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
[INSIGHT TRAVEL - EUROPEAN GRANDEUR] - Venice/Venezia to Vienna
DAY 23 - SEPTEMBER 22, 2000
VENICE, ITALY - VIENNA, AUSTRIA
VIENNA, AUSTRIA - HOTEL DE FRANCE
ROOM 212It's Maureen Sinclair's birthday today, our lone New Zealander with the cheerful personality and infectious laughter. I gave her a hug and a kiss before breakfast, and was warmly thanked in return. She's a grand lady with the most positive view of life I've had the pleasure to meet.Breakfast was a cheerful affair, it seems that everyone has caught their second wind in Venice. Nothing, truly, could beat the atmosphere in Rome for draining energy out of a body : heat, crowds, queues and high prices. But the magic of La Serenissima has exerted itself to good effort, and the morning was filled with laughter as the bags were loaded on the coach.First was Maxine's discovery of extra lire in her wallet, and Robert chasing her round the bus to the nearest stall in a bid to wrest the money from her. Then the young married lads were teasing Dmitri that he had just a few more days of freedom and ought to make the most of them. To which he replied with a sly grin, "You're naughty!" My rejoinder was, "You've only realized that **now**?" delivered with a saucy grin before disappearing into the bus. I really must get him and Lisa some small gifts to go with their tips, seeing as how they are really worth their weight in gold. Dmitri all by himself slinging our suitcases and bags into the coach; Lisa skipping meals and rest just to keep us all happy and content.I delivered the traffic report along with the news of the day - Maureen's birthday - and plans for the celebration thereof, which included suspension of all washroom fees, travel through scenic views, and a 21-gun salute on the Schonbrunn Palace lawns from the crew of the HMS Bounty. Much laughter at this last remark, then it was time for all of us to have our morning naps, while heading for our border stop.From here onwards, I'll be retracing roads once travelled, only in reverse...good angels were on watch for me today, since our rest stop was just over the border from Tarvisio. We made exceptionally good time on the road; the place was sheer luxury compared to what we've been having over the past week.A chill in the air and a glorious mountain view told one and all that we were in Austria at last! The rest stop was a well-equipped place with clean bathrooms that were also free, which was a godsend after all the pay toilets of Italy (though we managed to skip a goodly share of those, as well). Great food - the Ozzies were wolfing down roast beef and pork like they'd never seen it before.At the lunch line, Dmitri offered to help me and Ma with our soup bowls - he's taken to hovering somewhat. I set up Ma with her bowl, then politely declined his offer of a bowl, at which he said plaintively, "I just wanted to do something nice for someone who gives me good weather and good traffic always!" A smile from me seemed to mollify him somewhat, but later on, after our brunch - since it was far too glorious to stay indoors, he got in a last word.Since the exit of the rest stop could only be reached by going through its souvenir shop, nothing could be done but that Ma, after he last call at the washroom, had to go shopping for goodies. Ended up with assorted candies and a pretty white teddy bear with white hearts on its red paws. Bearing these trophies, we headed out for the coach, still closed since the driver was enjoying his last coffee. Everyone was either picnicking or strolling around; Ma and Dad went off on a stroll and left me to catch Alex and Dmitri doing leg stretches against the side of the bus. By the time Ma and Dad had come round to the verge in front of the bus, more people had come about, drawn by the glorious air.By that time too, I'd found out that Dmitri had been in a road accident in 1977; a car going at 60kph hit him a glancing blow on the hip, tearing two ligaments in his leg. Owwwch! He had to stay in hospital, of course, but was out and on his feet in three months, when his daughter said it should've been a year. (So just by listening to Alex and Owena question Dmitri, I found out this much without having to say a word!) He says the leg can be bothersome at times, but he much rather prefers to be on the road; can't keep his feet at home!Anna had come up at this time to gently point out that something smelled rather off inside the coach. With an exasperated look and a mutter, Dmitri dove into his "magic box" for something and soon was wielding the nozzle of some air freshener under my nose, asking if it smelled good. It certainly did leave a nice floral scent about it, and with my "seal of approval", off he went to spray the coach. While he was doing that, I discovered from Alex that someone had opened their picnic salami on the bus, and the few seconds the lid was open, the salami managed to send its peculiar scent clinging to every air molecule in the vicinity. Ick. (Dmitri admitted to Owena and Alex that he sees a lot of stuff through the camera that isn't quite right - but he won't say anything because he's "downstairs". Hm! Interesting.)I rejoined Ma and dad on the grass verge, and by then folks had noticed the shopping bag in my hand. I drew out Ma's teddy bear and she began to cuddle it, much to the amusement of all. It was while she was waving it around that Dmitri snuck up behind her, waiting for an opportunity to grab it, laughing over Ma's shoulder at Marie and Marge and me. Marie gave the game away, and Ma laughingly turned to Dmitri and let him cuddle the teddy bear as well. I think that's where he fell in love with Ma - as has nearly everyone on the tour, come to think of it. But then, Ma's always been that way! Dmitri returned the teddy bear with a mock-stern warning to never leave it on the bus, to which Alex added : "Or it will become his!"As Ma passed the sweetie to me to keep, I shook my head at Dmitri and sang out, "From this moment on, you will never see this again!" to which his replay was a low, "Mechante fille!!" or "mischievous girl!" -- which was a compliment, I suppose? Seeing as how I know I have not been a girl these decades past.Soon we were on the road once again, trying to make good time for our lunch stop somewhere around Graz, by my reckoning. To while away the time, I was asked to sing -- a perilous enterprise on a full stomach -- and I was asked to sing something out of The Sound of Music. So I obliched with the title track, The Lonely Goatherd, Do Re Mi, Maria and so forth. About five songs out of the album, including the classic Edelweiss and half of Sixteen Going On Seventeen.One fast and quick washroom stop, and soon we were on the high road to Vienna, at a good speed - certainly angels were watching over us, and me at traffic control today! Just a touch of traffic in the city center, but nothing to worry about. We were cutting it close, though : we arrived at the hotel at 1700H for a dinner at 1900H which meant out of the hotel at 1800H -- yikes!! Talk about your fast porters : it was real teamwork getting the baggage in. Dmitri shocked me by whisking our trolley bags into the foyer, even though I'd already listed Joe's help! The man's too kind by half, and an angel, no doubt about it.Never did Mommy and I dress with such lightning speed as we did this evening! Fortunately our suitcases wer the first to arrive, so we had a headstart on Daddy. I wore my Chinese black-and-gold blouse over my Novenario pants and Arcopedico shoes. For a moment I felt a pang of genuine regret that I hadn't been able to bring my black lace number and shoes to match, but ah well -- perhaps it was for the best. Dresses like that were made to have consequences follow afterward, and me without my husband, to boot!! Fortunately the moment of aberration stayed that way -- a moment. The outfit I had on suited me just fine, and measured up very well against those of the others. We were certainly one class act as we headed for the restuarant -- a little beer cellar just across the square from The Mozart Cafe and the Hotel Sacher of the renowned Sachertorte.The restaurant was an interesting place, and we'd been booked into a small room at the back, where everyone could be noisy to their heart's content. Once the drinks had been served, it was certainly noisy enough! Robert, Rhonda, Brian and Julie leading the van, as usual.The queue for the buffet was very long, so I let Ma and Dad go first while I secured the bags. When it was my turn to join the line, I made my way to the end, where Geoff and Anthony were waiting their turn as well. On my way there, I felt a swat on my arm, and as I cast a startled look round to see who I might've jostled, this genial old man at one of the tables cried out, "Come sta?" by which I took it to mean that he was an Italian. Well, he was genial enough but not one of our group, and a bit merry at that. so I merely hid behind my bangs with a little smile, turned my back on him, and promptly related the story to Geoff, much to his amusement. Later on, as Lisa was making the rounds of the tables, I also told her the story, and she drived some amusement from it as well. Just as well that I wasn't wearing the black dress - heavens, the attention *that* would have gotten! Or maybe not. But on the next trip, perhaps we'll see.It was a boisterous and merry group that got back on the bus for the trip to the Liechtestein Palace, where the Mozart/Strauss concert was to be held. Lisa gave us all sorts of interesting information about Vienna as we did our mini-evening tour around the Ringstrasse. Vienna by night is lovely, with all the municipal building lit up by floodlamps -- the Parliament, the Rathaus (city hall), the twin museums of natural history and art with Maria Theresa's statues presiding in the park between them. A city rich in memories of an imperial age, of gentility and culture and the magic of music everywhere. Nothing captures the spirit of Vienna like Strauss waltzes, and Lisa put some on, just to establish the ambiance for the evening.Dmitri pulled up to the drop-off point and handed us down with perhaps a touch more care than usual, seeing as the women were all in evening dress (read : heels!). From there, Lisa salked us briskly up the drive to the Palais Liechtenstein entrance, seemingly oblivious to the sharp chill in the air. The Palais belongs to the Liechtenstein family, the holders of the principality that bears their name. I remember turning to Fiona and saying how easy it was to imagine the days when carriages and barouches would roll up the gravel drive to discharge ladies in long evening gowns and men in dinner kit. Even though it's now a public music hall, the place retains an inescapable air of romance about it.The sensation of walking back into the past was intensifies ad Lisa gathered us into the lobby and then led us up the grand staircase to the main drawing room. We were the last big group to arrive, but were ushered into the best seast in the house -- right next to the stage, four rows deep, on the right-hand side of the proceedings. Definitely one up for Insight in terms of bookings.The concert was too short by half for all the confirmed music lovers, and just the right length for everyone who'd spent an entire day on the bus. It was magic - there was even a ballet! I never knew Strauss' Weiner Blut even had words to it until tonight, and the soprano singing it was just lovely. I never knew Mozart had written a Miaou Duet until tonight. Do I regret not taking pictures during the performance? Not in the least. I was too enraptured by the music to even want to think about composing a good photo; I was there as a listener, not as a photographer. So listen I did, with all my heart, not caring how I must have looked, all enraptured by the music.With everyone walking on clouds, we made our way back through a sharper chill to the bus pick-up point. Ma won Anna's heart by whispering, "It's good to see you and Tony together. We missed him!" Anna gave Ma a hug and a kiss on the cheek, because we'd sort of adopted Anna in Venice when Tony had inexplicably vanished -- ostensibly because he was tired, but in reality because he and Anna had had a spat. Oh, well. Trust Ma to be a bridge of healing grace.One of the other tour groups waiting for their coach was particularly filled with goodwill, and as some began tra-la-la-ing a Strauss waltz, a pair began to dance -- yes, in the street!Another tour round the Ringstrasse, and soon Dmitri had landed us safely at the hotel. This time, I'd mustered all my courage and tried out a phrase half-remembered from a book. When he wished me good night and sleep well as he handed me down, I replied, "Dormi bien aussi, et faites des bon reves!" which made his eyes widen and he called out, "J'espere que oui!" or something like that. Well, I certainly hope he **does** have good dreams. He deserves them.In the lobby, Lisa seemed to want some company, so she invited me, Franca, Joe, Alex and Fionna for a last minute drink. I sent up Ma and Dad to the room, and joined my friends at the coffee shop, where we picked ourselves a quiet corner. Lisa at first decided to go up to her room, but was then back after several minutes.Most everyone had coffee, I chose water and sat downwind from the smokers gratefully puffing away. Lisa apologized and I said I'd be right as long as the fog was blowing away from me. The talk was fairly general at first : how fortunate we have been in terms of travel time and weather and getting through all the cities unscathed, especially in Spain and Italy. Lisa regaled us with some of the tribulations that she had been through as a Tour Director - one of the most harrowing being the time she was handling an 18-35 (Contiki) tour and one of the passengers went ballistic. Turned out he was a paranoid schizophrenic from an extremely (to put it mildly) dysfunctional family. She told of the Tour Director whose four passengers fell to their deaths after riding a Greek jeep on mountain roads.Then she let loose with a bombshell -- that Greg was planning to sue Insight! It seems that his new bride was not happy with some of the accomodation and was complaining all the time. We shall hope that Greg was merely speaking out of irritation with his wife's nagging. Fortunately, they are the only ones out of the 42 of us that are complaining -- a pretty good score, said Joe, by way of consolation to Lisa. She shrugged and said that it's the one complainer that gets more attention than the majority of content clients. Still, the batting average continues to remain high in terms of customer satisfaction, and all of us told her so.Ma and Dad were outraged that anyone could find fault with our Lisa's handling of the tour, when I updated them on the events in the coffee shop. They'll be sleeping in and skipping Schonbrunn, which they have already seen twice over. Leaving me free to wander around the shops during the free time while others take in the Statsopera and the Imperial Treasury!
