Playing for the Ashes

With Henry traveling to Exeter to give a talk on weather prediction to the British Meteorology Office, I finally wrangled a trip to London for a few days. Ever since Henry and I started discussing places to spend parts of his sabbatical year, London was always on my list. For a while, I was insistent on spending time in a country (other than the United States) where either French or English was spoken. Initially, Paris was Henry's concession to me, but alas, Paris fell by the wayside as a long-term destination, and we settled on Zurich and Munich. Thanks to Sara's spending the Winter Quarter 2009 in Paris, I had my visit to France in February (see blog entry "Just passing through Zurich redux"). I thought visiting London was a lost cause, until Henry received the invitation to Exeter a few weeks ago. It took me about a microsecond to suggest that I visit London at the same time Henry would be in Exeter.

Spending three days in London, I had neither the compulsion nor the desire to "do" London as I had "done" Amsterdam in 27 hours (see blog entry "Lowdown on the Netherlands"). Because my number one goal was to see a show each night of my stay, my first order of business after I checked into my hotel (the Strand Palace) was to head to the discount ticket office on Leicester Square. I easily accomplished my goal, seeing three musicals--Billy Elliot, Wicked (I missed this one in the U.S.), and Sister Act. I cannot say which one was the best--I enjoyed them all. The young lead in Billy Elliot (based on the movie of the same name) was fantastic. The role of Glinda, the good witch in Wicked, was ably played by an understudy, but her singing voice was small compared to the greater range and fullness of the voice of the actress playing Elphaba, the wicked witch. Sister Act (based on the Whoopi Goldberg movie and co-produced by Whoopi) was just plain fun. The highlights of the show were the choir's song and dance numbers. Not having been to a London show in over 40 years (the last time I was in London was 36 years ago), I did not recall any major differences from American theater (besides the spelling of "theatre"). This time around, I noticed that London's live theatre is like going to the movies or a ball game. You can bring food and drink to your seat, and snack stands are set up in the theatre aisles during intermission. No, the hawkers don't throw bags of peanuts half way across a row of seats as they do at the ballpark. The British are more restrained than that (though they come out in force for an evening beer at the pubs) (see photo)!

My only "complaint" about the shows is not really a complaint, but rather, a slight inconvenience. With the shows' regularly starting at 7:30PM and lasting an average of almost three hours, my choice was to eat dinner either very early or very late. I chose the former option, which cut into my time for museums, sights, walking, and shopping. I coped. Besides, "dining" in London is an oxymoron, though I did have three decent dinners. Bumbles, a restaurant with an eclectic menu, was recommended to me by a young cloakroom attendant at the Queen's Gallery. Even if the servers had not tried to be pretentious (e.g., making a show of the plate presentation), the food was good. Mango Tree, an upscale (i.e., should have more pretention) Thai restaurant recommended by my sister, Judi, had good food, but when I ordered two appetizers, rather than an appetizer and a main course, the server inexplicably brought both at the same time . The third dinner was at Thai Cottage, a hole in the wall spot near the theatre, which was recommended by the "Rough Guide to London" authors. The place has zero atmosphere and has no pretensions, but the servers knew better than to overlap the appetizer (Chicken Satay, suggested by the Rough Guiders) and the main course! Henry would have loved the place--it was big on hot spices, Henry's favorite.

I did a lot of walking around the city, wandering through several markets (e.g., Covent Garden (where the street performers overshadowed the artists displaying their wares for sale (see photo)) and Spitalfields), walking along both sides of the Thames, crossing the Millennium bridge (see photo) (walking only and offering nice views of St. Paul's Cathedral (see photo) on one side and the Tate Modern Museum on the other) and the London Bridge (newly built after an older version moved to Arizona; not at all attractive, but it was a convenient place to cross the river and to view the Tower Bridge (see photo)), viewing the Gherkin (an ugly, new pickle-shaped skyscraper (see photo)), Big Ben, the Houses of Parliament, and the London Eye (a huge, slow moving (one revolution takes about 30 minutes) ferris wheel that provides panoramic views of the city) (see photo), and taking my life in my hands when crossing the street at Piccadilly Circus and Trafalgar Square (see photo). I also enjoyed a stroll through St. James Park and the Palace Gardens (see photo), both of which are hard to avoid once one commits to visiting Buckingham Palace (see photo below).























































I opted for the Buckingham Palace tour, since the palace has been open to the public only since the 1990's and then only for two months in the summer, while the queen is residing in Scotland at Balmoral Castle. The agreement to open Buckingham Palace for public tours was reached reluctantly, but money was needed to rebuild Windsor Castle after a fire in 1992 and to continue maintaining Buckingham Palace, not to mention maintaining the monarchy itself! Although the populace is not ready to get rid of the monarchy, the people are now less willing to pay for it.

