DAY 26 - SEPTEMBER 25, 2000
INNSBRUCK, AUSTRIA
INNSBRUCK - HOLIDAY INN
ROOM 1101/...continued from previous postWe were then asked to hike up a little way up the hill we had descended in order to get to the little chalet-type restaurant where had had such a wonderful time. Being such a fit group, we hiked so fast we overshot the gathering point, and our buggy driver was sorely challenged to get us all back in the carriage again! Eventually, we did manage to gift into the carriage, and off we went on our way back to the bus.People are so nice here -- smiling and waving at the tourists -- we even had two kids keeping pace with us on their bicycles, making friends with Alan, before leaving us at the intersection.The horse, who up till now had been rather well-behaved, pulled a fast one on the folks sitting up front. They had to use the poop-scoop! I guess it was the first time any of them - bar the driver, of course - have ever come that close to fresh manure. The driver made light of it, taking the poop-scoop and tossing its contents into an open field, there to fertilize someone's future crop, we presume.I suppose in an effort to distract the more sensitive minds among the passengers, the driver then launched into an a capella sing-along. It worked - quite a few voices could be heard in the choruses, if not the verses. the highlight of this portion was when the buggy driver launched into a bawdy version of "My Bonnie" that started "My father lies over my mother..."!!!In the middle of our third round of "My Bonnie", we came into view of the parking lot where we had begun the ride - it seemed ages ago. In the still mountain air, voices carry well. More so when you are talking about voices raised loudly in song.Dmitiri, who was poised and ready to meet us, wore a look of utter surprise and shock. He had good reason. First, the carriage we used coming back wasn't the same one he saw us loaded into. Second, the singing that came floating on the breeze (not to mention the laughter!) was like nothing he had ever seen out of us until that moment. You could practically hear the little cogs in his brain ticking over as we spilled out from the carriage. On closer inspection, he flashed everyone a broad grin and was escorting everyone back into the bus, as usual. I guess he decided that we were, indeed, his passengers and not some changelings from the Tyrolean woods. Lisa had expected to hear our arrival by the horses' hooves, certainly not by the volume of happy noise we were generating.Next stop : Innsbruck city center. Not until I felt the airconditioning on my face did I realize how much heat my face had absorbed. It's a wonder that I haven't begun to peel, though I have no doubt I'm getting to look quite Moorish in Ma's eyes. I must admit, though - I'm probably taking more care of my skin now than I ever did at home. so that will be another useful habit to bring back, along with the prayer time and journaling.It didn't take too long for us to get back to Innsbruck. Dmitri let us off at a plaza near one of the historic buildings of Innsbruck. Lisa led us through an arch and into a street that was actually a side street leading into the main avenue. Down this street were the usual row of tourist and souvenir shops; interestingly enough, there was even a branch of the Hotel Sacher selling original Sachertorte.My memories of Innsbruck are of a small and dingy-looking town, not at all like this. I certainly don't remember walking down such a pretty avenue with so many shops! For sure the weather was different then -- it was September, too, that last time; but it was cloudy. Here it is nearly October, and it's perfectly clear and warm!Lisa popped us inside the hotel that had the Sacher coffee shop. Rather, she took us inside the hotel courtyard. The place is built in a quadrangle and painted in a shade of yellow that was Marie-Theresa's favorite. In fact, that paint color can even be ordered by the name "Maria Theresa yellow."After this interesting place, we were taken down the street to visit the "Golden Roof" constructed by Emperor Maximilian. It's not completely gold, of course, but a mixture of bronze and gold leaf applied to the shingles of the roof. The story goes that Emperor Max had developed a reputation as being a stingy sort of ruler who couldn't even be bothered to prettify his own cities. This stung the emperor's pride, and he ordered the roof built - just to show everyone that he could do it. When you view the building from the square, one comes to appreciate the beauty not only of the roof, but of the entire frontage and the buildings surrounding it as well. There's one guilding opposite the "Golden Roof" that has its frontage done up to look like it has pink roses climbing up on a trellis. On the balcony shaded by the "Golden Roof" are representations of the Emperor Maximilian and his two wives - or was it one wife and one mistress? But it's definitely the Emperor flanked by two women, solemnly looking out over the tourists milling about the square.One truly appreciates the fine hotel locations at a time like this. The "Golden Roof" stands at the very end of a long main road - the Maria Theresienstrasse, I think it is. LisaH oriented us by pointing out the directions we should take from the "Golden Roof" to the hotel (straight ahead, then left at the very end of the street); to the mountain brooding over Innsbruck (facing the "Golden Roof", turn left and follow that street); to the lovely parks we passed on the way in (facing the "Golden Roof", turn right and follow the street, through the arch and into the plaza for a river walk); to the Swarovski shop (straight ahead, just after the McDonald's!).Since the Swarovski store was one of our main shopping objectives (free toilets, as well!) it was one very excited little group that trotted down the short distance to the store. Upon entering it seems like one big tourist trap, but then when you've adjusted to the arrangement of the store, it's really quite elegant. Everyone was given a promo card good for a free gift from Swarovski - in this case, a solitaire stickpin for one's lapel. We had a little orientation tour on what to find in the store, and where : jewelry on the second floor, vases and tableware on the ground floor, Christmas decor and other miniatures in the basement, where the washrooms were also to be found. Most of the women opted to visit the washrooms first, before the serious business of shopping, and a good thing, too. We were the first in the queue!Having freed our minds about the facilities, Ma and I returned upstairs to look at the jewelry section. "Small and easy to carry" is the watchword for souvenirs. Dad settled himself down to wait in a chair, while Ma and I prowled through the floor looking for just the right piece of jewelry at the price. Eventually Ma found hers and I got mine - a pendant necklace of the Swarovski swan logo in yellow gold, and pave crystal, plus a pair of earrings to match. Ma went through he usual phase of indecision before settling on which pieces she really, truly wanted.At the cash counter, we were told that we qualified for the tax rebate offered to customers who bought more than a specific amount of goods. We were also asked if we wanted the rebate in cash or as a credit card item. I asked which was more efficient, and the lady said it was better as a credit on one's credit card. So we chose that, and in time we'll see how this works out. Payment procedure involved much signing of traveler's checks and filling up of forms, but in the end, we were soon on our way after yet another stop in the washrooms.Outside, we joined up with Tony and Anna at the little cafe across from the shop. I ducked inside for some sandwiches and Cokes, and we made a nice al fresco lunch out of it, right there on the sidewalk. The sandwiches were delicious. there is definitely something about touring that makes me hollow from the feet up. I never notice it while we're shopping, though I can tell when I'm hungry : I become more aware of aching feet and then note an increase in grouchiness. but I love the hungry feeling rather than the bloated one I sometimes have when we're back home. At least, I know I don't have to eat, just for the sake of eating! It's fun to be able to relish one's food - that feeling of satisfaction when good food warms up the belly is a great restorative.Ma and Dad enjoyed a nice chat with Tony and Anna before we tackled the next order of business : finding the Bavarian hat Dad's friend wanted as a pasalubong. Now that was some expedition; we went up and down and back and forth while searching for just the right hat./...to be continued
Wednesday, September 5, 2007
[INSIGHT TRAVEL - EUROPEAN GRANDEUR] - Innsbruck, Part 1
DAY 26 - SEPTEMBER 25, 2000
INNSBRUCK, AUSTRIA
INNSBRUCK - HOLIDAY INN
ROOM 1101As promised by the call sheet, today the morning's activities were to start at the scandalously late hour of 1000H, thus allowing people a chance for a *long* lie-in. Still, the occupants of 1101 decided to wake up at the accustomed hour - prompted by the beautiful sunshine filtering through the window. I greeted the morning with a round of intercession and a series of praise songs - to be richly rewarded by a palette of rose and gold and mountains with early snow to look at as the sun came up. Beautiful!After an early breakfast, Ma and I decided that it was too beautiful a morning to be wasted by dawdling in the room till 1000H. So off we went, to run into Lisa in the hallway as she in her turn popped out of her room. We hugged her and fussed over her, and she had laughingly explained that it had been her intention to sleep in, but the morning had proved just as irresistible to her as to us. So she had had her room service breakfast sent up earlier than ordered, and having just finished that, joined us in the elevator for the trip to the lobby. She was heading to the moneychangers, and we followed suit, changing USD 100.00 into schillings for our pocket money. Perfect weather today, crisp and bright, with the promise of summer warmth later on. Ma and Dad and I took a slow stroll around the mini-mall that houses the money exchange, and there's a gorgeous bedroom display in one of the windows - a lace beadspread and lace-edged pillowcases to die for, all in cream and white.Dmitri and I exchanged our regular banter as we piled into the bus this morning -- the man looks very well-rested indeed as he should be. After LisaH's head count, we were off on our way to Igls, where the Olympic downhill ski championship took place during a Winter Olympics back in 197-something. The odd thing about the ski jump is the view -- one gets a clear view of the Igls church -- *and* the church cemetery. Obviously a very unnerving sight for anyone flying through the air at extreme speed! Solution : cover the cemetery with camoflauge netting, thereby creating the illusion of empty space. We were told about how superstitious skiers are, how they would prefer to hike all the way up to the jump-off rather than use the ski lift, because of the belief that one will come down the same way one went up. Walk up, you'll walk down. Ride up, and you'll ride down - possibly in an ambulance!The church was stunning, with the bright sunshine pouring in through every available window and making the gilding sparkle. Considering the amount of gold used to trim this church, that was certainly a *lot* of sparkle. Perfect photographer's weather, everything stood out so sharp and clear!We had a moment of utter levity as I assumed the role of press photographer and asked everyone with a Bavarian hat on to get together for one shot. Of course, I just had to have Barry in there with Greg, Dad, Brian and Rob -- even if Barry's hat was at total odds with all the Bavarian ones, it was still a hat. Much laughter and cheering as two pictures were taken of Team Insight Tigers, and I was fairly bouncing with satisfaction on my way back to the bus.From Igls, we were taken to the starting point for our horse-and-buggy ride through the Tyrolean countryside. Lisa had bought some schnapps to keep us going on the tour, and under someone's liberal custody, the drink was poured into plastic cups and passed around. Which of course meant that folks were getting pretty merry and we hadn't even started yet!As we piled into the waiting carriages, Dmitri decided to stretch his legs and moved up to pet the horses -- he must like them, since he ran his hand over their muzzles as though he's used to them, and the horses appeared to enjoy it. Dad handed over his schnapps to Dmitri, who hammed it up for the benefit of those in the other carriage -- pretending to take a long swig and then staggering around as if inebriated to the nth degree. Just before we finally got underway, LisaH came dashing out of the bus -- her mom had called to announce that Cathy Freeman, the Australian