VENICE, ITALY - VIENNA, AUSTRIA
VIENNA, AUSTRIA - HOTEL DE FRANCE
ROOM 212It's Maureen Sinclair's birthday today, our lone New Zealander with the cheerful personality and infectious laughter. I gave her a hug and a kiss before breakfast, and was warmly thanked in return. She's a grand lady with the most positive view of life I've had the pleasure to meet.Breakfast was a cheerful affair, it seems that everyone has caught their second wind in Venice. Nothing, truly, could beat the atmosphere in Rome for draining energy out of a body : heat, crowds, queues and high prices. But the magic of La Serenissima has exerted itself to good effort, and the morning was filled with laughter as the bags were loaded on the coach.First was Maxine's discovery of extra lire in her wallet, and Robert chasing her round the bus to the nearest stall in a bid to wrest the money from her. Then the young married lads were teasing Dmitri that he had just a few more days of freedom and ought to make the most of them. To which he replied with a sly grin, "You're naughty!" My rejoinder was, "You've only realized that **now**?" delivered with a saucy grin before disappearing into the bus. I really must get him and Lisa some small gifts to go with their tips, seeing as how they are really worth their weight in gold. Dmitri all by himself slinging our suitcases and bags into the coach; Lisa skipping meals and rest just to keep us all happy and content.I delivered the traffic report along with the news of the day - Maureen's birthday - and plans for the celebration thereof, which included suspension of all washroom fees, travel through scenic views, and a 21-gun salute on the Schonbrunn Palace lawns from the crew of the HMS Bounty. Much laughter at this last remark, then it was time for all of us to have our morning naps, while heading for our border stop.From here onwards, I'll be retracing roads once travelled, only in reverse...good angels were on watch for me today, since our rest stop was just over the border from Tarvisio. We made exceptionally good time on the road; the place was sheer luxury compared to what we've been having over the past week.A chill in the air and a glorious mountain view told one and all that we were in Austria at last! The rest stop was a well-equipped place with clean bathrooms that were also free, which was a godsend after all the pay toilets of Italy (though we managed to skip a goodly share of those, as well). Great food - the Ozzies were wolfing down roast beef and pork like they'd never seen it before.At the lunch line, Dmitri offered to help me and Ma with our soup bowls - he's taken to hovering somewhat. I set up Ma with her bowl, then politely declined his offer of a bowl, at which he said plaintively, "I just wanted to do something nice for someone who gives me good weather and good traffic always!" A smile from me seemed to mollify him somewhat, but later on, after our brunch - since it was far too glorious to stay indoors, he got in a last word.Since the exit of the rest stop could only be reached by going through its souvenir shop, nothing could be done but that Ma, after he last call at the washroom, had to go shopping for goodies. Ended up with assorted candies and a pretty white teddy bear with white hearts on its red paws. Bearing these trophies, we headed out for the coach, still closed since the driver was enjoying his last coffee. Everyone was either picnicking or strolling around; Ma and Dad went off on a stroll and left me to catch Alex and Dmitri doing leg stretches against the side of the bus. By the time Ma and Dad had come round to the verge in front of the bus, more people had come about, drawn by the glorious air.By that time too, I'd found out that Dmitri had been in a road accident in 1977; a car going at 60kph hit him a glancing blow on the hip, tearing two ligaments in his leg. Owwwch! He had to stay in hospital, of course, but was out and on his feet in three months, when his daughter said it should've been a year. (So just by listening to Alex and Owena question Dmitri, I found out this much without having to say a word!) He says the leg can be bothersome at times, but he much rather prefers to be on the road; can't keep his feet at home!Anna had come up at this time to gently point out that something smelled rather off inside the coach. With an exasperated look and a mutter, Dmitri dove into his "magic box" for something and soon was wielding the nozzle of some air freshener under my nose, asking if it smelled good. It certainly did leave a nice floral scent about it, and with my "seal of approval", off he went to spray the coach. While he was doing that, I discovered from Alex that someone had opened their picnic salami on the bus, and the few seconds the lid was open, the salami managed to send its peculiar scent clinging to every air molecule in the vicinity. Ick. (Dmitri admitted to Owena and Alex that he sees a lot of stuff through the camera that isn't quite right - but he won't say anything because he's "downstairs". Hm! Interesting.)I rejoined Ma and dad on the grass verge, and by then folks had noticed the shopping bag in my hand. I drew out Ma's teddy bear and she began to cuddle it, much to the amusement of all. It was while she was waving it around that Dmitri snuck up behind her, waiting for an opportunity to grab it, laughing over Ma's shoulder at Marie and Marge and me. Marie gave the game away, and Ma laughingly turned to Dmitri and let him cuddle the teddy bear as well. I think that's where he fell in love with Ma - as has nearly everyone on the tour, come to think of it. But then, Ma's always been that way! Dmitri returned the teddy bear with a mock-stern warning to never leave it on the bus, to which Alex added : "Or it will become his!"As Ma passed the sweetie to me to keep, I shook my head at Dmitri and sang out, "From this moment on, you will never see this again!" to which his replay was a low, "Mechante fille!!" or "mischievous girl!" -- which was a compliment, I suppose? Seeing as how I know I have not been a girl these decades past.Soon we were on the road once again, trying to make good time for our lunch stop somewhere around Graz, by my reckoning. To while away the time, I was asked to sing -- a perilous enterprise on a full stomach -- and I was asked to sing something out of The Sound of Music. So I obliched with the title track, The Lonely Goatherd, Do Re Mi, Maria and so forth. About five songs out of the album, including the classic Edelweiss and half of Sixteen Going On Seventeen.One fast and quick washroom stop, and soon we were on the high road to Vienna, at a good speed - certainly angels were watching over us, and me at traffic control today! Just a touch of traffic in the city center, but nothing to worry about. We were cutting it close, though : we arrived at the hotel at 1700H for a dinner at 1900H which meant out of the hotel at 1800H -- yikes!! Talk about your fast porters : it was real teamwork getting the baggage in. Dmitri shocked me by whisking our trolley bags into the foyer, even though I'd already listed Joe's help! The man's too kind by half, and an angel, no doubt about it.Never did Mommy and I dress with such lightning speed as we did this evening! Fortunately our suitcases wer the first to arrive, so we had a headstart on Daddy. I wore my Chinese black-and-gold blouse over my Novenario pants and Arcopedico shoes. For a moment I felt a pang of genuine regret that I hadn't been able to bring my black lace number and shoes to match, but ah well -- perhaps it was for the best. Dresses like that were made to have consequences follow afterward, and me without my husband, to boot!! Fortunately the moment of aberration stayed that way -- a moment. The outfit I had on suited me just fine, and measured up very well against those of the others. We were certainly one class act as we headed for the restuarant -- a little beer cellar just across the square from The Mozart Cafe and the Hotel Sacher of the renowned Sachertorte.The restaurant was an interesting place, and we'd been booked into a small room at the back, where everyone could be noisy to their heart's content. Once the drinks had been served, it was certainly noisy enough! Robert, Rhonda, Brian and Julie leading the van, as usual.The queue for the buffet was very long, so I let Ma and Dad go first while I secured the bags. When it was my turn to join the line, I made my way to the end, where Geoff and Anthony were waiting their turn as well. On my way there, I felt a swat on my arm, and as I cast a startled look round to see who I might've jostled, this genial old man at one of the tables cried out, "Come sta?" by which I took it to mean that he was an Italian. Well, he was genial enough but not one of our group, and a bit merry at that. so I merely hid behind my bangs with a little smile, turned my back on him, and promptly related the story to Geoff, much to his amusement. Later on, as Lisa was making the rounds of the tables, I also told her the story, and she drived some amusement from it as well. Just as well that I wasn't wearing the black dress - heavens, the attention *that* would have gotten! Or maybe not. But on the next trip, perhaps we'll see.It was a boisterous and merry group that got back on the bus for the trip to the Liechtestein Palace, where the Mozart/Strauss concert was to be held. Lisa gave us all sorts of interesting information about Vienna as we did our mini-evening tour around the Ringstrasse. Vienna by night is lovely, with all the municipal building lit up by floodlamps -- the Parliament, the Rathaus (city hall), the twin museums of natural history and art with Maria Theresa's statues presiding in the park between them. A city rich in memories of an imperial age, of gentility and culture and the magic of music everywhere. Nothing captures the spirit of Vienna like Strauss waltzes, and Lisa put some on, just to establish the ambiance for the evening.Dmitri pulled up to the drop-off point and handed us down with perhaps a touch more care than usual, seeing as the women were all in evening dress (read : heels!). From there, Lisa salked us briskly up the drive to the Palais Liechtenstein entrance, seemingly oblivious to the sharp chill in the air. The Palais belongs to the Liechtenstein family, the holders of the principality that bears their name. I remember turning to Fiona and saying how easy it was to imagine the days when carriages and barouches would roll up the gravel drive to discharge ladies in long evening gowns and men in dinner kit. Even though it's now a public music hall, the place retains an inescapable air of romance about it.The sensation of walking back into the past was intensifies ad Lisa gathered us into the lobby and then led us up the grand staircase to the main drawing room. We were the last big group to arrive, but were ushered into the best seast in the house -- right next to the stage, four rows deep, on the right-hand side of the proceedings. Definitely one up for Insight in terms of bookings.The concert was too short by half for all the confirmed music lovers, and just the right length for everyone who'd spent an entire day on the bus. It was magic - there was even a ballet! I never knew Strauss' Weiner Blut even had words to it until tonight, and the soprano singing it was just lovely. I never knew Mozart had written a Miaou Duet until tonight. Do I regret not taking pictures during the performance? Not in the least. I was too enraptured by the music to even want to think about composing a good photo; I was there as a listener, not as a photographer. So listen I did, with all my heart, not caring how I must have looked, all enraptured by the music.With everyone walking on clouds, we made our way back through a sharper chill to the bus pick-up point. Ma won Anna's heart by whispering, "It's good to see you and Tony together. We missed him!" Anna gave Ma a hug and a kiss on the cheek, because we'd sort of adopted Anna in Venice when Tony had inexplicably vanished -- ostensibly because he was tired, but in reality because he and Anna had had a spat. Oh, well. Trust Ma to be a bridge of healing grace.One of the other tour groups waiting for their coach was particularly filled with goodwill, and as some began tra-la-la-ing a Strauss waltz, a pair began to dance -- yes, in the street!Another tour round the Ringstrasse, and soon Dmitri had landed us safely at the hotel. This time, I'd mustered all my courage and tried out a phrase half-remembered from a book. When he wished me good night and sleep well as he handed me down, I replied, "Dormi bien aussi, et faites des bon reves!" which made his eyes widen and he called out, "J'espere que oui!" or something like that. Well, I certainly hope he **does** have good dreams. He deserves them.In the lobby, Lisa seemed to want some company, so she invited me, Franca, Joe, Alex and Fionna for a last minute drink. I sent up Ma and Dad to the room, and joined my friends at the coffee shop, where we picked ourselves a quiet corner. Lisa at first decided to go up to her room, but was then back after several minutes.Most everyone had coffee, I chose water and sat downwind from the smokers gratefully puffing away. Lisa apologized and I said I'd be right as long as the fog was blowing away from me. The talk was fairly general at first : how fortunate we have been in terms of travel time and weather and getting through all the cities unscathed, especially in Spain and Italy. Lisa regaled us with some of the tribulations that she had been through as a Tour Director - one of the most harrowing being the time she was handling an 18-35 (Contiki) tour and one of the passengers went ballistic. Turned out he was a paranoid schizophrenic from an extremely (to put it mildly) dysfunctional family. She told of the Tour Director whose four passengers fell to their deaths after riding a Greek jeep on mountain roads.Then she let loose with a bombshell -- that Greg was planning to sue Insight! It seems that his new bride was not happy with some of the accomodation and was complaining all the time. We shall hope that Greg was merely speaking out of irritation with his wife's nagging. Fortunately, they are the only ones out of the 42 of us that are complaining -- a pretty good score, said Joe, by way of consolation to Lisa. She shrugged and said that it's the one complainer that gets more attention than the majority of content clients. Still, the batting average continues to remain high in terms of customer satisfaction, and all of us told her so.Ma and Dad were outraged that anyone could find fault with our Lisa's handling of the tour, when I updated them on the events in the coffee shop. They'll be sleeping in and skipping Schonbrunn, which they have already seen twice over. Leaving me free to wander around the shops during the free time while others take in the Statsopera and the Imperial Treasury!
