very special event, one I must absorb and turn over in my mind before I write about it. As part of that voyage back in history, we spent four days in the Bavarian Alps. Here’s a short photo journal of that trip.

We stopped in Mittenwald, where the violin trade was practiced in Bavaria. They claim to be the first violin center that organized their sales as well as production. Eventually, however, the sales people took over the operation, leaving the violinmakers as employees, without the respect and control of artisans in other parts of Europe.

Ye Old Violin Shoppe

One day the other people in our party went on a hike and I remained behind. For lunch, I sat outside, eating venison goulash with cranberries and dumpling and drinking apfel schorle. This is the view of Alpspitze from my table. The mountain felt so close I thought I might be able to reach out and flick the few wispy clouds off its shoulder. I resisted the urge as I was afraid it might break the magic of the moment.

Alpspitze in Untergrainau

 We made a trip to the top of Zugspitze, the tallest peak in Germany. A cable takes you straight up the side of the mountain, and I do mean straight. Then we came down the mountain on a cogwheel train that wended its way downhill through a long tunnel. German engineers are fearless.

The route up on the cable car is shown on this map--the red line that goes straight up the mountain.

Here is a look back at the cables we took up the mountain, gleaming in the sun.

For someone who’s squeamish about heights and tunnels, it was a feat of courage. But, oh, it was worth it!

Alps from the Top of Zugspitze

Alpine Crags

Alps from the Austrian Side

Alpine Sunbathing

We spent several days with a group of people from all over the world and stayed in an ancestral home called Huegel am Weg (literally: Hill on the Way). This a view from our window.

The Bavarian Alps are not complete without a trip to Mad Ludwig’s Castle.

Can everyone say “Disneyland?”

This is the view from his castle. I suspect he was not really mad, only an eccentric romantic (or is that redundant?).

September 18, 2014


Gary and Michele at Nymphenburg Palace

--You know you’re traveling when your body clock keeps saying it’s time to sleep, it’s time to eat, and the times don’t correspond at all with where you are.

--You know you’re in a foreign country when you go to church and the priest’s reflection is incomprehensible except for the words Palestine, Syria, and Iraq.

--You know you’re in Europe when the hotels, no matter the country, provide French soaps.

--You know you’re in Munich when the bill for an appetizer, side dish and glass of wine for two is 100 euros.

--You know you’re not in Seattle when the bicyclists obey the traffic laws and don’t cross intersections if the light is red.

--You know you’re not in Seattle when it rains, and everyone pulls out an umbrella.

--You know you’re not in any American city when you and your husband can buy a Partner ticket (Partner is the word used in German) and travel all around the city easily. You might get a bit lost when the transfer bus the hotel clerk told you to take is out of service for repairs. Then a lovely German woman, who knows less English than you know German, will somehow figure out what you need and introduce you to the conductor on the next tram. He will then welcome you aboard, and deposit you a few stops later, back on the route you intended all along.  

Entrance to our Hotel

As we edged closer and closer to our trip to Germany and Austria, I kept looking at the map and wondering why I hadn’t included a quick jaunt to Italy in the itinerary. It is just a quick plane hop away. Unlike previous travels, I had spent little time learning a few basics of the language in the country we would visit. Of the few phrases I attempted to learn were, “I am allergic to dairy” and “Where is the bathroom?” I lamented that my Italian would not be useful just as I am becoming courageous enough to simply blurt out Italian and hope it works.

What a joy to arrive in Munich and have the hotel recommend an Italian restaurant nearby. And how comforting to visit La Stanza that evening and discover that everyone there spoke Italian. The food was excellent and I had decided we would return before we even left the restaurant.

It turns out that in Southern Germany, like in England, no one recommends the local cuisine. It is assumed that you will eat the food of other countries. We did have sausages, potato salad and kraut in a beer garden—how could we not? But, for our other meals we ate Italian, Japanese and attempted Indian, but the restaurant was too crowded to accommodate us.

I'm going to stuff my suitcase with German bread
 My favorite meal, at a restaurant near the Schloss-Nymphenburg: an appetizer platter with sausages and mustard, duck with fresh horseradish, a prosciutto-like meat, trout, pickles and (my favorite—where can I get some more?) apple-lard on nutty German bread.

We usually spend time in a city just wandering around and getting a feel for it but this time we only had a few days and played the tourist. We visited museums (with Italian paintings and scientific equipment) went to the Marienplatz to see the glockenspiel dance at noon; and visited the royal palace (an French/Italian wannabe).

The Schloss-Nymphenburg is promoted here as the most beautiful palace in the world (and it might have been—once!); it may be the most enormous palace anywhere, but now it is only a series of palazzos strung together like pearls on a necklace by long hallways of glass and portraits.

Its most significant feature is the Hall of Beauties, thirty-six portraits of beautiful women secured and painted according to the specifications of the ruler. Gary wondered if this was his version of Playboy but I think not. With all the nude women painted on the walls and ceilings, these modest, standard portraits, are something more. I can’t put my finger on it, but I do wonder what his wife must have thought. Did she take another route through the palace so as not to confront the display?   

Quite by accident we went to the palace on the 350th anniversary of its creation. This meant that entrance was free, in exchange for listening to thirty minutes of speeches, and hearing some music. There were actors in Baroque costumes accompanied by medieval musicians. The hall in which the occasion was marked as been restored and future work is anticipated to restore the palace to its former glory.

The most amazing part of the palace is the stables where royal carriages and sleighs have been preserved and displayed. They were beyond description with their gold, and statues, and paintings, and furs, and feathers, and leather, and jewels. A picture will have to suffice, even though the picture cannot capture the splendor and size.

I asked Gary what he thought of Munich and he contributed the following (as well as five of the photos):

Munich is the capital of Bavaria, the southernmost state of Germany—predominantly Catholic, fairly conservative—but welcoming visitors from all over the world. The landscapes are green, the air is fresh and cool, and the cows are all contented.

Heiliggeistkirche Church with Paper Cranes