An interesting touch to go along with the Buckingham Palace audio tour is the presence of university students (generally those studying history or art history) who are hired for the summer to act as room monitors and sources of additional information. I talked with a few of them along the way through the approximately 20 state rooms (the other 600+ rooms are closed to the public). They change room responsibilities every half hour, so they they don't get bored, and they are given "cheat sheets" for each room in order to do their best at answering questions. With very question I asked the various monitors (except an older gentleman who appeared to be a veteran in this line of work), out came the cheat sheets! I was impressed, however, that when one of the young monitors did not know the answer to my question, she asked someone else, then found me about 15 minutes further on in the tour, and provided the answer. Now, that's dedication to the job!

I am not sure what it was that gave Buckingham Palace a different feel for me than the palaces I visited in Germany. It wasn't the differences in decoration (e.g., less painting, but more fancy stucco work and gilding on the ceilings) or in merchandising (they all are masters). It also wasn't the revelation that some of the flower bouquets set around the state rooms were fake. I was rather taken with George III's and George IV's (the biggest contributors to the palace furnishings and decor) choices of Sevres porcelain pieces and paintings by the Dutch Masters, but these didn't account for the different feel either. Part of the difference is that I'm somewhat familiar with the language spoken in this palace, and thus was able to read all of the signs! The larger element, however, is that this is one of the few palaces that still serves as a residence and as an official venue for the royalty's entertainment of 70,000 people a year. I'm sure just close friends are invited. Maybe the place is a relic, but at least it's being used.

When I was in London over 40 years ago with my father, we watched the "changing of the guard" at Buckingham Palace. This time around, I watched the changing of the horse guard (see photos). My memory from years past is that nothing could twitch or sway the guards. After watching the horse guards and individual foot guards (now, with what looked like machine guns, rather than muskets(see photo), I'm convinced that the Royal Guard School (or whatever it is called) is not graduating quite the same caliber of guard as it did 40 years ago. Some of today's guards actually moved their eyes and changed their facial expressions! My! Oh, my! In any event, the two guards standing on the palace grounds near where the palace tour ended were definitely fakes. Neither held a sword or a machine gun, and neither was able to hold the proper pose. I assume they were two of the many students hired for the summer at the palace and were costumed for tourist photos. One of them appeared especially pained by the experience (see photo). I was pleased, however, to see that not all of the horse guards where white males.

I was happy with my selection of four museums to visit:
1. Queen's Gallery: more treasures from the Royal Collection; currently showcasing its wonderful collection of Faberge eggs and porcelain flowers (these were real fakes!), and other Sevres porcelain.
2. Sir John Soane's Museum: a museum situated in the former home of the chief architect of the Bank of England 200 years ago; includes a motley collection of antiquities as well as other "period" items; in many respects, the house was modeled to fit the collection, rather than the other way around.
3. British Museum: probably best known for the Elgin Marbles (Parthenon sculptures brought to England by Lord Elgin in the early 1800's (see photo); I think I saw more of the Acropolis Parthenon in the British Museum than I did in Athens) and the Rosetta Stone (the piece of stone which allowed researchers to decipher Egyptian hieroglyphs); given the size of the British Museum, I'm glad I rented the 50 or so greatest hits audio tour, so as not to miss the museum's most famous holdings.
4. National Gallery (see photo): another huge museum; rather than see it all, I spent more time with my preferred periods and painting styles; these included a special exhibition of late 18th and 19th century French landscape paintings and their influence on the impressionist paintings of the later 19th century, the Dutch Masters of the 17th century, and the impressionists (no surprise to anyone who has read prior blog entries!).

