Tuesday, October 18, 2016

Sunday, October 16, 2016

Home From Europe

Home now with the Baroness, a comfortable bed and--not to be underestimated!--another Calvin drama. Plunder from the Ramble/Mash is being assembled and inventoried:


Wouldn't a Zurich mug be the perfect compliment to this collection?

Friday, October 14, 2016

Goodbye to Europe and a Lauterbrunnen Valley Flashback

It's getting cold in Europe. Time to go home.

Others are in Murren. We were there in 2010:


Heidelberg

It's our last day in Germany--hence the last day of this extended EuroRamble--and what better place to spend it than in the lovely town of Heidelberg? Tomorrow we depart from Frankfurt airport and head back to the States.

The most outstanding feature of Heidelberg is its magnificent castle overlooking the city. Town lore says that Napoleon tried to destroy this tower but gave up after repeated attempts. 





Now despite the eternal loveliness of this city it should be noted that there was universal alarm at its condition compared to a few years ago when the American areas were occupied. The larger US Army buildings and installations from that era are still there, but they are either run-down and unoccupied or used to house illegal immigrants. In both cases they are in utterly disastrous shape. In addition to their dilapidated condition they are used for the horrific graffiti that is now found almost everywhere in Heidelberg. 

The extent of the graffiti is shocking to many visitors, myself included, who remember the old Germany. There is even graffiti in the old city center--enough to rival the slums in run-down parts of American cities. What a sad loss.

Sunday, October 9, 2016

Wiesbaden Stadmitte and Environs





No Pictures! But a Free Starbucks Mug...

A fresh (and cold) German morning beckoned. Starbucks, too, since the pathetic "continental breakfast" at the Hotel American Base was less than appetizing and the coffee substandard. I decided to go for yet another walk to the PX.

There I began to make friends. Vanessa (from Colorado), Carolina (from Poland), Tina (UK) and Lena (Korea) were working the counter. I ordered the largest mug of strong coffee they had and settled into a comfortable chair.

Then Frank walked up. Frank wanted to talk. He explained that he is 88 years old and had just returned from the United States on Thursday and couldn't shake the jet lag. He has seven children, a buncha grandchildren and six great-grandchildren and after six months they had driven him crazy and he had to come back home Wiesbaden, where he has lived with his German wife since the early 1990s.

Frank talked. And talked. And talked. He was obviously lonely. I didn't mind because he talked about very interesting things. Also, as a short man (about 5'2") with a strong Brooklyn accent and a great sense of humor he was entertaining.

His first topic was family, by which he meant wives and children. He welled up with tears when he told me about losing his first wife when she was 61. She had been German, too. He loved his second wife dearly and spoke highly of her. That's the mark of a good man.

Women are important, Frank explained, because "a man without a woman is like a piss-pot without a handle." I thought of some unmarried friends of mine and considered the validity of that analogy.

Frank's second topic was his career: forty-three years in counterintelligence, twenty as a warrant officer and twenty-three as a civilian. He couldn't tell me what he did (!) but he could tell me he got two Legions of Merit as a civilian, which is actually pretty cool. He was there when the 66th MI Bde was stood up. And so on.

One of his final topics was money. He wanted me to know how much he made in retirement, which was comfortably six figures when including his wife's German pension and his personal investments--which he had been making since 1961! Basically, he was loaded and had a guaranteed income stream. This was lucky for me, because as our conversation concluded I walked up to the counter to pay for my last Starbucks mug (yes, I decided to get one more--Heidelberg) and he insisted on paying for it. I could tell he was grateful for the conversation.

I asked if I could take a picture of him and he steadfastly refused. It seemed like he really kind of wanted me to take one. So I snapped this while he was talking to somebody and he pretended not to notice:


Saturday, October 8, 2016

Wiesbaden

Unbelievable. I am sitting in a comfortable American hotel room (with, most importantly, a real American bed!) watching college football. In Germany. This is the life! Too bad I had to eat Taco Bell for dinner. The only options were the PX food court.

I went to the PX Starbucks and found a Stuttgart mug. And a mug for Heidelberg. And Bonn, and Wiesbaden and Mainz and Dresden and Koln and...  Interesting there are none for Munich or Frankfurt.



Suddenly it occurs to me why Starbucks is phasing these mugs out. It's because nobody else, especially Europeans, drinks coffee in large mugs like this. Only us coffee-loving Americans do that. Others prefer smaller servings in dainty mugs, as wrong as it is. So as Starbucks gets more international it finds less demand for big mugs and increasing demand for smaller mugs. At least that's my theory.