aboriginal 400m track star, had won in that event. News that got all the Aussies cheering, and a good way to get us on the right track.Our carriage driver was a real character, full of interesting anecdotes delivered in a heavy German accent; every so often he would burst out into yodeling and these were delivered in an excellent tenor voice. The people were really nice along the route, waving and smiling and greeting us, even the cars that had been held up by our slow progress on the main road. Our first stop was a lovely little church with a pink-and-white facade. Like the town church in Igls, this one was gilt and white paint combined with darkly-stained wood, and sunshine everywhere to complete the scene. The hushed silence was a perfect backdrop to the elegance of the church -- and even when we emerged into the courtyad to get back into the carriages, it was amazing to be aware of how quiet this countryside really was.We took a side road through a little village filled with colorful houses and saw a line of children on their way to school. Such darlings! All pink-cheeked and neat, shy smiles and waving back at us. then the road took us past some mountain foothills and all you could see till the top were trees -- all kinds of pines, some maples turning gold, spruce or birch, maybe, with white trunks flashing in the distance. The wind shifted and blew the scent of pine down towards us, and it was good to feel the mountain chill against my flushed cheeks.Our driver pulled up to give us a view of the little town where we would have our "intermission" drinks. Another carriage bearing a load of French tourists pulled up behind us, and our carriage driver switched places with the other driver and began regaling his new charges with yodeling and anecdotes delivered in French. So we continued into the little town ("population 120 and 60 cows"), got down at the top of a path leading down to a farmhouse, were invited inside and told to settle ourselves in among two trestle tables. It was a tight fit, and some of the group found themselves tucked into odd corners, like Rob McMillan and Anthony Parisi. For an awful moment we thought Anna Parisi wouldn't be able to squeeze in -- but with some strategic shifting of baggage, we managed to make the necessary room. Not without a few misgivings from Marlyn, who thought perhaps Anthony might be miffed with her because she had sat in the empty space originally meant for Anna. For a little bit it seemed as though Tony and Anna were about to have a minor tiff -- but the moment soon blew over as everyone packed themselves like the proverbial sardines. Our choice of drinks lay between hot chocolate, coffee, soft drinks, beer and schnapps. Our Tigers went straight for the beer, it was a foregone conclusion. Others took hot chocolate or wine -- most folks passed on the schnapps, didn't see much of it on our table. it didn't take too long before we were all making merry in a way that had the French-speaking group somewhat overwhelmed with our volume.Our buggy driver turned out to be the chief source of entertainment for this portion of the optional! Stationing himself behind a podium, he produced an electronic keyboard and proceeded to regale us with a wide assortment of Tyrolean folksongs, complete with yodeling. Very infectious music, really. One man from the other group got up and started dancing all on his own right there in the middle of the floor! And at one point, Marge asked Ma if Dad could dance, and when Ma said yes, dragged Dad up for a very spirited polka! Rob was asked to take a turn around the floor as well -- and Brian, too!Then our driver-cum-emcee/entertainer engineered a bit of audience participation, this time with the females of the party. He set them up as the "kitchen orchestra". To Julie he gave an old-fashioned scrubbing board; Franca a blown-up trash bag; Rhonda a tin cup and a spoon; and Marge was called in too but I can't recall what "instrument she was supposed to be playing. Under the leadership of our buggy driver, the kitchen quartet managed to churn out a creditable percussion accompaniment. (Oh, yes, now I remember -- Marge was supposed to play a cheese grater.) It had to be accompaniment, there wasn't a single melody instrument to be found among all the objects they were holding.As the program drew to a close, we were given the standard thank-you and sales pitch for a collection of souvenir items : mainly pins and postcards. Dad bought a pin for his alpine cap and I got one for my beret, plus a few postcards./...to be continued
INNSBRUCK, AUSTRIA
INNSBRUCK - HOLIDAY INN
ROOM 1101As promised by the call sheet, today the morning's activities were to start at the scandalously late hour of 1000H, thus allowing people a chance for a *long* lie-in. Still, the occupants of 1101 decided to wake up at the accustomed hour - prompted by the beautiful sunshine filtering through the window. I greeted the morning with a round of intercession and a series of praise songs - to be richly rewarded by a palette of rose and gold and mountains with early snow to look at as the sun came up. Beautiful!After an early breakfast, Ma and I decided that it was too beautiful a morning to be wasted by dawdling in the room till 1000H. So off we went, to run into Lisa in the hallway as she in her turn popped out of her room. We hugged her and fussed over her, and she had laughingly explained that it had been her intention to sleep in, but the morning had proved just as irresistible to her as to us. So she had had her room service breakfast sent up earlier than ordered, and having just finished that, joined us in the elevator for the trip to the lobby. She was heading to the moneychangers, and we followed suit, changing USD 100.00 into schillings for our pocket money. Perfect weather today, crisp and bright, with the promise of summer warmth later on. Ma and Dad and I took a slow stroll around the mini-mall that houses the money exchange, and there's a gorgeous bedroom display in one of the windows - a lace beadspread and lace-edged pillowcases to die for, all in cream and white.Dmitri and I exchanged our regular banter as we piled into the bus this morning -- the man looks very well-rested indeed as he should be. After LisaH's head count, we were off on our way to Igls, where the Olympic downhill ski championship took place during a Winter Olympics back in 197-something. The odd thing about the ski jump is the view -- one gets a clear view of the Igls church -- *and* the church cemetery. Obviously a very unnerving sight for anyone flying through the air at extreme speed! Solution : cover the cemetery with camoflauge netting, thereby creating the illusion of empty space. We were told about how superstitious skiers are, how they would prefer to hike all the way up to the jump-off rather than use the ski lift, because of the belief that one will come down the same way one went up. Walk up, you'll walk down. Ride up, and you'll ride down - possibly in an ambulance!The church was stunning, with the bright sunshine pouring in through every available window and making the gilding sparkle. Considering the amount of gold used to trim this church, that was certainly a *lot* of sparkle. Perfect photographer's weather, everything stood out so sharp and clear!We had a moment of utter levity as I assumed the role of press photographer and asked everyone with a Bavarian hat on to get together for one shot. Of course, I just had to have Barry in there with Greg, Dad, Brian and Rob -- even if Barry's hat was at total odds with all the Bavarian ones, it was still a hat. Much laughter and cheering as two pictures were taken of Team Insight Tigers, and I was fairly bouncing with satisfaction on my way back to the bus.From Igls, we were taken to the starting point for our horse-and-buggy ride through the Tyrolean countryside. Lisa had bought some schnapps to keep us going on the tour, and under someone's liberal custody, the drink was poured into plastic cups and passed around. Which of course meant that folks were getting pretty merry and we hadn't even started yet!As we piled into the waiting carriages, Dmitri decided to stretch his legs and moved up to pet the horses -- he must like them, since he ran his hand over their muzzles as though he's used to them, and the horses appeared to enjoy it. Dad handed over his schnapps to Dmitri, who hammed it up for the benefit of those in the other carriage -- pretending to take a long swig and then staggering around as if inebriated to the nth degree. Just before we finally got underway, LisaH came dashing out of the bus -- her mom had called to announce that Cathy Freeman, the Australian aboriginal 400m track star, had won in that event. News that got all the Aussies cheering, and a good way to get us on the right track.Our carriage driver was a real character, full of interesting anecdotes delivered in a heavy German accent; every so often he would burst out into yodeling and these were delivered in an excellent tenor voice. The people were really nice along the route, waving and smiling and greeting us, even the cars that had been held up by our slow progress on the main road. Our first stop was a lovely little church with a pink-and-white facade. Like the town church in Igls, this one was gilt and white paint combined with darkly-stained wood, and sunshine everywhere to complete the scene. The hushed silence was a perfect backdrop to the elegance of the church -- and even when we emerged into the courtyad to get back into the carriages, it was amazing to be aware of how quiet this countryside really was.We took a side road through a little village filled with colorful houses and saw a line of children on their way to school. Such darlings! All pink-cheeked and neat, shy smiles and waving back at us. then the road took us past some mountain foothills and all you could see till the top were trees -- all kinds of pines, some maples turning gold, spruce or birch, maybe, with white trunks flashing in the distance. The wind shifted and blew the scent of pine down towards us, and it was good to feel the mountain chill against my flushed cheeks.Our driver pulled up to give us a view of the little town where we would have our "intermission" drinks. Another carriage bearing a load of French tourists pulled up behind us, and our carriage driver switched places with the other driver and began regaling his new charges with yodeling and anecdotes delivered in French. So we continued into the little town ("population 120 and 60 cows"), got down at the top of a path leading down to a farmhouse, were invited inside and told to settle ourselves in among two trestle tables. It was a tight fit, and some of the group found themselves tucked into odd corners, like Rob McMillan and Anthony Parisi. For an awful moment we thought Anna Parisi wouldn't be able to squeeze in -- but with some strategic shifting of baggage, we managed to make the necessary room. Not without a few misgivings from Marlyn, who thought perhaps Anthony might be miffed with her because she had sat in the empty space originally meant for Anna. For a little bit it seemed as though Tony and Anna were about to have a minor tiff -- but the moment soon blew over as everyone packed themselves like the proverbial sardines. Our choice of drinks lay between hot chocolate, coffee, soft drinks, beer and schnapps. Our Tigers went straight for the beer, it was a foregone conclusion. Others took hot chocolate or wine -- most folks passed on the schnapps, didn't see much of it on our table. it didn't take too long before we were all making merry in a way that had the French-speaking group somewhat overwhelmed with our volume.Our buggy driver turned out to be the chief source of entertainment for this portion of the optional! Stationing himself behind a podium, he produced an electronic keyboard and proceeded to regale us with a wide assortment of Tyrolean folksongs, complete with yodeling. Very infectious music, really. One man from the other group got up and started dancing all on his own right there in the middle of the floor! And at one point, Marge asked Ma if Dad could dance, and when Ma said yes, dragged Dad up for a very spirited polka! Rob was asked to take a turn around the floor as well -- and Brian, too!Then our driver-cum-emcee/entertainer engineered a bit of audience participation, this time with the females of the party. He set them up as the "kitchen orchestra". To Julie he gave an old-fashioned scrubbing board; Franca a blown-up trash bag; Rhonda a tin cup and a spoon; and Marge was called in too but I can't recall what "instrument she was supposed to be playing. Under the leadership of our buggy driver, the kitchen quartet managed to churn out a creditable percussion accompaniment. (Oh, yes, now I remember -- Marge was supposed to play a cheese grater.) It had to be accompaniment, there wasn't a single melody instrument to be found among all the objects they were holding.As the program drew to a close, we were given the standard thank-you and sales pitch for a collection of souvenir items : mainly pins and postcards. Dad bought a pin for his alpine cap and I got one for my beret, plus a few postcards./...to be continued
