Travel Snippets 6 of 9

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Since we can look in the mirror to see what we look like, while we travel we seldom take photos that include either of us, and a photo of the both of us, taken by some kind stranger, is almost unique. When this does happen, I always make sure the photographer is elderly or handicapped in some manner, so I can outrun him and retrieve our camera, in case we have trusted the wrong person. Some people collect cameras by claiming to be a good photographer, when in fact they are fast runners. We saw someone run with a camera one time, but we forgot where that was.
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Since we have no schedule, we try to never travel in heavy traffic, or during bad weather — why add to the probability of a problem. One mid-afternoon it suddenly became dark and stormy, with high winds and heavy rain. We got off the crowded German Autobahn and had the good fortune to find about the nicest campground where we have ever spent the night. What a lovely spot. The campground was only a few months old, and was terraced on a hillside overlooking the Bigge-Stausee (lake), near Olpe. The buildings and facilities were excellent — new and clean, with plenty of hot water. For children, there were even pint-size toilets and basins, the only — and I do mean only — place we have ever seen them. A half-dozen families from The Netherlands were here for the weekend, they come here often. They told us that if and when the weather changed, the excellent campground and the beauty of the surrounding lake and hillsides, would make their trip worth while. (1985)
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Some people are born with a gift to travel, others acquire their love for travel during a trip they enjoyed beyond their wildest expectation. Travel-lovers feel the urge to explore — to know what is over the horizon, or just around the corner. The good traveler, who will be welcome in any country, is one who travels with a purpose; who can adapt to necessary changes in plans, and to unfamiliar and unexpected conditions; who tries to remain courteous and keep his sense of humor when cold, hungry or tired; who retains an intelligent curiosity in people, places and things; and who is grateful for the good fortune of being able to travel in the first place. In short, he has “A Gift For Travel.”
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Some people ask about our trips as if they must be a chore, at times unpleasant. A tennis partner said that while we have seen more of Europe than most people, he can’t imagine a visit to Paris without a night at the Ritz Hotel. Another commented that we have a lot of fun traveling our way, but when he and his wife “rough it” they stay at a Holiday Inn instead of a more luxurious hotel. To each his own! We certainly don’t “rough it,” we couldn’t be more comfortable. During our private travels we have spent 200 to 300 nights in maybe 130 hotels (a guess), in perhaps 40 states, from Prague in Europe, to Saipan in the South Pacific. During business travel, I spent maybe another 900 nights in 70 cities in 37 States, in maybe 150 to 200 different hotels. Another hotel is not high on our destination priorities. Those numbers of nights and hotels are estimates, but close enough, you get the idea.
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Sometimes a basket, lowered from an upper-story window, is treated as a mailbox by the postman in Venice, Italy, who blows a whistle to announce his arrival. A basket is used to exchange fruit and vegetables for money lowered by the housewife on an upper floor, to the marketeer in his little boat, far below. But one time we watched a basket being lowered with no sign of anyone at street level. Imagine our surprise when a small dog got out of the basket, did his business, got back in the basket for the ride home, provided by his mistress. (1980)
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Sometimes gondoliers in Venice do in fact sing as they row with a single oar, and sometimes several gondolas will crowd together and a professional singer will serenade the whole group. In 1970 our gondolier pointed to what he said was the home of Marco Polo, who lived in Venice 700 years ago. They know the tourist wants to hear such things, and we didn’t try to verify his statement. We have no idea if the Venetian gondolier presented an historical fact, or a tourist factoid. References disagree, but one insists Marco’s family lived in Korcula, Yugoslavia, for centuries, but did admit that maybe his mother was visiting in Venice when he was born.
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Sometimes it seems we accumulate two loaves of stale bread for each new loaf we buy, so Emmy is known to ducks and swans all over Europe as the “Stale Bread Lady.” (Bread is otherwise known as pan, pain, brot, pane, brood, pão, brød, bröd, leipä, and other words in other languages, but it always smells delicious.) There were some white adult swans, and several beautiful taupe-colored cygnets, or baby swans, in the tiny lake near the entrance to Prichsenstadt, Germany. That many swans make more of a mess than the miniature lake can handle. Emmy contributed a meal of stale bread, but the next time we visited Prichsenstadt, the swans were gone. At Soest, a town we found interesting, Emmy fed stale bread to a group (Flock, Bevy, Squadron, Wedge, Whiteness, Drift, or whatever you call them) of at least 40 swans. Over the years Emmy has fed thousands of ducks, geese, and swans in many European countries. (1991)
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Sometimes the amount of renovation and rebuilding that has been needed to keep the European towns, cities, and buildings beautiful over the centuries, reminds us of the 100-year-old hammer that has had ten new handles and five new heads.
