Traveling Home & Onward

The Easter Sunday plan is to take the train back to Linz with Madeline, spend a little time there, and then travel on to Munich where we have hotel reservations. The first problem we encounter is that the ticket machine at the Westbahnhof won’t take our credit cards for reasons unknown to us. We eventually use most of the cash we have on hand to buy train tickets. I’m a little nervous to be essentially cashless on Easter Sunday, when the banks and practically everything else are closed.

We have a pleasant Sunday train ride back to Linz, then use our last few Euros to buy S-bahn tickets to get to Madeline’s apartment. On the way through the Hauptplatz we note that there are a couple of café’s open, so after Madeline gets unpacked and starts a load of laundry, we go back there for lunch. With anticipation, we ask the waitress if the café will take credit cards, since our cash is now completely depleted. It does not. So we spend the next 45 minutes trekking around the Hauptplatz to locate cash machines. We find a couple. Both are out of order—empty, I would assume. The “no banks or services on Sundays” deal is beginning to seem like a really bad idea to me. Finally, Madeline uses her bank card to enter the lobby of a bank. Within that lobby, secure from the demanding cash cards of the unwashed masses, Kathy is able to get cash successfully from that ATM. Whew! I have no idea how the average tourist, without a daughter living in Linz, is supposed to function on Sundays.

Cash in hand, we go back to the café and have burgers. With mayo, lettuce, tomato, and corn(?). Actually, it is not too bad! I finish with a gelato, and then we all take a little walk along the Danube. It is a beautiful sunny day. Spring has definitely arrived in Austria. There are lots of people out walking, sunbathing, and playing with their dogs and kids. Then we go back to Madeline’s apartment collect our bags, and head back, for the last time to the train station, where we say goodbye to Madeline and board our train to Munich.

The trip back to Munich is about two and a half hours with a short stop in Salzburg. Our hotel in Munich is not far from the Hauptbahnhof. Not the Elephant this time, but a different one: The Hotel Metropol. Kathy and I both like the hotel. It is roomier than the Elephant, and, unlike the Elephant, we actually have a few more pieces of furniture other than beds. It is a small, family-run hotel, it is quiet, clean, not overpriced, near the Hauptbahnhof, and the staff is friendly, so has all the things you would like to find in a hotel.

Kathy wants to skip dinner. All the eating we’ve been doing is catching up with her. I’m never in favor of skipping meals, but since I don’t want to go to a restaurant by myself, and since many restaurants are closed, I finally just go to the Hauptbahnhof, buy a sandwich and bring it back to the hotel room to eat. We’re both ready to just take it easy and chill in our room, so we flip on the TV and end up watching Wallace and Grommit in German. It is great! Grommit, of course, doesn’t talk, and Wallace seems very authentic speaking German. Maybe he’s always been German and nobody knew!

Monday morning, we have a very good breakfast at the Metropol and then follow the expected routine—walk to the Hauptbahnhof, take the S-bahn to the airport, and catch our flight back home. Then unpack, and then go back to work. And finally, I go to the doctor and get the stent removed. I feel about a thousand times better almost immediately.

Once I’m back at work, I announce that I’m going to retire in November. The time has come in my life for the cane, the hearing aid, and the overweight miniature dog named “Mister Cuddles.” Maybe I’m kidding about the dog. Anyway, while I’ll most likely pick up a part time job, I’m looking forward to some free time, and hopefully will use it for more travel. I’ll keep you posted.

Vienna: Hotel Hell (But the Habsburgs Were Swell)

Click HERE for a Vienna slide show.

Vienna, like most European cities, was at one time a walled city. It was necessary to have walls to protect the city from invading Ottomans (the Turks, not the furniture), or any other marauding armies that happened along. But by the middle of the 19th century, the nature of war had changed and Austrian Emperor Franz Josef decided to demolish the city walls. (War had not ended, of course, it had just changed to the point that the walls were no longer protective. This was about a century before the aerial bombardment of Vienna by the Allies in WWII.) In place of the walls, he built the Ringstrasse, the wide boulevard that encircles old Vienna. Old Vienna is now referred to as “The 1st District”, and is the historic heart of the city, as well as the most expensive real estate. The villages and towns that encircled Vienna outside of its walls were incorporated into Vienna at the time the Ringstrasse was built and were given district numbers. I have been told that the lower the number, the more prestigious (and expensive) the district. While most the tourist sites are in the 1st District, I had decided that there was no reason to stay there, since hotels there are more expensive, and since public transportation is good throughout Vienna.

Thus, on this day, around six o’clock our train pulls into the Westbahnhof in Mariahilf, the 6th District. We get off the train and find our way to our hotel, the Ibis Wien Mariahilf, that we soon find to be an overpriced, 340 room, bland, uninspired tourist barn. I had reserved two adjoining rooms, each with a double and a single bed. What we find upon check-in is two rooms with double beds. After some back and forth with the desk, I am able to acquire a room with two beds for Mike and Madeline. By making the switch though, we no longer have adjoining rooms, and are not even on the same floor.

The weather has turned quite warm and we find that our hotel rooms are even warmer. Every other hotel that we’ve stayed at in Austria and Germany has had windows that opened. Not this one. The windows are locked and there are small signs explaining that opening the windows is not necessary since the hotel is air-conditioned. The air-conditioning does not seem to work. I call the desk about the stuffy, hot room and nonfunctioning air-conditioner. The young woman I speak with tells me that she will make sure that our problem is dealt with within ten minutes (signs in the elevator proclaim that guests problems will be addressed by the hotel staff within ten minutes). She says that she doesn’t know how to explain it in English, but the solution, nevertheless, is less than ten minutes away. In maybe nine minutes there is a knock at our door. When I open the door, a young woman is standing there, perhaps the same young woman I had spoken to on the phone. She is holding an oscillating fan. She hands it to me and says that this will solve the problem of my stuffy room. By the time I recover from my shock and disbelief, she’s gone, and I’m holding an oscillating fan. The weather cools down outside, but the room never cools. I use the fan. The air conditioning never works. By the second night, Mike and Madeline also have an oscillating fan.

Kathy is suffering from a cold that had been developing for the last several days, so she decides spend some quality time in our room with the oscillating fan, while Mike, Madeline, and I go out for dinner. Madeline mentions pizza, but we wind up at a nearby restaurant serving good beer and standard Austrian fare. It is late by the time we get back to the hotel, so we call it a night.

The next morning we have breakfast in the hotel’s charmless subterranean breakfast facility. The food is OK, but there are too many people crammed into the available space.

This is Mike’s last day in Austria, so we decide that he should choose our activities for the day. Mike decides that we will start at Schoennbrun, the opulent summer palace of the Habsburgs, the family that ruled Austria for over six centuries, and also ruled over Spain, and numerous other countries. The Habsburgs collected countries (through conquest, marriage, midnight poker games, etc.) like other people collect stamps, Star Trek memorabilia, or rubber ducks. I’ve been told that my great-grandmother Svec was upset to her dying day that her immigration papers to the U.S. listed her nationality as Austrian. She was Bohemian. The Austrians were the conquerors.

We reach Schoennbrun after a short ride on the U-bahn. I am immediately impressed with the sheer scale of the place. It is the sort of place where an emperor would live. The grounds cover 145 sculpted and manicured acres. The massive main palace has 300 rooms. If you include the rooms in the ancillary buildings, there are 1441 rooms in the entire complex. And this was the just the summer home.