[INSIGHT TRAVEL - EUROPEAN GRANDEUR] - Venice/Venezia, Day 2
DAY 22 - SEPTEMBER 21, 2000
VENICE, ITALY - HOTEL CONTINENTAL
ROOM 156Breakfast was a fairly leisurely affair -- after the hectic pace of Rome, we consider an 0800H departure leisurely enough. The reason was that LisaH wanted us to get a head start on St. Mark's Square while it was still reasonably empty. Then, come lunch time and all the tour groups and pigeons, off we would go on our separate ways -- either to Burano or into the various back streets of Venice proper. By the time our group landed at St. Mark's this morning, we were ushered into the Murano glass factory, where everyone was duly impressed with the skill of the glass blower in creating a vase and a standing horse. Once let loose inside the shop, the first place most people headed for was the washroom -- the highlight of every excursion, as Ma says.A little mixup in rendezvous points, and LisaH missed me, Ma, Dad, and Anna for a side trip to the Burano school of lace-making. Fortunately, Anna is Italian and she managed to get information from the shop-keepers about where the lace demonstration was. So we had a chance to listen to the little talk about how lace is made, and its history in Burano. Since Ma and Dad and I were gointg to the source, we didn't buy anything in the showroom.After the lace demonstration, we bumped into Lisa at Quadri's, and while Ma and Dad were in the washroom, I quickly settled the porterage bill for our hand luggage. And Lisa asked me to look into how she could adopt a baby from the Philippines within the next three years or so. I said that I would, though it certainly shook me somewhat. A matter for much discernment, that's for sure! I do enjoy the dear girl's company so much -- and I find I don't envy her freedom in the least. Wouldn't trade my beloved husband for all the tea in China, for the joy he's brought to me. I hope she finds a nice young man to settle down with. Either that or adoption will have to do.I understand that she and Dmitri have ironed out that little kink in their work relationship. Thank God for answered prayers -- which is actually what this whole trip has been about, from weather to travel companions to relationships between tour director and coach driver. Yay, God!Burano was just as I remembered it to be, except that the church tower was leaning over a little more from when I saw it last -- as a starry-eyed graduate from college. Seen through somewhat more mature eyes, the village has become a touch more commercial but otherwise retains its character. The food is as good as memory serves : sole, fish fillet, calamari, green salad (pity I don't care much for arugula lettuce, ick!), and fruit. Also served, biscotti and white wine.Mom and Dad ducked into the little church dedicated to St. Joseph while I went shopping for a centerpiece for the table. It was fun poking about in the shops, but a bit of information overload. Anyway, I came away with a very nice centerpiece which Mom liked, thank goodness.Lowering clouds and rain chased us all the way back to St. Mark's Square, but when we got to the rendezvous point, the sun was glowing sweetly over the area. We took on some people and released a few others to "get lost" in Venice. The water taxi got us back in time for me to hear Mass at the basilica of Sta. Lucia -- it boggles the mind, one huge church and only half a dozen people attending the Mass.During Mass, I said several prayers of thanks for the way this trip has been shaping up. Prayed for Dmitri and Lisa, as I promised to do -- especially for LisaH, who has another knotty problem to deal with, and it's Sharon (again!!!) who gave it to her. Actually, Sharon didn't really give it to LisaH -- it's a long story.The boat we chartered for our sole use to and from Burano was rapidly sent for to ferry a Trafalgar group that was stranded in St. Mark's. Sharon had left her shopping on the boat, along with Lisa's shopping (Greg's Lisa, that is). when our boat came back, both women's shopping were missing. Major headache for tour director, who had been anticipating a quiet evening with a massage therapist and a full night's sleep. After several calls over mobile phone to the tour director of the other group that used our boat, LisaH managed to track down the blue shopping back belonging to LisaJ. Sharon's stuff, however, was down a black hole somewhere, with an extremely slender chance of recovery.After the Mass, last-minute shopping, of course, to get rid of all the lira except a 1000-lira note for the coffee stop, since lira don't exchange very well. So after Mass, I checked in with Ma and Dad again and immediately headed out for the shopping, going first up, then down the street in front of the hotel. Such an adventure as I had!! Trying to figure out how to get the most of the lira burning a hole in my pocket was a pleasant challenge. In the end, I came wasy with a pair of Murano glass earrings in aquamarine, a millefiore pendant, a Venetian captain's hat, and a baseball cap for Daddy -- which is the start of my little adventure.I found a stall that had a pretty enough cap, selling for 12,000 lira. I asked the stall owner for 2,000 off the price, since I was buying it for my papa :Stall Owner : Your papa, eh? Like me?
Me : --soberly-- Oh, no! You're too young to be my papa!At this point, a white-haired man trundling a trolley cart entered the picture. A good-humored exchange of Italian followed, in which I gathered that the elderly gent was asking the stall owneer what he was doing, flirting with the customers, and receiving a summary of our exchange and my request to have the price of the cap taken down.At that, the white-haired gent turned humorous eyes to me and asked where I was from. So with my best baby-brown innocent eyes, I told him I was from the Philippines. After some scrutiny, he laughed and told the stall owner to take off the 2000 lire.The stall owner pretended to glower at first, then broke into smiles and said, "Ok, si, you can have it for 2000 lire less!" A good laugh was had by all when, in the midst of my profuse thanks, the white-haired gent said, "You're very lucky today, signorina -- that man is stingy!"I added to my purchasing coup with a masquerade mask pin and dinner fixings, which left me with exactly 1000 lire in change! Perfect!Tomorrow we're back on board the coach, and I'll be handling traffic for Dmitri. The gang caught him coming from somewhere last night, before our canal cruise and evening at St. Mark's...naturally there were the usual innuenedos cast upon his doings, all in fun, I'm sure. I'm in no mood to be teased by any snarls we find on the road, so it's going to be straight intercession all the way to Vienna!
VENICE, ITALY - HOTEL CONTINENTAL
ROOM 156Breakfast was a fairly leisurely affair -- after the hectic pace of Rome, we consider an 0800H departure leisurely enough. The reason was that LisaH wanted us to get a head start on St. Mark's Square while it was still reasonably empty. Then, come lunch time and all the tour groups and pigeons, off we would go on our separate ways -- either to Burano or into the various back streets of Venice proper. By the time our group landed at St. Mark's this morning, we were ushered into the Murano glass factory, where everyone was duly impressed with the skill of the glass blower in creating a vase and a standing horse. Once let loose inside the shop, the first place most people headed for was the washroom -- the highlight of every excursion, as Ma says.A little mixup in rendezvous points, and LisaH missed me, Ma, Dad, and Anna for a side trip to the Burano school of lace-making. Fortunately, Anna is Italian and she managed to get information from the shop-keepers about where the lace demonstration was. So we had a chance to listen to the little talk about how lace is made, and its history in Burano. Since Ma and Dad and I were gointg to the source, we didn't buy anything in the showroom.After the lace demonstration, we bumped into Lisa at Quadri's, and while Ma and Dad were in the washroom, I quickly settled the porterage bill for our hand luggage. And Lisa asked me to look into how she could adopt a baby from the Philippines within the next three years or so. I said that I would, though it certainly shook me somewhat. A matter for much discernment, that's for sure! I do enjoy the dear girl's company so much -- and I find I don't envy her freedom in the least. Wouldn't trade my beloved husband for all the tea in China, for the joy he's brought to me. I hope she finds a nice young man to settle down with. Either that or adoption will have to do.I understand that she and Dmitri have ironed out that little kink in their work relationship. Thank God for answered prayers -- which is actually what this whole trip has been about, from weather to travel companions to relationships between tour director and coach driver. Yay, God!Burano was just as I remembered it to be, except that the church tower was leaning over a little more from when I saw it last -- as a starry-eyed graduate from college. Seen through somewhat more mature eyes, the village has become a touch more commercial but otherwise retains its character. The food is as good as memory serves : sole, fish fillet, calamari, green salad (pity I don't care much for arugula lettuce, ick!), and fruit. Also served, biscotti and white wine.Mom and Dad ducked into the little church dedicated to St. Joseph while I went shopping for a centerpiece for the table. It was fun poking about in the shops, but a bit of information overload. Anyway, I came away with a very nice centerpiece which Mom liked, thank goodness.Lowering clouds and rain chased us all the way back to St. Mark's Square, but when we got to the rendezvous point, the sun was glowing sweetly over the area. We took on some people and released a few others to "get lost" in Venice. The water taxi got us back in time for me to hear Mass at the basilica of Sta. Lucia -- it boggles the mind, one huge church and only half a dozen people attending the Mass.During Mass, I said several prayers of thanks for the way this trip has been shaping up. Prayed for Dmitri and Lisa, as I promised to do -- especially for LisaH, who has another knotty problem to deal with, and it's Sharon (again!!!) who gave it to her. Actually, Sharon didn't really give it to LisaH -- it's a long story.The boat we chartered for our sole use to and from Burano was rapidly sent for to ferry a Trafalgar group that was stranded in St. Mark's. Sharon had left her shopping on the boat, along with Lisa's shopping (Greg's Lisa, that is). when our boat came back, both women's shopping were missing. Major headache for tour director, who had been anticipating a quiet evening with a massage therapist and a full night's sleep. After several calls over mobile phone to the tour director of the other group that used our boat, LisaH managed to track down the blue shopping back belonging to LisaJ. Sharon's stuff, however, was down a black hole somewhere, with an extremely slender chance of recovery.After the Mass, last-minute shopping, of course, to get rid of all the lira except a 1000-lira note for the coffee stop, since lira don't exchange very well. So after Mass, I checked in with Ma and Dad again and immediately headed out for the shopping, going first up, then down the street in front of the hotel. Such an adventure as I had!! Trying to figure out how to get the most of the lira burning a hole in my pocket was a pleasant challenge. In the end, I came wasy with a pair of Murano glass earrings in aquamarine, a millefiore pendant, a Venetian captain's hat, and a baseball cap for Daddy -- which is the start of my little adventure.I found a stall that had a pretty enough cap, selling for 12,000 lira. I asked the stall owner for 2,000 off the price, since I was buying it for my papa :Stall Owner : Your papa, eh? Like me?