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Spent the night on the Pan Am 747 as we flew from Guam to Honolulu, Hawaii. Few people were on board, so we stretched across several seats and got some sleep. When we arrived in Honolulu, we decided to take pot luck, and get on the first airplane leaving for any one of the outer islands. That’s just what we did, and soon found ourselves on Kauai for 5 days. It could have just as well been Molokai, Maui, or The Big Island, Hawaii. On the east side of Kauai, it rained and rained. Someone said the west side was different. We drove down the east side, and around the south side of Kauai, and 5 miles past the end of the road. We drove through pineapple fields, made a left turn through the sugar cane, then found plenty of sun, miles of beautiful beach, and three people. (1980)
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Sperlonga, Italy, is an attractive town, like hill towns on the Italian and on the French Riviera. Sperlonga has become a fashionable weekend retreat for wealthy Romans and Neapolitans. Homes are covered with stucco, and are whitewashed about as high as the painter could reach. They had a special sense of neatness, and it appeared as if no attempt was made to make sure the whitewash didn’t get on the stone steps. Or maybe that was on purpose. We remember another town in Italy, or was that in Greece, where they had artistically splashed on the whitewash, it sure looked as if it was planned that way. It's a very neat partial paint job, an oxymoron perhaps. Sperlonga is a special place, but it would have been easier to enjoy if the wind wasn’t blowing so hard. We must have looked like the “Leaning Tower of Humberds,” as we tilted into the wind and struggled through this fascinating village. (1989)
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St. Ouen Cathedral in Rouen, France, is especially interesting as it is one of the few cathedrals that have been recently cleaned on the inside. St. Ouen, a former abbey church, was started in 1318 and houses one of the largest pipe organs in France. We can see and enjoy a hundred “aged” buildings, but one gorgeously cleaned cathedral will outshine them all. We prefer Cathedrals looking as they were intended, rather than as they have metamorphosed. Since cathedrals took a few hundred years to build, few cathedrals were ever completely clean and completely built, at the same time. (1980)
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Stratford-upon-Avon is loaded with half-timbered houses, hotels, and store buildings, just as delightful a little town as can be found anywhere. We saw Anne Hathaway’s (William Shakespeare’s wife) thatched-roof half-timbered home with flowers all over the place. We purchased a brass hourglass at the outdoor marketplace across the street from Willie’s house, (Willie Shakespeare that is.) Well now, the stand is brass, but of course both the glass and the sand are made of something else. We also bought four slabs of Mrs. Thornton’s Special English Toffee. They usually don’t have it available to sell that way, but we thought slabs (maybe ten by twelve inches) would be easier to carry to the US, and it should last longer if it isn’t broken into small eatable pieces like they usually sell it, until we get home. We were right. (1980)
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That ferryboat ride from Bonifacio, Corsica, to S. Teresa Gallura, Sardinia, cost $28 for the RV and the two passengers, and we have yet to blunder into a more wonderful way to spend $28. We were told the ferry was sold out for vehicles as large as our RV, no tickets were available for 30 days. When it happened that space was available on the ferry, the ticket clerk (a Frenchman) was so disappointed to be proven wrong, he almost didn’t sell us a ticket. An Italian ticket-taker would have cheered our good luck. It was a glorious 30 minute ferryboat ride to Sardinia. The view back to Bonifacio, with the colors of the cliffs, the buildings, the little islands, and the deep blue sea, was exceptionally beautiful. Bonifacio rates high on our list of places to see again. (1980)
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The Amphitheater in Arles, France, is a few years “newer” than the one in Nîmes, but both were designed by the architect, T. Crispius Reburrus. Some spectator seats are still on the original stone terraces, simple wooden bleachers provide the remainder. One time, when Linda and her friend Margit were with us, we tried to walk clear around the top of the arena, but all the top seats hadn’t been renovated, so we couldn’t do that. During one trip to Arles there were advertisements for a concert by the Glenn Miller Orchestra, to be held in this ancient arena. Another year the advertisement was for a bull-fight — non-blood letting, we were assured. (1983)
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The ancient Roman Amphitheater in Lucca, Italy, is about the same size and shape of other Roman Amphitheaters, but while the playing field still exists, instead of seats it is surrounded by apartment buildings. The TV antenna ensure that the apartment house residents can watch the circus, ball games, and horse races, just like Amphitheater spectators of old. There are stores (“Mary Poppins”) and restaurants (“Spartacus”) in the first floor, with tables and chairs in the “playing field.” We have seen over a dozen Amphitheaters, and this one is about the most unusual. Lucca’s city wall is exceptional. It is built of small bricks, and carefully zigzags so that any part of the wall is visible from another part of the wall, making sure that it can be guarded from any attacker. The top of the wall is very wide, like an eight lane road, with trees, flowers, a road, and a lot of grass. (1989)
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The approach to Piazza San Pietro, in the Vatican, is awesome. Our eyes are busy as we walk the Via Conciliazione toward St. Peter’s, trying to take in the most striking features of the Piazza San Pietro — St. Peter’s Basilica with Michelangelo’s dome, and Giovanni Bernini’s colonnade of 284 travertine marble columns that partially encircle the Piazza San Pietro. Like a pair of parentheses the colonnade encloses a fountain on each side of the Piazza San Pietro, and the obelisk in the center. The Piazza is always filled with foot and vehicle traffic — taxis, city buses, tourist buses, two Americans in their RV, and people walking by the thousands — including the two Americans after they found a parking place. It was especially crowded on Wednesdays, when Pope John Paul II held his afternoon audience with the people. (1980)
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The artist wife of a Polish friend painted a picture of a Paris scene, just for us. She had lived in Paris for a few years, so I thought this was just a “created” scene of that beautiful city. A few years later, I drove down Boulevard Haussmann in Paris, and while stopped at a red light at the corner of Rue Laffitte, I looked to the north to admire the view, and exclaimed, “There’s the scene of that painting.” We had to drive a few blocks before we found a parking place, then walked back to confirm the view with a photo to compare when we got home. I now have the photo displayed with the painting. I am amazed, how on earth did I recognize that exact scene, that now included several huge building cranes, as I drove down this Paris street, a few years after receiving the beautiful painting? (1991)
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The Basilica of St. Francis of Assisi suffered terrible damage from an earthquake in 1997. An aftershock, a couple of days later, caused a portion of the 278 foot high ceiling to fall, killing four people. We watched the televised images of the beautiful, colorful ceiling as it was transformed into rubble and a death heap. We’ve visited Assisi, Italy, four different years, the last in 1995.