This is the most visited tourist site in Austria, which is obvious when we arrive at ten o’clock by the long lines of people waiting to get in the palace. My guide books suggests that while most people start their exploration of Schoennbrun with the main palace, an alternative is to first climb the hill to the Gloriette, a small columned building on a hilltop, to get a bird’s-eye view of the grounds. Given the long lines to the palace, we choose that option. The hike to the Gloriette is not a short one. The day is already hot so we follow a path up the hill that keeps us in the shade of a line of trees. We pause at the elaborate Neptune Fountain at the base of the hill, and then make the climb to the Gloriette. Both Neptune’s Fountain and the Gloriette were added as part of the redesign that occurred in the 1770’s under the empress Maria Theresa. She was so fond of the Gloriette that when her corpulence and age prevented her from walking to the top of the hill, she would have litter bearers carry her to the top. Since we have to walk up on our own power, it is nice to find a pleasant outdoor café on the back side of the Gloriette when we get to the top. I have a wonderful coffee and ice cream treat. The others try to make me feel guilty by ordering water. But I do not feel guilty at all and have a lot more fun than they do. I can imagine Maria Theresa sitting in the Gloriette consuming large amounts of coffee and ice cream. Yay for being old and fat and enjoying life!

Gloriette and Neptune Fountain

Schoenbrunn Palace from Gloriette

After spending a few minutes viewing the palace grounds from the high point of the Gloriette we start back down the hill. On the way down, we notice signs for the Tiegarten (Zoo), also located on the palace grounds. This was originally the royal zoo and has since become the Vienna public zoo. Prominently displayed on the zoo signs is a picture of an almost anthropomorphically smiling cute little baby panda. Madeline is completely entranced and it becomes obvious to her that visiting the Tiegarten and seeing the baby panda could be the most important thing that we do while in Vienna, if not in our lives.

Anthropomorphically Smiling Baby Panda - As Seen On Zoo Sign

So we detour to the zoo entrance where we discover that the Tiegarten is not free. It will cost nine Euros each to get into the zoo. After some discussion, we decided that anthropomorphically smiling cute baby pandas, while extremely important, are not 36 Euros worth of importance. We turn back once more toward the palace. On the walk to the palace, we see a cute little tufted-eared Austrian squirrel scampering along the path—absolutely free of charge!

Throngs of people surround the ticket offices for the palace, and once we make it to the front of the line, we find out that after buying tickets we will still have to wait another hour and a half to get into the palace. They only allow a certain number of people in at a given time and it is a busy day. Mike decides that waiting that long is a complete waste of time; so instead, we take the U-bahn to Stephansplatz in the 1st District.

As we come up out of the subway in Stephansplatz, the first thing we see is the impressive spire of the magnificent St. Stephan’s cathedral. But wait. On second glance it doesn’t look quite right. And on third glance, we see that it is undergoing some reconstruction work and is wrapped completely in fabric to hide the scaffolding, and on the fabric is a detailed, to scale, picture of the cathedral spire that it covers. Thus, tourists like us who will probably only be here once can at least get an idea of what the structure looks like in spite of the reconstruction.

Stephansdom Spire Partially Covered with Renovation Facade

It is lunchtime, so we find a little sidewalk café in the shade just off the square. I have a delicious salad and a Budvar.

-Lunch-

After lunch, we wind our way through some little side streets to the Hofburg, the Habsburg winter palace. Along the way, we stop at an antique book/print shop and Mike becomes quite engrossed in looking at prints. He finally settles on a couple of nice small floral prints to add to the small art collection he seems to be acquiring on this trip, and then we wander on until we finally run into the huge Hofburg complex—far from the entrance. We are actually a little unsure where the entrance is. In our search to find it, we stumble across the Lipizzaner stables and get to see couple of the world famous white horses hanging out and chewing on hay.

We finally work our way into the palace, which is so huge and so filled with things to see that in sheer confusion and panic we wind up in the kitchenware and china museum. Case after case of teacups, salt wells, and stew pots. Proof once again that the Habsburgs had lots of stuff. I can’t imagine why anyone would want or need 4700 colanders. And I can verify that once you’ve seen 47000 colanders, you’ve seen them all. And once you’ve seen all 470000 of them, you become really bored and tired.

So to escape the colanders, we go up one flight of stairs and find ourselves in the royal family’s living quarters and a museum dedicated to the Empress Elisabeth, wife of Emperor Franz Joseph. The change in the museum presentation technique on the upper floor is a good thing. Tell me what someone thought and felt and you are giving me a better sense of history than you will by showing me their colanders. Elisabeth of Bavaria was affectionately known as Sisi to her family, and then to history. Sisi was much loved by her Austrian subjects, both when she ruled and yet today. She was a beautiful and tragic figure in Austrian history—so much so that several movies have been made about her. She wed Franz Josef in an arranged marriage at the age of 15, but from the very beginning, she abhorred the public world in which she lived, and rebelled fruitlessly against the Habsburg court protocol. She witnessed the death of her two-year-old daughter, and later had to face the demise of her son, the crown prince, from depression and suicide at age 30. From the day of his death, she always dressed in black until her own murder at age sixty at the hands of a deranged anarchist. After learning of his wife's death, the Emperor reportedly whispered to himself, "She will never know how much I loved her."

After we leave the palace, we buy some ice cream and sit on steps next to an archeological dig directly in front of the palace entrance and eat it. Then, on the way back to our U-bahn stop in Stephansplatz, we run across a great street entertainer doing a juggling show. The show goes on for a long time and probably contains more amusing banter than actual juggling, but we are sufficiently amused to leave a big tip. We are definitely more entertained and amused by the street juggler that we’d been by the colanders.

When dinnertime rolls around Madeline is once again excited by the prospect of pizza. I check on line for pizza recommendation for the area we’re staying in, but don’t come up with any outstanding suggestions. We'd noticed an Italian ristorante near the hotel, but we decide that we should ask ask someone at the hotel for a recommendation rather than just blindly going there. The young man at the desk suggests the same ristorante we had noticed. But, when Madeline asks if its good, rather than give a direct answer, he gives her the name of another place to eat—only a block from the hotel. Gasthaus Franceschi. So that’s where we go. It is a small, but welcoming looking place. As we go through the door, however we’re a little unsettled by the man standing in the entryway talking nonsense to us. No, wait—he’s not talking to us, he seems to be talking to himself. Well, actually maybe part of the time he’s talking to us. Turns out that this is Gary Franceschi, an American, who along his wife Inge, runs this establishment. They serve Austrian fare. The only thing Italian in the entire place is Gary’s ancestry. Gary seems a little unhinged, but probably (or hopefully) is harmless, and seems to spend most his time rambling around talking to the guests and maybe also talking to the voices in his head. He is quite amused with himself. This is obvious from the way he frequently laughs at things that he says to himself. He laughs like Curly from The Three Stooges, “Nyuk, nyuck, nyuck, nyuck!”

Madeline is not happy about the absence of pizza from the menu, but as it turns out, the food is excellent. Kathy has an outstanding salad and schnitzel while Mike and I both have bratwurst and kraut. All delicious, but, as Madeline keeps pointing out, none of it is pizza. Another strike against the Ibis, for steering us wrong.

Mike has to get up very early Saturday morning to catch his flight. He has an unbelievably tedious flight back to the States. First, he has to fly from Vienna to Dusseldorf, do a layover, then fly from Dusseldorf to Munich, and do another layover before connecting with a Munich to Chicago flight. After all of that, he has to catch a bus from Chicago back to Madison. I get up at 4:00 to see him off, but he’s caught an early cab, so is gone already by the time I get to the lobby.

This is our last full day in Austria. Madeline, Kathy, and I decide to try the Schoennbrun palace one more time, only early this time, to avoid the crowds. We get there as they are opening, and our strategy works. We get right in. Even so, before we’ve finished our walk-through, the number of people in the palace has grown exponentially. By the time we leave the palace we have lots of tour groups both in front and behind us—really restricting our ability to move around. Nevertheless, the palace is well worth our time and effort to see it. Around 40 rooms are open to the public, and each room has its own story and history, from the Emperor Franz Josef’s study, which he furnished in a very Spartan style compared with the rest of the palace, and where he began work each day at 5 AM, to Hall of Mirrors, where in 1762 a six-year-old Mozart performed for Empress Maria Theresa and other assembled royals including the seven-year-old Marie Antoinette.

