Really The Last Vacation entry...

I fell asleep in Indiana Jones, reminding me why I rarely go to movies anymore. The girls enjoyed SITC.

On June 18 we took the communter train (R and R) to Versailles. It was amazing --even bigger than Villa Cipora, but more gaudily decorated. We walked through the rooms, and it occurred to me --Marie Antoinette was right --the place IS too nice for poor people. It must have driven her to drink --having them track mud through the marble floors.

We walked through the gardens anfound a lovely cafe, where we had sandwiches. The day was gorgeous!

We took the train back to Paris, and chatted the entire trip with a graduate student who had studied at Furman University in South Carolina. She and D1 talked about accents, and dialects. I asked her how people afford Paris prices, and she told me none of her friends shop in the city --the prices are more bearable in the suburbs.

We had dinner in the Latin Quarter at a cafe, and then spent the most lovely 2 hours of the trip --in Luxemborg Garden. If there is a more delightful park in the world, I don't know where it is.

The sun was out, and the air was soft in the late Spring. Lovers were on the lawn smooching, and children ran around gaily, with peals of laughter.

D2 and I walked over to an enormous head sculpture (Parisians seem to have a thing for these --we saw many enormous head sculptures) and took some photos.

We walked back to D1, and sat and observed some more. The people were savoring the weather. It seemed everyone was smiling. If I could paint, I'd have captured the scene forever.

We took a bus home to Rue Bac, and then went to the hotel. We sat in the lobby bar and had tea and hot chocolate --talking of our adventures.

The next morning, a very nice Cambodian-French driver returned us to Charles DeGaulle, and we met the first and only nasty Frenchman of the trip --an American Airlines gate agent, who delighted in telling us we'd have to wait in a separate line to pay a special tax that was incurred when our tickets were upgraded to Business Class, and AA forgot to charge us. I muttered something about how he'd have been great in the Vichy government, and we walked away.

The 10 hour flight to Miami went surprisingly quickly, with many meals and movies.

Auf Wiedersehen and Au Revoir, Summer, 2008 Euro Trip.

As we reluctantly say goodbye to the Continent, we think back of the memories we'll forever of the time we spent there...

Last Boring Travel Entry

On June 17, we took the Metro to D1's old 'hood, where she lived the previous Summer while attending the Sorbonne. D1 and D2 shopped in an undergound mall while I watched people walk to and fro on the street.

I started playing a game --I would watch peoples' feet for sneakers. Sure enough, whenever I saw sneakers, they belonged to tourists. I guess the French don't wear sneaks unless they're playing sports.

We then took another Metro to the Jewish Quarter, where we had delicious felafels. We walked around the neighborhood, and then caught a Metro to the hotel. D1 napped while D2 and I headed for the Musee dOrsay.

What a place! We admired the Van Goghs, Degas (es?), Manet, Monet (I kept seeing Harvey Korman's Count De Money in my mind), and Whistler. I didn't know his most famous painting was in Paris.

D2 heard her name called, and she saw a boy from Miami she knew. She now understood what I always teach --how truly the world is small.

D2 and I stopped for some coffee and hot chocolate on the way to the hotel. D1 was angry we didn't bring her any.

We took the bus that evening back to the cinema. The girls went to see "Sex in the City," while I saw "Indiana Jones." To be continued...

Europe Trip --Paris

We were dropped on Rue Bac, in the 7th Neighborhood (I'm no longer attempting to say or spell the Arrondisement or whatever the hell it is word), and we checked into the Pont Royal Hotel. We loved it immediately --boutique place, literary themed. In fact, it reminded me of the Library Hotel in NY.

We unpacked and strolled to a cafe on St. Germain Boulevard. For me, PAris was love at first sight. Every vista is gorgeous. The feel of the place was magic. I was smitten.

Our dinner was to set the tone for our entire stay --no fancy restaurants, just cafes. We had a delicious chicken dinner, and D1 introduced D2 to her favorite food from the previous Summer --nutella crepes!