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The Baskin Robbins 31 Flavors ice cream store next to the US Army PX at the Robinson Barracks, on the edge of Stuttgart, Germany, had just opened a couple of days earlier, so we grabbed a number. The line was long and took forever, but the ice cream was just like home. (1983)
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The best view of Warsaw, Poland, is from the top of the Palace of Culture — because you can’t see it from there, some Poles told us. It was a gift from Stalin, with 3,288 rooms including three theaters, a swimming pool, a museum and a meeting hall for 3,000 people. The most amazing thing, in 1991, after the Berlin Wall fell, were the hundreds of small metal “market booths,” row after row, in the space around the Culture Center. Most were manufactured metal boxes approximately two yards wide, two yards high, and one deep. The top half of the front lifted like the hood of a car, and stuck out like a roof. The bottom half was pulled out to enlarge the “store” so there was room for the operator inside. Most of the “stores” contained clothes, radios, tapes, videos, food items, soft drinks, plus things that didn’t seem to be necessities. (1991)
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The cable car we rode in Switzerland in 1970, suffered a problem and dangled (at least) for awhile, a couple of years later. A cruise ship recently sank at Santoríni, Greece, we visited there, no problem. One of the first cruise ships we sailed on, burned completely years later. A ferry boat exactly like the one we sailed on in the Baltic Sea, sank a couple of years later. We sailed across the Atlantic on a ship, the Titanic never made it. At least four tunnels we have used to travel under the Alps, have had auto accident caused fires within a very few years before we drove in them, and a total of a couple of hundred people were killed. Elsewhere I told the story of us being in a traffic jam in a tunnel between France and Italy, when several cars crashed, but we got out with no problem. As Sweetie always said, God took very good care of us.
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The campground in Chiavari, Italy, was closed for the night already, but the daughter asked her father to let us in. He told her that since she wanted us there, she had to open the gate for us, when we were ready to leave. The people who arrived after we did, were not let in the campground, so were required to camp on the beach. When we had arrived there were no one on the beach, and we didn’t want to be there by ourselves. Since several others arrived later, that would have been an OK place to sleep. The next morning, dressed in her pajamas, the daughter came and unlocked the gate for us. Italians are like that. (1988)
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The campground in Kockelschuler, Luxembourg was quite nice, with very good facilities for showers, etc. Of course that depends on which shower is used. I had no problem of any kind, and plenty of hot water, while Emmy had all kinds of problems. Water too hot in one place, not hot enough in another, got her clothes wet in the third, you name it. I told her there are plenty of guys who would love to help her with her shower, if she just came to our side of the facility. (1979)
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The campground in Plzen, Czech Republic, was almost empty, but it looked like some people on the other side of the campground had no clothes on. Then we saw a sign that said “Solarium,” or something like that. From the distance we could see nothing of “interest,” so since they stayed far away, we stayed. We know who would have won, had there been a beauty pageant of some kind that night. (1995)
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The campground just south of Salerno, Italy, was named “Mozzarella ‘d Buffalo,” after the herds of water buffalo nearby, whose milk is used to make Mozzarella cheese. At first we were the only people there. Our camping spot was so close to the water that when we went to bed we could hear the waves of the Tyrrhenian Sea quietly lapping the shore. With a light April shower besprinkling the tin roof of the RV, this was the prototype of a romantic Italian vacation spot. The next morning the nearby hills were frosted with a fresh mantle of snow. (1989)
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The campground near Rome’s Ring Road, was named “Happy Camping,” and while it was OK, it was not exceptional, but it would hold several thousand people. They had their own bus system to take campers to the nearest public transportation. The Swedish family next door were also our neighbors in Pompeii, a week or so later. They were driving a large 1977 Dodge RV, and have many spare parts with them. Repair parts for a Dodge aren’t all that available in Europe. This was before many European built RVs were available. The man had owned a restaurant in Sweden, but sold it so the family could travel for a year or two. (1989)
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The Cathedral of Notre–Dame, Chartres, France, is considered by many to be the greatest Gothic cathedral of them all. Few buildings dominate its city, as this cathedral dominates Chartres. Surrounded by farmland, the building stones have not suffered from the blackening, characteristic of buildings in major industrial areas. We have visited Chartres five times, and a couple of times we listened to the English language tour that was conducted by Professor Malcolm Miller. He knew an anecdote about each stone, the legend of the myriad of stained windows, and was a personal friend of every statue. The officials asked him, “Germans and the French don’t laugh, why do English-speaking people laugh in a church?” But we couldn’t help but laugh at the informative and humorous manner he used to describe this preeminent paradigm of the Gothic art. Originally, pilgrims who visited Chartres camped just inside the front door. The sloped floor permitted the use of water to clean up their mess. (1985)
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The Church of San Giorgio Maggiore, designed by Andrea Palladio, sits on the Isola (island) di S. Giorgio, across the lagoon from Piazza San Marco, Venice, Italy. In 1797, Napoleon’s agents plundered the 22 by 32 foot Renaissance masterpiece, “The Marriage at Cana,” from this Abbey. It was moved to Paris, and in 1798 it was split in half and displayed in two pieces. The French feared Mussolini might want to reclaim the treasure painted by Paolo Veronese, so it was hidden during WW II. Our video, taken at the Louvre in 1991, includes a view of portions of the painting, with scaffolding still covering much of it, while it was nearing the end of a three year restoration. Later, during the re-hanging, the Louvre engineers miscalculated and the painting suffered a crash that sliced several one-meter long slashes in the canvas. The slashes were easily repaired, the painting is on display in the Louvre. (1991)
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The city hall in Munich, Germany, is called the Rathaus, a restaurant in the cellar (keller), is called “Ratskeller.” We asked for ice water, then refills, the waitress smiled and returned with a pitcher of water with a chunk of ice. Emmy and the Lindas had steaks, salads, and French fries, and I had ham and eggs. For dessert Linda H. had apple fritters, Emmy had hazelnut ice cream, and Linda S. had ice cream with raspberries. When Emmy used the restroom, she had to pay 20 phennig (5 cents) for the toilet and 10 phennig (2.5 cents) just to wash and dry her hands. She thought the cost to eat in a restaurant should include the cost for things like that, and she didn’t have her purse with her in the restroom. We still have the menu that tells 28 Deutsch Marks, seven dollars, covered the cost of a complete dinner for four — but that was in 1970, quite a few years ago.