Finally, we leave the palace and once more heed the call of the anthropomorphically smiling baby panda. We unhesitatingly lay down our 27 Euros and enter the zoo. The zoo is pretty cool. It combines some of the old baroque zoo buildings with many more modern structures. Unfortunately, the animals are pretty much sleeping. We find the pandas. They’re asleep, too. And we don’t see any babies, anthropomorphically smiling or otherwise.

Pandas As We Found Them

It turns out that the baby panda in the picture is Fu Hu, was born in December, is definitely at the zoo, and as website pictures show, is cuter than cute. I suppose Fu Hu was napping, just like all the other animals. We leave the animals to their slumbers and take the U-bahn back to the hotel for lunch and a nap. A nap seems like a good idea after seeing all the animals doing it. Madeline is determined to have pizza, so this time we go directly to Italian ristorante on the way to the hotel. It is closed. So we eat at the hotel. The food is OK. It is not pizza. Madeline is now deep in pizza withdrawal. After our lunch/naps, we take the S-bahn back to Stephansplatz and hike over to the MuseumsQuartier, a complex of museums housed in an amazing 250-year-old Baroque complex that was originally the Imperial Court Stables. We spend our time in the Leopold Museum looking at paintings by the likes of Egon Schiele, Gutstav Klimt, and Edvard Munch. I find it hard to imagine that all this fine art is hanging where almost a thousand Habsburg horses used to stomp and neigh.

We peruse the museum until it closes, and take the S-bahn back to the hotel, arriving around dinnertime. As we pass the little ristorante, we find that it is open! It turns out to be a cozy little place—just a few tables, but it is great! They’re having Asparagus Week, so we all get a bowl of cream of asparagus soup, then we all get pizza and some appropriate beverages. The food is good, the service is friendly, but I do not remember the name of the place. A later Google search is fruitless. Regardless, it is a memorable meal, and it is our last dinner in Austria.

The next morning, Easter Sunday, we have breakfast, check out of the Ibis, walk down to the Westbahnhof, and board the train for our trip home.

Linz: Several Snafus, Seven Sorrows, and a Sumptuous Supper

Click HERE for a Linz slideshow

On Wednesday, I finally get clean clothes! My clean clothes situation was already getting a little dicey in Salzburg on the 17th. I had asked at the Europa desk about getting laundry done and was told that guest laundry was not handled on Sundays, and definitely not on Palm Sunday, because, after all, the laundry people deserved a day off, too. Sundays are considered sacrosanct in Austria—the country practically shuts down. This is an abrupt conceptual shift from service-oriented American business practices that I’m used to, but it is a reasonable approach assuming that one is used to it and can plan for it. If one is travelling, though, it can create problems—such as the need to wash one’s socks and one’s underwear in one’s hotel bathroom sink.

On Monday when we checked into the Wolfinger, I again asked about laundry. It was, I was told, not a service that the hotel normally provided. However, there was a nearby laundry where I could take my clothes. On Tuesday morning after breakfast, I asked the desk clerk where the laundry was located. Then Kathy asked if it was a laundry or laundromat. The meaning of her question was probably lost in translation. So she tried again. “Do we have to do the laundry or will it be done for us?” This question, I suspect, was also misinterpreted. The desk clerk sighed, “We will arrange to have one of our maids take your laundry to be done. Just bring it to the desk.” So we left it at that. She apparently thought the spoiled American tourists were asking her if they really had to trouble themselves with taking the clothes to be laundered. In fact, my original plan was not be troubled with dealing with laundry—so maybe I am a spoiled American tourist.

So Wednesday morning, garbed in freshly laundered clothes, we meet in the Hauptplatz with a guy named Johan who guides us on a walking tour of central Linz. Madeline had arranged the tour with Johan after participating in a tour he guided for the Austro-American Society. We find Johan to be personable, knowledgeable, and interesting. He shows us the Altes Rathaus, built in 1638, and spends some time in the Hauptplatz, and talks about how Hitler would draw crowds when speaking from a balcony overlooking the square. We see the Kepler Haus, where Kepler lived in the early 1600’s, and tour the Neuer Dom, the massive neo-Gothic cathedral built in the 1800’s. And we stop at a bakery to sample the locally famous Linzertorte and drink some coffee. During this stop, Johan sits with us and we have a pleasant chat. We find out that he has lived in Korea and the U.S., has a background in software, but is currently trying to establish a business as a tour guide.

Linzertorte is OK—the guidebooks all say that no trip to Linz would be complete without sampling this treat, so I can say that my trip was complete. One Linzertorte claim to fame is that it is the oldest recipe in the world. A recipe in the Admont Abbey in Austria for Linzertorte dates to 1653. It is a crumbly, short pastry containing lots of ground hazel nuts and a little flour, some unsalted butter and egg yolks, and a little cinnamon for flavor. It’s layered with jelly or jam and served with big dollops of whipped cream. If I were into desserts, or if it were made of chocolate, I would have liked it a lot. Many people, I’m sure, would get really excited about this pastry.

Post-Linzertorte: Outside Bakery

Madeline works with a teacher named Ernst who has invited us to come to his house for a meal on this day. Ernst lives in the foothills of the Alps near the little town of Amstetten, which is maybe 30 miles east of Linz. We take the train to Amstetten and Ernst meets us there and drives us over some very picturesque winding roads to his house. Ernst and his wife live in an attractive old house that they’ve beautifully remodeled and added to. We have our meal at a table by a large picture window with a panoramic view of the woods and pastures stretching out in the valley below. The meal and the conversation are both fine. Ernst and his wife talk about their travels to Canada, Australia, and Alaska, and Ernst and Madeline tell us about some of the projects they have done with his classes. They serve a wonderful array of Austrian food: Fresh salads adorned with little flowers from their lawn, beef roulade, semmel knoedel (a type of dumpling), cranberry sauce and peach chutney. For desert, they produce two huge strudels— poppyseed, and cherry vanilla. We finish with some local pear cider and schnapps. Finally, Ernst drives us, well-fed and happy, back to the train station in Amstetten and we travel by train back to Linz. Kathy and I are back at the Wolfinger by nine o’clock and promptly go to bed.

View from Ernst's Window

Thursday morning is warm and sunny and after breakfast Kathy and I take a walk through the Alstadt, and up to the Schloss, a hilltop fortress, now a museum, near the Danube, and then along the Danube itself. The walk gets a little long for me but it is a beautiful morning.

The plan for the day is to visit Poestlingberg, a hilltop overlooking the Danube and much of Linz. The day is not without its snafus. Snafu #1: Madeline and Mike had originally planned to meet us at our hotel before we went on our Poestlingberg excursion, but last minute, Madeline calls me on our hotel room phone and suggests that since her apartment is on the way to Poestlingberg, that we should meet them at her train stop. I, unfortunately, misinterpret the message and we end up waiting for a long time at two different train stops before we finally connect. Snafu # 2: We make a grocery store stop to stock up on provisions for the picnic. One item is olives packed in oil, which Madeline, understandably, has to sample. Unfortunately, she doesn’t properly seal the olive container, and by the time it is discovered to be leaking, there is oil all over the other food, the bag, and Madeline’s clothes. So Madeline becomes a little testy. But in fact, the weather is beautiful, the view from the hilltop is spectacular, the food is good, and the company, in spite of some testiness, is great. So it is a good day.

To get to the top of Poestlingberg we ride steepest non-cog rail line in Europe—a grade of nearly 1:10. At the top we picnic and enjoy the view, and check out the Sieben Schmerzen Mariens Church, a huge Baroque pilgrimage church built in 1748. Sieben Schmerzen Mariens translates as “The Seven Sorrows of the Virgin Mary.” Not being a Catholic, I didn’t realize that Mary had seven sorrows, but for the record they are:

1. Hearing a prophecy from Simeon the Righteous when Jesus is still an infant that alludes to his crucifixion.
2. The flight into Egypt to escape King Herod’s killing of infants.
3. Losing Jesus in the Temple
4. Meeting Jesus on the way to Calvary.
5. Jesus’ death on the cross.
6. Receiving the body of Jesus in her arms.
7. Placing the body of Jesus in the Tomb.