Me : --soberly-- Oh, no! You're too young to be my papa!At this point, a white-haired man trundling a trolley cart entered the picture. A good-humored exchange of Italian followed, in which I gathered that the elderly gent was asking the stall owneer what he was doing, flirting with the customers, and receiving a summary of our exchange and my request to have the price of the cap taken down.At that, the white-haired gent turned humorous eyes to me and asked where I was from. So with my best baby-brown innocent eyes, I told him I was from the Philippines. After some scrutiny, he laughed and told the stall owner to take off the 2000 lire.The stall owner pretended to glower at first, then broke into smiles and said, "Ok, si, you can have it for 2000 lire less!" A good laugh was had by all when, in the midst of my profuse thanks, the white-haired gent said, "You're very lucky today, signorina -- that man is stingy!"I added to my purchasing coup with a masquerade mask pin and dinner fixings, which left me with exactly 1000 lire in change! Perfect!Tomorrow we're back on board the coach, and I'll be handling traffic for Dmitri. The gang caught him coming from somewhere last night, before our canal cruise and evening at St. Mark's...naturally there were the usual innuenedos cast upon his doings, all in fun, I'm sure. I'm in no mood to be teased by any snarls we find on the road, so it's going to be straight intercession all the way to Vienna!
[INSIGHT TRAVEL - EUROPEAN GRANDEUR] - Assisi to Venice/Venezia
DAY 21 - SEPTEMBER 20, 2000
ASSISI - VENICE, ITALY
VENICE - HOTEL CONTINENTAL
ROOM 156I was the weather girl for this stretch of road. Relived my glory days at RK96 by using the news format for my report. Included was a CNN news clip about the problems re Nike's Olympic TV ad - a spoof on a recent film showing a female athlete being pursued by a chainsaw-wielding maniac. NBC, official Olympic TV network, pulled out the ad for excessive violence.Dmitri complimented me on my singing while loading our bags onto the bus. I told him I was fortunate in being blessed with the voice that I have. And that at least when I sing, it doesn't really rain.Received compliments for the weather forecast on stopping for morning coffee break. The clouds remained steady for the most part of the trip, making it cool running right up to Mestre. Then I had to give an update to include gondola conditions and traffic. The sun appeared just as we crossed the Mestre/Venice causeway -- a good omen, perhaps? Arranged with LisaH to have our hand luggage portered to the hotel - an extra 2000 lira per bag, but still better than manhandling them across bridges and over cobbles.The hotel is excellently sited. Got a small room, but adequate enough, since we'll hardly be in it anyway. At least my bed isn't squashed up against Mom and Dad's like it was at the Gloucester. But I miss having the single room that I did in Paris.Had a couple of scares re the gondola ride included in today's excursion. The first was wondering if the gondolas were available at all, because the heavy rains coupled with a high tide had raised the water level under the bridges. The second was Daddy standing up in the gondolas, after LisaH ahd told us not to move once we were in place. Ah, well. The ride itself was rather bland -- the gondoliers don't sing anymore. Our musical accompaniment was a tape of Dean Martin hits, which didn't impress Ma at all.Dinner was rich - pasta, roast chicken, dessert. We had Maureen at the table with us, and later took Anna under our wing -- or rather, Mommy did. After dinner we were off on a water taxi for a night view of Venice. Though slightly choppy at the point where the boat entered the open sea to get to St. Mark's Square. Cities are lovely to visit at night, when they are cooler, and fewer tour groups about. Venice is enchanting by night -- from the illuminated Bridge of Sighs to the charm of the cafes "competing" musically. Each cafe about the square has its own quartet, and these take turns playing the lighter classics. Spectators hover about the fringes of seated customers, moving from one band to another as the repertoires change.This was supposed to highlight the evening, so we had nice front row seats for the music. This is where we more or less adopted Anna, who sat with us for the entire concert. The sky sent a few sprinkles our way, but not enough to cause worry to anyone but Ma.After we finished our drinks, Lisa bundled us off to our water taxi for our cruise down the Grand Canal to visit the various historical palazzi, and the Rialto. Mercifully the trip was less choppy, because we were cruising a canal and not the open sea. The Rialto was lovely to look at, perched over the canal and glowing white in the pitch black of the night. I was immediately put in mind of the famous line from Shakespeare's The Merchant of Venice : "Ho now! What news on the Rialto?"The water taxi dropped us off at the hotel, and none too soon, for the wind started to chill and bring a few raindrops with it. Not much, but enough to set Ma scurrying for cover, as usual.
ASSISI - VENICE, ITALY
VENICE - HOTEL CONTINENTAL
ROOM 156I was the weather girl for this stretch of road. Relived my glory days at RK96 by using the news format for my report. Included was a CNN news clip about the problems re Nike's Olympic TV ad - a spoof on a recent film showing a female athlete being pursued by a chainsaw-wielding maniac. NBC, official Olympic TV network, pulled out the ad for excessive violence.Dmitri complimented me on my singing while loading our bags onto the bus. I told him I was fortunate in being blessed with the voice that I have. And that at least when I sing, it doesn't really rain.Received compliments for the weather forecast on stopping for morning coffee break. The clouds remained steady for the most part of the trip, making it cool running right up to Mestre. Then I had to give an update to include gondola conditions and traffic. The sun appeared just as we crossed the Mestre/Venice causeway -- a good omen, perhaps? Arranged with LisaH to have our hand luggage portered to the hotel - an extra 2000 lira per bag, but still better than manhandling them across bridges and over cobbles.The hotel is excellently sited. Got a small room, but adequate enough, since we'll hardly be in it anyway. At least my bed isn't squashed up against Mom and Dad's like it was at the Gloucester. But I miss having the single room that I did in Paris.Had a couple of scares re the gondola ride included in today's excursion. The first was wondering if the gondolas were available at all, because the heavy rains coupled with a high tide had raised the water level under the bridges. The second was Daddy standing up in the gondolas, after LisaH ahd told us not to move once we were in place. Ah, well. The ride itself was rather bland -- the gondoliers don't sing anymore. Our musical accompaniment was a tape of Dean Martin hits, which didn't impress Ma at all.Dinner was rich - pasta, roast chicken, dessert. We had Maureen at the table with us, and later took Anna under our wing -- or rather, Mommy did. After dinner we were off on a water taxi for a night view of Venice. Though slightly choppy at the point where the boat entered the open sea to get to St. Mark's Square. Cities are lovely to visit at night, when they are cooler, and fewer tour groups about. Venice is enchanting by night -- from the illuminated Bridge of Sighs to the charm of the cafes "competing" musically. Each cafe about the square has its own quartet, and these take turns playing the lighter classics. Spectators hover about the fringes of seated customers, moving from one band to another as the repertoires change.This was supposed to highlight the evening, so we had nice front row seats for the music. This is where we more or less adopted Anna, who sat with us for the entire concert. The sky sent a few sprinkles our way, but not enough to cause worry to anyone but Ma.After we finished our drinks, Lisa bundled us off to our water taxi for our cruise down the Grand Canal to visit the various historical palazzi, and the Rialto. Mercifully the trip was less choppy, because we were cruising a canal and not the open sea. The Rialto was lovely to look at, perched over the canal and glowing white in the pitch black of the night. I was immediately put in mind of the famous line from Shakespeare's The Merchant of Venice : "Ho now! What news on the Rialto?"The water taxi dropped us off at the hotel, and none too soon, for the wind started to chill and bring a few raindrops with it. Not much, but enough to set Ma scurrying for cover, as usual.
[INSIGHT TRAVEL - EUROPEAN GRANDEUR] - Rome to Assisi
DAY 20 - SEPTEMBER 19, 2000
ASSISI, ITALY - GRAND HOTEL
ROOM 508I like this hotel! It's so new you can practically smell the paint on the wall. And the triple share is a real bed, the elevator buttons are also in Braille. A perfect way to end another hectic day. Or what started as one, anyway, for most of us.The folks who were off to Tivoli had to get up early in order to get there on time. Since Mom and Dad and I weren't scheduled for that one, we just got our hand luggage loaded to the tune of Dmitri's usual banter and his comment that he hadn't seen any sign of the baggage yet. Not a good omen, one which left Ma clucking in concern.For all the non-Tivoli people, a quiet day for relaxing or tramping about the hotel, as fancy took them. The bus was supposed to pick us up from the hotel at 1130H. Then LisaH announced that the Tivoli park personnel had shut down the park for at least an hour or so - some union thing or the other. Revised departure time thus became 1230H.Oh, brother. Another hour of waiting. But just as well, because LisaH came up to me to deliver our change from the optional tours. Half was in lira and the other half in US dollars. Sop we were spared the dilemma of changing something into more lira for our upcoming stay in Venice.LisaH told us something odd. It seems that Dmitri has been acting rather cool to her ever since Pompeii, and she can't understand why. Doesn't know if it's her imagination or something real, and it bugs her. I told her that she was the one who said that at some point we'd get off-key with each other and said she should use her sense of humor to deal with it. Ah, well, the perils of extended travel, I suppose. Promised I'd pray for her, and I did - let's see how God answers the request.When the coach finally arrived, it was to pick us up at the public stop. From there, it was off on the road to Assisi. Basically a quiet run, accompanied by beautiful weather. We were glad to see the last of Rome and its crowds and get out into the Umbrian countryside.Assisi has changed somewhat since Ma and Dad saw it last. The earthquake of 1997 made necessary some reconstruction work.. We were able to attend some sort of service in the Basilica of St. Francis, visit the saint's tomb, offer a Mass of thanks and got blessed into the bargain. That old priest was such a nice man - they don't make them much that way any more.We hiked up as far as the plaza leading up to the Poor Clares convent, but we didn't proceed -- a sudden shower was enough to send us scurrying for cover. Instead we entered the church of the Immaculate Conception for a few minutes, then worked our way slowly along the street's souvenir shops towards the bus. Bought ourselves a pair of fans, a rosary and a couple of odds and ends.Met Lisa on the way down and petted her as we are known to do. The dear girl deserves all the hugs she can get. Of course, she keeps floating around so much she hardly has time to get any, more's the pity.It was just a short hop to the hotel, and it was such a relief to know that we would only be there one night -- the room was rather tight. Still, it was a lovely place to be, and so peaceful!Our dinner partners tonight were Alex and Fionna, Greg and Lisa. Alex and Dad bonded together right away, while I discovered that Greg is actually a law graduate. Interesting. I wish I could like his wife, but the essential ingredient is lacking. Fionna and Franca are easier to talk to.After dinner, showed Mom and Dad to the room and went back out onto the terrace, tempted by the cool air and the night. Never could keep my feet in the room until the last minute, anyway. It was simply marvelous outside; brisk air, an illuminated view of Assisi by night -- perfect.My feet led me to the bar after I'd had my fill of the night air. I found Joe, Franca, Alex, Fionna, Robert, Rhonda, Carolyn, Greg and Lisa there, enjoying the happy hour. We were introduced to Rhonda's imaginary friend Mookas (?) and were vastly entertained by the bartender, who kept a countdown on the number of minutes left before the happy hour turned into the "sad" hour. Said bartender also knew how to play the piano, and led us in a fairly resounding rendition of "When The Saints Go Marching In".Could have stayed longer after Neil and Sharon joined us, but I couldn't stand the second-hand smoke any more. So it was off to bed.