A few more miscellaneous observations:
1. For those of you who are wondering, "The Ashes" referred to in the title of this blog is the trophy won in certain test cricket matches between England and Australia. During my visit, the final of 5 test matches between England and Australia was the big event for pubs all over London (see photo). My apologies to Elizabeth George--she authored a novel about the murder of a cricket player, called, "Playing for the Ashes". If you like mysteries, I highly recommend almost all of her books.
2. I got the feeling that the Commonwealth is the United Kingdom's way of believing it is still an Empire, and the queen holds that Commonwealth together. Woe to the Commonwealth when the queen dies.
3. Although London theatre is less pricey than Broadway theater, and a number of the great museums (e.g., British Museum and National Gallery) are free, tourists can pay a pretty penny (i.e., lots of them) for some of London's popular attractions (e.g., Buckingham Palace (16.50 British Pounds (GBP), which currently equates to almost 27 USD); Tower of London (17 GBP); London Eye (17.50 GBP)). Yes, admission to Disneyland is quite a bit more, but at least one can spend the entire day there!
4. Yes, Karen C., London does have trash containers along the streets (see photo)! When Karen Crawford and her entourage came to visit us after visiting London (see blog entry "Friends from Afar"), they insisted there were no trash containers on the streets of London. Actually, Karen, the problem was that you were looking for trash containers instead of rubbish containers (see photo). I concede, however, that I was hard-pressed to find either a trash or rubbish container when I needed one at the theatre.













5. Brits post funny signs, such as "Mind the Gap" (there really is a gap between some of the older underground trains and the platform!), reminders to "Look Right" and "Look Left" at most crosswalks, and "Give Way" instead of "Yield". I was surprised, however, to see "Subway" next to "Underground" (see photos).



















































6. My favorite sign was on an ice cream truck--"Often Licked Never Beaten" (see photo).











7. Many more people jaywalk in London than in Munich, Berlin, or Zurich. Perhaps, this is partly because most visitors aren't used to looking right first, instead of left, when crossing the street. Also, although traffic circles work pretty well elsewhere, they seem to add to the traffic in London.
8. Unlike the Swiss and Germans, the operators of the London Underground do not apologize for delays on the "Tube". After walking along the Thames for a while, I decided to take the Tube to my next destination in order to save some time. What would have been about a 15-minute walk ended taking me about 30-40 minutes on the Tube, because of a "signal failure". Given that I could actually understand the announcements, because they were in English rather than German, I could tell they were purely informational, without any tone of apology.
9. Especially in the areas of traffic flow and the subway system, London has a long way to go to be ready for its hosting of the 2012 Olympics. The Underground is especially unfriendly to visitors with luggage. In some of the stations, with either no or no convenient escalators, it is extremely difficult to lug one's luggage up and down steps. (Duh, I guess that's the reason luggage is called luggage.) When I first arrived via the Underground, from the airport to one of the stops near my hotel, I saw a huge crowd of people waiting for an elevator. Little did I know that the circular staircase I took instead of the elevator would be the equivalent of about eight flights of stairs, with no place to exit except at the very top! Other stations are not as daunting, but still require the use of steps. Does this mean I'm getting old, or just feeling it?? Hoping that it's neither, I sometimes opt for the steps just to prove that to myself!

Short Hops

Help! I have places to go before I leave! From Friday to Monday, I had four days, and took day trips on three of them. The fourth day, Sunday, was just as important--brunch with Henry at a new favorite spot (Vorstadt Cafe, in our Schwabing neighborhood) and a stroll and rest in the Englischer Garten. I will surely miss the Garten, with its babbling streams and abundance of shade, a soothing balm especially on hot, sunny days.

On Friday, the forecast was for rain, but the moment the sun came out at about 11:00AM, I threw a few pieces of fruit, a drink, my camera, sunscreen, and my umbrella into my daypack and dashed off to Marienplatz to take the 11:30AM S6 train to Starnberg, at the northern tip of the Starnberger See. The clouds threatened, but held back the rain for most of the afternoon. The boat company on the lake offers a combined ticket for a two and a half-hour ride on the Starnberger See (see photos) and entry to the Buchheim Museum, just a short walk from the Bernried pier, about two-thirds of the way down the 21 kilometer-long lake. My only mishap of the day was on the return boat ride to Starnberg--the blog notes I jotted down during our trip to the Swiss Alps blew away into the oblivion of the Starnberger See!

The Buchheim Museum not only has a nice collection of Expressionist works (early 20th century--about as close to today's art as I can reasonably enjoy!); the building itself is architecturally quite pleasing (see photo). Were the weather a bit nicer, I could have seen the Alps from the deck overhanging the lake. Lothar-Gunther Buchheim, who amassed the collection, was a "renaissance" man in his own right. He was a successful painter, photographer, publisher, art book author, and novelist. I did not recognize his name, but am acquainted with his novel, "Das Boot", which was made into a Oscar-nominated movie in 1981. Both the book and movie have had worldwide distribution. I was willing to ignore the fact that the book and movie derived from Buchheim's position as an officer in the propaganda unit in the German Navy during World War II.