The seven sorrows idea dates back to at least the 13th century and is a great teaching tool, but I think it is kind of stretch coming up with seven, just because that number has special significance. For instance, the story of losing Jesus in the temple and finally finding him sitting with the elders and wowing them with his wisdom is kind of a cute story. Why is this a sorrow?

Following on this theme, I try to compose the Seven Sorrows of Our Pilgrimage to Poestlingberg: 1-The Great Confusion of Meeting at the Streetcar Stop. 2-The Anointing of the Grocery Bag with Oil. 3-The Long Quest for an Ideal Picnic Spot. Nope. That’s only three. To come up with seven, I would have to stretch, too. The day just wasn’t that sorrowful.

Checking Out the View from Poestlingberg

Regardless, the church is spectacular. I can add this to the growing list of spectacular churches that I’ve seen in the past week.

Sieben Schmerzen Mariens Church

Also on top of Poestlingberg is the Marchengrotte Railroad, a 100-year old miniature railroad that runs underground through “a colorful world of dwarfs and other displays.” Is this whimsical or hokey? I am not able to find out since it is closed for the day.

Scary Clown Figure Which Probably Has Something to do with the Marchengrotte Railroad

We finish our Poestlingberg excursion by midafternoon, collect our luggage and board the train for Vienna.

Linz: Dead Saints, Doeners, and Dangerous Grape Leaves

The trip to Linz seems short. We start a game of Euchre and don’t even have time to finish before we arrive. At the train station, we grab our luggage and hop on the S-bahn. Everything is painless and uncomplicated here since we’re on Madeline’s home turf—all we have to do is follow her lead. The plan for Linz is for Mike to sleep on Madeline’s couch at her apartment. Kathy and I have a hotel room. At the Hauptplatz, Kathy and I get off to find our hotel while Mike and Madeline continue on to Madeline’s apartment. It is a short walk across the square to the Hotel Wolfinger. We find that the hotel entrance and reception area are on the second floor and, in light of our luggage/stent situation, we search vainly for an elevator. There is no elevator. The building predates elevators by several centuries. So we haul our luggage up the stairs to the small reception area, complete the check-in formalities, then cross a second-story walking bridge over a courtyard to our room. The room and its furnishings are—simply old—lots of antiques, but also some late garage sale items. But the plumbing is modern—a perfect blend of quaintness and functionality. The Hotel Wolfinger was originally a 16th century nunnery. Sleeping in a structure that was built just as the Middle Ages were waning and was formerly inhabited by nuns is a unique and new experience for me.

Ensconced in Wolfinger Room

The hotel faces the Hauptplatz, the largest public square in Austria. The most visually significant object in the square is the Dreifaltigkeitssäule, or The Pillar to the Holy Trinity, a 65-foot white marble column. The column was erected in 1723 in thanksgiving for deliverance from the Turks, the fire of 1712, and the plague of 1713. A collection of sidewalk cafes fills the east side of the square, and that’s where we go next. Mike joins us, since Madeline has a phone interview for a potential job. The weather is still a little cool, but pleasant, and we enjoy our coffee, conversation, and people watching.

Dreifaltigkeitssäule

Later, Madeline joins us for dinner at a Greek restaurant, “El Greco,” on the Hauptplatz near the hotel. We feel a little disjointed being Americans ordering Greek food in Austria. The restaurant has menus in English if you ask, but maybe someone unfamiliar with Greek food and not very adept with English wrote them. Or maybe they were translated from German to English with Google Translate. Baklava is listed in the English menu as “nut strudel”, strangely accurate, but also sort of amusing. “Grape leaves” appear on the English menu as “Hazardous Grape Leaves.” On Madeline’s German menu the operational word is “gef”, an abbreviation for "gefüllt," meaning "filled." But the English translator must have assumed that “gef” meant "gefährlich" which means "dangerous." Regardless, the food is great, and we all get a complementary shot of ouzo with our check!

Tuesday morning is low key. Kathy and I have an excellent breakfast at the Wolfinger. Since this is the week before Easter, our eggs are hard-boiled colored eggs. After breakfast, Kathy goes out for a wander—she spends some time hiking around the picturesque streets of the Alstadt and finally winds up by the Danube where she sees Mike out for a morning run, and some swans. I stay in our room—the walking thing is just not working for me.

We have our lunch at a doener place. Madeline has talked about doeners ever since her first experience in Germany. It’s probably the preeminent German fast food—and actually outsells sausages in Austria. Doeners, while Turkish in origin, are a true German food in the same sense that hamburgers (hamburger original meaning = from Hamburg) and hot dogs (wiener original meaning = from Vienna) are true American foods. It’s a matter of controversy what exactly should be in an authentic doener, and I don’t claim to be an expert, but here’s what I came up with in my Google search: The basic ingredient is meat roasted on a vertical spit—same as you would use in gyros or shwerma. For a doener, the meat may be lamb, or it may be veal, turkey or even pork. The meat goes into fladenbrot. A direct translation of “fladenbrot”, I suppose, is “flat bread.” Google Translate translates “fladenbrot” to “pita bread.” But the doener I’m eating is not in pita bread—it is more like focaccia or ciabatta. Additionally, you may find lettuce, cucumbers, onions, red cabbage, white cabbage, tomatoes, garlic sauce and chili sauce in various combinations depending on where you buy your doener. All I can say for sure is that my one doener lunch experience has convinced me that they could be very addicting. Madeline, who has been craving various American foods that aren’t available in Austria will probably return to America and develop cravings for doeners.

The plan for the afternoon is to go to the little nearby town of St. Florian and visit the abbey there. I had read that St. Florian’s Abbey was one of the premier examples of baroque architecture in all of Austria. But it is out of the way, I remain unsure of how we will get there, and the others are less than enthused about going. We take the S-bahn to the bus station and find that the buses run to St. Florian irregularly and they take a long time to get there because of frequent stops. So we take a taxi. I prepare for St. Florian’s Abbey to be totally lame, requiring my profuse apologies to the others for their expense and effort. I needn’t have worried. St. Florian’s turns out to be awesome, in the actual sense of the word. We are all awed.

St. Florian was a 4th century Christian martyr, a Roman official who would not renounce his faith even after torture and upon threat of death. He was finally dragged to a bridge and thrown into the river with a millstone tied around his neck. A pious matron dragged his body out of the river and buried him in a secret Christian graveyard. Around the year 800, a monastery was built at the site of his burial. Though the various buildings have been replaced or altered through the years, there has been a church and monastery on this site since then. The current baroque complex was built around a pre-existing gothic structure in 1686. In the intervening 300+ years, this complex of buildings with all of its statuary, gold, woodcarvings, and frescoes has survived the travails of time and two world wars and is every bit as beautiful today as when it was first constructed.

The church’s main pipe organ is a magnificent instrument with 7343 pipes. It is now referred to as the “Bruckner Organ” since it is the organ that Anton Bruckner played on as the church organist before he became famous as an organist and composer. Today he is interred in a tomb directly below the organ that bears his name. The phenomenal library, with its two-story high walnut shelves and frescoed ceilings contains 135,000 volumes, many of which are hand-written manuscripts that predate the printing press.

There is a small gift shop/book store in the Abbey where we are able to book a tour. Our tour guide is a local woman who is worried about her ability to explain things to us in English, since she usually does the tour in German. She is great. She carries around a big jangly ring of large old-fashioned keys and takes us behind locked doors to see, among other things, Bruckner’s tomb, an ossuary containing the bones of 6000 people who had chosen to be buried near the saint and whose bones were excavated in the 13th century, the imperial chambers—rooms for important guests, the Marble Hall with its monumental ceiling fresco, and the opulent library, where, unfortunately, photography is not allowed (but you can see it at this website.)