[INSIGHT TRAVEL - EUROPEAN GRANDEUR] - Vienna to Innsbruck, Part 2
DAY 25 - SEPTEMBER 24, 2000
VIENNA - INNSBRUCK, AUSTRIA
INNSBRUCK - HOLIDAY INN
ROOM 1101/...continued from previous postNothing could have been harder than to tear myself away from the view, but we had a bus to catch for our coach, and before that, washroom stop and allowance for the elevator. We made it to the mini-bus in good time, with one interesting side note : no seats for Rick and LisaH!Back at the souvenir store, I made a beeline for the recommended book with documentary photos of how the "Eagle's Nest" came to be. I snapped it up as a present for Ramon, something to add to the Monaco-Monte Carlo cap he's already got (which I am shamelessly wearing to a shred, at that). Lost Ma and Dad in the crowd, and not wanting to spend anything more before Vienna, move into some shade with Alex and Fiona. My opinion being asked about how I found it, I did the only possible thing -- I rave about the sheer beauty and wonder of it all. In a little while, we were joined by Joe and Franca, whom I warmly saluted on her conquest of the mountain. Joe was brandishing the mother of all lollipops, which Alex called "Chupa-chups on steriods..." and I nearly burst my sides with laughing.Dmitri popped up not long after, and soon Alex and Joe were chatting him up, like the mates that they are. I took the spectator role, and observed the banter, until one particular bit that started with Dmitri asking Franca how she liked this drive as compared to Amalfi. She rolled her eyes and teased that Dmitri drove too fast for her liking. At which our driver assumed a sorrowful expression as he said : "But why tell me this now, when the tour is almost over? All you had to do was ask, and I would have gone more gently!" then he added that sometimes it was necessary to go fast, to keep up with schedules.Here, Franca hastened to assure Dmitri that his driving was fine, just fine! Then suddenly Alex asked Dmitri if I didn't sing well, and the man's praise brought fire into my cheeks. He then added that my singing would be incentive enough to drive more slowly; at which Franca and Fiona started teasing me to pretty please sing on the bus!Then Joe dared Dmitri to play at being tour director -- to take the mike as he had done in Rome and give a commentary, even with Lisa present. To which Dmitri replied in French I only half-understood, and left it to me to translate. I declined as gently as I could, saying my French didn't go so far. But it seems there's an undercurrent in that French remark that speaks of something not quite right between Lisa and Dmitri, but put aside for the sake of professionalism on the job. Good on him, say I. (Dmitri still keeps up our morning banter, never failing to ask if I slept well, and I to tease, answer in one new French phrase a day. I'm starting to think French now!)The others resurfaced in time to spare my blushes, which could easily have been taken amiss. Dad had become the center of attraction with his authentic Bavarian hat, and my exclamation of delighted shock drew sallies from Dmitri, Rick and LisaH. Most of the folk were cheerfully making their way through ice cream cones -- strictly forbidden on the bus. We waited as long as we dared before Lisa had to put her foot down, if we were to get to Innsbruck with time left to do anything!We hit the road running, and just before turning into the main highway, we stopped to let Rick off. He'd stowed his bike in the luggage bay, and that came out as well. We waved him off as he pedaled towards Gabby and home in fine style, indeed.Because of our side trip to Berchstesgaden and the "Eagle's Nest", we were late pulling into Innsbruck, the sun was rapidly sinking behind the mountains as we pulled in. But the detour was worth it -- if only for that view of Salzburg from up in that mountain, I would be willing to visit Europe all over again!Dmitri will spoil me -- he hustled my bags into the hotel foyer faster than I could open my mouth to protest. Luckily no one really noticed since the job was accomplished under cover of the usual room assignment commotion. What a shock to discover how far up the hotel we were, this time around! A view to take one's breath away -- both from the fire escape and the windows. Directly I discovered how the windows opened, I was leaning out of them to take deep breaths of cold air, and to vent myself with singing. Singing has certainly been something I've been doing a lot of on this tour -- especially in the hours before dawn, just like the Bible says in Psalms. Incredible.Thin walls. I could hear Lisa giving instructions to the porters on the distribution of the baggage. I poked myself out the door in time to receive the first of our suitcases. Once they had been safely landed and opened inside the room, it was time for me to indulge in my usual wanderlust and poke about in the hotel lobby.Straightaway I found what Liza had mentioned on the bus to get my heart fluttering with delighted anticipation -- the hotel's internet workstation. It was tucked away in a corner of the lounge area, right next to the hotel mini-library with its shelves of best-sellers and magazines and newspapers (alas, all in German).This fact was duly reported to Ma and Dad, and immediately after dinner, I was online and happily accessing my Web mail. Of course it was too much to hope for that I could go online in peace; no, people had to come up and ask for help and information while I was trying to read the first of hubby-dearest's epistles. It's no wonder I love the man, when he writes letters as long as mine -- when he's in the mood! As it was, I was happily lost in a woirld of my own -- but not so lost as to be able to hear the good-nights the foursome of Joe, Franca, Alex and Fiona, bid to LisaH and Dmitri. It was good to hear all the home news at last, and dash off a fast letter to reassure hubby that I had not yet fallen off one of the alpine peaks. Ever watchful of the time I had been online, I logged-out after making sure my e-mail had gone on its way, and charged expenses to the room.It's going to be something of a late start tomorrow. What a blessing for Dmitri to be able to sleep in after all the driving today! I just hope being next door to us won't bother his sleep, as we are in a hilarious mood tonight.
VIENNA - INNSBRUCK, AUSTRIA
INNSBRUCK - HOLIDAY INN
ROOM 1101/...continued from previous postNothing could have been harder than to tear myself away from the view, but we had a bus to catch for our coach, and before that, washroom stop and allowance for the elevator. We made it to the mini-bus in good time, with one interesting side note : no seats for Rick and LisaH!Back at the souvenir store, I made a beeline for the recommended book with documentary photos of how the "Eagle's Nest" came to be. I snapped it up as a present for Ramon, something to add to the Monaco-Monte Carlo cap he's already got (which I am shamelessly wearing to a shred, at that). Lost Ma and Dad in the crowd, and not wanting to spend anything more before Vienna, move into some shade with Alex and Fiona. My opinion being asked about how I found it, I did the only possible thing -- I rave about the sheer beauty and wonder of it all. In a little while, we were joined by Joe and Franca, whom I warmly saluted on her conquest of the mountain. Joe was brandishing the mother of all lollipops, which Alex called "Chupa-chups on steriods..." and I nearly burst my sides with laughing.Dmitri popped up not long after, and soon Alex and Joe were chatting him up, like the mates that they are. I took the spectator role, and observed the banter, until one particular bit that started with Dmitri asking Franca how she liked this drive as compared to Amalfi. She rolled her eyes and teased that Dmitri drove too fast for her liking. At which our driver assumed a sorrowful expression as he said : "But why tell me this now, when the tour is almost over? All you had to do was ask, and I would have gone more gently!" then he added that sometimes it was necessary to go fast, to keep up with schedules.Here, Franca hastened to assure Dmitri that his driving was fine, just fine! Then suddenly Alex asked Dmitri if I didn't sing well, and the man's praise brought fire into my cheeks. He then added that my singing would be incentive enough to drive more slowly; at which Franca and Fiona started teasing me to pretty please sing on the bus!Then Joe dared Dmitri to play at being tour director -- to take the mike as he had done in Rome and give a commentary, even with Lisa present. To which Dmitri replied in French I only half-understood, and left it to me to translate. I declined as gently as I could, saying my French didn't go so far. But it seems there's an undercurrent in that French remark that speaks of something not quite right between Lisa and Dmitri, but put aside for the sake of professionalism on the job. Good on him, say I. (Dmitri still keeps up our morning banter, never failing to ask if I slept well, and I to tease, answer in one new French phrase a day. I'm starting to think French now!)The others resurfaced in time to spare my blushes, which could easily have been taken amiss. Dad had become the center of attraction with his authentic Bavarian hat, and my exclamation of delighted shock drew sallies from Dmitri, Rick and LisaH. Most of the folk were cheerfully making their way through ice cream cones -- strictly forbidden on the bus. We waited as long as we dared before Lisa had to put her foot down, if we were to get to Innsbruck with time left to do anything!We hit the road running, and just before turning into the main highway, we stopped to let Rick off. He'd stowed his bike in the luggage bay, and that came out as well. We waved him off as he pedaled towards Gabby and home in fine style, indeed.Because of our side trip to Berchstesgaden and the "Eagle's Nest", we were late pulling into Innsbruck, the sun was rapidly sinking behind the mountains as we pulled in. But the detour was worth it -- if only for that view of Salzburg from up in that mountain, I would be willing to visit Europe all over again!Dmitri will spoil me -- he hustled my bags into the hotel foyer faster than I could open my mouth to protest. Luckily no one really noticed since the job was accomplished under cover of the usual room assignment commotion. What a shock to discover how far up the hotel we were, this time around! A view to take one's breath away -- both from the fire escape and the windows. Directly I discovered how the windows opened, I was leaning out of them to take deep breaths of cold air, and to vent myself with singing. Singing has certainly been something I've been doing a lot of on this tour -- especially in the hours before dawn, just like the Bible says in Psalms. Incredible.Thin walls. I could hear Lisa giving instructions to the porters on the distribution of the baggage. I poked myself out the door in time to receive the first of our suitcases. Once they had been safely landed and opened inside the room, it was time for me to indulge in my usual wanderlust and poke about in the hotel lobby.Straightaway I found what Liza had mentioned on the bus to get my heart fluttering with delighted anticipation -- the hotel's internet workstation. It was tucked away in a corner of the lounge area, right next to the hotel mini-library with its shelves of best-sellers and magazines and newspapers (alas, all in German).This fact was duly reported to Ma and Dad, and immediately after dinner, I was online and happily accessing my Web mail. Of course it was too much to hope for that I could go online in peace; no, people had to come up and ask for help and information while I was trying to read the first of hubby-dearest's epistles. It's no wonder I love the man, when he writes letters as long as mine -- when he's in the mood! As it was, I was happily lost in a woirld of my own -- but not so lost as to be able to hear the good-nights the foursome of Joe, Franca, Alex and Fiona, bid to LisaH and Dmitri. It was good to hear all the home news at last, and dash off a fast letter to reassure hubby that I had not yet fallen off one of the alpine peaks. Ever watchful of the time I had been online, I logged-out after making sure my e-mail had gone on its way, and charged expenses to the room.It's going to be something of a late start tomorrow. What a blessing for Dmitri to be able to sleep in after all the driving today! I just hope being next door to us won't bother his sleep, as we are in a hilarious mood tonight.