Over dinner, I told the girls that I had ZERO itinerary for PAris --they were in charge. I would simply go along and pay for whatever they wanted to do, but I was emancipating myself from the stress of planning and being in charge. Maybe this is why I loved the city so much.

The next morning, I awoke early and visited one of 4 bakeries on our block. I brought back croissants and tarts for my little tarts! Ha. We strolled to the Tulerie Gardens, and watched a famiy of ducks play in one of the fountains. D1 then took us to a famous hot chocolate cafe, where we indulged (for about $12 apiece!). The prices in PAris, especially given the weak dollar, were absurd. Still, we didn't let it dampen our mood (especially since Dad was paying!).

We rode the Metro to the Eiffel Tower, and rode to the top. The view is indescribable. After we fantasized about the other exotic places we'd like to visit (fueled by the guide arrows on the observation deck, like Tahiti 15,000 miles, we rode back down.

That evening, we took a bus to the Odeon Theatre, in the LAtin Quarter, but found the movie times were too late. We walked back to the hotel on St. Germaine, and D1 pointed out the Cafe Deux MAgots, where Sartre wooed DeBeouvoir, and Trotsky plotted.

I fell asleep dreaming I was Hemingway.

Break From the Travel Logl

So I met Barry for breakfast today at Bagel Emporium, across from UM. He left his car at the Hialeah Metro stop, and rode to the Gables.

We used to shop weekly in the strip center where the restaurant is, at a Pantry Pride. We spoke about D1, since I'm taking her back to Gainesville tomorrow, to embark upon the second half of her college career.

Barry and I spoke of many things, as we always do, but I guess it was inevitable that we reminisced about the 3 years we were roommates at UM. We spoke about, as Jimmy Buffet sang, the good times and riches, and son of a bitches...

After breakfast, I drove him back to JMH, but I took a detour. I exited the Dolphin at 12th Avenue, and drove South to NW 7th Street. I made a right, and looked to the left. The Orange Bowl was completely gone, even the rubble.

The Orange Bowl was the only stadium I had ever watched a football game with my father. It was 1981, in December, and th Fins played the Jets. It was a freezing cole afternoon, by Miami standards, and the wind chilled us as we sat in the upper deck with Eric and his father MArvin, now also passed on.

Barry had seen games there with his father Sy, also long gone.

I looked to the old student section, and saw 2 young men, 21 and 19, watching a Canes game against the hated Florida Gators, in 1981. Danny Miller kicked a long field goal, giving the Canes a thrilling victory. The 2 undergrads jumped up and down and screamed wildly, nearly throwing each other over the back of the lower deck railing. They were thin, and dark haired, and bursting with the promise of youth.

I dropped Barry off at his important job --leading the care of critically ill children, and teaching young doctors. He has the job he dreamed of when he was 19.

I drove to my office, and looked at my name on the door, in a class A Brickell Avenue building. I guess I've succeeded beyond my 1981 dreams.

Still, sometimes I really, truly, miss those days...

Friday in Bratislava

Bratislava is the Capital of Slovakia, the other half of Czechoslovakia, which separated after the Soviets turned tail in the early 90s.

We hiked to the top of a huge hill to see their famous castle, to learn it was closed for the next 2 years for renovation. Ah,,Soviet style efficiency still reigned.

We walked through the streets, making fun of these folks. Ds told me about a scene from "Euro Trip," where an American gives a Bratislavan a quarter, which is enough for the fellow to start his own business.

We stumbled into a cafe, as D1 was having a near fatal low blood sugar episode, and were treated to the most delicious hot chocolate any of us had ever had. Strange music played in this dark and mysterious cafe, and the proprietress looked like a Gypsy. It was pretty neat.

We left, and saw a Jewish Museum right next door. We learned the Jewish population of Bratislava was 18,000 pre war, and now less than 1000. The Museum had neat artifacts from early Slovakian Jewish life, including a display of the scientists who fled to America and developed nuclear weapons. Hmmm...had Hitler just been a tyrant without the anti semitism thing, it would be the Germans touring OUR quaint villages today...