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The city of Bologna, Italy, is a most remarkable, phenomenal Italian city. The downtown area is marvelous, extraordinary, unbelievable. (Who said a thesaurus isn’t a necessity.) Centuries ago the University of Bologna had a woman professor; “Novella d’Andrea, was so beautiful in face and body she had to teach from behind a curtain so she wouldn’t distract her students.” From the outside, Bologna’s Basilica of St. Petronius looks a little like an old warehouse. The lower half of the façade is faced with marble, but the upper portion remains with only rough bricks. The Basilica manages to look much bigger on the inside than on the outside. All that huge, beautiful interior, just can’t fit inside that exterior. In 1995 the Bologna campground where we spent the night, was owned by the city. The Englishman who ran the office was married to an Italian, and he loves living in Italy. I’ll bet that’s because he loves an Italian. Love is everything!!! (1985)
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The concentration camp at Dachau, Germany, must be seen, but is a place a person cannot stand to see. Thirty-eight thousand people were killed, or died of starvation and disease, in the death camp at Dachau. We visited (twice) in the two remaining barracks, and saw how they lived and died. There is a large museum building filled with newspaper and magazine clippings. The prisoners in the 1930s included a lot of “men of the Cloth,” so they had built a memorial church in a very modern design. The minister we met at the church had been a prisoner here during the war. A few days before our visit, he and a visitor recognized each other. Each thought the other had died in the prison, years ago. When we visited Dachau a few years later, they had completed an additional church and a synagogue as memorials for the clergy who had died in Dachau’s concentration camp. (1970)
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The contrast that made a big impression on us was the roadside fruit and vegetable stands between Warsaw and Kraków, Poland. In late August 1985 cardboard boxes contained a few pieces of poor quality produce, and we bought just a few pieces of fruit. But in early September 1991, farm wagons were loaded with an excellent harvest. What a difference the downfall of the Berlin Wall made for everyone in that part of the world. (1991)
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The day of our sailing on the SS Odysseus from Athens, Greece, on our way to Istanbul and the Black Sea, we arrived at the dock in Pireás, the port of Athens, and found there were no customs agents, and no security check. At the dock next to ours, the passenger ship Achille Lauro, reminded us of potential problems with terrorism. In 1985 the Achille Lauro had been hijacked in Egyptian waters, and one of its passengers, Leon Klinghoffer, was killed. The Achille Lauro was truly a bad luck ship. In the ‘60s, she was rocked by an explosion and a fire; later involved in a collision with a cargo ship, one person died; then in 1981 suffered yet another fire; in 1985 the hijacking; and in 1994 while cruising off Somalia, Africa, in the Indian Ocean, yet another fire broke out, two passengers died, and the Achille Lauro sank. (1989)
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The day we visited the Throne Room at the Palace of Knossós, on the Greek Island of Crete, the “King (me),” as is so often the case, was sitting on the throne. But this was a real throne, not the kind that needed to be flushed. A palace was built here about 2000 BC, it was destroyed in 1700 BC, was replaced by the Palace of Knossós, which was destroyed in 1500 BC by an earthquake and tidal wave from the volcano on Santoríni. The Palace of Knossós had about 1300 rooms, some places there are four floors, and there was piped fresh water under pressure. It’s an intriguing tourist sight, even though much of what can be seen today has been reconstructed to some extent. (1989)
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The Dordogne River, near the little town of La Coquille, France, was filled with people, including a young lady who would have been considered exceptionally gorgeous even if she hadn’t lost most of her swim suit (but not as gorgeous as my Sweetie!). A truck would take a load of people up the river, then the boats and passengers returned to this spot. Or boaters would float down the river from here, the truck would bring them back. Either way, it looked like fun, and the river was filled with people and boats the Sunday afternoon we were there. As we have seen other places, the bridge across the Dordogne River at this spot was a narrow one-lane bridge that was one-way for the vehicle that got there first. Works just fine. We didn’t see any sign of a problem, traffic on both sides of the river cooperated. (1995)
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The drive to Portofino, Italy, was on a narrow twisty level road, right at the waters edge, following the coastline exactly, through more than one nice coastal town or village. We had to stop at the side of the road when we met the city bus, there was no room for both the RV and the bus to proceed, on this narrow road. (1995)
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The early years of our travels were long before I had a home computer, but my travel memories seem to last forever. I could most likely tell you more about my three day visit to Calcutta, India, 60 years ago, then I could about what I had for lunch yesterday. During our European travel, each night Emmy would note the name of the town, the odometer reading, and a few notes on the specialties of the day. So with the notes in my Sweetie’s diaries and my travel memory (not my “normal” memory), I almost wore out the keyboard on my MAC computer. We have published four books; there are 2,000 pages on our Internet Site; 1,500 pages of our Travel Journal, and more. At the end of the Personal Snippets, the Daily Log tells where we spent each of our nearly 1,000 nights in Europe.