ASSISI, ITALY - GRAND HOTEL
ROOM 508I like this hotel! It's so new you can practically smell the paint on the wall. And the triple share is a real bed, the elevator buttons are also in Braille. A perfect way to end another hectic day. Or what started as one, anyway, for most of us.The folks who were off to Tivoli had to get up early in order to get there on time. Since Mom and Dad and I weren't scheduled for that one, we just got our hand luggage loaded to the tune of Dmitri's usual banter and his comment that he hadn't seen any sign of the baggage yet. Not a good omen, one which left Ma clucking in concern.For all the non-Tivoli people, a quiet day for relaxing or tramping about the hotel, as fancy took them. The bus was supposed to pick us up from the hotel at 1130H. Then LisaH announced that the Tivoli park personnel had shut down the park for at least an hour or so - some union thing or the other. Revised departure time thus became 1230H.Oh, brother. Another hour of waiting. But just as well, because LisaH came up to me to deliver our change from the optional tours. Half was in lira and the other half in US dollars. Sop we were spared the dilemma of changing something into more lira for our upcoming stay in Venice.LisaH told us something odd. It seems that Dmitri has been acting rather cool to her ever since Pompeii, and she can't understand why. Doesn't know if it's her imagination or something real, and it bugs her. I told her that she was the one who said that at some point we'd get off-key with each other and said she should use her sense of humor to deal with it. Ah, well, the perils of extended travel, I suppose. Promised I'd pray for her, and I did - let's see how God answers the request.When the coach finally arrived, it was to pick us up at the public stop. From there, it was off on the road to Assisi. Basically a quiet run, accompanied by beautiful weather. We were glad to see the last of Rome and its crowds and get out into the Umbrian countryside.Assisi has changed somewhat since Ma and Dad saw it last. The earthquake of 1997 made necessary some reconstruction work.. We were able to attend some sort of service in the Basilica of St. Francis, visit the saint's tomb, offer a Mass of thanks and got blessed into the bargain. That old priest was such a nice man - they don't make them much that way any more.We hiked up as far as the plaza leading up to the Poor Clares convent, but we didn't proceed -- a sudden shower was enough to send us scurrying for cover. Instead we entered the church of the Immaculate Conception for a few minutes, then worked our way slowly along the street's souvenir shops towards the bus. Bought ourselves a pair of fans, a rosary and a couple of odds and ends.Met Lisa on the way down and petted her as we are known to do. The dear girl deserves all the hugs she can get. Of course, she keeps floating around so much she hardly has time to get any, more's the pity.It was just a short hop to the hotel, and it was such a relief to know that we would only be there one night -- the room was rather tight. Still, it was a lovely place to be, and so peaceful!Our dinner partners tonight were Alex and Fionna, Greg and Lisa. Alex and Dad bonded together right away, while I discovered that Greg is actually a law graduate. Interesting. I wish I could like his wife, but the essential ingredient is lacking. Fionna and Franca are easier to talk to.After dinner, showed Mom and Dad to the room and went back out onto the terrace, tempted by the cool air and the night. Never could keep my feet in the room until the last minute, anyway. It was simply marvelous outside; brisk air, an illuminated view of Assisi by night -- perfect.My feet led me to the bar after I'd had my fill of the night air. I found Joe, Franca, Alex, Fionna, Robert, Rhonda, Carolyn, Greg and Lisa there, enjoying the happy hour. We were introduced to Rhonda's imaginary friend Mookas (?) and were vastly entertained by the bartender, who kept a countdown on the number of minutes left before the happy hour turned into the "sad" hour. Said bartender also knew how to play the piano, and led us in a fairly resounding rendition of "When The Saints Go Marching In".Could have stayed longer after Neil and Sharon joined us, but I couldn't stand the second-hand smoke any more. So it was off to bed.
[INSIGHT TRAVEL - EUROPEAN GRANDEUR] - Rome, Day 2
DAY 19 - SEPTEMBER 18, 2000
ROME, ITALY - HOTEL ALBANI
ROOM 503Talk about your hectic days -- where on earth did all these people come from? Jubilee Year indeed, the Church had better be able to tell everyone later on where their entrance fees and such have been distributed. The sheer volume of money involved blows the mind away!LisaH routed all of us out of our beds early, in an effort to get us out of the hotel at around 0800H so as to secure a good place in the Vatican City queue. What met us in the breakfast room was utter chaos. We were mixed up with at least two other tour groups that were also heading for the Vatican! Such a carrying-on as to drive hotel staff to the brink of insanity! After a hearty breakfast (none for others, though) we were rushed to the Vatican Museum.On the coach, LisaH gave us our game plan. Most of it hinged on whether the access door from the Sistine to St. Peter's would stay open so we could shoot straight through and not have to return in the afternoon. At the drop-off point, I'm quite sure Dmitri's heart stopped for several moments when Elaine knocked herself on something and fell -- she stepped off the bus as Dmitri was making the final adjustments. She's all right, though, if somewhat shaken, as I know Dmitri probably is, too. She did manage to finish the tour this morning in fair enough condition, so I'm hoping everything works out.The Sistine Chapel and the Vatican Museum are more lovely than I remembered. Who would have thought those dingy ceilings and walls could turn up such brilliant colors? Restoration on the Sistine has rendered it positively breathtaking. Apparently, a good number of people are inclined to agree with me -- the Sistine was jampacked with any number of tour groups. Including one led by Alice San Juan and Fr. Larry Tan -- of all the people to meet in the SISTINE CHAPEL!!Our guide for the day, Daniella, was the same one who handled Mom and Dad on their previous Insight tour. She actually remembered Ma! After we'd done the Sistine, Daniella shepherded us into St. Peter's. Five minutes after we entered the basilica, the access gate to the Sistine was closed for the day -- we were ahead of the last group of 15 people that managed to squeak through.St. Peter's is now as dark as the Sistine is light. Mainly because the great front doors are kept closed now. Which is a shame, since the sunlight was always meant to come pouring down the nave, breathing life into the statues of Carrara marble.On the other hand, such crowds! There were already a lot of people when I first saw this place, but even then, the sound of voices was still swallowed up by the huge cathedral. Not anymore...there was such a huge crowd in front of the Pieta that it would have been impossible to pray in front of it, even if one had the time to do so.Having braved the semi-controlled chaos of the Vatican, it was time for us to head for the Colosseum, the Forum and our lunch stop before our return to the hotel. Somehow, it seems on this trip I was really able to appreciate these colossal monuments. The Flavian Ampitheatre has lost a lot of its former glory, not the least of the causes being the Roman propensity to recycle anything worth using. Initially it was the marble facings of the buildings. Then later on it was the bricks themselves. But even what is left is an impressive sight.The Forum was hot -- the sun was out in full force and I have deeply kiess by the rays. Got a nice, up close and personal look at the Flavian and Hadrian arches; I really missed a wealth of detail the first time around.Then at last it was time for lunch and not a moment too soon, as Ma was getting grumpy from the heat and the hiking. And who should we meet at the cafe but Nap Sayson, the father-in-law of Melma of Rajah Tours, who took care of our booking details, and Dad's golfing mate. We pulled up at his table and while I attended to the food, he and Dad happily chatted away. Seems Tito Nap was also on an Insight Tour, and his Tour director was John Gillespie. Only their tour started in Amsterdam and was working its way to Paris. We introduced him to LisaH, who was as pleased as punch with the information.At 1400H, we were shepherded back to the hotel via the public transporation system under LisaH's watchful eye -- first by train, then by bus. It was a hot and tired little trio that made its way back to the hotel room, only to discover -- oh, horrors! -- that the room hadn't been made up yet! Fortunately we managed to collar the chambermaid and the room was fixed in time for a proper rest before our optional night out. LisaH waid we could choose to dress for comfort or elegance, and said she was opting for elegance. So did I, and so did most of the others who were coming along -- we were a really spiffy group.The restaurant was a cosy enough place -- rather like a brighter, Italian version of a beer cellar. Long tables -- and this time I sat with the younger members instead of Mom and Dad, which was what LisaH was hoping I would do. I enjoyed the night, getting better acquainted with Alex; and the songs and skits were funny and lovely by turns.On the bus tonight, people found out I could sing, and there was a loud clamour for me to render a song. So I obliged them with It's Now or Never, and they very obligingly joined in the chorus. What can I say, after two glasses of white wine, I get showbiz in my blood. Heaven was merciful - it did not rain, nor did my voice break or tighten up on high notes. So it was center stage for me tonight, and it was grand to hear the compliments.When we get to the hotel, I joined Joe and Franca, Greg and his Lisa, Alex and Fiona, and Jane and Brian at the bar/lounge. Rod and Rhonda were there too...we did a bit of general unwinding before going our separate ways, and it was, in review, an excellent way to spend a day.