Henry and I took the train to Ulm on Saturday. On the high speed strain, the trip takes less than an hour and a half. However, we discovered part of the way through our outbound trip that the Bayern Ticket I purchased for us (valid for a day of travel for up to five people anywhere within Bavaria and to a few additional destinations just outside the Bavarian border, such as Ulm and Salzburg) was not valid on any high speed trains. As I expressed my lack of understanding of what the conductor was pronouncing in German, I noticed a number of other travelers among the several rows of seats around us stand up with the anticipation of viewing what I think they hoped was someone receiving a dreaded train fine. Henry kept his mouth shut as I gave up on my initial attempt to speak in broken German and I asked the conductor, "Sprechen Sie Englisch?" The phrase, which I spoke with some reluctance (not wanting to appear as a stupid foreigner), amazingly defused the situation. The conductor's immediate and unexpected response was, "Oh, English! I will let you go!" Our mistake was an honest one, but we decided we should not tempt fate on the return ride. We took the regional train with a number of stops and a change of trains on the way back to Munich. We didn't suffer on the two-hour ride; after all, I could work on catching up on my blog!

Ulm, about 90 miles west and slightly north of Munich, lies on the west side of the Danube River in the state of Baden-Wurttenberg. Neu-Ulm sits on the east side, in the state of Bavaria. The two cities offer sharp contrasts. Ulm has been in existence over 1100 years, and shows off the remnants of its fortification walls and medieval crooked houses in its Fishermen's and Tanners' Quarter in the Old Town (see photos). Neu-Ulm, which we viewed across the Danube, prides itself on its more modern architecture. For those of you who cannot relate to anything so old, Ulm's "relatively" more recent claim to fame is that Albert Einstein was born there. (No, I won't bother here with a pun about "relativity".) The Munster, dating back to 1377, is the pictorial highlight and claims to have the world's tallest church spire (see photo). With its 768 steps, the spire has more than twice the number of steps that my sister, Judi, and I climbed in the Stephansdom in Vienna (see blog entry "From Bad Tolz to Berlin"). Electing to walk around the city some more, rather than testing my stair stepping stamina, I surprised Henry by arriving at our agreed upon outdoor cafe meeting place before he managed to finish his cup of coffee. That was no big deal for me--I simply continued my unscientific experimental study of European ice creams!



















Ulm actually offers more than its Old Town. The city has very pleasant promenades on both sides of the Danube, and one small enterprising entrepreneur operates a "Solar Flotte" back and forth across the Danube. For one euro, it was worth it to cross the river totally by solar power (see photo)! Ulm also offers several very modern buildings, the most eye-catching of which is the new city library, a glass-paneled pyramid in the shadow of the Munster (see photo).













On Monday, I traveled to Nurnberg, just over one hour by high speed train and a minimum of nearly twice as long on the regional train. Yes, I purchased another Bayern Ticket, but confirmed the train limitation before boarding the appropriate regional train! I did not expect Nurnberg to have the effect on me that it did. This is likely because I visited the Documentation Center for the Party Rally Grounds, a tram ride away from the traditional Old Town. In 1933, the Nazis decided to designate Nurmberg as "the City of the Party Rallies". Albert Speer designed parade grounds, zeppelin field and grandstand, Congress Hall, and huge stadium on over 60 acres of land in the southern part of Nurnberg. By 1938, when construction was halted (I'm not sure why, other than to direct concentration camp laborers to other war preparation work), the completed parade grounds (with a long, wide central path for Hitler's walk to the raised stone dais from which he brought the assembled crowds of soldiers, Hitler youth, and others to frenzied expressions of adoration of their Fuhrer) had been used for several annual rallies of hundreds of thousands of Nazi faithful. The Congress Hall, a coliseum-type structure, had been partly completed, and now houses the documentation center--a museum whose permanent exhibition ("Fascination and Terror") is described in the literature and audio guide as dealing with the causes, contexts and consequences of the National Socialist rule of terror. The exhibition is well presented and has received a number of awards, but I missed in the exhibition an expression of responsibility for following der Fuhrer. On its official website, the City of Nurmberg states: "The City accepts its responsibility in view of its history, and therefore endeavors to become a "City of Peace and Human Rights," informing people and sending out new signals of hope." In addition, since 1995, every two years, the city has presented the Nurnberg International Human Rights Award. Apparently, the decision to preserve the architectural remains of the Party Rally Grounds was a difficult one, and I can understand the considerations in favor of and against retaining this architectural legacy. Nevertheless, I cringed as I watched film footage of the rallies and saw the utter exhilaration of individuals getting a glimpse of their Fuhrer. The exhibition also included interviews with now older individuals who took part in the rallies and spoke seemingly proudly of how many times they saw Hitler in person. The exhibition explained the mythical image that the Nazi propaganda experts (including Leni Riefenstahl, director of the famous propaganda film, "Triumph of the Will") created and to which many Germans succumbed, but I left the Center feeling that the explanation simply was not enough to assuage my horror and sadness. Though visitors were free to take photographs of the structural remains as well as the displays inside the exhibition hall, I lacked any desire to take pictures at the Documentationzentrum and I left the city without buying a single postcard.