We found our way to a gorgeous City square, where D2 bought a "HapsBurger King" T shirt for her AP Euro teacher. We then bought a delicious pizza to go, and ate it in a park near the ship. We were getting a tad tired of the rich ship cuisine, with all of the sauces, and veal, etc... The pizza was delicious.

Friday evening, the Mozart had a formal farewell dinner, with the waiters doing the baked Alaska thing, beautifully choreographed. Eva regaled us with tales of being a Pan Am stewardess in the late 60s "I met the Beatles on a Vancouver flight. I said --you are pretty nice guys --I had thought you vas queers."

She and Hans had lived in New York, where Hans was a chef at the Waldorf Astoria, and then they managed a motel in Sunny Isles before making their way to Hawaii. They talked about their 2 daughters, one of whom married a Tahitian and became a Mormon. What a colorful life they've led...

Saturday we docked in Melk, where we hiked up to the Abbey and Church. It turned out to be the most impressive Carholic installation I'd ever seen --rivalling the Vatican buildings. We walked through amazing libraries with huge collections of books from the Dark Ages, and it seemed everything in the church was gilded with gold.

We stopped at a cafe, and a wedding was going on. Typical unhappy austrian expressions abounded. We chuckled some more.

There was another stop, at Grein. The girls napped through the 2 hour visit; I got off and walked through the streets.

Tomorrow we would dock in Passau, where Joerg would meet us , and drive us back to the Munich airport.

Joerg gave me a beer stein from his local brewery. I thanked him. It was my only souveneir!

We had a long layover at the Munich airport. A nice Moroccan fellow allowed us into the Air France lounge, even though we weren't members. We chatted, and he share my disdain for the coldness of his adopted countrymen.

We caught a 4 pm flight to PAris, for the final portion of our trip.

Sailing from Vienna

The Mozart sailed West, through even more impressive locks, some of which accomodated 2 ships simultaneously. As unfriendly as the Germans and Austrians were, they were fine engineers...

We arrived in Estergom, Hungary, and went to a local cafe. We watched some monks walk by, and I sang the 60s song "Hey Hey We're the Monks." The girls chuckled. The village had broken, dusty streets. Estergom earned a collective yawn.

We sailed to Budapest, and arrived in the afternoon. It was gorgeous, and we found a wonderful shopping street, where D1 spent some Florins. We ended up at a cafe, as an almost tropical rain came. We watched the Hungarians and tourists run for shelter, as we ate sandwiches, and watched the locals watching a soccer match.

At dinner, on the ship, Old Jack told us about a curious display: 60 pairs of shoes, metallized, and left on a bank of the Danube, just meters from our ship. He learned they were in memory of a group of Jews who were marched there in the winter, told to step out of their shoes, and then shot into the river. We saw the display the next morning. It was moving and chilling.

The next morning we went to tour the parliament house, but learned the next opening conflicted with an afternoon tour we had booked, so we strolled across the street to the Hungarian Ethographic Museum. They had a typical display of peasant clothing, and tools from ancient Hungary. We enjoyed watching a group of bored school children being led through the rooms. Ds 1 and 2 relived THEIR boring field trips.

There was also a display of "Lost Peoples of Europe," a group of photos compiled by 2 Austrian journalists of obscure peoples like Assyrians still living in the continent. Some of these were Eastern European Jews. Hmm...from integral parts of a society ro a museum curiosity in 2 generations...

In the afternoon we boarded a bus (our only guided tour) to see the Jewish quarter. We saw Europe's largest synagogue, a huge Moorish building that rivalled many grand churches, but was ordered to be built shorter than the shortest Catholic church.

We walked through the streets, and saw memorials to Raul Wallenberg, and some kosher bakeries.

We also realized that, for some strange reason, Budapest has many very tall women!

Back to the Mozart, and dinner with JAck, Hans and Eva.

After dinner, a group of Germans were watching their soccer team play Croatia. Croatia won, in a huge Euro Tournament upset. I was rather cheered.