St. Florians Collegiate Church Choir Stalls

Bruckner Organ

Touring St.Florians Marble Hall

Marble Hall Ceiling Fresco

While Madeline thoroughly enjoys the tour, I think the highlight of the day for her is her discovery and purchase in the bookshop of a crazy book called “Struwwelpeter”, a book of cautionary tales for children. “Struwwelpeter” obviously comes from the same culture that brought us Grimm’s Fairy Tales, where children are eaten by hungry wolves and thrown in ovens by evil witches. In this book, children suffer ghastly consequences as a result of misbehavior. The little boy who sucks his thumb has his thumbs cut off by a crazed scissors-wielding tailor (because tailors do that, right?) The little girl whose kittens warn her not to play with matches does so anyway and is reduced to a pile of ashes. (At least the kittens cry at the end—they could have said, “Told you so!”) And the little boy who refuses to eat his soup ends up starving to death. (That’ll teach him! Oh wait, he’s dead.) Anyway, this book is so bizarre that Madeline and Mike chuckle over it all the way back to Linz. Here’s a YouTube video that gives you the flavor of the book.

Reading Struwwelpeter at the Bus Stop

Shortly after getting back to Linz we have dinner at Chindia—this time around we are Americans eating Chinese and Indian food in Austria. At least this time it is a buffet so we don’t have to deal with menus translating Indian and Chinese food descriptions from German to English. Madeline’s friends William, Josh, and Ross join us for the meal. It is fun to meet some of the friends that Madeline has been telling us (and blogging) about. The guys are great, and so is the dinner. We finish with a complimentary shot of schnapps then Kathy and I head to our hotel and bed, while all the young folk go in search of a bar.

Salzburg: Mozart Was Here!

Click HERE for a Salzburg slideshow.

The Munich-Salzburg train is underway and we’re still wandering the aisles encumbered with all of our luggage (and a stent, in my case) trying to find four seats together. We can’t believe our good luck when we finally find a private compartment. We’re sitting there for a while when it occurs to us that our tickets are for regular passenger service and the compartment we’re sitting in is first class. That is when the conductor shows up and asks for our tickets. With trepidation, we hand them over. And he punches them and walks off. So then, we once more can’t believe our good luck. We spend the time on the train visiting and playing the famous name game. (Someone names a famous person, then the next person must name a famous person whose first name begins with the same letter as the last name of the famous person just named—and so on. There are no rules beyond that, although I am told that minor Nixon cabinet officials are not “famous”.) Having both my kids with me in the same place at the same time is a rare occurrence, so that by itself makes this a special occasion. On top of that, I’m riding in a first class train compartment and the German and Austrian countryside is rushing by outside the train window. We eat lunch on the train—sandwiches we had bought at the Munich station, and arrive in Salzburg in the early afternoon.

Our hotel is located near the train station, so the walk is short and it is easy to find. The Hotel Europa Salzburg is a wonderful four-star hotel with 14 stories, but a mere 100 rooms. All of the rooms have windows looking out of the same side of the hotel (the hallway is on the other side) to accommodate the view. The view in this case, is all of Salzburg with the Salzach River winding through the middle, the Hohensalzburg, a medieval fortress, on a promontory above the city, and the snow-capped Alps spreading out behind.

View of Salzburg from Hotel Europa Window

We spend the next several hours drinking in the view and unpacking. But finally, we’re ready to explore. The River Salzach divides Salzburg into the Alstadt, or old town, on the west and the Neustadt, or new town, on the east. “Old” and “new” are relative concepts here; this is Europe, not America, after all. The new town was originally developed in the 1600’s while the old city of Salzburg was built in the 8th century on the ruins of an older Roman town called Juvavum, which grew out of a collection of earlier settlements going back to the 5th century BC. The train station and our hotel are in the Neustadt, but most of the points of interest are in the Alstadt. Our route from the hotel to the bridge to the Alstadt takes us through the Mirabel Gardens. If you’ve seen “The Sound of Music”, you’ve seen the Mirabel Gardens. It’s the place where Maria and the kids sing the “Do-Re-Me” song. The gardens surround the Mirabel palace, originally built in 1606 by an archbishop for his mistress and their 15 children. The baroque formal gardens have been described as one of Europe’s most beautiful parks, and are filled with flowers, topiary, sculpture and fountains. I like the bronze Pegasus standing in a pool near the palace a lot. This horse is smiling! Mona Lisa, eat your heart out!

Walking Through Mirabel Gardens

Smiley Pegasus

Having traversed the gardens, we cross the Salzach and plunge into the old town. Salzburg’s original historic importance was as a terminal in the salt trade, but in the late 16th and early 17th centuries, it became an important center of political power. During this period an incredible array of churches and public buildings were constructed. These historic buildings blend with the narrow brick-paved streets, the sculpture and fountain festooned plazas, the river and the mountains surrounding the city to create an awe-inspiring visual experience. The entire Alstadt is pedestrian only. Shops and restaurants line the narrow streets and cafes spill out onto the plazas, so it is a very pleasant place to amble around, or just sit and sip coffee and take in the view. Our first trip to the Alstadt is pretty much just a pleasant amble. We stop at the Tourist Information Center on Mozartplatz to get maps, advice on what to see and information on walking tours for the next day. Mike finds a street artist doing some nice, visually interesting watercolors. And we spend some time sipping coffee and soaking atmosphere.

Sipping & Soaking

Then we walk back to the hotel and go to the nearby Stieglbrau Restaurant for some good classic Austrian food and a Stiegl beer before calling it a day.

The 17th begins as a bright and sunny morning. It is both Palm Sunday and my birthday! Breakfast is on the 14th floor of the hotel—a fantastic view of Salzburg and a wonderful breakfast buffet with all the usual things I’ve come to expect; eggs, sausages, assorted fresh fruit, pastries, breads, and cheeses, fruit juices, as well as coffee and tea.

Our first excursion for the day is trip to Fortress Hohensalzburg. While there is a walking path up the steep Festungsberg hill (essentially a cliff) on which the fortress is perched, most people, especially those with stents choose to ride the cog train. The view from the top is spectacular, and when we have spent sufficient time enjoying the view, we begin to explore the enormous and labyrinthine fortress. It was built originally in 1077 as a fortress and eventually became the residence for the ruling archbishops. Noteworthy among the many things to see in the fortress is a recently excavated Romanesque chapel dating back to the 11th century. There are fragments of colored plaster on the excavated walls. That plus the thousands of fragments found while excavating indicate that the interior of the chapel was originally richly covered with frescoes, which we can only speculate about today.

Fortress Hohensalzburg

Inside Romanesque Chapel Excavation

It is almost noon when we finally take the cog train back down to the Alstadt. We had planned on the 12:15 walking tour of the Alstadt, but I am worn out from the morning exploration of the fortress, so we instead stop at a little café in one of the plazas and order salads, which turns into a long leisurely lunch. While I rest, Mike finds the street artist that he had visited the day before and buys a watercolor of Salzburg. He also buys some gourmet salt at a store specializing in that line of goods.

Eventually we stroll, enjoy the street musicians and sample Mozartkugel several times. (Mozartkugel: A confection originally invented in Salzburg in 1890. It consists of a pistachio marzipan surrounded by a layer of nougat, coated with dark chocolate and wrapped in blue foil featuring a picture of Mozart. Undeniably delicious!) Finally, at two o’clock we walk to the Tourist Center in Mozartplatz for the walking tour. The four of us are the only people on the tour, and our guide is a strange, asocial man. As far as I know, he doesn’t ever introduce himself or tell us his name. He also shows no interest in us personally and pretty much sticks to the facts. Also, there is the matter of the fee. When I present him with a large denomination Euro bill, he says he can’t make change, so Kathy and I have to spend time combing our wallets and pockets for smaller bills so we can pay him. He takes us to all the important sites in the Alstadt: the Residenz, the Dom, the Franziskanerkirche, Stiftkirche St. Peter, and winds up at No. 9 Getreidegasse, Mozart’s birthplace. I, unfortunately, run out of steam and become uncomfortable (the stent thing) shortly after the tour gets underway, thus once again, I am not focusing on what is being said and miss much of the detail. Lastly, for the final embarrassing moment of the tour, Kathy and I realize that neither of us have any small bills to tip the guide since we'd already given him all our small bills for his fee. So he stands around awkwardly for a few moments and finally walks off.