ROME, ITALY - HOTEL ALBANI
ROOM 503Talk about your hectic days -- where on earth did all these people come from? Jubilee Year indeed, the Church had better be able to tell everyone later on where their entrance fees and such have been distributed. The sheer volume of money involved blows the mind away!LisaH routed all of us out of our beds early, in an effort to get us out of the hotel at around 0800H so as to secure a good place in the Vatican City queue. What met us in the breakfast room was utter chaos. We were mixed up with at least two other tour groups that were also heading for the Vatican! Such a carrying-on as to drive hotel staff to the brink of insanity! After a hearty breakfast (none for others, though) we were rushed to the Vatican Museum.On the coach, LisaH gave us our game plan. Most of it hinged on whether the access door from the Sistine to St. Peter's would stay open so we could shoot straight through and not have to return in the afternoon. At the drop-off point, I'm quite sure Dmitri's heart stopped for several moments when Elaine knocked herself on something and fell -- she stepped off the bus as Dmitri was making the final adjustments. She's all right, though, if somewhat shaken, as I know Dmitri probably is, too. She did manage to finish the tour this morning in fair enough condition, so I'm hoping everything works out.The Sistine Chapel and the Vatican Museum are more lovely than I remembered. Who would have thought those dingy ceilings and walls could turn up such brilliant colors? Restoration on the Sistine has rendered it positively breathtaking. Apparently, a good number of people are inclined to agree with me -- the Sistine was jampacked with any number of tour groups. Including one led by Alice San Juan and Fr. Larry Tan -- of all the people to meet in the SISTINE CHAPEL!!Our guide for the day, Daniella, was the same one who handled Mom and Dad on their previous Insight tour. She actually remembered Ma! After we'd done the Sistine, Daniella shepherded us into St. Peter's. Five minutes after we entered the basilica, the access gate to the Sistine was closed for the day -- we were ahead of the last group of 15 people that managed to squeak through.St. Peter's is now as dark as the Sistine is light. Mainly because the great front doors are kept closed now. Which is a shame, since the sunlight was always meant to come pouring down the nave, breathing life into the statues of Carrara marble.On the other hand, such crowds! There were already a lot of people when I first saw this place, but even then, the sound of voices was still swallowed up by the huge cathedral. Not anymore...there was such a huge crowd in front of the Pieta that it would have been impossible to pray in front of it, even if one had the time to do so.Having braved the semi-controlled chaos of the Vatican, it was time for us to head for the Colosseum, the Forum and our lunch stop before our return to the hotel. Somehow, it seems on this trip I was really able to appreciate these colossal monuments. The Flavian Ampitheatre has lost a lot of its former glory, not the least of the causes being the Roman propensity to recycle anything worth using. Initially it was the marble facings of the buildings. Then later on it was the bricks themselves. But even what is left is an impressive sight.The Forum was hot -- the sun was out in full force and I have deeply kiess by the rays. Got a nice, up close and personal look at the Flavian and Hadrian arches; I really missed a wealth of detail the first time around.Then at last it was time for lunch and not a moment too soon, as Ma was getting grumpy from the heat and the hiking. And who should we meet at the cafe but Nap Sayson, the father-in-law of Melma of Rajah Tours, who took care of our booking details, and Dad's golfing mate. We pulled up at his table and while I attended to the food, he and Dad happily chatted away. Seems Tito Nap was also on an Insight Tour, and his Tour director was John Gillespie. Only their tour started in Amsterdam and was working its way to Paris. We introduced him to LisaH, who was as pleased as punch with the information.At 1400H, we were shepherded back to the hotel via the public transporation system under LisaH's watchful eye -- first by train, then by bus. It was a hot and tired little trio that made its way back to the hotel room, only to discover -- oh, horrors! -- that the room hadn't been made up yet! Fortunately we managed to collar the chambermaid and the room was fixed in time for a proper rest before our optional night out. LisaH waid we could choose to dress for comfort or elegance, and said she was opting for elegance. So did I, and so did most of the others who were coming along -- we were a really spiffy group.The restaurant was a cosy enough place -- rather like a brighter, Italian version of a beer cellar. Long tables -- and this time I sat with the younger members instead of Mom and Dad, which was what LisaH was hoping I would do. I enjoyed the night, getting better acquainted with Alex; and the songs and skits were funny and lovely by turns.On the bus tonight, people found out I could sing, and there was a loud clamour for me to render a song. So I obliged them with It's Now or Never, and they very obligingly joined in the chorus. What can I say, after two glasses of white wine, I get showbiz in my blood. Heaven was merciful - it did not rain, nor did my voice break or tighten up on high notes. So it was center stage for me tonight, and it was grand to hear the compliments.When we get to the hotel, I joined Joe and Franca, Greg and his Lisa, Alex and Fiona, and Jane and Brian at the bar/lounge. Rod and Rhonda were there too...we did a bit of general unwinding before going our separate ways, and it was, in review, an excellent way to spend a day.
[INSIGHT TRAVEL - EUROPEAN GRANDEUR] - Naples to Rome
DAY 18 - SEPTEMBER 17, 2000
ROME, ITALY - HOTEL ALBANI
ROOM 503Another driving day, but with a peaceful start -- the bus left early to bring the Amalfi optional people up to the cliffside for their drive. all those not taking this optional tour were left behind at the hotel to enjoy a late breakfast and the fountains and pools. Dad and I went down to make sure our bags were stowed in the baggage hold, then went back to the hotel to catch up on rest. This surprised our driver, and we had a little exchange of banter when he asked if I didn't want to go "on a quiet drive on the mountains" and I answered with a crisp negative that set him laughing.I loved the peace of the La Sonrisa in those early morning hours. I loved being alone in the silence, soaking up the beauty of the place. It's different to be out on one's own, no matter how much you may love other people and are loved by them.When we all (the non-Amalfi people, that is) got on the front drive to wait for the bus, Lisa gave us a moment of banter by sharing with us an inside joke she's got going with one of the waiters. It seems she'd been given a "certificate" written on the back of the hotel's business card, redeemable for a thousand kisses from her two friends at the front desk. Which worked out to about five hundred kisses each. Then she teased her friend into posing for a "bridal" picture with her, complete with bouquet (also teased out of, and graciously given by, said new friend). I've promised to send her a picture as soon as I get these rolls of film developed, maybe I'll fix them up with Image Magic stuff. So as not to have the other ladies excluded from all this banter, Lisa's new (but alas, married) friend gave all the rest of us blush roses.So when the bus arrived, there was much oohing and ahhing over Lisa's new marital status, and the roses all of us had received. Dmitri tried to do the gallant thing and found a plastic water bottle, halved it, filled the bottom half with water for Lisa to put the flower in, so they wouldn't die so fast. Only to be gently refused by Lisa, who reasonably pointed out that the water could spill and mess up the bus. The expression on Dmitri's face was the perfect Kodak moment, poor dear man!Amid much merriment we set off for Rome, with clear skies and no traffic. It was pretty much a straight run, since we'd already finished visiting Monte Cassino before arriving at Pompeii. On the bus, Lisa ran through an enormous list of permits a tour group had to pay before even entering Rome, and it simply boggles the mind how much all this costs a tour comapny. Of course they take it out of our booking fees, but the service this particular team has given us is worth its weight in gold.Pulling into Rome, our first challenge was to find a checkpoint where we could pay our permit fees. We, to use the words of the Barry Manilow song, went high and low and everywhere we possibly could, looking for an open checkpoint. Then when we did find one, the maintenance man bawled out Dmitri for idling the bus engine. Arrrgh! The look on our driver's face was just too vexed by half.Once we were out of that, we managed to surmount the next challenge : parking the bus as close to the hotel as possible. It means a rather long walk to the htoel, about a block, including the turn. Our room is worth the wait, though. It's almost a junior suite, with lots and lots of room. Not bad at all.Decided to have dinner at the hotel tonight, since Ma and I were spooked about going out in an unknown area at night. The waiter was very kind, if somewhat slow, but then after all, this is Italy! The food (lasagna) was all right. Then back to the room to build up reserves for what promises to be a hectic day tomorrow.
ROME, ITALY - HOTEL ALBANI
ROOM 503Another driving day, but with a peaceful start -- the bus left early to bring the Amalfi optional people up to the cliffside for their drive. all those not taking this optional tour were left behind at the hotel to enjoy a late breakfast and the fountains and pools. Dad and I went down to make sure our bags were stowed in the baggage hold, then went back to the hotel to catch up on rest. This surprised our driver, and we had a little exchange of banter when he asked if I didn't want to go "on a quiet drive on the mountains" and I answered with a crisp negative that set him laughing.I loved the peace of the La Sonrisa in those early morning hours. I loved being alone in the silence, soaking up the beauty of the place. It's different to be out on one's own, no matter how much you may love other people and are loved by them.When we all (the non-Amalfi people, that is) got on the front drive to wait for the bus, Lisa gave us a moment of banter by sharing with us an inside joke she's got going with one of the waiters. It seems she'd been given a "certificate" written on the back of the hotel's business card, redeemable for a thousand kisses from her two friends at the front desk. Which worked out to about five hundred kisses each. Then she teased her friend into posing for a "bridal" picture with her, complete with bouquet (also teased out of, and graciously given by, said new friend). I've promised to send her a picture as soon as I get these rolls of film developed, maybe I'll fix them up with Image Magic stuff. So as not to have the other ladies excluded from all this banter, Lisa's new (but alas, married) friend gave all the rest of us blush roses.So when the bus arrived, there was much oohing and ahhing over Lisa's new marital status, and the roses all of us had received. Dmitri tried to do the gallant thing and found a plastic water bottle, halved it, filled the bottom half with water for Lisa to put the flower in, so they wouldn't die so fast. Only to be gently refused by Lisa, who reasonably pointed out that the water could spill and mess up the bus. The expression on Dmitri's face was the perfect Kodak moment, poor dear man!Amid much merriment we set off for Rome, with clear skies and no traffic. It was pretty much a straight run, since we'd already finished visiting Monte Cassino before arriving at Pompeii. On the bus, Lisa ran through an enormous list of permits a tour group had to pay before even entering Rome, and it simply boggles the mind how much all this costs a tour comapny. Of course they take it out of our booking fees, but the service this particular team has given us is worth its weight in gold.Pulling into Rome, our first challenge was to find a checkpoint where we could pay our permit fees. We, to use the words of the Barry Manilow song, went high and low and everywhere we possibly could, looking for an open checkpoint. Then when we did find one, the maintenance man bawled out Dmitri for idling the bus engine. Arrrgh! The look on our driver's face was just too vexed by half.Once we were out of that, we managed to surmount the next challenge : parking the bus as close to the hotel as possible. It means a rather long walk to the htoel, about a block, including the turn. Our room is worth the wait, though. It's almost a junior suite, with lots and lots of room. Not bad at all.Decided to have dinner at the hotel tonight, since Ma and I were spooked about going out in an unknown area at night. The waiter was very kind, if somewhat slow, but then after all, this is Italy! The food (lasagna) was all right. Then back to the room to build up reserves for what promises to be a hectic day tomorrow.