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The famous gray and white basalt and travertine Cathedral, at Orvieto, Italy, with an exposed timber roof, dominates the surrounding countryside. Museum buildings house beautiful works of art, this building itself is a beautiful work of art. Usually a buttress is just a buttress, but at Orvieto the powerful buttresses dominate the vertical structure. As is true so many times, as we were driving away there was a striking view of Orvieto planted on its rock, dominated by its towers and the Cathedral. The vista was superior to what we had seen when we were in town. The Michelin Guide mentions the striking view of Orvieto from a hairpin bend on the road to Montefiascone — and they weren’t kidding. One year as we shopped for groceries, there was a sudden downpour. The storekeeper insisted he was ready to close for siesta, so out we went. We were parked nearby, but did we get drenched. (1980)
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The famous painting, “Whistler’s Mother,” was exhibited in a dirty wooden frame at the end of a hall somewhere on the third floor of the Louvre Museum in Paris, during our first couple of visits. During one visit, three US Navy men had me take their photograph in front of the painting. The sailors were whistling, of course. When the Gare d’Orsay, the grandest railway station in France, was refurbished into the Musée d’Orsay, “Whistler’s Mother” was moved from the Louvre to that very new museum — not a new building, but a beautiful new museum. (1979)
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The famous tower of Pisa is said to have leaned after it was built, but we have seen other towers in Italy (Bologna, for example), that were intended to lean. It was considered a point of honor that a family could afford to pay for, and the builder could build, a tower on a slant. We got off the Auto-Strada while driving from Padova to Ferrara, and drove through the little towns. In Rovigo we saw a couple of leaning towers. We have all heard of the leaning tower of Pisa, but believe it, there are many leaning towers in Italy. We saw several places where it appeared the campanile or steeple of a church, was leaning one way or the other. Didn’t note the names, we just remember seeing that, just as if it actually existed, somewhere. (1991)
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The ferry M/F Prins Henrik went from Puttgarden, Germany, to Rødbyhavn, Denmark. The ship is clean and neat, and has a large restaurant, cafeteria, snack bar, conference room, gymnasium, duty free shop the size of a supermarket, complete with butter, cheese, candy, tobacco, liquor, and shopping carts. There are people, trucks, cars, buses, and railroad cars on the boat. One train load of people left London; ferried the Channel; by train to this boat; to Copenhagen; then after Copenhagen a train-boat to Sweden; then by train to Stockholm; a train-boat to Helsinki; then by train to the Soviet Union. When we arrived in Denmark, the customs man tried to stamp our passport. While he was trying to get the rubber stamp to work we told him about our trip to Poland. He said there is plenty of food in the markets in Denmark, but the government can’t afford to give him a workable rubber stamp. (1985)
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The first time at San Leo, Italy, we admired the castle on the hill, and looked in horror at the road cut as a niche in the side of a cliff, that appeared to lead into town. We watched a car make a right turn and disappear into a hole in the cliff. We weren’t foolish enough to drive the RV to San Leo that day. But a couple of years later we again watched a few vehicles drive up that unbelievable road. Then to our surprise and wonder, there went a small city bus. We knew if the bus made it, we could make it. You can imagine our apprehension as we drove up the niche, huge mirrors showed no traffic was leaving, the hole in the cliff turned out to be the city gate to this beautiful little town, we were greeted by a smiling policeman. On our third and fourth visits, we drove with confidence. (1985)
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The first time we arrived at the Channel, we decided to ride the Hovercraft to England. They had room for several dozen cars, our VW camper, and a few hundred people. There are large fans under the craft blowing down to lift the Hovercraft about ten feet above the beach. Then propellers drive it forward as it rides above the sand on the beach, then above the water. Not a very smooth or nice ride, but it was the quickest way, less than an hour. (1970)
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The first time we visited Dinan, France, we immediately voted it one of our most favorite little cities. The old part of town has cobblestone streets, with very old half-timbered buildings leaning in various directions, and there is a marvelous panorama over the quiet Rance River. We took our time strolling along these old streets, appreciating their charm and enjoying the old half-timbered arcaded buildings. We climbed to the top of the Belfry or Clock Tower, only sixty-five feet high, but the highest thing around. The rooftops, the narrow streets, the fortified walls with 14 towers, and the countryside view make this a worthwhile climb. (1980)
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The first time we visited Ljubljana, Yugoslavia, we bought a hand loomed wool Afghan blanket. A woman (speaking German) told the seller she was charging too much, the seller said, “They are Americans, and can afford it.” They didn’t know Emmy understood a few words of German. They loved Americans, especially when we were spending money. One department store in Ljubljana had clothes, kitchen equipment, tires, tools, small motor scooters, and all those things we might expect to find in a Sears store. The products appeared to be of satisfactory quality, but the displays and layout in Ljubljana’s stores were nothing to boast about. Italians do display best. (1980)
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The Frauenkirche, Church of our Lady, in Dresden, Germany, had lain in rubble (a mound of stones, with portions of a wall and an arch soaring into the sky) since the horrendous bombing of February 1945. Unlike Berlin where the rubble was piled high to form man-made mountains, in Dresden the remains of the most important buildings were preserved for reclamation. Restoration did not begin until sufficient money and skilled workmen were available to do it right. When we visited in 1995 (our 2nd visit), some of the still usable old stones were already placed in their original location in the Cathedral's walls, mixed in with new stones obtained from the same Elbe River stone quarry where the original stones were selected in 1722. They used a computer and detailed photographs taken years ago, to determine where the old stones had been in the Cathedral walls, for the past three centuries.

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The Fredrikshaven, Denmark, campground was new and the facilities were about the best we have seen anywhere, including most hotels. The facilities included everything we could want — washers, dryers, showers, plenty of hot water — very clean, and well laid out. The camp sites are divided into small areas by trees and hedges. The first year we stopped here, there was no one to collect the money, but the next visit, we paid, but only for that year, not the previous one. We kidded them about that, and they laughed and said, “No cost for years gone by.” (1985)