Upon my return to the Old Town, I took a recommended self-guided walking tour and ended up at the Imperial Castle, a reminder of times much longer ago and far less emotional for me (see photos). The castle dates back to the 11th century and was one of the most important palaces of the Middle Ages, especially with its strong connection with the Catholic church. Because of its age, it lacks the opulence of the "newer" Wittelsbach (e.g., King Ludwig II) palaces (see blog entries "The Home Stretch", "Here and There", "A Week to Relax"), but had its own charm (e.g., a tower providing excellent views of the entire city of Nurnberg (see photo) and a deep well cut into the castle rock).

Swiss Retreat

The group with which Henry was connected at ETH in Zurich definitely knows how to mix work and fun. They convene for Friday lunches, rotating responsibility among the graduate students for preparing the weekly repasts. Henry made his contribution by our taking everyone to lunch at an Indian restaurant on the final Friday of our Zurich sojourn. The group also "retreats" to the mountains for skiing in the winter and hiking, rock climbing, basketball, windsurfing, and/or kitesurfing in the summer. Henry's ETH host kindly invited us to join the group in Promontogno, in the Swiss Alps, just a few kilometers from the Italian border. The grandfather of one of the students owns an apartment in this small village tucked in an alpine nook. The professor and ten students managed to divide up the rooms in that and the adjoining apartment, while Henry and I stayed in a homey pension across the street. The pension appeared to be a family affair, with the matriarch staying up each night until we returned to our room after partying with the retreating group into the wee hours of the morning. During the day, we found the older woman steam pressing the linens while her helpers folded them.

Getting to Promontogno was an ordeal in itself. Aside from the usual traffic exiting Munich, we came to a standstill on the Autobahn toward Switzerland (see photo of two possible future leaders of their country hanging out of the windows of their car), because of terribly inconvenient construction work. As we continued south into the Alps, the heavens opened up and it poured (except when we were driving in the countless tunnels the Swiss have blasted through the mountains). Despite the many tunnels, we still needed to drive the windy roads over several passes. Henry maneuvered the rental car (a relatively large Mercedes A180 hatchback, with automatic transmission), even though it was not the small, manual transmission car we had reserved. Perhaps the Hertz agent considered us to be her stereotypical American tourists, all of whom like to drive big cars and cannot handle manual transmissions. When the shoulderless roads are as narrow as these were, with a high cement wall on one side and a barrier on the other, the last car we wanted was one that was wider than the single lane available!

Promontogno is peaceful oasis between the classy (assuming that is defined by the number of 4 and 5-star hotels and local branches of Hermes, Channel, Gucci, and similar shops) and touristy St. Mortiz, and the lively Italian city of Chiavenna. It makes no attempt to attract tourists through kitsch and gimmicky attractions. The village offers only its natural beauty (see photos--the view with the bridges is from our private patio outside our hotel room; also, notice the widespread use of slate as roofing material; the photo of the two of us shows more natural beauty (of course), and that the two of us actually do spend time together in the same place at the same time!). And, even better for me, it was quiet enough for Henry to permit me to keep our room window open all night!