[INSIGHT TRAVEL - EUROPEAN GRANDEUR] - Naples, Capri and Sorrento Excursion
DAY 17 - SEPTEMBER 16, 2000
NAPLES, ITALY - GRAND HOTEL LA SONRISA
HOTEL TERRACEAbout this hotel...it's a real honeymoon delight. I can truthfully say that I've never seen any hotel so deliberately constructed as to be a backdrop for wedding receptions. As per LisaH, it is quite the thing for anyone who is someone to have their wedding reception here. The odd Mafia Don, it's rumored, has even been spotted among the guests. Everywhere you turn there are these gigantic set pieces for pictures -- waterfalls, arches, fountains in the pool. A huge outdoor dance floor and two reception halls. The walls are done in padded embroidered silk, and the plaster mouldings are to be seen to be believed -- it rather reminds me of the rooms at the Palacio Real in Madrid.After Pompeii, I was too tired to do anything more than unpack and go to sleep. So this is yet another two-day update entry : yesterday and today. Yesterday at breakfast it was a case of Olympic update frenzy -- who saw the opening ceremonies, weren't they fantastic, etc.This morning, Lisa bundled all of us into the bus for our ride into Naples proper, to catch the ferry for Capri. We made it with time to spare and met our local guide Nadia, who really knows her way around, being careful to explain the drill before ggetting us to do anything.The ferry was compact and fast. I chose to stand by the deck rail and let the wind slam into my face a la Leo DiCaprio in Titanic. I've always held that if you're on a boat, you should be where the wind and salt air can get at you -- so much better than running about belowdecks with the smokers!We raced -- or made a pretense of racing -- a hydrofoil into the Grand Marina of Capri. After making fast the ferry, we were bundled off to the end of the pier and regrouped around Nadia. She had cornered one of the ferry boats to the Blue Grotto and gave us an interesting local history lesson as we chugged our way over to the grotto entrance.The scene at the entrance of the grotto was organized chaos -- well, this is Italy, what you do expect, all this Latin temperament everywhere. It seems that a group of local boatmen have the franchise on entering the grotto, which can only be reached by lying flat on the bottom of a small dinghy -- sometimes the boatman is leaning back over you as well. The opening of the grotto is a horrendously narrow fit.Nadia, who is obviously well known on the island, maneuvered us into position and gave us a tip on how to transfer from our boat to the dinghy : sit on the rail of the bigger boat, then swing both legs up and over the side into the little boat. Worked like a charm, for me, anyway. Mama stopped my heart for a few seconds when she slid over the wrong way and missed the water by a few inches. Once into the dinghy, I managed to snap a picture of everyone else getting into their own dinghies -- that was a real gas.At the entrance of the grotto, everyone, even the boatman, has to scrunch down as much as possible in order to shoot through the entrance into pitch blackness. As your eyes adjust, you become aware of this wonderfully blue glow emanating from the depths of the water. Sunlight striking the white sand of the sea bed is then reflected through openings in the grotto walls, 25m below, turning the water inside the most awesome shade of translucent blue.All too soon, our circuit of the cave was done, and it was once more into the breach before being safely landed at the bottom of some steps leading to a little tourist store and the minibus station. Having made sure that her Insight famiglia was safe on dry land, Nadia gave us a breather with the announcement that since the minibus had yet to arrive, we could either sit, take pictures or use the washrooms. We had about 5 - 10 minutes there before the minibus arrived.The minibus. Boy, what can I say about it that could adequately describe the experience? Manila driving absolutely pales by comparison. It was a sign of things to come, I suppose, when Carolyn took the front seat and on the way up, Rob muttered, "Dmitri could do that in one," when our dirver had to take two turns at the wheel to get our bus onto the road. All the fun started at the first hairpin bend, when the driver really put on some speed to get up the incline and stayed at speed the rest of the way, honking his horn all the while. Of course the Ozzies and Canucks and Kiwis, being used to a more civilized style of driving, were screaming and laughing all the way. Poor Carolyn was in an absolute state of shock at being in the ringside seat for views of the drop from the cliffs, cars coming head-on, and the barely-there clearnaces between the bus and various property walls and vegetation.In the main square, we whizzed right by one of the local policemen and that worthy member of Capri's finest merely too two steps to the side without even blinking an eye! It was hilarious, and eventually we landed at the hotel lunch stop breathless as much from laughing as from the skill of the driver. It was so obvious that he was so at home on that road, the perfect nonchalance of his manner was something to see.At the Hotel Bellavista, we arrived right on the heels of tourists who had just finished their lunch/snack stop -- and the padrone gave us a warm welcome.. The hotel is aptly named, for it has a lovely veiw of the ocean. The padrone was also a bit of a showman, raffling off a lovely print of his hotel to two lucky people. I think Greg was one of them, but don't recall who the other one was.We had balcony seating, and the meal was good! Fresh garden salad from the hotel garden, with vinaigrette dressing. Pasta with fresh tomato and basil sauce -- yum! And gelato for afters -- yum! Mom and Dad, as usual, had fish.After lunch, a minor adventure in the washrooms. Seems that Rob had move into the women's, which meant some of the early ladies ended up using the men's room instead. Molto confusion, as one would imagine! But we're one cheerful lot, and managed to sort ourselves out without too much fuss.Then after the requisite picture-taking in all available corners of the grape arbor, Nadia decided it was time for us to work off our lunch. She took us on a walking tour of Anacapri, with is the highest point of the island. (Come to think of it, you could divide Capri into sections the same way Corregidor is divided into sections : Anacapri = Topside, Middleside, and Capri Harbor = Bottomside) Our first stop was at a special plaque along the street running through that section of town leading to the lookout point. More local history followed, among which bits I found interesting is that Anacapri was itself isolated from Capri for the longest time. Nadia also tipped us off to Capri's indigenous crafts : coral jewelry, leather and lemon cream (which is actually a liqueur).Second stop, the villa San Michele. It was owned by this Dutch doctor who, when excavating for the foundation of his Capri villa, unearthed some Roman ruins and a chapel to St. Michael Archangel. To see the villa (now a museum), you must pay a token fee which is remitted to the Swedish consulate. Yes, there is actually a consulate on the Isle of Capri! It's there because the Dutch doctor donated his villa to the Swedish government, which takes care of the villa's upkeep.Third stop - the lookout point behind the villa's garden, with a spectacular panorama of the Grand Marina and Capri town, along with the blue water found only in the most far-flung places. When we had our fill of the view, there was time for a slow ramble up and down the little street with local handicraft shops. I got myself a pair of pale pink coral earrings in the shape of rosebuds. It will go nicely with the pink coral rose pin that's already in my jewelry box.After meeting up again with Nadia in the main square, she set us loose again with two basic options -- shop, or visit the local church. Doesn't take much guessing to know what our lot chose - everyone scattered to get their fill of leather goods and perfumes and all the rest. Ended up with a new pair of Arcopedico shoes this round of shopping -- so now my feet will be decently dressed for any special dinners from henceforth. What I need now is a pair of dress socks. Argh!Once the group regathered, it was time for another crazy minibus ride to Capri town proper. More walking, but this time to the other side of the island, which had quite a colorful history. There's the hotel that was once a hospital for military personnel and when the owner died, his widow and daughter were conned out of their inheritance by the Italian partner of the deceased. Wretch! He promptly married the servant girl of one of his customers.Ther there is the Via Krupp, which is the same Krupp of the military armaments fortune, the grandfather of the good friend of Baronesa Eva Abesamis de Koenigswarter, who stood godmother to the young man's conversion to Catholicism. Anyway, this Krupp of WWII vintage, after getting married and fathering two daughters, discovered after building a villa in Capri that he preferred to live a homosexual lifestyle. @__@ Only problem was, Nazi Germany had a very low tolerance for gay men who were openly gay. So they called in Mrs. Krupp to testify if her husband was really gay and she confirmed that he was -- so Krupp had her locked away in an insane asylum. Eventually his conscience caught up with him and he committed suicide in front of his two daughters. Eventually his property went to the Isle of Capri as a gift, and the villa gardens were renamed the Augustus Gardens.It was interesting to note a memorial to Lenin, that champion of the masses, in a place renowned for decadence and hedonism among the rich and famous. But it appears that his short visit was enough to merit a small marker in a shady nook in the gardens.Nadia also pointed out the house used by Eisenhower as his command post during the Allied operations in Italy; a Benedictine monastery. She also pointed out the Faro rocks, a beautiful trio of rocks rising from the sea. Then she set us loose for yet another round of leisure time.Another minibus ride -- but not as crazy this time, brought us back to the pier to be reunited with those of the group who chose not to come up with us. Once all together, we were bundled into a ferry for Sorrento, a mere 20-minute trip.Ahhhhh, Sorrento! That fly-by visit will live forever in my memory. Not for the fact that I got to see the hotel where Caruso once stayed; nor for the fact that the beauty of the intarsia wood creations left me breathless. No, what is forever etched in my mind's eye is the bus ride from the port to the intarsia wood factory!You see, the bus started to climb the ramp leading out of the port area. But then a small car zoomed down trying to squeeze past the bus, which of course, upset our driver. Which then led to a series of maneuvers guaranteed to make any civilized driver grow white hairs. The bus driver (certainly not as even-tempered as our Dmitri) started screaming all manner of imprecations at the car driver. You didn't need a translation to know that the bus driver was damning all the car driver's antecedents and bawling out any future progeny unto the fifth generation...the car driver refused to budge from his spot.Size does indeed matter, however, and so does right of way. After the padrone of the restaurant we all were blocking emerged to have a look at the carrying-on, the little car eventually managed to back up engough to let us shift for just the barest minimum of room to let him through. Actually one of the biggest obstacles to any decent manuevering was the bus behind us. That driver had adopted an "in your butt" attitude, pulling up right behind us as we inched forward.Our second major obstacle was the bus that had been blocking the reverse path of the little car. The driver of that vehicle had just started smoking and was intent on completing his ciggie in the most leisurely manner possible! After some choice words from our driver, the other bus finally moved.All was well until our driver felt the need to vent his feelings and justify himself to two other bus drivers in quick succession. @__@ Not until then was our exit from the port completed. But more was awaiting us on the way to the intarsia factory. Traffic, buses coming coming head-on, and a short stretch of two wheels on the sidewalk, and this on a bridge, yet! never were were so glad to get off a bus and see the familiar bulk of our own coach and driver. Dmitri was nearer to being hugged and kissed en masse than he knew...The intarsia factory didn't impress me much, except that the voice of the mataray ang dating saleslady sounded an awful lot like Fran Drescher's. Weird. The products were nice, but we could do just as well at home -- if not better -- and non of the bother with shipping.From there, it was home sweet home in the hands of our capable driver -- but our road adventures weren't done yet. there was traffic, first of all, but fortunately not on the other side of the road. The highlight of the evening was when a little car decided it could cut straight across our path and nearly missed being our coach's hood ornament by mere inches. Oh, the screaming from the front seats, where our Ozzie lads had a ringside view of everything! Then there was the traffic pileup within sneezing distance of the hotel, because no one wanted to wait long enough for a truck to sort itself out. One car even got up on the sidewalk to get ahead -- something not even a Manila driver would do!But eventually, we made it in one piece to the hotel and marched our way right into dinner. Weary as we were, we had fun, since there was a wedding going on in the reception room next door. Such fun as they seemed to be having! Maureen, Dmitri and i were getting a kick seeing the bridal food being replenished, since it was being wheeled in right under our noses (Dmitri, of course, being located a proper table away from Maureen and myself).Tomorrow we go up to Rome after the Amalfi Drive optional people return. Since Mom and Dad and I are not doing Amalfi, it means we can sleep in. What a wonderful blessing for all of us after a day like today!