After our awkward guide leaves, we spend some time touring the apartments where Mozart was born and spent his childhood, which is now a museum, and then, continuing with the Mozart theme, we cross the river to the Neustadt and tour the house where Mozart spent his late childhood and early adulthood, also a museum. The museum is interesting—we tour with headsets for so we can listen to descriptions and lots of Mozart’s music.

Mozart's Birthplace

That night we go to an Italian restaurant near the hotel with a nice antipasto bar and everybody gives me a birthday card. It is a memorable birthday!

Monday, the 18th starts with another wonderful breakfast on the 14th floor of the hotel. Then we head, once more, to the Alstadt. First we stop at the Tourist Information Center, where I leave a tip for our awkward guide from the previous day. He isn't there, but I leave the money with one of the staff. She is very surprised. Then, Kathy's interested in seeing St. Peter’s cemetery, and especially the early Christian catacombs carved into the cliff below the fortress.

We find that the cemetery is open, but unfortunately, the catacombs are closed to the public for the day. The cemetery is both picturesque and interesting. It is small, squeezed between the base of the cliff and the church, and the graves follow one right after the other with no space between. The cemetery is well maintained and the graves are elaborately decorated with flowers and candles. All of Salzburg’s elite are buried here, including Mozart’s sister. But not Mozart himself. While Salzburg claims Mozart, Mozart rejected Salzburg for the brighter lights of Vienna, where he met an untimely end, and was buried in a mass pauper’s grave.

St. Peter's Cemetery

Our last stop in the Alstadt is at a grocery store where we buy massive amounts of Mozartkugel to bring home. Then we check out of the hotel, walk the short distance to the train station, and board the train to Linz.

Munich: Mechanical Jousting, Beer, and Other Cool Stuff

Click HERE for a Munich slideshow.

The first step in negotiating our way through Germany is finding our way to the S-bahn (subway/train) so we can get from the airport to our hotel. It is totally guesswork on my part that leads me to decide that the green signs showing a circled “S” are leading us to the S-bahn. Luckily, my guess is correct. Had the “S” signs actually signified the way to a stegosaurus or a slime pit it would have been a very unfortunate and disastrous guess on my part. I could always ask somebody. But that reduces the sense of adventure. At the S-bahn, I am baffled by the posted schedule. Fortunately, a nice man asks me where I am going and then says, “Let us figure this out together.” Thus, I am allowed to keep my dignity more than if he had said, “Stupid American tourist! Let me show you how obvious this S-bahn schedule is!”

So we get on the right train and in about 45 minutes, we find ourselves in the Hauptbahnhof (central train station) in the center of Munich. Our hotel is only a few blocks away, and following a map printed from their website, we find it in short order. The Creatif Elephant Hotel is quaint and has a lot of character. To some, I suppose, that would translate to “The Creatif Elephant Hotel is little and old.” But having stayed in some sterile, chain, tourist barns (see Vienna hotel), I prefer this sort of hotel. I had requested a room for three, since Madeline would be joining us, and unfortunately, the only reason our tiny room can be called a room for three is that there is a double bed and single bed in it. The single is shoved right next to the double and other than a small armoire, there is no other furniture in the room, nor is there room for any other furniture. To get out of the double bed, we discover that it is necessary to walk across the single bed. So that's quaint. But the hotel staff is friendly and helpful, the hotel is well kept, and we soon find out that the breakfasts are phenomenal.

Madeline meets us a couple hours after we've checked in, having come in by train from Austria. We do a quick walk-around the Aldstadt in the afternoon. Mainly we hang out in Marienplatz in front of the Rathaus (town hall) to watch the Glockenspeil go through its paces.

Marienplatz

The Glockenspiel is a clockwork conglomeration of chimes and mechanical figures that goes into action three times each day. It was without a doubt, pretty amazing in 1908 when it was originally built, but in this day of computer-generated images, it seems a little lame. It is essentially mechanical puppets going in circles.

The Glockenspiel has two levels and tells a separate story on each level. The top-level figures enact the story of the marriage of Duke Wilhelm V (he founded the Hofbrauhaus, so he is OK in my book) to Renata of Lorraine. Part of the story involves a joust between two knights in honor of the wedding couple. Spoiler alert! The Bavarian knight wins! The crowd gasps as the other knight is knocked off his horse and then the Glockenspiel tells the second story: In the 1500’s Plague came to Munich and everyone locked themselves into their houses, afraid to come out lest they catch the disease. Well, the coopers (dudes who made barrels) were not happy that people had shuttered themselves away, since they weren’t out drinking beer, which would result in brewers buying barrels. So to convince everyone that it was OK to come out, the coopers did this crazy dance through the streets (The Schafflerstanz—it was kinda the Watusi of 16th century Munich). Everybody was so amused that they came rushing out of their houses. Then they all caught Plague and died horrible and hideous deaths. Well, no, actually, they all started doing the crazy dance too and the duke was so amused by the whole spectacle that he ordered that these crazy shenanigans should be reenacted every seven years. Go to Munich next summer and you can watch, or even participate in this crazy event.

So the mechanical coopers are dancing around a central scary clown figure (don’t know the significance of the scary clown—maybe one of Stephen King’s ancestors was involved in the design), and then about 15 minutes into it, everything stops and a tiny mechanical owl at the very top of the Glockenspiel hoots. Thrilling End of Show.

In the few days we are in Munich, we somehow manage to watch this show three times! This is delusional and abnormal behavior. After having seen it once, the time I spend watching the other two shows could have been spent quaffing a couple dunkel biers in the Hofbrauhaus.

The Glockenspiel In All Its Splendor

The burgers (e.g. citizens, not beef patties) of Munich do like their beer. There are breakfast places that serve beer. So civilized! The Creatif Elephant does not serve beer, but the breakfasts, we discover, are excellent: Eggs, sausages, and a nice mélange of peppers, cucumbers, tomatoes, fresh mozzarella, and basil. As well as juices, coffee, tea, and cakes. We sit at breakfast the morning of the 15th and chat for a long time before finally heading back to the Alstadt for a walking tour. (Stent Man perspective: Sitting & chatting = good. Walking = bad) Our walking tour guide is a young guy from Wisconsin who has moved to Germany and does English language tours for a living. He is interesting and way into it, but after an hour my body is telling me “MUST….SIT….DOWN….!!!” so loudly and persistently that I can no longer hear what the guide is saying. We see lots of baroque churches including the Frauenkirche, hear about how much of the old buildings in Munich were destroyed by Allied bombs, and hear about a lot of Ludwigs and Maximillians. We walk through the Royal Gardens and on into the huge, expansive English Garden, and finally wind up at the Hofbrauhaus where I am able to sit my body down and drink a beer.

Hofbrauhaus!

We discuss the possibility of a second tour later in the day that focuses on the Third Reich, but my Stent Man body tells me that it would not be a good idea. So I go back to the hotel to rest while Kathy and Madeline rent bikes and bike around the English Garden. When they come back, Madeline brings me a little wind-up inchworm. You can think of it as working on the same principle as the Glockenspiel, but simpler and more amusing, actually.