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The freighter/passenger ship, MS Enna G, exists to deliver supplies to the five islands — Oahu, Majuro, Ponape, Truk, and Saipan — we are visiting, along with supplying a fine vacation trip for the two of us, and 68 others. The ship had a lot of telephone poles, containers of food, a few police cars, and other things not normally found on a South Pacific Island. A ship’s officer told us that sometimes when they arrived at an island, they found the container of food they left two months ago, is still in the container, rotting away. No one got around to taking care of it. (1980)
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The German language uses “du” (pronounced “do” as in Pompidou) when a friend or a member of the family is addressed, and “Sie” (pronounced “Zee”) when they talk to a stranger. Our German friends say the Paris museum, Pompidou Center (National Center for Art and Culture), is so strange they call it “Pompizee.” Read that again, it really does make sense. (1985)
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The gondolas are the most famous travel mode in Venice, and the most expensive. In 1970 we paid $7 for four people, in 1983 they charged $40 for two, and who knows what price could be negotiated by now. While walking from here to there, sometimes the journey can be shortened by use of a gondola ferry, called “traghetto,” which cross the Grand Canal at seven different spots. Years ago there were 50 traghetto routes. This is also a way to take a gondola ride for a very small sum of money (50¢ or so). As you recount your vacation and brag about your gondola ride in Venice, you don’t have to dwell on the fact that you spent only a few minutes and very little money, for a short gondola junket across, rather than a longer excursion down the Grand Canal. Come to think of it, we never rode in a “traghetto.” (1970)
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The grandest roadway in Paris is the Périphérique, the 21 mile freeway that encircles the city, in the empty space abandoned after the destruction of the defense wall of Paris in the 1920s. It is the generally-accepted boundary between the city proper (approx. 2 million inhabitants) and the suburbs (more than 9 million inhabitants), as it's built along Paris's administrative limit. The Paris heliport and the outlying woods of both of the huge parks, Bois de Boulogne on the west, and Bois de Vincennes on the east, are outside the Périphérique. (1988)
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The guidebooks do not disclose and our travel journal and diary do not reveal the secret, but rattling around in the remote recesses of my brain is an impression of something of great fascination (in addition to the Greek Theater, Roman Amphitheater, and the cave called the Ear of Denys) in Zona Archeologica, in Siracusa, Sicily, Italy. But for the life of me, I can’t recall what that fascinating item might have been, and that “page” in Emmy’s diary is blank. The largest city of antiquity, in several centuries BC, Siracusa boasted half a million inhabitants, and was surrounded by a fourteen mile city wall at a time when Rome was little more than a village. (1989)
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The handle on the Dodge RV’s sliding door broke one day, so I went to a Dodge dealer to try and find a replacement. In England the sliding doors are on the other side of the vehicle, so their parts didn’t fit our door, they didn’t know what to do. Using a paper and pencil, and some scraps of metal, I designed a replacement part for the broken door handle, and helped them build one that fit. They were so interested in what I designed, they charged very little for all the cutting and welding they had to do. And my door handle worked just fine. (1980)
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The hills of Portofino, Italy, surround the harbor on three sides, just like the seating area in a Greek or Roman theater. The yacht harbor is the stage; the beautiful yachts are the star performers; fishing boats play supporting roles; the row boats are the extras. Portofino has no streets, only restaurants, bars, stores, apartments, homes, mansions, churches, a parking lot, a bus stop, a yacht harbor, and places to walk.
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The home of the head waiter on the “SS Star Princess” was in Italy’s Cinque Terre. We said we had visited there, then he asked us about the hotels and restaurants we had patronized in the Monterosso area. When he found we had been there twice in an RV, and had not patronized any restaurant or hotel, he actually stuck his nose in the air, turned on his heel, and left us standing in the middle of the room. By using the RV and not staying in those hotels and eating in those restaurants, we didn’t have to put up with head waiters like him, either. As we have said, over and over, in Europe a clerk in a bakery or a grocery store is thrilled to meet an American, a waiter or bellhop is thrilled to get a tip. (1990)
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The homing-pigeon driver (me) found the way exactly to the campground in Florence, Italy, Campeggio Comunale on Viale Michelangiolo, next to the Piazzale Michelangiolo. The best view of downtown Florence is from either the campground, or Piazzale Michelangiolo, right next to each other. On August 24, 1970, twenty-five years ago next month, we camped here, and that Journal says, “In Florence we camped ($3, for 4 people) in the Piazza Michelangelo on a hillside across the Arno River from downtown.” Now the cost was $20 per night for two people. The manager asked what had changed the most, beside the price. We said that in 1970 we wanted a fire hose to clean the facilities before we used them, and this year they are clean and in excellent condition. We’ve visited Florence five or six times, and have stayed in this campground on three or four occasions, and two other campgrounds on other visits. (1995)

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The islands of Bikini and Eniwetok, where they tested Atomic Bombs, are also in the Marshall Islands, but many miles away from Majuro where our ship, SS Enna G, was docked. I think there should be a plaque, or an award of some kind presented to the Island of Bikini for excellence in swim suit design. (1980)
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The Italian border police asked where we were from, then asked, “Do you own this vehicle, or are you renting?” We would expect the police to check further when Californians say they own a French vehicle with German license plates while driving from Switzerland into Italy, but just a smile and a wave, and we went on our way. We crossed borders between European countries 227 times. (1989)
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The Italian police make random spot checks of vehicles. The policeman on the street in Pescara reached out and put up his little stop sign. He smiled and said something in Italian, so I smiled and said something in English, then handed him our Italian/English dictionary. He leafed through a few pages, smiled and handed it back. I smiled and said “Thank you,” and he waved us on. He didn’t think it was worth the effort. Can you imagine what he might have done had I snarled instead of smiled? (1985)
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The knurled, twisted, sculptured olive trees near Manduria, in Puglia, in the “heel” of Italy, present some of the most delightful and tangled sculpture imaginable. We were told some trees were 2,000 years old, and to us, some looked like modernistic statues, while others could be a substitute for a Rorschach ink-blot test. (1989)