[INSIGHT TRAVEL - EUROPEAN GRANDEUR] - Vienna to Innsbruck
DAY 25 - SEPTEMBER 24, 2000
VIENNA - INNSBRUCK, AUSTRIA
INNSBRUCK - HOLIDAY INN
ROOM 1101First things first : we have got ourselves a corner suite -- with a view! On the 11th floor, yet, with Dmitri and Lisa as next-door neighbors. Whoa! This is the highest up we've ever been, and if those mountains outside our window aren't inspiring,m then I'm sure I don't know what is!The day started bright and early : we were up at the usual hour (0445H) and were the first into the breakfast room, together with Marge and Marie. I made a light breakfast of it, sitting solo at a table, with Ma and Dad next to me. Of course, having had a good night's sleep, my "good mornings" were as bright and cheerful as could be expected. Noted with satisfaction - as I have done of late - Dmitri's entrance and exit into the breakfast room. Noted with equal delight, LisaH's entrance and exit as well. Noted with somewhat less delight, the entrance of LisaJ into the room -- but tried to do the right thing and greeted her as I passed her table, and wished her well. She claimed to be feeling much better, and for that, God be thanked. One can only hope that she and her husband will give up the foolish notion of suing Insight for whatever disappointment they have experienced on the tour.Dmitri was in a teasing sort of mood today as he loaded the bags - as I wished him good morning in French, he replied in English, adding, "Tell me everything!" which brought out the giggles in me before I fled up into the sanctuary of my seat.A small hitch since someone's bags were late in coming down, then we were on our way to Innsbruck, via Salzburg. Weather report was ably handled by those in charge. The angels in charge of traffic were on our side, whisking us into Salzburg beneath a glorious sky, in time for our walking tour of the city, to end just before lunch. Our city guide was Gabby, a dear lady who obviously knew and loved her city well. She apologized for the fact that the town was busy celebrating its Saint's feastday in traditional Austrian style : with oom-pah-pah music, a beer tent and carnival rides in the main square. All adding up to a lot of noise! But everyone loved the buzz of activity that turned the otherwise sleepy city of Salzburg into a cheerful place to spend an afternoon.Gabby led us from the main square through the Franciscan monastery where the von Trapp family hid from the Germans (but only for cinematic purposes); gave us a lovely view of the Fortress, brought us into another courtyard with a church dedicated to St. Rupert; through an arch to a forecourt with a statue of St. Rupert; and then down a street to a quiet square on which stood the house where Mozart was born and lived his early life. Across that house was the University of Salzburg's Cathedral. Then, it was through another archway and into a street leading us to the main square, but over on the other side of Salzburg Cathedral from our point of origin. Gabby managed to point out along the way, Salzburg's oldest coffee house (or was it Austria's?) and the city's smallest residence, just one door wide, my heavens.Working our way through human traffic, Gabby landed us safely in Mozart Square, giving us last-minute orientation instructions before setting us free for lunch. As is our wont, the women stormed the washroom of the nearby restaurant, loose change in hand, so as not to have minds distracted for the serious business of eating and shopping.Lunch was an al fresco affair. Stalls were everywhere selling food and drink, just like any town fiesta. We all had chicken and chips - half a chicken per plate and a huge mound of chips, enough to feed an army! Lots of mineral water to wash it all down, then onwards to the shopping! Daddy was keen on finding a Bavarian hat for one of his golf buddies, so we let him wander around while Ma and I stuck to the stalls and shops on the Mozart square. Eventually we managed to persuade Daddy to wait for Innsbruck before grabbing any old hat that came along.At 1330H Lisa packed us onto the bus for our excursion to Hitler's "Eagle's Nest", the mountain-top retreat with its lovely fireplace of Carrara marble, given by Mussolini. Our guide for this segment of the day was named Rick, and later on we found out he was Gabby's husband. I seriously think he was an Australian who decided to take up residence in Austria - for one, his accent and idioms are still purest Outback; for another, he's just too free and easy to be a native Austrian. For all that, he's as good a guide as Gabby - they make a nice team. Rick is a splendid raconteur and made the history of Berchstesgaden and its mountain come alive with all sorts of information.Franca and Robin were a bit on edge about the mountain drive. Not the bit Dmitri had charge of - those were gentle gradients that went by as smooth as butter. What worried them were the alleged hairpin bends further up the mountain, where we would be taken up via minibus. After Capri and Sorrento and Amalfi, one could be thought to be reasonably cold-blooded about one or two hairpin bends, but apparently not these two. Franca more so than Robin, because at least Jeff didn't tease as roundly as Joe and Alex were doing to Franca.It was a glorious ride up, be we weren't sorry to leave the coach and get our feet on the ground and fill our lungs with crisp mountain air. Both Gabby and Rick said we had been uncommonly lucky with the weather : apparently Salzburg and its surrounds have rain one out of every two or three days in the year! Rick had us gather round a 3-D model of the entire setup at Berchstesgaden - one whole compound at the base of the mountain and in surrounding hills, just to serve the "Eagle's Nest". But strangely enough, the "Eagle's Nest" was never meant for a residence - it was just a convention center! A huge conference and dining hall to impress foreign dignitaries.After the explanation, there was the usual scramble for the washroom, then onto our minibus - something of a misnomer, I should think, since it seated all 42 of us without protest. Since the buses operated on a strict timed schedule, the moments of suspense before we started out wreaked havoc on Franca - not helped at all by the chaffing from her mates.But finally, off we went, and at first there really wasn't much to see, too many pine trees in the way. Once we topped the treeline, however, the views were - quite literally! - breath-taking. You could see as far as your eyes could take you - little towns glimmering in the sunlight, huge mountain alps and crags; and a lake glowing blue with the sunlight sparkling off its sapphire surface. Gorgeous!Then came the thriller moment of the ride as the bus slid into the first of two hairpin turns. Loud gasps from those on the window side, but then our upward climb continued and people were lulled into complacency until we hit the second hairpin - on the opposite set of windows this time. More gasps, and then suddenly we were at the base of the "Eagle's Nest"!The "Eagle's Nest" is accessed by going through a tunnel blasted out of the rock. The end of this tunnel is the foyer to a huge brass elevator that shoots up 140 meters into the mountain, where, on reaching the cliff top, its doors open into a foyer inside the "Eagle's Nest" itself.Of course, now that a restaurant has taken over the place, it takes a great deal of imagination to picture Hitler entertaining and meeting with the likes of Stalin and Mussolini, in rooms now crowded with diners and tourists. Or that poor, pretty Eva Braun once walked there, the Fuhrer's mistress and first lady of that corner of the world. As soon as we were able, everyone with a camera was scooting out towards the terrace for those unparalleled views! The weather was such a blessing - bright and crisp and clear. Hiked all the way up to the peak for th emost awesome views God ever created for mortal man. No words could adequately describe what those views do to a person's soul - you can really feel God's hand on your heart up there, and believe that there really is a God in the first instance - no way anything like that could have been created by happenstance, as Bill said, in his quiet way./...to be continued
VIENNA - INNSBRUCK, AUSTRIA
INNSBRUCK - HOLIDAY INN
ROOM 1101First things first : we have got ourselves a corner suite -- with a view! On the 11th floor, yet, with Dmitri and Lisa as next-door neighbors. Whoa! This is the highest up we've ever been, and if those mountains outside our window aren't inspiring,m then I'm sure I don't know what is!The day started bright and early : we were up at the usual hour (0445H) and were the first into the breakfast room, together with Marge and Marie. I made a light breakfast of it, sitting solo at a table, with Ma and Dad next to me. Of course, having had a good night's sleep, my "good mornings" were as bright and cheerful as could be expected. Noted with satisfaction - as I have done of late - Dmitri's entrance and exit into the breakfast room. Noted with equal delight, LisaH's entrance and exit as well. Noted with somewhat less delight, the entrance of LisaJ into the room -- but tried to do the right thing and greeted her as I passed her table, and wished her well. She claimed to be feeling much better, and for that, God be thanked. One can only hope that she and her husband will give up the foolish notion of suing Insight for whatever disappointment they have experienced on the tour.Dmitri was in a teasing sort of mood today as he loaded the bags - as I wished him good morning in French, he replied in English, adding, "Tell me everything!" which brought out the giggles in me before I fled up into the sanctuary of my seat.A small hitch since someone's bags were late in coming down, then we were on our way to Innsbruck, via Salzburg. Weather report was ably handled by those in charge. The angels in charge of traffic were on our side, whisking us into Salzburg beneath a glorious sky, in time for our walking tour of the city, to end just before lunch. Our city guide was Gabby, a dear lady who obviously knew and loved her city well. She apologized for the fact that the town was busy celebrating its Saint's feastday in traditional Austrian style : with oom-pah-pah music, a beer tent and carnival rides in the main square. All adding up to a lot of noise! But everyone loved the buzz of activity that turned the otherwise sleepy city of Salzburg into a cheerful place to spend an afternoon.Gabby led us from the main square through the Franciscan monastery where the von Trapp family hid from the Germans (but only for cinematic purposes); gave us a lovely view of the Fortress, brought us into another courtyard with a church dedicated to St. Rupert; through an arch to a forecourt with a statue of St. Rupert; and then down a street to a quiet square on which stood the house where Mozart was born and lived his early life. Across that house was the University of Salzburg's Cathedral. Then, it was through another archway and into a street leading us to the main square, but over on the other side of Salzburg Cathedral from our point of origin. Gabby managed to point out along the way, Salzburg's oldest coffee house (or was it Austria's?) and the city's smallest residence, just one door wide, my heavens.Working our way through human traffic, Gabby landed us safely in Mozart Square, giving us last-minute orientation instructions before setting us free for lunch. As is our wont, the women stormed the washroom of the nearby restaurant, loose change in hand, so as not to have minds distracted for the serious business of eating and shopping.Lunch was an al fresco