The morning of the 16th we have another great Creatif Elephant breakfast and then walk (Stent Man: “Aaarrrgh!”) around the botanical gardens. Then we pack our bags and walk to the train station to meet Mike. We position ourselves under the large Coca Cola sign in the front of the train station, our designated meeting spot. On the 15th I had used my Skype connection to call his cell phone voice mail to leave detailed instructions about getting to the train station from the airport, how to come up out of the S-bahn stop and go back into the train station, and where to look for the giant Coca Cola sign. His email reply, “Got your voice mail. It was a little garbled. Something about meeting by a Coke sign. I didn’t understand it all, but I’m not worried.” Yet amazingly, here he is walking across the train station! Hugs and greetings are exchanged & then we get on the train and head for Salzburg.

Austria - Some Context

These next few blog posts are about our family trip to Austria. Since, in real life, it is impossible to separate any event, be it a trip to Austria or anything else, from what comes before and what occurs afterward I’ll spend a couple of paragraphs providing some background and context for this excursion.
Kathy and I traveled to Austria because of a cascade of occurrences that began in 1998, when Mike was in high school and took German as his foreign language choice. Five years later, when it was time for Madeline to choose a foreign language she also chose German. One of the main reasons for her choice was that Mike had taken German. As she tells it, this would allow them to share a secret language that neither Kathy nor I would be able to understand. A trip to Germany in high school continued her interest in German language and culture, then, German became one of her minor concentrations in college. A summer in Berlin allowed her to become more proficient in the language, and ultimately, after graduation, she pursued an opportunity to spend a year in Linz, Austria teaching English to high school aged kids.
We went to Austria because visiting Madeline provided a reason for us to go. We planned a two-week trip, with the time equally divided between four cities, Munich, Germany, then Salzburg, Linz, and Vienna in Austria. Mike would join us for a week in the middle of the trip. Madeline, who was on Easter break, would meet us in Munich and travel with us for the entire time.
A week before we were to fly to Munich, my left kidney decided to cough out a stone, which lodged about half way out. End result: Me experiencing excruciating pain followed by me experiencing laparoscopic surgery for stone removal—for the expelled stone as well as another cluster of stones the CT scan found in my kidney. I waffled for a while as to if I could make the trip, but I decided to go, and while it wasn’t the optimal experience, in the end I’m happy I went.
To prevent post surgical swelling and blockage (not an ideal outcome, especially if I were to be somewhere in the middle of Europe), the urologist, during surgery, installed a stent. A stent is a device that resembles a long soda straw with curly-queues at both ends. The one end sits in the kidney & the other end goes into the bladder. I found that carrying a stent around Europe was not a good time. It ranged from uncomfortable when I was sitting, to borderline painful when I was walking around. It put me at a definite disadvantage when we would do walking tours. I partially focused on the tour, partially focused on how I felt and mostly thought about how good it would be to sit down again.
Our plane from Atlanta to Munich was only partially full—a partially full trans-Atlantic flight is something I have not experienced for over twenty years, and it was wonderful. I claimed three seats and was able to lie down and get some quality sleep on the way over. Considering my subpar condition, the good flight over was a real plus, I actually had the stamina necessary to deplane, get luggage, get through the passport check, negotiate the S bahn into Munich, and start my European experience.

A Brief Taste of Puerto Rico

This travel opportunity came out-of-the-blue when I got a phone call at work one day from Kathy, “I have to go to Puerto Rico for a few days for my job.” “Cool!” I said, “I’ll come, too!”

A few weeks later, we were on our way. I had no time for my usual meticulous (OK, maybe overly meticulous) preparation and flew there with little background or knowledge about Puerto Rico. It was pretty much a matter of throwing a few warm weather clothes into a suitcase & going.

The Wednesday we flew out, the whole country was in the throes of several major storms. The day before, Atlanta experienced major snow and thousands of flights had been cancelled. Our layover, of course, was in Atlanta. Fortunately, other than a few small delays, we didn’t have any trouble with our flights. When I looked out the plane window as we landed in Atlanta, my first impression was that we hadn’t left Minnesota—piles of snow everywhere!

I have no real first impressions landing in Puerto Rico since it was dark when we flew in. The first person to speak to us in Puerto Rico was a hustler/potential mugger. He accosted us as we e headed for the taxi stand, “Hey, you need a taxi? Come with me!” Like sheep, we started to follow him. Onto an elevator! Finally, I had the presence of mind to ask, “Where are we going?” “Oh, I’m parked in the parking lot. It’s OK. How are you? Are you OK?” Sure, I’m OK until you get us into the parking lot & take all of our money. Kathy and I gave each other a look and I told him that we would prefer to take a real taxi at the taxi stand. We got off the elevator, proceeded to the taxi stand, and took a taxi to our hotel with no additional problems.

We stayed at the Courtyard Marriott in a section of San Juan called Isla Verde. The hotel is near the airport and right on the beach. The hotel has a couple of nice restaurants and all the usual amenities. It seems that in Puerto Rico the usual amenities include a casino and a live band playing Latin music.

My real first impression of Puerto Rico was the following morning when I got out of bed, stepped onto our balcony and took this picture.

Ah, heaven!

The following two days, while Kathy worked, I, along with the husband of Kathy's co-worker who was along on the trip, spent some time exploring the historic forts in Old San Juan and Old San Juan itself. On the weekend, Kathy and I booked a tour and went to the San Sebastian festival in Old San Juan, which was in full swing.

Here are a few things I learned about or experienced while in Puerto Rico:

Cockfighting:

The night we arrived, we drove by a cockfighting arena on the way to our hotel. We both said, “Wow, that’s legal here?” Turns out, that not only is it legal, many consider it to be the Puerto Rican “sport”. The fights start at noon on Saturday and Sunday and go continuously until midnight. A bird owner will bring his specially bred rooster to the arena where it will face off against another rooster and battle until one rooster stops fighting—usually because it is dead. The roosters’ spurs have been filed down and replaced by an artificial plastic spur, which is longer and sharper, thus making a spur strike more deadly. There are no betting windows like they have in mainland horse racing. Instead, you bet on an individual basis with those sitting around you. It is important to be careful what you say to whom and what hand gestures you use during the fight or you could end up making a bet you didn’t even know you were making. When the fight starts, the men watching (and they are mostly men) start to bet, cheer, and yell, and the beers flows freely. Ironically, chicken wings are also for sale.

I did not attend, nor would I have any interest in attending a cockfight. Most of my information came from a conversation I had with the tour guide who led the Saturday tour we took to Camuy and Aricibo. He, like many Puerto Ricans, raised fighting roosters when he was a teenager—pampered them, fed them special high protein diets, and ultimately sacrificed them to the pit.

Cockfighting has become illegal on the mainland U.S. on a state-by-state basis, with Louisiana being the last to outlaw it in 2008. It has a long history, however, in the U.S., Europe, and around the world. It obviously caters to the same emotions as violent movies and video games, only in this case the fighting, the blood, and the death are very real. Someone, I’m sure, has studied anthropologically why many of us find cockfighting to be morally repugnant, but have no problem with chickens being slaughtered for us to eat.

The birds, by the way, are referred to with the “c” word, and not as roosters. I’ve avoided that word here to prevent unwelcome hits from those Googling for a very different topic.

Forts of Old San Juan:

Fort San Felipe del Morro

In 1493, Christopher Columbus claimed the island of Puerto Rico for Spain, much to the surprise of native Tainos who thought the island was theirs. Within fifty years, the Tainos were nearly extinct due to the hardship of slavery imposed on them by the Spanish and by European diseases, thus Puerto Rico truly became a Spanish island. Since it was the first land ships would encounter when sailing with the prevailing currents and trade winds from Europe, it was strategically important. Thus, in 1539 the Spanish began to build a fort, Castillo San Felipe del Morro, which occupied a promontory at the entrance to the harbor. The fort was occupied continuously as a fort until after World War 2, was modified on a regular basis, and is massive. Its impregnability allowed Spain to control Puerto Rico until it succumbed to a new generation of weapons and lost to the U.S. during the Spanish American war.