Up on deck, my Irish friend Gordon shared in my schadenfreude. Bratislava beckoned...

Vienna

So Monday evening we sailed into Wein, as the Austrians call it. Vienna is a large city, with a modern looking Downtown (UN City) on one side of the Danube, and the old buildings on the other.

We had made plans to meet Peter by the ship, a 24 year old fellow whose mother is a cousin of a Miami friend. Peter is a delightful young man, who wants to come to Miami to get a MBA. He spent quite some time in the States, and works for a telecommunications company in Vienna.

Peter drove us to the top of a hill, where we enjoyed a panoramic view of Vienna while I drank a local beer. The girls thoroughly enjoyed having someone of their generation to talk to, after 2 days with mostly sept and octogenarians.

Peter then drove us all around the city, parking near the opera house and St. Stephens church, which is the model for Disney's Cinderella's Castle --gorgeous in white marble.

We ate some delicious pizza, and walked around before stopping at a famous hotel that serves the best chocolate cake in the world. We shared a slice. Peter dropped us back at the ship, after exchanging Facebook adresses with the girls. I think we'll keep in touch with this cosmopolitan young fellow, who'll probably end up running a major corporation someday.

Tuesday we took a bike tour through the city, led by Alex, a local bike guy. We rode through the amusement park I had just seen in "The Third Man," and Alex pointed out the Ferris Wheel where Orson Welles almost pushed out his friend.

Also on the tour was Andrew, a very nice Irish guy from NYC who was travelling with his brother and 90 year old mother. Andrew was gay, I'm pretty sure (the girls were singing the Avenue Q song whenever the subject arose) and we ended up speaking a lot about the City. Andrew is a computer guy for NY Bank, and his brother owns a funeral home, but was very outgoing and charming.

Other bikers were a Belgian couple, and Yves, the husband, chain smoked the entire hike. We crossed over two Danube bridges, and rode along a path where the Viennese swim and sunbathe.

Sure enough, we passed several naturists, including women wh weren't exactly South Beach model types, and an older fellow fully displaying his Viennese sausage in the Austrian sunlight. Part of the local color, I told my girls...

Back on the ship, we sat on the sun deck as the ship sailed away. I was feeling great, and smiled and said hello to some German passengers. Once again: icy looks in return. Ya --now I get it!

Voyage to Durnstein

As the Mozart sailed West, I noticed we came to a stop. Sure enough, we were in one of the many locks we'd encounter on the trip, and each one was a mighty cool experience. We'd watch as the ship started dropping in place, and then the huge doors in front of us would open, and off we'd go. I think we passed 18 locks on the cruise, and each one took about 20 or 30 minutes. I marvelled at the engineering of these things each time.

Monday morning I awoke at 530, and went up on deck. The Danube was covered in mist, and was dream-like. After breakfast, the girls and I set foot on Austrian soil, in Durnstein, a small village out of "The Sound of Music." We strolled through the medieval streets, and bought some apricot jam. Durnstein is very into their apricots --most of the restaurants and cafes have them everywhere, and the bars have them soaking in vodka. It was too early for that.

The girls and I started a hike up to an old fortress on a bluff, a place where supposedly Richard the Lionhearted came to rescue his favorite minstrel, who had been taken captive. We made it about 3/4 of the way, when the incline and footing became a bit much for my less than adventurous daughters.

As we were aborting our climb, we encountered a pleasant fellow, who I knew right away wasn't a German or Austrian. He smiled and said a hearty hello. He was Gordon, an affable Northern Irishman from the cruise. We chatted, and learned we shared a love of "Fawlty Towers." Whenever we'd see each other later on, we'd ask if we had enjoyed the "Eva Braun" salad. We both poked fun at the temperments of our German and Austrian fellow passengers.

A few days after we met, Gordon was rejoicing that "Southern Ireland," as he called it, had rejected the EU's attempt to strengthen. "Last thing we need is a bunch of Belgian elitists telling us how to make love to our wives." Gordon was one of my favorites.