While we enjoyed the serenity of Promontogno, we also succumbed to the lures of St. Moritz and Chiavenna for lunches (see photos). Both places were fine for a meal, but I'm glad we had our room in Promontogno. The best part of going to St. Moritz was our stop at Lake Silvaplana, a haven for windsurfers and kitesurfers. I have never seen so many of them vying for a piece of the perfect wind. I was mesmerized as the kitesurfers let the wind fill their "sail" and efffectively lift them onto their small surfing boards. The especially talented kitesurfers could hang on with one hand and could pick up enough speed to lift themselves out of the water, do an aerial twist, and land seemingly effortlessly back on the water. Unfortunately, my Canon G7 digital camera isn't quite advanced enough to capture the full scene. What I could get, however, was a sense of how intense these surfers are. They come in their RV's and camp out on the lakeshore so they can be ready for just the right wind (see photos)! The best of Chiavenna was the ice cream from Gelateria Oasi. The better than best were the innumerable waterfalls dropping down the mountainsides between Chiavenna and St. Moritz, as well as along the mountain pass roads. One double falls we were able to walk to was the impressive Acquafraggia, just south of the border, near Piuro, Italy (see photo). The pool at the bottom of the falls and the continuing runoff are popular spots for cooling off on a warm summer day.

Oops, there was another Chiavenna highlight--the supermarket the students drove to for stocking up on food and liquid refreshments (i.e., wine and grappa). Food and drink are significantly less expensive in Italy than Switzerland. It's no wonder that Chiavenna can support several supermarkets! However, the Swiss border guards strictly enforce the country's limits on how much food and alcohol individuals can bring back into the country, e.g., 500 grams of meat, 2 liters of alcohol per person. The students' solution--5 of them pile into one car for the food and drink run. On their first return, the guards pulled them aside and spent 10 minutes unsuccessfully searching for any overage. Henry and I did our part, bringing back four bottles of wine and a selection of cheeses.

Our best meals were the two dinners prepared by the students and one dinner with the group at the Crotto Quartino in a chestnut grove in Santa Croce di Piuro. The menu is printed on the napkins and placemats and is limited to a list of about 7 items--you can choose any number of them or all of them. The gnocchi and grilled ribs were especially outstanding. The evenings with the group were not complete until we performed karaoke (see photo). The students, who hail from an assortment of countries in addition to Switzerland (Germany, Poland, Russia, United States, Taiwan, and Turkey), were far better than we were at singing the mostly English language songs. The last evening, we were also treated to a video of the group's past two retreats. We laughed hysterically as two of the Swiss students "helped" the Taiwanese student try to master the mysteries of skiing. One held the video camera as the other skied behind their "student" while holding onto a rope around their student's waist. It was all in good fun, with everyone, including the Taiwanese student, being a great sport.

Henry and I took an extra day to drive back to Munich, stopping for the night near the Bodensee (Lake Constance), a large lake between northern Switzerland and southern Bavaria. On my suggestion, we took a detour to Arosa (another Swiss alpine ski town (see photos)), thinking it would be a short side trip for lunch. Having temporarily misplaced our detailed Swiss Michelin map, we didn't realize that the 31 kilometers to Arosa was on a tiny, windy byway. On the small Swiss map we did have, Arosa looked so close to Chur (our detour point from the main road)! Alas, a sign posted by the road as we exited Arosa announced only 355 curves ahead! Well over an hour into our "short" detour, we arrived at Arosa, hungry but very satisfied that we had encountered some fantastic scenery along the way. Our lunch at Kachelofa-Stubli, once again a Michelin red guide pick, was outstanding. I do not recall why I did not choose Arosa as a skiing destination while we were living in Zurich, but I noticed that the tram up one of the mountains was literally across the street from the train station. I am sure the train would have been a much less stressful mode of transportation to this destination resort! We had no choice but to return to the main highway the way we came, but as we "re-wound" (or should that be "unwound"?) our way back, we made several stops to take in the views at a more leisurely pace. Later, enjoying our view of the Bodensee from our pension in Kressbronn am Bodensee (see photo) and having dinner at Lamm im Kau in Tettnang-Kau (one more red Michelin pick), were two more treats with which to finish off our Swiss retreat.