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The label engraved on my baritone horn says; made for the “Exposition Universelle de Paris 1900,” the World’s Fair, in Paris, in the year 1900. It continues, “COUESNON & Cie. Fournisseurs de l’Armee, (Suppliers of the Army) 94 Rue D’Angouleme, Paris, Chateau-Thierry,” with the encircled number 24. I paid $10.00, 65 years ago, and played it in the school band. Today it may be a collectable. Just think how thankful the music industry must be that I don’t play it anymore, especially now that I have dental plates. One time years ago, I took it in for repairs. The storekeeper couldn’t imagine why anyone would spend money on something that looked like that. A nationally famous trumpeter stopped in the store, borrowed the horn, and played a beautiful solo concert for the customers in the mall. The storekeeper could not imagine the beautiful music, from such an instrument. Well, it was my instrument, but it was not me playing. (1944)
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The last three of the four times we visited here, we brought some English language newspapers to give to the lady who had managed the campground in San Marino for the past 20 years, so she could practice her English. Her name was Isa, she said she almost never has both feet on the same level at the same time. She walks up and down uncounted steps each day. There’s hardly a level inch in the whole country. Once Emmy made a phone call from Isa’s office. Daughter Linda had been told her baby was going to be a girl, and Emmy’s squeal, “It’s a girl!” brought Isa and her friends running from the living room next door, to share the joy. (1995)
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The literature said the campground is open in Spoleto, Italy, and that was half right. It’s open, but it was several miles outside of Spoleto. In most campgrounds they don’t ask to keep the passport overnight anymore, but that night the man insisted, and showed me the book where he registered everyone, and on every page was the stamp of the Spoleto policeman who came each day to inspect. Each page of the logbook has the name and number of the law, and the date the law was passed in 1931. The man said it was a Mussolini law. When I said in the US no one bothers with a passport, he said, “In the US, you didn’t have Mussolini.” Thank goodness. (1989)
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The man we met on the bank of the Rhine River, at the campground in Rodenkirchen, Germany, had been in a prisoner of war camp, in Idaho in 1945. I understood that his home was near the Rhine River, in Germany, and said, “Idaho in ‘45, and you are alive, on the Rhine in ‘45, you might be dead.” The look on his face indicated that he hadn’t thought of that before. Other prisoners of war, who had been lucky enough to have been imprisoned in the USA, have told us that. (1988)
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The map showed a town right off the freeway, with a campground, but it was closed. A campground in Leysin, Switzerland, appeared on the map to be about five or six km away, on a short straight road. But we had to drive 16 km up, up, and up some more, with turns so sharp and steep it was difficult to drive, except the road surface itself was very good. Finally we found ourselves at the campground in the town of Leysin (a very large winter resort) after a drive beyond our imagination. Our mistake? The five km straight line to Leysin on the map, was for the cog-railway, but we had to drive the regular road. (1988)
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The market place in Galaxídi, Greece, lined one of the little streets, and we soon found ourselves at an almost dead-end. As we tried to continue out of there, the street was so narrow and so steep the wheels were spinning on rough concrete, and when we heard the RV touch the wall, I just kept going, instead of stopping and backing out. More damage mentally, than to the RV. It was only a small scratch and of no consequence. (1989)
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The Marriott’s Sam Lord’s Resort, in Bridgetown, Barbados, in the Caribbean Sea, was a former home of a pirate. We checked into our room about ten in the evening and found the air-conditioner didn’t work. We sat there for the next two hours watching them try to fix it. The next day we found the hotel was almost empty, but no one had offered to move us to another room. Later, I wrote to Marriott and complained about this, and was told that in compensation, they would let us stay there for two nights free. I wrote back and said that since we most likely would never get to Barbados again in our lifetime, wouldn’t they feel better if they offered us a full week free. They understood the irony of that request, so took the hint and refunded the cost of one of our two night’s lodging. (1978)
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The Metéoro monasteries in Greece are about the most fantastic set of buildings one can imagine. There are about 60 huge columns of rock, straight up and down, up to 984 feet high. Many are large enough for enormous buildings to be built on the top. Twenty-four monasteries were built, but now only four are inhabited. These are actually huge buildings, many thousands of square feet, some are several stories high. We drove up, what else, steep twisty hairpin roads stopping to take pictures, then stopping for breakfast overlooking the Varlaám monastery, just a little below the Megálo Metéoro, the largest of the group of monasteries. A nice nesting place. Nice? Try magnificent. Another one of our fabulous dining spots. (1989)
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The Metéoro monasteries in Greece contain huge churches, libraries filled with ancient books, treasuries filled with icons and liturgical ornaments, and art work and frescoes beyond our wildest imagination. I thought I was knowledgeable about a lot of things, but I had never heard of Metéoro. For centuries, while constructing the buildings, every rock, every wooden beam, every worker, then when the building was completed, every book, every piece of art, daily food, and every monk (coming and going), was raised and lowered from the top on retractable wooden ladders up to 130 feet long (that’s as tall as a 12 story building), or in a net held by a rope. When asked when they replaced the rope, the response was, “When it breaks.” They have recently installed stair steps some places, to accommodate the tourist crowd. These are really beautiful works of architectural delight, built in a most extraordinary location. (1989)
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The most amazing thing is, during our seven visits, from 1970 to 1995, we have seen hundreds of clothes lines strung across the canals in Venice, Italy, filled with thousands of items of clothing, but we have never seen even one piece that had fallen into a canal. Venice must have the world’s greatest clothespins. One year, in November, it was interesting to see the flood preparations in and near St. Mark’s Square. Stacked high, at strategic places around the square and even inside St. Mark’s, were two-foot high frames, or stands, made of heavy pipe. Nearby were piles of wooden planks that were to be laid from stand to stand, forming a walkway above the expected foot or so of water. At the Tourist Office, knee-boots were available for use by employees who may need to run an errand during the couple of hours of the daily flood, this time of year.