affair. Stalls were everywhere selling food and drink, just like any town fiesta. We all had chicken and chips - half a chicken per plate and a huge mound of chips, enough to feed an army! Lots of mineral water to wash it all down, then onwards to the shopping! Daddy was keen on finding a Bavarian hat for one of his golf buddies, so we let him wander around while Ma and I stuck to the stalls and shops on the Mozart square. Eventually we managed to persuade Daddy to wait for Innsbruck before grabbing any old hat that came along.At 1330H Lisa packed us onto the bus for our excursion to Hitler's "Eagle's Nest", the mountain-top retreat with its lovely fireplace of Carrara marble, given by Mussolini. Our guide for this segment of the day was named Rick, and later on we found out he was Gabby's husband. I seriously think he was an Australian who decided to take up residence in Austria - for one, his accent and idioms are still purest Outback; for another, he's just too free and easy to be a native Austrian. For all that, he's as good a guide as Gabby - they make a nice team. Rick is a splendid raconteur and made the history of Berchstesgaden and its mountain come alive with all sorts of information.Franca and Robin were a bit on edge about the mountain drive. Not the bit Dmitri had charge of - those were gentle gradients that went by as smooth as butter. What worried them were the alleged hairpin bends further up the mountain, where we would be taken up via minibus. After Capri and Sorrento and Amalfi, one could be thought to be reasonably cold-blooded about one or two hairpin bends, but apparently not these two. Franca more so than Robin, because at least Jeff didn't tease as roundly as Joe and Alex were doing to Franca.It was a glorious ride up, be we weren't sorry to leave the coach and get our feet on the ground and fill our lungs with crisp mountain air. Both Gabby and Rick said we had been uncommonly lucky with the weather : apparently Salzburg and its surrounds have rain one out of every two or three days in the year! Rick had us gather round a 3-D model of the entire setup at Berchstesgaden - one whole compound at the base of the mountain and in surrounding hills, just to serve the "Eagle's Nest". But strangely enough, the "Eagle's Nest" was never meant for a residence - it was just a convention center! A huge conference and dining hall to impress foreign dignitaries.After the explanation, there was the usual scramble for the washroom, then onto our minibus - something of a misnomer, I should think, since it seated all 42 of us without protest. Since the buses operated on a strict timed schedule, the moments of suspense before we started out wreaked havoc on Franca - not helped at all by the chaffing from her mates.But finally, off we went, and at first there really wasn't much to see, too many pine trees in the way. Once we topped the treeline, however, the views were - quite literally! - breath-taking. You could see as far as your eyes could take you - little towns glimmering in the sunlight, huge mountain alps and crags; and a lake glowing blue with the sunlight sparkling off its sapphire surface. Gorgeous!Then came the thriller moment of the ride as the bus slid into the first of two hairpin turns. Loud gasps from those on the window side, but then our upward climb continued and people were lulled into complacency until we hit the second hairpin - on the opposite set of windows this time. More gasps, and then suddenly we were at the base of the "Eagle's Nest"!The "Eagle's Nest" is accessed by going through a tunnel blasted out of the rock. The end of this tunnel is the foyer to a huge brass elevator that shoots up 140 meters into the mountain, where, on reaching the cliff top, its doors open into a foyer inside the "Eagle's Nest" itself.Of course, now that a restaurant has taken over the place, it takes a great deal of imagination to picture Hitler entertaining and meeting with the likes of Stalin and Mussolini, in rooms now crowded with diners and tourists. Or that poor, pretty Eva Braun once walked there, the Fuhrer's mistress and first lady of that corner of the world. As soon as we were able, everyone with a camera was scooting out towards the terrace for those unparalleled views! The weather was such a blessing - bright and crisp and clear. Hiked all the way up to the peak for th emost awesome views God ever created for mortal man. No words could adequately describe what those views do to a person's soul - you can really feel God's hand on your heart up there, and believe that there really is a God in the first instance - no way anything like that could have been created by happenstance, as Bill said, in his quiet way./...to be continued
[INSIGHT TRAVEL - EUROPEAN GRANDEUR] - Vienna, Day 2, Part 3
DAY 24 - SEPTEMBER 23, 2000
VIENNA, AUSTRIA - HOTEL DE FRANCE
ROOM 212
PART 3/...continued from previous entryBefore we could let that topic affect the rest of the afternoon, our attention was drawn by a car owner having his car moved. It wasn't a tow-away job -- not when the car was placed on a slanted sort of platform that then straightened out into a mini-flatbed behind the driver's cab. Interesting! Both Maureen and I wondered if the man had had a breakdown or if he was going to get a citation. We preferred to believe in the former explanation -- more charitable to do so!The next scenario that caught our eye was the young dad and his two boys feeding the small flock of pigeons on the lawn. That led to a comparative study on pigeons and their temperaments, based on their country of origin. The Trafalgar Square pigeons were shy and diffident about asking for food; the St. Mark's pigeons were aggressively and hot-bloodedly Italian. The Viennese birds aren't shy, but neither are they dive-bombers. How best to describe them? I guess "perky" would be a good word. They have a marvelously alert expression as they jostle each other about. Watching them being fed, I remembered the leftover french fries I'd been carting around from my lunch at McDonald's. Wondering aloud if the pidges would like stale fries, I was encouraged by Maureen to try and see what would happen.Those birds certainly had a sixth sense about food : once they heard the sound of the fries being shaken in their container, they started approaching in the most appealing way. To make the fun last and feed as many birds as possible, I tore each pomme frite into small pieces and scattered them about bit by bit so every bird could get a piece. But this did not satisfy one of the little darlings, and he progressed from taking food from my fingers to actually perching on my thumb and grabbing the big fries -- as if he could swallow it whole, like the shark in Jaws!! Though he severely hampered my efforts, both Maureen and I were too busy enjoying ourselves to seriously think of shooing him away.By the time the pommes frites were finished, Maureen and I had just enough time to get back to the drop-off point. On the way there, we poked into one last shop that had in its display window a figurine of a Bedouin on a camel that she knew would go well on a table in her New Zealand home; all we had to do was to ask the price. and of course, since it was an exquisite figurine, the price was certainly something to match -- somewhere in the four-figure schilling range.Made it back to the bus in good time, then started comparing notes with Bob and Marlyn on how our respective days went. I was in the middle of an extremely enthusiastic account of my afternoon with the pigeons, when, at a particularly long stop in traffic, Dmitri pulled a fast one on me and was suddenly booming in my ear, "What's the story about?" I swung round with eyes wide and heart pounding, shaking my head in amused exasperation as people cried out, "Who's driving the bus?" and Dmitri rejoined, "It's driving itself, not to worry," before getting back to where he was meant to be. As someone said, "He must be lonely there without Lisa," I ducked my face behind the backrest of Marlyn's chair, effectively blocking any view from the camera that keeps an eye on us. Another swift prayer sent up to guard against any malicious thoughts by anyone on the bus, and soon I was my irrepressible self all over again. "Good angels be my guard" is something that calms me down when pangs of unease threaten my peace of mind, and the angels have heard, early and often -- for which praise God!We got to the hotel without further incident, and Dmitri and I went through our usual parting routine as he handed me down from the bus. He and Lisa still have to shepherd the folks on their folklore optional night out; I trust they'll all come back in good time and none the worse for wear.Ma and Dad were happy to see me back in the room, and Ma was particularly glad to see the Ricola tea that I had found. Once I had updated them on my doings in the city center, we headed off to find ourselves some dinner. Ma wanted to be out of range when the tour group left, so we went down at around 1630H and made our way to - of all places - a Subway fast foods not far from the hotel. It was nice to munch on reasonably priced, familiar food for a change, even if it was fast food. We were the only ones in the place,and after making a good meal of sandwiches and fizzy water, we decided to take a stroll to settle down our tummies for the night.One thing for sure, Vienna is cold. The pleasant chill of theis morning has turned into something decidedly sharper. So we didn't get very far with our walk down the street. Still, it was fun to take a good long look at the Votivkirsche and think of how pretty it would look once it was completely clean. right now, it's only got one tower and most of the facade all pristine white. One wonders what it must have looked like back in the day, when Viennese were more church-going and remembered that the Votivkirsche was actually a thanksgiving offering by Emperor Maximilian of Mexico for having survived an assassination attempt. The assassin's knife had been deflected from Max's throat because of the stiff military uniform collar!Avoided most of the chill by taking the pedestrian underpass - clean, neat, and with a mini-fast foods center, like the stalls in Megamall. Ayala probably took their cue for Makati's pedestrian underpasses from Vienna and London, which by far ahs the best pedestrian/public transport interface that i've seen. But then, I adore London in all weathers. Peeped into a couple of store windows beside the hotel, safe in the knowledge that the group had been carted off to thei Schnapps-tasting/folklore evening.Once back in the warmth of the hotel lobby, Ma decided to check out the little souvenir shop with its display of Swarovski crystal. Of course she wouldn't wait for Innsbruck - so there was nothing for it but to let her have her fun and try not to say anything to dampen her spirits. She was friends with the Pinay saleslady in less than five minutes; I found her just a bit much with the high-pressure sales, myself. but, since Ma came out of the deal with some new toys and was happy, then all turned out well. me, I'm waiting for the factory outlet of Swarovski in Innsbruck - there's bound to be more stuff there.Our last night in Vienna - so it was back to repacking the suitcases and checking that all was safe and secure. I endyoed the sofa bed here - the arm rests fold down to create the full length of the bed, and then they add pillows and the most marvelously cushy comforter -- one that would smother a person to death back home, but is just perfect for a place like this! I hope Innsbruck is just as nice, though so far, triple-sharing has been quite comfortable indeed!