"Hotel American Base" from the correct side of the fence. It's cold and rainy. The beautiful 7pm chorus of German church bells ringing out from both sides of the city is hard to beat:



The R4TS4&T2TWH Mash in Review

It seems necessary and timely to make a few important points about the last week:

1. It happened and it was a Mash. 'Nuff said.

2. It's easy to buy too much good bread in Italy and it's a darn good problem to have. 

3. Alcalde was right: Body wash can work as laundry detergent.

4. Alcalde was wrong: He didn't find Al by himself and he doesn't deserve all the credit. It was truly a team effort. Jose contributed by driving in tight corners along Italian cart paths that posed as roads and I contributed with leadership by loudly proclaiming, "Sharp's the word!". It was inspirational. Also, it was my communicating in donkey with Italians and Seborgans that brought us our first real breakthrough with the man whose sheep were on holiday, because it was him who told us to look on Via Cassete.

5. There is no way to describe how funny it is to hear Jose singing Olivia Newton John songs in Clouseau accent while driving along the coast in the French Riviera.

6. The view of Monaco from that balcony is something that could never get old.

7. The songs from Birdemic will always, always, always be outrageously funny.

8. There is absolutely no way it is necessary to get to the airport--any airport--early when one is flying Lufthansa.

9. Some movies are so bad they're not worth seeing, even if one has waited over thirty years.

10. There is pretty strong evidence that a sarcastic, barbed sense of humor grows stonger with age, especially when it is confronted with the likesame.

Nice to Wiesbaden

So I'm sitting in the hotel in Wiesbaden looking out over...the dreary, cold German countryside. I flew out of sunny, warm Nice only a few hours ago. Welcome to Germany.

My travel today was without incident and I had no trouble navigating trains and public transit until here. That's because it was at the Wiesbaden train station that I once again encountered lying German taxi drivers. Now, of course, I am experienced in the ways of lying German taxi drivers so I made sure this one a) spoke English, and b) had an installation pass so he could take me to the hotel on post. He said he could take me right to the "hotel American base".

As soon as we were in the car he didn't understand a word and it was obvious he was pretending. Uh-oh. He then took me to the German road OUTSIDE the fenceline across from the hotel and said we were there. Oh, great. I got rather direct with him and said, "No! Through the MAIN GATE and then the HOTEL!" At this point he began muttering in German and we went to the main gate, where (of course) it turned out he didn't have an installation pass at all. So I jumped out, grabbed my suitcase, offered him a few words and threw him ten Euro. Then he started to protest because the fare by this time was up to over fifteen. So I offered him a few more loud words and asked in English if the main gate looked like a hotel to him. He pretended not to understand and drove off in a huff.

The gate guards were thoroughly entertained and actually encouraged me. They said afterward it is a continuous problem with local taxi drivers misrepresenting their access to post. I think they might have recognized him. They told me it was a twenty minute walk uphill to the hotel from there and, no, somebody couldn't just get dropped off across the fence and hop over.

Then something cool happened. Somebody driving on post rolled down their window and offered me a ride. All of a sudden I felt back in the USA. It was somebody all dressed up in a traditional German outfit heading out to Oktoberfest. He saw what happened and thought he would help me out.

So I'm here now and will soon walk to the PX to buy batteries for my camera so I can take pictures. Of the cold, scenic German fall.

Friday, October 7, 2016

The Dramatic Search for Al

It's our last day in Seborga. We decided to seek out Al. He has been unseen, staying at a distance and braying from time to time. But where is he?

Our search began along the hillside below, directed in part by short conversations with locals who didn't speak English but who understood "hee-haw, hee-haw". Pictured below, Jose and Alcalde walk along a primitive Italian/Seborgan road:



After several false alarms, some encounters with the locals, conversations in donkey but no English, and some blind luck, we zeroed in on Via Cassete...and there he was!:


No doubt about it! It was Al! You could tell by the sheepish look and the partially hidden form, perfect for braying loudly from a distance. Al seems to withdraw and throw obnoxious criticisms at everyone instead of participating in the fun like everybody else. It's his nature, I guess.


Then we took one last cruise along the beautiful Mediterranean coastline and headed to San Remo for lunch.



Once again, Italian-Greek kebabs. Followed by gelato and a look at the sunny San Remo harbor. Then we cruised home for concluding ceremonies.