Meanders in Mittenwald

Days like the one I spent in Mittenwald don't occur too often. I don't know whether the stars were aligned because it was daylight (joke), but the weather could not have been better for a couple of Mittenwald hikes. The temperature hovered in the low 70's, a gentle breeze followed me most of the day, and I had just enough energy and courage to cross the steel walking bridge high over Leutaschklamm (gorge) (see photos below). Mittenwald, a fairy tale looking town about 20 minutes southeast of Garmisch, has plenty of "local color" to offer. Many commercial and residential buildings have frescoed facades, some of them passing up the usual religious themes in favor of themes depicting traditional mountain life (see photo). The town centers around the cathedral, itself attractively painted on the outside (see photo) and ornate, but not quite "over-the-top", on the inside. My goal for the day was not to tarry in town, but to check out some of the highly regarded wanderwegs in the area.

I initially rejected the gorge hike, based upon pictures of (1) the bridge crossing the gorge, and (2) the steel grated walkway embedded in the side of the cliffs about 200 feet above the raging river below. Despite my family's laughing at my beelines to the "i" (aka "tourist information center"), I got just the information I wanted at the Mittenwald "i", even though some of it was inaccurate! In order to get some idea of the height of the steel bridge above the gorge (and having learned from my litigation days that people do much better at estimating a height when they can compare it with another known object), I offered to the "i" attendant the bridge near Neuschwanstein (see blog entry "A Week to Relax") for comparison. The young woman assured me this bridge was not even half as high as the Neuschwanstein bridge and she estimated it to be no more than the height of the three-story house across the street from us. She also assured me that I could avoid the steel walkway embedded in the cliff simply by crossing the bridge and continuing along an alternate hiking path. So much for accurate reporting! When I arrived at the highest point before the bridge, I could see neither the promised gorge nor the promised waterfall. As the trail descended toward the bridge, the trail turned into the grated steel pathway I expected to avoid! My choice was to turn around and return disappointed or to march forward down the grated, "see through" steel steps leading to the bridge and the desired views (see photo). Relieved there was minimal "bounce" on the steel steps, but terror struck that I would have to look down to avoid missing a step, I held on as tightly as I could to the pipe railing and kept moving. I managed to get to the bridge, but then I was stuck with the duly and dually unpleasant choice of either walking back up the steps in the side of the cliff or to cross the bridge (see photo)! Considering these options, I chose the latter route solely because of the bridge's non-grated, sheet metal walking surface. I would have run across the bridge had I been able to do so without creating the undesired "bounce". The best I could do was wait until only a few hikers were on the bridge and not blocking my way. I took off at a rapid walk, only to be held up by a group of people who stopped in the middle of the bridge. The urgency in my "Entschuldigung!" ("excuse me") was unmistakable. Although I had to slow my stride, they moved just fast enough that I did not have to stop until I reached the other side of the gorge. So much for being cool and nonchalant! I probably held my breath the entire breadth! I suppose I could, via "photoshop", insert a picture of me standing on the bridge, but the reality is I was unwilling to take a microsecond longer than absolutely necessary to span the gorge. My photos from opposite sides of the gorge are proof enough of the feat of my feet, which included walking partway along the cliff wall (see photos). The bottom line is that what makes this hike spectacular is not the gorge, but the steel walkway and bridge!

I rewarded myself with lunch served at a mountain guesthouse (far superior to my alternative, home-prepared peanut butter and jam sandwich). Despite the fact that I arrived there at the busiest time of the day, I could still enjoy the view (see photo) while I waited to be served.

















Taking the "i" attendant's recommendation for another pleasant hike, I walked along a cascading stream to the Lautersee. My relative disappointment with the destination lake was far overshadowed by the beauty of the hike up to the lake and back (see photos). The more than I expected elevation change (definitely less than on the gorge hike) allowed for a waterfall along the mostly forested trail (see photos). As I approached the lake, I came upon a memorable sidelight--several chairs carved into abandoned tree trucks (see photo). The chairs were hardly comfortable, but they were throne-like nonetheless!

























































As I proceed through my "must see or do before we leave Munich" list, I am also enjoying museums and parks closer to our Munich home--the Pinakothek trio of museums (the Altes (with an especially large collection of Rubens paintings), the Neue (with a nice collection of 18th century works, but a disappointing collection of Impressionist paintings), and the Moderne (I can handle the Picassos and the Braques, but I don't understand the artistic significance of two parallel sets of pastel-colored strings, each set connected to the floor and ceiling in an otherwise empty white room)); Olympic Park (a still "in process" makeover of the space used for the 1972 Summer Olympics, but with a nice, grass-banked lake); and the Jewish Museum (a very interesting museum with thought provoking exhibits, despite keeping the number of "objects" to a minimum).