VIENNA, AUSTRIA - HOTEL DE FRANCE
ROOM 212
PART 3/...continued from previous entryBefore we could let that topic affect the rest of the afternoon, our attention was drawn by a car owner having his car moved. It wasn't a tow-away job -- not when the car was placed on a slanted sort of platform that then straightened out into a mini-flatbed behind the driver's cab. Interesting! Both Maureen and I wondered if the man had had a breakdown or if he was going to get a citation. We preferred to believe in the former explanation -- more charitable to do so!The next scenario that caught our eye was the young dad and his two boys feeding the small flock of pigeons on the lawn. That led to a comparative study on pigeons and their temperaments, based on their country of origin. The Trafalgar Square pigeons were shy and diffident about asking for food; the St. Mark's pigeons were aggressively and hot-bloodedly Italian. The Viennese birds aren't shy, but neither are they dive-bombers. How best to describe them? I guess "perky" would be a good word. They have a marvelously alert expression as they jostle each other about. Watching them being fed, I remembered the leftover french fries I'd been carting around from my lunch at McDonald's. Wondering aloud if the pidges would like stale fries, I was encouraged by Maureen to try and see what would happen.Those birds certainly had a sixth sense about food : once they heard the sound of the fries being shaken in their container, they started approaching in the most appealing way. To make the fun last and feed as many birds as possible, I tore each pomme frite into small pieces and scattered them about bit by bit so every bird could get a piece. But this did not satisfy one of the little darlings, and he progressed from taking food from my fingers to actually perching on my thumb and grabbing the big fries -- as if he could swallow it whole, like the shark in Jaws!! Though he severely hampered my efforts, both Maureen and I were too busy enjoying ourselves to seriously think of shooing him away.By the time the pommes frites were finished, Maureen and I had just enough time to get back to the drop-off point. On the way there, we poked into one last shop that had in its display window a figurine of a Bedouin on a camel that she knew would go well on a table in her New Zealand home; all we had to do was to ask the price. and of course, since it was an exquisite figurine, the price was certainly something to match -- somewhere in the four-figure schilling range.Made it back to the bus in good time, then started comparing notes with Bob and Marlyn on how our respective days went. I was in the middle of an extremely enthusiastic account of my afternoon with the pigeons, when, at a particularly long stop in traffic, Dmitri pulled a fast one on me and was suddenly booming in my ear, "What's the story about?" I swung round with eyes wide and heart pounding, shaking my head in amused exasperation as people cried out, "Who's driving the bus?" and Dmitri rejoined, "It's driving itself, not to worry," before getting back to where he was meant to be. As someone said, "He must be lonely there without Lisa," I ducked my face behind the backrest of Marlyn's chair, effectively blocking any view from the camera that keeps an eye on us. Another swift prayer sent up to guard against any malicious thoughts by anyone on the bus, and soon I was my irrepressible self all over again. "Good angels be my guard" is something that calms me down when pangs of unease threaten my peace of mind, and the angels have heard, early and often -- for which praise God!We got to the hotel without further incident, and Dmitri and I went through our usual parting routine as he handed me down from the bus. He and Lisa still have to shepherd the folks on their folklore optional night out; I trust they'll all come back in good time and none the worse for wear.Ma and Dad were happy to see me back in the room, and Ma was particularly glad to see the Ricola tea that I had found. Once I had updated them on my doings in the city center, we headed off to find ourselves some dinner. Ma wanted to be out of range when the tour group left, so we went down at around 1630H and made our way to - of all places - a Subway fast foods not far from the hotel. It was nice to munch on reasonably priced, familiar food for a change, even if it was fast food. We were the only ones in the place,and after making a good meal of sandwiches and fizzy water, we decided to take a stroll to settle down our tummies for the night.One thing for sure, Vienna is cold. The pleasant chill of theis morning has turned into something decidedly sharper. So we didn't get very far with our walk down the street. Still, it was fun to take a good long look at the Votivkirsche and think of how pretty it would look once it was completely clean. right now, it's only got one tower and most of the facade all pristine white. One wonders what it must have looked like back in the day, when Viennese were more church-going and remembered that the Votivkirsche was actually a thanksgiving offering by Emperor Maximilian of Mexico for having survived an assassination attempt. The assassin's knife had been deflected from Max's throat because of the stiff military uniform collar!Avoided most of the chill by taking the pedestrian underpass - clean, neat, and with a mini-fast foods center, like the stalls in Megamall. Ayala probably took their cue for Makati's pedestrian underpasses from Vienna and London, which by far ahs the best pedestrian/public transport interface that i've seen. But then, I adore London in all weathers. Peeped into a couple of store windows beside the hotel, safe in the knowledge that the group had been carted off to thei Schnapps-tasting/folklore evening.Once back in the warmth of the hotel lobby, Ma decided to check out the little souvenir shop with its display of Swarovski crystal. Of course she wouldn't wait for Innsbruck - so there was nothing for it but to let her have her fun and try not to say anything to dampen her spirits. She was friends with the Pinay saleslady in less than five minutes; I found her just a bit much with the high-pressure sales, myself. but, since Ma came out of the deal with some new toys and was happy, then all turned out well. me, I'm waiting for the factory outlet of Swarovski in Innsbruck - there's bound to be more stuff there.Our last night in Vienna - so it was back to repacking the suitcases and checking that all was safe and secure. I endyoed the sofa bed here - the arm rests fold down to create the full length of the bed, and then they add pillows and the most marvelously cushy comforter -- one that would smother a person to death back home, but is just perfect for a place like this! I hope Innsbruck is just as nice, though so far, triple-sharing has been quite comfortable indeed!
[INSIGHT TRAVEL - EUROPEAN GRANDEUR] - Vienna, Day 2, Part 2
DAY 24 - SEPTEMBER 23, 2000
VIENNA, AUSTRIA - HOTEL DE FRANCE
ROOM 212
PART 2/...continued from previous entryHiked my way up to a vantage point where I could take panoramic pictures of the garden behind the palace. Everything was more lovely than I remembered - perhaps because on this trip I was seeing everything in broad daylight after a good night's rest, instead of under overcast skies (which, considering it was August or early September back then, means that the weather is truly being angelic!), or because my frame of mind is more mature and cheerful now. Perhaps a combination of all these - there's no explaining it except as God's pure grace. Everything just seemed to glow with color in the sunlight. After taking the long shots, set off at a brisk pace to get close-ups of the Neptune fountains which is the centerpiece of the back garden.Once that was done, I made my way through the maze of corridors back to the place where we started, objective now being the washrooms. These, while free, had also been taken over by tourists who were redefining the word "slow" in terms of using the cubicles. Not that I was in any urgent need, but it was coming on to rendezvous time and my allowance for shopping was slowly being eaten away. After what seemed an eternity, however, the slow-movers finally were done, and I must've shocked the next users with the alacrity by which I dispatched my business.As I took another brisk trot down the front drive, I began to appreciate once again Lisa's ability to schedule us for tours timed to get us in before the worst of the crowds. there were at least four groups that had arrived, one on top of the other - and we were on our way out! Stopped by the little store that caught my eye on the way in, and after buying pasalubong for Sheryann and Cheryl, bumped into Shirley at the door, when I was on my way out. She seemed glad to see a familiar face, and she popped into the shop with me and did some shopping as well, until my watch told me it was time to be at the assembly point. Once there, we found most of the gang - and in less than five minutes all of us had spotted "our" bus. Believe me, after all this time, even without spotting Dmitri at the wheel, we all know "our" bus! Still, obedient to instructions, none of us moved from the rendezvous point until we saw our guide giving us the signal.Today, I held the front "ejection seat" in the bus - the seat directly in line with the stairwell and front door, which requires one to sit with the arm rest up at all times or risk being bounced out of the seat. Having hauled myself into the front seat, I amused myself by watching all the goings-on down below. At one point, Dmitri peered up the doorway and mouthed the question he hadn't asked me that morning : "Tres bien dormi?" One swift nod from me, and the exchange was done, no one the wiser.With the bus fully loaded it was off to the center of town. We'd be on our own from lunchtime until 1445H, when Dmitri would pick us up at the meeting point - across from the Cafe Mozart, at the front door of the little beer cellar where we had had dinner the night before. Well, those not taking the optional tour of the Statsoper and the Imperial Treasury would be on their own - like me. The guide's directions were very precise, and I had no intention of wandering in unfamiliar streets by myself - if Ramon had been with me, no doubt I would have dragged him along on a foray into one or two interesting streets.So from the drop-off point, it was down the street till the first corner, hang a right, straight down until St. Stephen's cathedral, and that was, essentially, *the* shopping district. My itinerary was pretty clear -- to visit the church and pay my respects; to grab a cheap lunch; to poke into the shops and maybe find a pin for my beret.First stop : St. Stephen's church. It was located way, way down the street and for a moment I thought I'd gotten myself down the wrong avenue when I lost sight of the spires. But when i sawa a sign saying St. Stephensplatz I knew I had found the right place. It's a lovely church, something more of a museum piece than a church, but I found the prayer corner and sent up the usual prayers of thanksgiving and intercession for the tour. One or two requests for me, as well. Lit a candle in the corner of St. Therese de Liseux and asked her to say a prayer for me as well.Much refreshed by that little bit of quiet time, I started padding up the street, to mark out shops to check out and search a place to eat that wouldn't take away all the schillings. I did two full circuits of the street, before finally settling on McDonald's - the one place Lisa had told us not to visit. But what the hey - I missed my burgers, and they even had value meals, like back home. So, McDonald's it was, and after I'd settled down with my meal, I found myself smiling across at three little old ladies from the States. They were on an Insight Tour as well - Europe in 17 days. It boggles the mind. I can't imagine doing Europe on anything less than a month, after this trip!! And I'm younger than they are! They said their Tour Director really kept them moving, and I'm not surprised. He would have to have them on the go, if only for them to see the half of what we've seen. They're heading to Innsbruck tomorrow, just like we are - we're likely to run into each other there, perhaps.So we parted ways wishing each other the best, and I started another slow circuit of the street. Somehow I managed to find a drugstore i had failed to spot on my earlier rambles, and bought myself some hairpins and a cheap plastic hairbrush, and - wonder of wonders - Ricola tea. That last, I knew, would tickle Ma no ned, so I pounced on it. It feels good to be able to brush my hair and pin back the stray locks that have been falling over my face since Assisi. From there, I returned to the