Once back home, the blogging team springs into action!


Thursday, October 6, 2016

Cannes

We drove westward to Cannes and slowly worked our way back to Seborga along the coast. In Cannes we saw a lot of really rich people and shops selling really expensive things to them. It was kind of like an urban Montecito with a harbor. We did manage to (finally) find a little shop that sold croissants and Eurocoffee. So we sat down and did the casual mid-morning break thing, like the locals do, and then noticed it was across from the city farmers market. Another discovery! We ambled through and Alcalde bought fried zucchini flowers and I bought peppered goat cheese, both of which were delicious.




Al has been braying a bit less lately. It's a contrast to earlier in the week, when we heard loud, declarative outbursts and protestations. Either he has exhausted himself or retreated back into his strange little world.

One note on Wednesday night: We had dinner in a very good restaurant in Seborga, where we met some Germans and some (very drunk) Americans and had salmon ravioli.

Wednesday, October 5, 2016

Strolling Through Seborga

We finally budgeted some time to amble through the centerpoint of our stay, the object of our ramble, the desire of our heart, and the source of some very entertaining social and political dynamics. Seborga!

There is one significant change since our last visit. The famous Principe Restaurant is now closed. There are others, though, as we have discovered, including the humble place across the plaza (pictured below).




We found a neat souvenir store that sold edged weapons and shields. As mementos. Probably a good thing Al's not here after all.


Jose and Alcalde attempted to blend in with the Seborgan masses by looking casual:



We wandered the ancient city and discovered the old Palace of the Prince is for sale at only 1,500,000 Euros. I found a real estate agent in another building who confirmed that yes, the famous palace of Seborga is for sale, and that we could get a showing if we wanted. At this point my companions began to question whether we could or should consider such an opportunity! A 500m palace! A REAL EUROPEAN PALACE! With an unobstructed view of the Mediterranean! And balconies, too! How often do you get an opportunity like that? No amount of reasoning would persuade them, however, and alas, we (I) were (was) forced to abandon my imperial, er, modest delusions, I mean, ideas. Oh, brother.

On the way out of town we noticed we could see our rented place (below, red tile roof directly to the left of the flag on the flagpole). We also noted that somewhere in this valley is the braying donkey that we have decided to call Al, for reasons that are perfectly obvious to anyone familiar with the overall situation.


The Ligurian Coast

No time worries. No pressures. Cruisin' into San Remo along the coastline, admiring the sparkling sea, we spot a shop with fresh croissants. Why not stop? We had to make nice with the local authorities in the process.




To a supermarket in the city to stock up. We saw a lady with a little dog in her purse.


Jose, becoming an expert at driving in Italy, directs us homeward.



A Return to Dolcedo

Last night for dinner. We had the same good-natured waitress that was there seven years ago.


Another Seborga Morning



Tuesday, October 4, 2016

Ramblin' Through La Turbie, Eze, Roquebrune

A well-deserved and triumphant return to La Turbie, where we toured the Tropaeum Alpium--awesome--took pictures and went to a magnificent French bakery to buy stuff for lunch, which we consumed overlooking Villefranche-sur-Mer and Nice:








Then a visit to nearby Eze and its ruins, which now plays host a French cactus jardin and other things.


Then to a castle/chateau in Roquebrune that Jose knew about. For the third time today a hike up steep steps to another Mediterranean views:



Back to Seborga, captured from the car in Birdemic format (Seborga straight ahead on hilltop):




Monday, October 3, 2016

Ode to a Seborga Sunrise

Thy bright and dazzling views presenting
The ocean blues and unrelenting
Mountain beauty with fresh air venting
Across the skies
Seborga sunrise!

A new life stirs within my breast
It awakens my soul at thy behest
Oh, life so grand! To be so blessed!
Through my eyes!
Seborga sunrise!



Monaco

Summer weather continues, so we spent the day outdoors. Starting with a walking exploration of Monaco:



We foolishly let Jose lead us to the Casino. Then we found out it was closed, and they wouldn't let Jose talk them into letting us in anyway. But that wasn't a total loss because Jose said we could get our passports stamped with a Monaco stamp at the park across the street. Which wasn't true, either, so we ditched the Casino and headed toward the Palais.



Before the Palais, a visit to the old castle and the Institut Oceanographique National.



Jose found a yellow submarine.


We toured the Palais (no pictures) and headed to Eze and La Turbie.


And then came back to begin the movies!