On the way back to the ship, we walked through a hilly vineyard, right on the Danube. The sun was shining, and the peaty smell of the soil was in the air. My girls and I ran a bit, and broke into "The Sound of Music." No one heard us.

Back on the ship, I fell asleep after watching "The Third Man." There was one English TV channel (CNN Europe) but every two nights or so, the crew would also play an English movie germane (ha!) to the trip. "Third MAn" was set in Vienna, and designed to put us in the mood. It did.

Day 2 Embarkation

We strolled into a Passau cafe on the afternoon before we left for the Mozart. We encountered a rarity --an English speaking owner. He asked how we were going to tour the country, and we told him by river cruise. "Really? But you're not German or Austrian and in your 70s!" His words were portentous.

We walked onto the ship in the afternoon, and went to register. The hostess asked whether we'd like our own dinner table, of wished to share. D1, friendly like I am, said "Let's make new friends," so we chose to share.

The Mozart was very elegant, as one would expect of the former state ship of Austria. The cabins were spacious and lovely, and wherever you looked there was brass and rich wood paneling.

We unpacked and headed to dinner, where we met our table mates. Hans and Eva were 2 60 something German Americans, now living in Hawaii where they own an inn. Eva did most of the talking, and quickly announced that, despite their ancestry, they despised most Germans, which is why they asked to sit with English speakers.

Our other table mate was JAck, a 90 year old WW II vet with the Royal Navy, and a retured mechanical engineer. Jack's English accent was comically thick. All I managed to glean was that he was from Weymouth, on the southeastern English coast, had 2 daughters, grandkids, and one great grandchild. Jack travelled alone and lived alone.

Eva was still a part time flight attendant for United, but her glory days in the job were the 60s and 70s when she worked for Pan Am. Later in the trip, she showed us photos of herself from 1969 wearing go go boots and hot pants, and regaled us with tales of meeting the Beatles, Sinatra, and having Sammy Davis jr come on to her at a Honolulu hotel. "I vould have done it, but he vas so ugly!"

The balance of the passengers were precisely as the cafe keeper advised --old and mostly German and Austrian. And, here comes another stereotype, NOT possessed of sunny dispositions! I learned quickly that my happy "good morning!" greetings were met with icy stares, so I took to ignoring most of my fellow passengers, as they seemed to want it.

After dinner, the girls went to their cabin, and I went up on deck. Night was falling, and the hills on either side of the Danube were shrouded in fog. The forests were black, punctuated by the occasional light from a riverside cabin. Had Count Dracula stood on shore and waved to me, it wouldn't have seemed out of place. I thought of Frost's description of the woods as being lovely, dark, and deep, although this was Spring in Europe instead of Winter in New England. Still, like him, I eventually went to sleep.

Euro Trip 2008

Well, we survived and even prospered on our summer trip. Prospered spiritually, not financially, since Europe this year, given the weak dollar, is absurdly expensive. More on that later.

Since I took no pictures and bought no souveniers, I am going to recount our trip on this blog, the equivalent of a boring slide show, in writing. But, for my family's posterity, here it is...

Wifey's back didn't allow her to travel, so she flew to Atlanta while we were gone. Before she left, she drove Ds 1 and 2 and me to MIA on Turrsday, June 5. The flight to Paris was uneventful, and long. We used miles to upgrade to Business Class, and the service on American was truly fine. We had a flight attendant from Boca, and an aging, elegant gay fellow who was the flight's purser. The two of them kept us fed and happy the entire 9 hours.

We arrived at DeGaulle airport in Paris, and immediately saw our first ethnic stereotype: the French are not the best engineers. Although CDG is a pretty new airport, it is so poorly planned that every 50 feet or so you have to squeeze through a clot of waiting passengers to make forward progress. And some of the passengers are Taliban-looking folks, wearing Burkhas, who you don't really wish to jostle!

We had a long layover at CDG before boarding an Air France Airbus for Munich. After a 1.5 hour extremely turbulent flight, we arrived in Munich's shiny new airport. It was time for the second stereotype: the Germans ARE great engineers. The Munich airport looks and functions like something out of the "Jetsons." Everyone moves smoothly and efficiently; we had our bags in no time, and there were wide walkways wherever you went.