department store where I had almost bought a pair of clips - was I ever thankful that I had not succumbed to temptation!!Having exhausted the various corners of the posh department store, I was back on the street once again and bumped into Maureen in front of one of the shop windows. We decided to hook up and continue our rambling together. So we entered into various shops and I ended up buying a pair of pins for my beret. Maureen was on search for a leather jacket, with very little success. She'd seen a lot of jackets, but each one only had one of the attributes she wanted, eg. right color but wrong length, nice collar but wrong overall style.Somewhere in all of this, we bumped into Marge and Marie several times, as Marge seemed to be dead set on raiding every souvenir store she laid eyes on. Marie had somehow managed to squeeze in her own shopping; and had a satisfyingly bulky bag to show for her efforts. We snooped into a small store, the four of us - one that specialized in beer steins and cuckoo clocks. After that, Maureen and I left Marge and Marie (by now referred as the M&M's) to wander off on their own trek, and we continued up the street, bumping into Carolyn and Bill. A short discussion on how much pocket money we still needed for Innsbruck sent us down to the nearest hole in the wall (read : ATM) machine so Maureen could replenish her wallet. I heled her navigate the first few steps, then retreated to a discreet distance.When she popped out again, we headed for the front lawn of the Statsoper, where we decided to pull up for a rest and watch the people go by. Maureen and I had a wonderful chat about how blessed we have truly been on this tour, and the talk turned to how important it is to carry a positive attitude within, and to learn to make the most of any situation. Which then led us to the subject of Greg and his Lisa, and their discontent with the way their honeymoon plans were turning out. When I voiced my puzzlement as to why Greg would even contemplate suing Insight for not meeting their expectations, Maureen explained that that was more to be laid at his wife's door. She had been expecting cushy comfort - the Savoy, perhaps? - all through the tour. Now explain to me how you could get Savoy luxury in Venice on the Grand Canal, with the buildings as old as they are. But on, the locations! anyway, we both shrugged and agreed it was a pity, that expectations should be dealt such a harsh blow by reality - and on a honeymoon, too - but truly Insight (and least of all our own LisaH) could not be held liable./...to be continued
VIENNA, AUSTRIA - HOTEL DE FRANCE
ROOM 212
PART 2/...continued from previous entryHiked my way up to a vantage point where I could take panoramic pictures of the garden behind the palace. Everything was more lovely than I remembered - perhaps because on this trip I was seeing everything in broad daylight after a good night's rest, instead of under overcast skies (which, considering it was August or early September back then, means that the weather is truly being angelic!), or because my frame of mind is more mature and cheerful now. Perhaps a combination of all these - there's no explaining it except as God's pure grace. Everything just seemed to glow with color in the sunlight. After taking the long shots, set off at a brisk pace to get close-ups of the Neptune fountains which is the centerpiece of the back garden.Once that was done, I made my way through the maze of corridors back to the place where we started, objective now being the washrooms. These, while free, had also been taken over by tourists who were redefining the word "slow" in terms of using the cubicles. Not that I was in any urgent need, but it was coming on to rendezvous time and my allowance for shopping was slowly being eaten away. After what seemed an eternity, however, the slow-movers finally were done, and I must've shocked the next users with the alacrity by which I dispatched my business.As I took another brisk trot down the front drive, I began to appreciate once again Lisa's ability to schedule us for tours timed to get us in before the worst of the crowds. there were at least four groups that had arrived, one on top of the other - and we were on our way out! Stopped by the little store that caught my eye on the way in, and after buying pasalubong for Sheryann and Cheryl, bumped into Shirley at the door, when I was on my way out. She seemed glad to see a familiar face, and she popped into the shop with me and did some shopping as well, until my watch told me it was time to be at the assembly point. Once there, we found most of the gang - and in less than five minutes all of us had spotted "our" bus. Believe me, after all this time, even without spotting Dmitri at the wheel, we all know "our" bus! Still, obedient to instructions, none of us moved from the rendezvous point until we saw our guide giving us the signal.Today, I held the front "ejection seat" in the bus - the seat directly in line with the stairwell and front door, which requires one to sit with the arm rest up at all times or risk being bounced out of the seat. Having hauled myself into the front seat, I amused myself by watching all the goings-on down below. At one point, Dmitri peered up the doorway and mouthed the question he hadn't asked me that morning : "Tres bien dormi?" One swift nod from me, and the exchange was done, no one the wiser.With the bus fully loaded it was off to the center of town. We'd be on our own from lunchtime until 1445H, when Dmitri would pick us up at the meeting point - across from the Cafe Mozart, at the front door of the little beer cellar where we had had dinner the night before. Well, those not taking the optional tour of the Statsoper and the Imperial Treasury would be on their own - like me. The guide's directions were very precise, and I had no intention of wandering in unfamiliar streets by myself - if Ramon had been with me, no doubt I would have dragged him along on a foray into one or two interesting streets.So from the drop-off point, it was down the street till the first corner, hang a right, straight down until St. Stephen's cathedral, and that was, essentially, *the* shopping district. My itinerary was pretty clear -- to visit the church and pay my respects; to grab a cheap lunch; to poke into the shops and maybe find a pin for my beret.First stop : St. Stephen's church. It was located way, way down the street and for a moment I thought I'd gotten myself down the wrong avenue when I lost sight of the spires. But when i sawa a sign saying St. Stephensplatz I knew I had found the right place. It's a lovely church, something more of a museum piece than a church, but I found the prayer corner and sent up the usual prayers of thanksgiving and intercession for the tour. One or two requests for me, as well. Lit a candle in the corner of St. Therese de Liseux and asked her to say a prayer for me as well.Much refreshed by that little bit of quiet time, I started padding up the street, to mark out shops to check out and search a place to eat that wouldn't take away all the schillings. I did two full circuits of the street, before finally settling on McDonald's - the one place Lisa had told us not to visit. But what the hey - I missed my burgers, and they even had value meals, like back home. So, McDonald's it was, and after I'd settled down with my meal, I found myself smiling across at three little old ladies from the States. They were on an Insight Tour as well - Europe in 17 days. It boggles the mind. I can't imagine doing Europe on anything less than a month, after this trip!! And I'm younger than they are! They said their Tour Director really kept them moving, and I'm not surprised. He would have to have them on the go, if only for them to see the half of what we've seen. They're heading to Innsbruck tomorrow, just like we are - we're likely to run into each other there, perhaps.So we parted ways wishing each other the best, and I started another slow circuit of the street. Somehow I managed to find a drugstore i had failed to spot on my earlier rambles, and bought myself some hairpins and a cheap plastic hairbrush, and - wonder of wonders - Ricola tea. That last, I knew, would tickle Ma no ned, so I pounced on it. It feels good to be able to brush my hair and pin back the stray locks that have been falling over my face since Assisi. From there, I returned to the department store where I had almost bought a pair of clips - was I ever thankful that I had not succumbed to temptation!!Having exhausted the various corners of the posh department store, I was back on the street once again and bumped into Maureen in front of one of the shop windows. We decided to hook up and continue our rambling together. So we entered into various shops and I ended up buying a pair of pins for my beret. Maureen was on search for a leather jacket, with very little success. She'd seen a lot of jackets, but each one only had one of the attributes she wanted, eg. right color but wrong length, nice collar but wrong overall style.Somewhere in all of this, we bumped into Marge and Marie several times, as Marge seemed to be dead set on raiding every souvenir store she laid eyes on. Marie had somehow managed to squeeze in her own shopping; and had a satisfyingly bulky bag to show for her efforts. We snooped into a small store, the four of us - one that specialized in beer steins and cuckoo clocks. After that, Maureen and I left Marge and Marie (by now referred as the M&M's) to wander off on their own trek, and we continued up the street, bumping into Carolyn and Bill. A short discussion on how much pocket money we still needed for Innsbruck sent us down to the nearest hole in the wall (read : ATM) machine so Maureen could replenish her wallet. I heled her navigate the first few steps, then retreated to a discreet distance.When she popped out again, we headed for the front lawn of the Statsoper, where we decided to pull up for a rest and watch the people go by. Maureen and I had a wonderful chat about how blessed we have truly been on this tour, and the talk turned to how important it is to carry a positive attitude within, and to learn to make the most of any situation. Which then led us to the subject of Greg and his Lisa, and their discontent with the way their honeymoon plans were turning out. When I voiced my puzzlement as to why Greg would even contemplate suing Insight for not meeting their expectations, Maureen explained that that was more to be laid at his wife's door. She had been expecting cushy comfort - the Savoy, perhaps? - all through the tour. Now explain to me how you could get Savoy luxury in Venice on the Grand Canal, with the buildings as old as they are. But on, the locations! anyway, we both shrugged and agreed it was a pity, that expectations should be dealt such a harsh blow by reality - and on a honeymoon, too - but truly Insight (and least of all our own LisaH) could not be held liable./...to be continued
[INSIGHT TRAVEL - EUROPEAN GRANDEUR] - Vienna, Day 2, Part 1
DAY 24 - SEPTEMBER 23, 2000
VIENNA, AUSTRIA - HOTEL DE FRANCE