NAPLES, ITALY - GRAND HOTEL LA SONRISA
HOTEL TERRACEAbout this hotel...it's a real honeymoon delight. I can truthfully say that I've never seen any hotel so deliberately constructed as to be a backdrop for wedding receptions. As per LisaH, it is quite the thing for anyone who is someone to have their wedding reception here. The odd Mafia Don, it's rumored, has even been spotted among the guests. Everywhere you turn there are these gigantic set pieces for pictures -- waterfalls, arches, fountains in the pool. A huge outdoor dance floor and two reception halls. The walls are done in padded embroidered silk, and the plaster mouldings are to be seen to be believed -- it rather reminds me of the rooms at the Palacio Real in Madrid.After Pompeii, I was too tired to do anything more than unpack and go to sleep. So this is yet another two-day update entry : yesterday and today. Yesterday at breakfast it was a case of Olympic update frenzy -- who saw the opening ceremonies, weren't they fantastic, etc.This morning, Lisa bundled all of us into the bus for our ride into Naples proper, to catch the ferry for Capri. We made it with time to spare and met our local guide Nadia, who really knows her way around, being careful to explain the drill before ggetting us to do anything.The ferry was compact and fast. I chose to stand by the deck rail and let the wind slam into my face a la Leo DiCaprio in Titanic. I've always held that if you're on a boat, you should be where the wind and salt air can get at you -- so much better than running about belowdecks with the smokers!We raced -- or made a pretense of racing -- a hydrofoil into the Grand Marina of Capri. After making fast the ferry, we were bundled off to the end of the pier and regrouped around Nadia. She had cornered one of the ferry boats to the Blue Grotto and gave us an interesting local history lesson as we chugged our way over to the grotto entrance.The scene at the entrance of the grotto was organized chaos -- well, this is Italy, what you do expect, all this Latin temperament everywhere. It seems that a group of local boatmen have the franchise on entering the grotto, which can only be reached by lying flat on the bottom of a small dinghy -- sometimes the boatman is leaning back over you as well. The opening of the grotto is a horrendously narrow fit.Nadia, who is obviously well known on the island, maneuvered us into position and gave us a tip on how to transfer from our boat to the dinghy : sit on the rail of the bigger boat, then swing both legs up and over the side into the little boat. Worked like a charm, for me, anyway. Mama stopped my heart for a few seconds when she slid over the wrong way and missed the water by a few inches. Once into the dinghy, I managed to snap a picture of everyone else getting into their own dinghies -- that was a real gas.At the entrance of the grotto, everyone, even the boatman, has to scrunch down as much as possible in order to shoot through the entrance into pitch blackness. As your eyes adjust, you become aware of this wonderfully blue glow emanating from the depths of the water. Sunlight striking the white sand of the sea bed is then reflected through openings in the grotto walls, 25m below, turning the water inside the most awesome shade of translucent blue.All too soon, our circuit of the cave was done, and it was once more into the breach before being safely landed at the bottom of some steps leading to a little tourist store and the minibus station. Having made sure that her Insight famiglia was safe on dry land, Nadia gave us a breather with the announcement that since the minibus had yet to arrive, we could either sit, take pictures or use the washrooms. We had about 5 - 10 minutes there before the minibus arrived.The minibus. Boy, what can I say about it that could adequately describe the experience? Manila driving absolutely pales by comparison. It was a sign of things to come, I suppose, when Carolyn took the front seat and on the way up, Rob muttered, "Dmitri could do that in one," when our dirver had to take two turns at the wheel to get our bus onto the road. All the fun started at the first hairpin bend, when the driver really put on some speed to get up the incline and stayed at speed the rest of the way, honking his horn all the while. Of course the Ozzies and Canucks and Kiwis, being used to a more civilized style of driving, were screaming and laughing all the way. Poor Carolyn was in an absolute state of shock at being in the ringside seat for views of the drop from the cliffs, cars coming head-on, and the barely-there clearnaces between the bus and various property walls and vegetation.In the main square, we whizzed right by one of the local policemen and that worthy member of Capri's finest merely too two steps to the side without even blinking an eye! It was hilarious, and eventually we landed at the hotel lunch stop breathless as much from laughing as from the skill of the driver. It was so obvious that he was so at home on that road, the perfect nonchalance of his manner was something to see.At the Hotel Bellavista, we arrived right on the heels of tourists who had just finished their lunch/snack stop -- and the padrone gave us a warm welcome.. The hotel is aptly named, for it has a lovely veiw of the ocean. The padrone was also a bit of a showman, raffling off a lovely print of his hotel to two lucky people. I think Greg was one of them, but don't recall who the other one was.We had balcony seating, and the meal was good! Fresh garden salad from the hotel garden, with vinaigrette dressing. Pasta with fresh tomato and basil sauce -- yum! And gelato for afters -- yum! Mom and Dad, as usual, had fish.After lunch, a minor adventure in the washrooms. Seems that Rob had move into the women's, which meant some of the early ladies ended up using the men's room instead. Molto confusion, as one would imagine! But we're one cheerful lot, and managed to sort ourselves out without too much fuss.Then after the requisite picture-taking in all available corners of the grape arbor, Nadia decided it was time for us to work off our lunch. She took us on a walking tour of Anacapri, with is the highest point of the island. (Come to think of it, you could divide Capri into sections the same way Corregidor is divided into sections : Anacapri = Topside, Middleside, and Capri Harbor = Bottomside) Our first stop was at a special plaque along the street running through that section of town leading to the lookout point. More local history followed, among which bits I found interesting is that Anacapri was itself isolated from Capri for the longest time. Nadia also tipped us off to Capri's indigenous crafts : coral jewelry, leather and lemon cream (which is actually a liqueur).Second stop, the villa San Michele. It was owned by this Dutch doctor who, when excavating for the foundation of his Capri villa, unearthed some Roman ruins and a chapel to St. Michael Archangel. To see the villa (now a museum), you must pay a token fee which is remitted to the Swedish consulate. Yes, there is actually a consulate on the Isle of Capri! It's there because the Dutch doctor donated his villa to the Swedish government, which takes care of the villa's upkeep.Third stop - the lookout point behind the villa's garden, with a spectacular panorama of the Grand Marina and Capri town, along with the blue water found only in the most far-flung places. When we had our fill of the view, there was time for a slow ramble up and down the little street with local handicraft shops. I got myself a pair of pale pink coral earrings in the shape of rosebuds. It will go nicely with the pink coral rose pin that's already in my jewelry box.After meeting up again with Nadia in the main square, she set us loose again with two basic options -- shop, or visit the local church. Doesn't take much guessing to know what our lot chose - everyone scattered to get their fill of leather goods and perfumes and all the rest. Ended up with a new pair of Arcopedico shoes this round of shopping -- so now my feet will be decently dressed for any special dinners from henceforth. What I need now is a pair of dress socks. Argh!Once the group regathered, it was time for another crazy minibus ride to Capri town proper. More walking, but this time to the other side of the island, which had quite a colorful history. There's the hotel that was once a hospital for military personnel and when the owner died, his widow and daughter were conned out of their inheritance by the Italian partner of the deceased. Wretch! He promptly married the servant girl of one of his customers.Ther there is the Via Krupp, which is the same Krupp of the military armaments fortune, the grandfather of the good friend of Baronesa Eva Abesamis de Koenigswarter, who stood godmother to the young man's conversion to Catholicism. Anyway, this Krupp of WWII vintage, after getting married and fathering two daughters, discovered after building a villa in Capri that he preferred to live a homosexual lifestyle. @__@ Only problem was, Nazi Germany had a very low tolerance for gay men who were openly gay. So they called in Mrs. Krupp to testify if her husband was really gay and she confirmed that he was -- so Krupp had her locked away in an insane asylum. Eventually his conscience caught up with him and he committed suicide in front of his two daughters. Eventually his property went to the Isle of Capri as a gift, and the villa gardens were renamed the Augustus Gardens.It was interesting to note a memorial to Lenin, that champion of the masses, in a place renowned for decadence and hedonism among the rich and famous. But it appears that his short visit was enough to merit a small marker in a shady nook in the gardens.Nadia also pointed out the house used by Eisenhower as his command post during the Allied operations in Italy; a Benedictine monastery. She also pointed out the Faro rocks, a beautiful trio of rocks rising from the sea. Then she set us loose for yet another round of leisure time.Another minibus ride -- but not as crazy this time, brought us back to the pier to be reunited with those of the group who chose not to come up with us. Once all together, we were bundled into a ferry for Sorrento, a mere 20-minute trip.Ahhhhh, Sorrento! That fly-by visit will live forever in my memory. Not for the fact that I got to see the hotel where Caruso once stayed; nor for the fact that the beauty of the intarsia wood creations left me breathless. No, what is forever etched in my mind's eye is the bus ride from the port to the intarsia wood factory!You see, the bus started to climb the ramp leading out of the port area. But then a small car zoomed down trying to squeeze past the bus, which of course, upset our driver. Which then led to a series of maneuvers guaranteed to make any civilized driver grow white hairs. The bus driver (certainly not as even-tempered as our Dmitri) started screaming all manner of imprecations at the car driver. You didn't need a translation to know that the bus driver was damning all the car driver's antecedents and bawling out any future progeny unto the fifth generation...the car driver refused to budge from his spot.Size does indeed matter, however, and so does right of way. After the padrone of the restaurant we all were blocking emerged to have a look at the carrying-on, the little car eventually managed to back up engough to let us shift for just the barest minimum of room to let him through. Actually one of the biggest obstacles to any decent manuevering was the bus behind us. That driver had adopted an "in your butt" attitude, pulling up right behind us as we inched forward.Our second major obstacle was the bus that had been blocking the reverse path of the little car. The driver of that vehicle had just started smoking and was intent on completing his ciggie in the most leisurely manner possible! After some choice words from our driver, the other bus finally moved.All was well until our driver felt the need to vent his feelings and justify himself to two other bus drivers in quick succession. @__@ Not until then was our exit from the port completed. But more was awaiting us on the way to the intarsia factory. Traffic, buses coming coming head-on, and a short stretch of two wheels on the sidewalk, and this on a bridge, yet! never were were so glad to get off a bus and see the familiar bulk of our own coach and driver. Dmitri was nearer to being hugged and kissed en masse than he knew...The intarsia factory didn't impress me much, except that the voice of the mataray ang dating saleslady sounded an awful lot like Fran Drescher's. Weird. The products were nice, but we could do just as well at home -- if not better -- and non of the bother with shipping.From there, it was home sweet home in the hands of our capable driver -- but our road adventures weren't done yet. there was traffic, first of all, but fortunately not on the other side of the road. The highlight of the evening was when a little car decided it could cut straight across our path and nearly missed being our coach's hood ornament by mere inches. Oh, the screaming from the front seats, where our Ozzie lads had a ringside view of everything! Then there was the traffic pileup within sneezing distance of the hotel, because no one wanted to wait long enough for a truck to sort itself out. One car even got up on the sidewalk to get ahead -- something not even a Manila driver would do!But eventually, we made it in one piece to the hotel and marched our way right into dinner. Weary as we were, we had fun, since there was a wedding going on in the reception room next door. Such fun as they seemed to be having! Maureen, Dmitri and i were getting a kick seeing the bridal food being replenished, since it was being wheeled in right under our noses (Dmitri, of course, being located a proper table away from Maureen and myself).Tomorrow we go up to Rome after the Amalfi Drive optional people return. Since Mom and Dad and I are not doing Amalfi, it means we can sleep in. What a wonderful blessing for all of us after a day like today!
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