Our driver to Passau met us precisely where he told D1 he would, and we boarded his van. He had a bouquet of roses for my Ds. They smiled.

The trip to Passau took Joerg, driving about 70 mph, about 1.5 miles. We were on the autobahn, and sure enough plenty of cars passed us doing well over 100 mph. There was no horn honking or near accidents, the German motorists just seemed very confident. Problem was, Joerg told us, when there WAS an accident, the results weren't pretty.

Joerg was a nice fellow, originally from North Germany, near Hamburg. He told us that the Bavarians of the South were a different breed, and he could say this with certainty since his wife was one.

Joerg had worked on US Army bases, been a writer, and owned different businesses before starting his car company. He taught me a lot about the Bavarian region, especially its politics, during our drive, as the girls slept in the back.

He dropped us at our hotel in Passau, right on the Danube River, which was, by no stretch of the imagination, blue. More on that later. We checked into the hotel, run by a nice fellow named William, and assisted by his long haired Dachshund ("rough haired," he called it) named Chief.

We checked in and began to explore Passau. Unlike the other European cities we had visited, virtually no one spoke any English. It turns out that PAssau is sort of like a Naples, Florida type resort for Germans and Austrians. We tried to figure out language similarities, understanding that English is based on German and French. The girls ordered a "shencken" sandwich, reasoning it must be chicken. Alas, it was ham.

We retired to our rooms at the hotel, watched a little German TV (the "Simpsons" dubbed in German is even funnier than the original), and went to sleep.

I awoke about 11 pm, messed up by the time change, and wandered outside. It was still partially daylight. The Danube was busy with ship and barge traffic. I walked along the bank for about 1/2 mile, wondering about our voyage. I was able to get back to sleep.

The next day, the Mozart, former Austrian state ship, now owned by PEter Diellman cruises, awaited.

Auf Wiedersein and Au Revoir

So, tomorrow Ds 1 and 2 and I are off to Europe for our first long family trip in 2 years. Wifey's back is still bothering her too much to travel, so she's flying to Atlanta to visit her friend.

My girls are pretty excited. We plan to fly to Munich, and then transfer to Passau, Germany where we'll spend the day and night, before boarding the MV Mozart for a Danube River cruise. We're already humming Strauss's waltz to get in the mood.

The river boat stops in Vienna, Bratislava, Melk, and Budapest. D2 just finished AP European History, and is actually excited about visiting these cities, at least as excited as a 16 year old will let on. D1 likes to be pampered, and apparently this cruise is known for that, with a great spa and big, comfortable chairs in the library where one can sit and watch the river flow by.

As for me --I'm just looking forward to being with my girls, and seeing some sights. I was chatting with my office roommate Brian yesterday about Europe, and he asked me what I was looking forward to. Honestly --if I never see an important church or other old building again, it'll be fine. I don't appreciate painting or sculpture very much, so museums don't excite me.

I guess, as I look back on my earlier trips, the best parts were meeting people, and hearing their stories (and eating their food). If I can walk through some interesting streets --that'll be fine.

After we return to Passau, we transfer to Munich, and then fly to Paris, where we spend 4 nights. D1 studied at the Sorbonne last summer, and lived there for 5 weeks, so she's eager to show us around. There again --I'm sure we'll see some museums, and probably travel to Versailles, but I most look forward to sitting in a cafe, drinking coffee, reading, and watching the Parisians act French.

Ok, so maybe I'll fantasize that I'm Hemingway, waiting to leave for the Spanish Civil War, and chatting up the locals.

Ds 1 and 2? I have a feeling there'll be a boutique or 2 there where they can help to further devalue the US dollar, at least the ones in my possession.

So --off to the old country. Here's to a fun trip. I promise to make no major life decisions while on vacation, although I typically enjoy some reflection when my surroundings change.

As my old roommate at college, a guy from Patchogue, Long Island, used to say: see youse all soon.