It is a masterpiece of military engineering—20-foot thick walls, six levels that go from sea level to 145 feet, and an open esplanade on the land side that would turn any land attack into a slaughter. After the U.S. took control, it continued as an active fort during both world wars, to protect American interests in the Caribbean, including the Panama Canal, and has the distinction of being the location of the first American shots fired during WWI, when American naval forces fired on a German supply ship. Since 1961, it has been a national park.

In 1598, the British managed to capture Castillo del Morro by attacking from the land side. They controlled the fort for a short time, but ultimately succumbed to dysentery and the Spanish regained control. This event did inspire the Spanish to build a second fort, Castillo San Cristobal, to protect San Juan and Castillo del Morro from attack by land. It was built over a period of 150 years and ultimately wrapped around the old city of San Juan. The fort itself covers 27 acres, making it the largest Spanish fort in the Americas. When the fort was built, walls were also built around the entire city, and stayed in place until 1897 when about one third of the walls were demolished to make way for the expanding city.

Fort San Cristobal

Old San Juan:

Old San Juan is composed of quaint, historic architecture dating back to the 16th century, charming public squares, fun shops, cathedrals, museums, restaurants featuring every type of cuisine, and miles of narrow, hilly streets paved with bluish bricks, all surrounded by the historic city walls, the harbor, and the old forts.

It is the original part of San Juan. It began as the town that served the fort and is located on a small island connected to the main island by two bridges and a causeway. Most of the central government buildings are here.

It is also home to a large population of feral cats. When the central government decided to destroy the cats, there was such a public outcry that they modified their plan to a catch, neuter, and release program.

Our time spent here consisted of visiting the forts, admiring the old buildings, getting up-close and personal with the cats, poking through the shops, sitting at outdoor cafes and quaffing cold beverages while people-watching, and attending the festival.

Old San Juan

Festival of St. Sebastian:

In early January each year, a large part of the entire population of the island crams itself into Old San Juan for the four-day Fiestas de la Calle San Sebastian, which marks the end of the Christmas season. During the day, the streets are jammed with people, stalls selling fried food, artists displaying their art, trinket vendors, and wandering musicians. In the evening the craziness gets cranked up to the next level with hundreds of stages featuring live music, parades of singing, dancing (and drinking) people, including cabezudos--people wearing giant peppier mache heads, and more people than you would think possible all crammed together in a marde gras sort of atmosphere.

If one is smart, one walks to this event, since it is virtually impossible to get there by car when it is in full swing. And forget parking. If one is almost 60, like this writer, it is advisable to go only during daylight hours and then interpolate regarding how much crazier it would be after dark.

Fiestas de la Calle San Sebastian

Camuy Caves:
Imagine this huge cave system under the rain forest that has collapsed in places forming giant sinkholes. Imagine descending by trolley into one of these holes on a path built corkscrew fashion around the edge to the bottom. As you descend, the rain forest surrounds you—above, below, and on all sides. Eventually you reach the bottom and the stalagmite and stalactite festooned entrance looms before you.

This was our experience when we visited Parque de las Cavernas del Río Camuy (Camuy River Cave Park). It was incredible to experience this natural wonder. It was so impressive that it is only proper that every fact I quote about the Camuy caves be followed by an exclamation point:

• The river Rio Camuy runs through the cave is the third-longest underground river in the world!
• Cueva Clara, the chamber we visited, is so high that a 20-story building would fit inside!
• A half-million bats live in the caves—13 different species!
• The cave provide habitat for a species of fish that is totally blind!
• The sinkhole Tres Pueblos is so large that the entire Fort San Felipe del Morro would fit inside!
• Ten miles of cave have been mapped so far—probably a fraction of the total!
• We stopped along the road for lunch after visiting the cave and had fantastic food!

Puerto Rican Food:
After visiting the caves, we pulled off the road at one of the little roadside restaurants that pepper rural Puerto Rico. The restaurants are called lechons. While a variety of food is served, it all centers on pigs roast on a spit. Traditionally the pig was a suckling pig (leche = Spanish for milk), but now more often the pig will be a medium sized adult pig. At our stop, the pig was cooking on a spit in front of the restaurant, and the food was served cafeteria-style inside. After filling our plates, we grabbed a soda, pulled a chair up to a plank table, and commenced to enjoy. Succulent, savory, and satisfying!

One night at the hotel, we had a scrumptious paella on the beach along with a couple of Medallas—the local beer. Medalla is a beer for the tropics; light, cold, and available everywhere!

At the San Sebastian Festival, there were millions of stands selling all sorts of fried snacks. Some of the ones we sampled:
Mofongo: A mixture of fried plantain (or yuca, or breadfruit), mixed with garlic, and pork fat, and formed around a filling of vegetables, seafood, or beef.
Pinchos: Roasted tostones (fried mashed plantain) and chicken or pork on a skewer.
Alcapurria: A sort of turnover made from yucca, calabaza (a type of pumpkin), potato, or plantain filled with crab, chicken or picadillo.
Bacalaitos: A fish fritter.

One evening we ate at Metropol, a family style restaurant right next to the cockfighting arena. The clientele seemed to be a mixture of tourists and locals. I ate a nice piece of beef complimented with congri (rice and black beans), tostones, and a tamale. All very delicious.

And then there are Mojitos—perhaps the main fuel of the San Sebastian festival. And why not! It is a great way to deal with the heat and humidity—the mint and lime are so refreshing and yeah, there’s rum, too! Wikipedia declares this to be the proper way to prepare a mojito: “Lime juice is added to sugar and mint leaves. The mixture is then gently mashed with a muddler. The mint leaves should only be bruised to release the essential oils and should not be shredded. Then rum is added and the mixture is briefly stirred to dissolve the sugar and to lift the mint sprigs up from the bottom for better presentation. Finally, the drink is topped with ice cubes and sparkling water. Mint leaves and lime wedges are used to garnish the glass”. I don’t think that the mojitos I consumed at the festival were made with this degree of finesse. But they were fine. Damn fine!

Pinchos at San Sebastian Festival

Aricibo:
Imagine if somebody were to construct a giant radio telescope dish in one of the giant Camuy sinkholes so large that it filled the entire hole and then suspend from giant cables above the dish, a huge sci-fi looking collecting device. If you were to imagine that, you would be imagining the Aricibo telescope.

This installation is run by Cornell University and the National Science Foundation and has been used to among other things:
• Determine the exact rotation of Mercury
• Discover the periodicity of the Crab Pulsar
• Discover the first binary pulsar
• Image an asteroid, for the first time in history
• Look for signals from extraterrestrial intelligent beings
• Send signals into space as a message to extraterrestrial intelligent beings

It is jolting to see this huge complex in the midst of the Puerto Rican rain forest. And because of this, it has been used as a backdrop for two movies, Contact (the extraterrestrial angle) and GoldenEye (I think it was the source of a death ray the bad guy was going to use—Bond destroyed it).

The visitor’s center was great. One feature was designed to help us understand the relative distance of the planets to the sun. The “sun” was located in the parking lot. On the long climb up the path to the visitor’s center, which was on the brink of the sinkhole, we passed Mercury, Venus, Earth, Mars, and Jupiter. Pluto beyond the sinkhole and the Proxima Centauri, the nearest star, was on a mountaintop on the horizon.

Statehood vs. Independence vs. Status Quo:
After our Camuy/Aricibo tour, the tour guide and I had a long discussion about this very interesting and complex issue. In the end, we arrived at our hotel, and sat in the car talking about this for another half-hour.

Puerto Rico has been under the control of the U.S. since we took it from Spain in the Spanish American war. Puerto Ricans have been U.S. citizens since 1917. There are strong opinions about what the future of Puerto Rico should be within the U.S. and Puerto Rican governments. Right now the pro-statehood forces are in control in Puerto Rico. But due to the complex process needed for statehood, it is unlikely to happen soon, if ever. It will be interesting to see what the future holds for this unique, beautiful island.