ROOM 212Half-day city tour of Vienna, shopping till 1445H. Great way to spend a morning, having time to wander all over Schonbrunn at my own speed. Heck, having time to wander over anything at my own speed is sheer heaven!The day started with a good breakfast, people asking me where Ma and Dad were, and myself explaining that they were resting up after the long day and that they'd done Schonbrunn already. The same message was relayed to Lisa when we gathered for the day, and she informed our city guide, a nice lady, whose name escapes me now.Dmitri was late with the bus for the first time on the tour - about five minutes or so. I spotted him at the corner of the hotel, where he'd parked the coach, but let someone else spot him as well and tell Lisa. I feel odd around him - a little more self-conscious about the way I act and speak.I think this has its roots way back in the tunnel-counting competition, when Lisa said the winner would get to kiss someone - I forget now - no, now I remember. Lisa invited all the spouses to kiss each other when going through a tunnel, and she said she'd have Maureen as a partner and Jill and Shirley could content themselves with each other.I was heaving a sigh of relief at not being singled out when Lisa wondered aloud who our poor coach driver would kiss, and Anna sang out that it should be me! Had I been well and truly alone, I would have been game - but with Ma and Dad present (and mercifully the banter was going over their heads), and Ma's attitude toward such frivolity, I strongly and vehemently declined the offer.Since then, I've wished the wretched topic had never come up, because I've never looked at Dmitri in quite the same way again. He's a good, kind man and our friendship was - still is - on a footing of respect, for he's never treated me with anything but utmost courtesty. But now I'm always aware of the potential for teasing - and the one untoward remark that might set Ma off. Don't ask what it is with me and coach drivers - it was precisely one indiscreet remark on my first US tour that started a chain of teasing that set Ma off and reduced me to tears. I may have recovered from a wound nearly three decades old, but the scars are still there.I'm glad I resolved the issue inside myself in Assisi, though - perhaps it was St. Francis and St. Clare telling me I was a foolish chit with a malicious mind all on my own. But I'd been worried that having to be so watchful over myself might have been picked up on by Dmitri. It was when we were loading the bags onto the bus - Ma had said something and he was singing some snatches of song, that I said it was always a good sign when the driver sang in the morning. He smiled and stuck out his hand, and that handshake has put the seal on our friendship. I was reassured that my internal conflicts remained internal and did not translate themselves into subliminal vibrations, to trouble others.So while I still continue to be careful and discreet, it's more of a game now, rather than a care, to see how far we can express this friendship and not have others pick up on it. People have already grown used to my swift French banter when the trolley bags are loaded, and I never make the first move to speak with him, content to be in range and listening when others ask questions.Having found Dmitri at last, Lisa saw us onto the bus, and we left her behind at the hotel. With our city guide we covered most of the ground Lisa had done the night before, but of course a city assumes a different mood in daylight. On our way to Schonbrunn, we saw the flea market in operation - where a person could have his wallet stolen and then perhaps be able to buy it back, sans cash and credit cards, of course. Some splendid examples of architecture were pointed out - like the building with the Art Nouveau frontage.It wasn't very long before we were turning up the drive to Schonbrunn, and the beauty of that first glimpse of the palace put a song in my heart. It was another perfect day, with the sun shining softly down and a small breeze to make wearing my trench coat worthwhile. As Dmitri handed me down from the bus, I gave him my best German "Danke schoen", and the dear man replied with a proper German "Jawhol!".With typical brisk Austro-German efficiency, our guide hustled us into the main drive of Schonbrunn, and the walk up to the entrance of the palace was just the thing to keep the chill from our bones. It was interesting to see how the system of whisking tourists through the palace seems to have changed since I was here last. They're strict - no pictures may be taken at all, even without flash, a sales ploy to get the tourists to buy souvenir books that weigh half a ton but are full of official photographs.Maria Theresa was an impressive lady. The guide pointed out that she managed to survive the births of sixteen children, was happily married to a man who never gets mentioned beyond a passing phrase in the history books, promoted arts and sciences, and elevated Austria into a world power. All at the same time, and fighting chauvinist opinions all the way.The state apartments are lovely. Not as rococo and overdone as the Palacio Real in Madrid. One gets the idea that Schonbrunn was as much a home as a palace - and the idea of Maria Theresa's children running around various unseen corridors is a feasible one. In one anteroom, the walls are literally covered with the drawing lessons of the children - one feels as though one has been given a glimpse of their copybooks. The walls are set up in a faux porcelain style, and each drawing has its own wood-simulating-porcelain border. In another room the guide had us look into a mirror set up to reflect the chandelier and its reflection in another mirror at the opposite end of the room. Result : an endless row of chandeliers, stretching to infinity. Another optical illusion was found by fixing one's eyes on the feet of the portrait of a Habsburg emperor as one enters the room. Keeping one's eyes fixed on the feet as one crosses the room, it can then be observed that the feet follow after your gaze - they actually seem to turn!A little nook in one of the rooms was a breakfast room, set up as if the Queen/Empress was expected to dine at any moment. We was the state bed, with portraints of Maria Theresa and her husband flanking it. Since in the aftermath of birthing sixteen children, the Empress had to naturally spend a lot of time recuperating, she used this bed to receive her state visitors and ministers. But she never slept in it. Looking at the embroidery on the sheets and bedcurtains, I don't wonder - it doesn't look a a very comfortable bed to sleep in.From the state bed, we were led to the anteroom of the souvenir shop and told we had about 45 minutes to ramble about the grounds to take pictures, or even attempt the ascent to the Gloriette ( a feat only advisable for the most fit among us, since it was a good quarter-mile away, and uphill!). The first thing I did was to heave over to the back entrance to the gardens, totally ignoring the souvenir shop; I planned on getting my souvenirs in the shop nearer to the front entrance, where we were all supposed to meet./...to be continued
VIENNA, AUSTRIA - HOTEL DE FRANCE
ROOM 212Half-day city tour of Vienna, shopping till 1445H. Great way to spend a morning, having time to wander all over Schonbrunn at my own speed. Heck, having time to wander over anything at my own speed is sheer heaven!The day started with a good breakfast, people asking me where Ma and Dad were, and myself explaining that they were resting up after the long day and that they'd done Schonbrunn already. The same message was relayed to Lisa when we gathered for the day, and she informed our city guide, a nice lady, whose name escapes me now.Dmitri was late with the bus for the first time on the tour - about five minutes or so. I spotted him at the corner of the hotel, where he'd parked the coach, but let someone else spot him as well and tell Lisa. I feel odd around him - a little more self-conscious about the way I act and speak.I think this has its roots way back in the tunnel-counting competition, when Lisa said the winner would get to kiss someone - I forget now - no, now I remember. Lisa invited all the spouses to kiss each other when going through a tunnel, and she said she'd have Maureen as a partner and Jill and Shirley could content themselves with each other.I was heaving a sigh of relief at not being singled out when Lisa wondered aloud who our poor coach driver would kiss, and Anna sang out that it should be me! Had I been well and truly alone, I would have been game - but with Ma and Dad present (and mercifully the banter was going over their heads), and Ma's attitude toward such frivolity, I strongly and vehemently declined the offer.Since then, I've wished the wretched topic had never come up, because I've never looked at Dmitri in quite the same way again. He's a good, kind man and our friendship was - still is - on a footing of respect, for he's never treated me with anything but utmost courtesty. But now I'm always aware of the potential for teasing - and the one untoward remark that might set Ma off. Don't ask what it is with me and coach drivers - it was precisely one indiscreet remark on my first US tour that started a chain of teasing that set Ma off and reduced me to tears. I may have recovered from a wound nearly three decades old, but the scars are still there.I'm glad I resolved the issue inside myself in Assisi, though - perhaps it was St. Francis and St. Clare telling me I was a foolish chit with a malicious mind all on my own. But I'd been worried that having to be so watchful over myself might have been picked up on by Dmitri. It was when we were loading the bags onto the bus - Ma had said something and he was singing some snatches of song, that I said it was always a good sign when the driver sang in the morning. He smiled and stuck out his hand, and that handshake has put the seal on our friendship. I was reassured that my internal conflicts remained internal and did not translate themselves into subliminal vibrations, to trouble others.So while I still continue to be careful and discreet, it's more of a game now, rather than a care, to see how far we can express this friendship and not have others pick up on it. People have already grown used to my swift French banter when the trolley bags are loaded, and I never make the first move to speak with him, content to be in range and listening when others ask questions.Having found Dmitri at last, Lisa saw us onto the bus, and we left her behind at the hotel. With our city guide we covered most of the ground Lisa had done the night before, but of course a city assumes a different mood in daylight. On our way to Schonbrunn, we saw the flea market in operation - where a person could have his wallet stolen and then perhaps be able to buy it back, sans cash and credit cards, of course. Some splendid examples of architecture were pointed out - like the building with the Art Nouveau frontage.It wasn't very long before we were turning up the drive to Schonbrunn, and the beauty of that first glimpse of the palace put a song in my heart. It was another perfect day, with the sun shining softly down and a small breeze to make wearing my trench coat worthwhile. As Dmitri handed me down from the bus, I gave him my best German "Danke schoen", and the dear man replied with a proper German "Jawhol!".With typical brisk Austro-German efficiency, our guide hustled us into the main drive of Schonbrunn, and the walk up to the entrance of the palace was just the thing to keep the chill from our bones. It was interesting to see how the system of whisking tourists through the palace seems to have changed since I was here last. They're strict - no pictures may be taken at all, even without flash, a sales ploy to get the tourists to buy souvenir books that weigh half a ton but are full of official photographs.Maria Theresa was an impressive lady. The guide pointed out that she managed to survive the births of sixteen children, was happily married to a man who never gets mentioned beyond a passing phrase in the history books, promoted arts and sciences, and elevated Austria into a world power. All at the same time, and fighting chauvinist opinions all the way.The state apartments are lovely. Not as rococo and overdone as the Palacio Real in Madrid. One gets the idea that Schonbrunn was as much a home as a palace - and the idea of Maria Theresa's children running around various unseen corridors is a feasible one. In one anteroom, the walls are literally covered with the drawing lessons of the children - one feels as though one has been given a glimpse of their copybooks. The walls are set up in a faux porcelain style, and each drawing has its own wood-simulating-porcelain border. In another room the guide had us look into a mirror set up to reflect the chandelier and its reflection in another mirror at the opposite end of the room. Result : an endless row of chandeliers, stretching to infinity. Another optical illusion was found by fixing one's eyes on the feet of the portrait of a Habsburg emperor as one enters the room. Keeping one's eyes fixed on the feet as one crosses the room, it can then be observed that the feet follow after your gaze - they actually seem to turn!A little nook in one of the rooms was a breakfast room, set up as if the Queen/Empress was expected to dine at any moment. We was the state bed, with portraints of Maria Theresa and her husband flanking it. Since in the aftermath of birthing sixteen children, the Empress had to naturally spend a lot of time recuperating, she used this bed to receive her state visitors and ministers. But she never slept in it. Looking at the embroidery on the sheets and bedcurtains, I don't wonder - it doesn't look a a very comfortable bed to sleep in.From the state bed, we were led to the anteroom of the souvenir shop and told we had about 45 minutes to ramble about the grounds to take pictures, or even attempt the ascent to the Gloriette ( a feat only advisable for the most fit among us, since it was a good quarter-mile away, and uphill!). The first thing I did was to heave over to the back entrance to the gardens, totally ignoring the souvenir shop; I planned on getting my souvenirs in the shop nearer to the front entrance, where we were all supposed to meet./...to be continued
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