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The most difficult arrival in any place in any country, was the very rainy Friday night when I arrived at the airport in Fort Wayne, IN, on the way to visit my Mother, 45 miles away in Winona Lake. It was the rental car girl’s first day on the job, she could find no maps, and had no idea what US Route 30, The Lincoln Highway was, let alone where it was. The fact that we more or less spoke the same language, only made it more perplexing. We had arrived after dark in Split, Yugoslavia, and rather late one night in Ireland, another in Denmark, and we arrived at the campground in Seville, Spain at about 10:00 at night, but none was as frustrating as my night in Fort Wayne. (1975)
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The most famous Paris flea market has been located near the Porte de Montreuil, on the Périphérique (the motor way that encircles Paris), on the east side of the city, for over 100 years. One year we bought an alarm clock (in a ten-inch-high wooden case) that the seller said was over 100 years old. Instead of a simple bell or chime, the alarm is a music box that plays such a pretty little tune we don’t care how old the clock is. Everyone “recognizes” this tune, but no one really knows the name of that song. Years ago Emmy had an elderly friend who had the exact same clock, except it played a different tune. It had belonged to her very elderly Aunt, many years earlier, so the “over 100 years” is easy to believe. An antique appraiser confirmed our clock is in fact well over 100 years old. (1985)
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The mountain side on the Island of Pátmos is very barren. We walked up the hill to the St. John Monastery, and met friends from the ship, a German Army Colonel and his wife (Peter and Uli), who had also walked up the hill. We shared a taxi down the hill to the Cave of the Apocalypsa. Michelin Guide says, “… within a small monastery is the spot (cave) where St. John received his divine revelation through terrifying dreams which his disciple Procoros wrote down from his dictation.” What an inspiring place. We remember the “Apocalypse Tapestry,” in the Châteaux de Foulques, at Angers, France. Years later we parked our RV in the Colonel’s driveway, in Buschhoven, Germany, and spent the night. The next day we went sight seeing, with them as our guide. Water is still delivered in their small suburban town, through a 2,000 year old Roman Aqueduct. A sample section is on display. (1989)
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The Municipal Campground in Avignon, France, is on the island in the middle of the Rhône River, and we have parked our RV there three different years. As seen from the island, with the Pont St.-Bénézet, also known as Le Pont D’ Avignon (old bridge), the city wall, and the Palace of the Popes illuminated by floodlights, Avignon is one of the more spectacular sights of a vacation trip. The view is magnificent, more impressive than the view of the streets and buildings inside the city wall. The Palace sits high on a hill overlooking the wall, the river, the campsite, the city, the bridge, and the countryside. Inside the city wall, and below the Palace, in the old Roman forum, beneath huge plane trees, the vast Place de l’Horloge is filled with tables and chairs served by several festive restaurants and cafés. The Häagen-Dazs store and McDonald’s restaurant are just across the main street from each other, a couple of blocks from the Pope’s Palace. (1988)
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The oil billionaire, J. Paul Getty, built a museum in Malibu, near Los Angeles. The Museum plan is based on the Villa dei Papiri, buried near Herculaneum by the eruption of Mount Vesuvius, 79 AD. Sweetie and I visited the museum a dozen times at least, visited Herculaneum twice. We were told in both Malibu and in Italy that we are the only visitors to both the Museum and Herculaneum, that they know of. To the west of Vesuvius, the town of Herculaneum was covered by a sea of mud that solidified, eventually carbonized and became tufa-like (silica stone), almost impossible to excavate. Various items are better preserved than at Pompeii. Inside some well preserved buildings, food, cloth, rope, grain, rolls of papyrus, even a lunch of loaves of bread and baskets of walnuts survived. When the eruption started, there had been time for some people to leave, but many died as they reached the outskirts of town. (1980)
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The patron saint of senior citizens (ironic, not actual), Dr. Alois Alzheimer (the first person to describe the disease that now bears his name) was born in Markbreit, Germany, in 1864 and died at age 51 of tonsillitis. Now that’s incongruous, the man who first identified a disease that afflicts old people, died from a disease normally associated with very young people. Google being what it is, some references say tonsillitis, several others say heart valve infection or kidney failure. Well, saying he died of tonsillitis makes the best story. We must have visited a thousand fortified towns, villages, and cities in Europe that have, or at least had, a wall and city gates. At Markbreit we found the perfect town gate, no other compares. (1985)
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The Piazza della Signoria is the political stage of Florence, Italy, with the Loggia della Signoria (a space for public ceremonies), and the fortress-like Palazzo Vecchio (Florence’s City Hall). One year when we visited, the Piazza had been excavated. Foundations of buildings from who-knows-when had been uncovered, but now they were in the process of filling in the excavations, covering those building shards. We talked to a professor from the University in Florence, and he complained that a previous government spent billions of lire to dig it up and find all these exciting things, and now a new government was spending billions more to fill it in, with no provision for the people to be able to see the ruins. He was right, the next time we visited there, we saw no sign of the excavation or the ancient foundations. (1988)
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The Pisa, Italy, policeman, wearing a distinctive white helmet, proceeded to tell me about this campground and that, and after he told how to find each one, he said “Chiuso!” (Closed) Finally he mentioned 17 km, and a town name, and said “Puccini,” and pantomimed playing a violin, to make sure I knew he was talking about the musician. The conversation included the fumes from his breath loaded with local wine, so I wondered how the tipsy policeman was able to stand in the middle of the busy street and dodge all the cars, let alone direct traffic. We drove 17 km, found the campground, and spent the night a few doors from Giacomo Puccini’s home, at Torre del Lago, on the shore of Lake Massaciuccoli. A “Pensione” next door was named “Butterfly,” after Puccini’s opera, “Madame Butterfly.” The policeman was tipsy, his directions were steady. (1988)
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The pretty Polish lady (and she was exceptionally pretty!) who we had met a few days ago, was in line at the Polish Consulate in Vienna, Austria, so she translated for us when needed, as we stood in line to get our visa to visit that country. We filled out forms and waited to pay our money, but never did understand all that happened next. The man upstairs said do this, and the people downstairs said do that, so we went upstairs, and that man went downstairs then came back upstairs, then we went downstairs and somehow we didn’t have to go to the Post Office a few blocks away, for money orders, like everyone else, including the pretty Polish lady, and some Americans who had a taxi waiting for them, had to do. (1985)
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The Rathaus in Rothenburg, Germany, has a tower that’s a must to climb. There’s a traffic light that glows green or red, depending on how many travelers got there first. Several flights of narrow wooden stairs, followed by a short ladder, then a squeeze through a small door, leads onto the narrow walkway around the very tip of the copper-plated tower roof. Of course it was necessary to wiggle backwards through that door, then carefully shinny down that steep ladder, when ready to leave. But it’s well worth it. The applause we heard was for my Sweetie as she descended the ladder. Do you wonder who led the applause? One year Emmy thought she was entering an antique store in Rothenburg, but found it was a private home. The old lady makes income by showing her old house, telling how people lived years ago. Emmy enjoyed it thoroughly. (1980)
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The relative value of money, the amount of “foreign” money a dollar will buy, changes constantly, usually rather slowly. The twenty-five years between 1970 and 1995 we received four German D-Marks for a dollar one year, and 1.45 D-Marks per dollar another. Inflation can be a problem. We visited Yugoslavia four years. In 1980, 27 dinar to one dollar; — 1985, 330 to the dollar — October 1988, 4,000 to a dollar — June 1989, 14,309 dinar to one dollar. Later in 1989 it exceeded 100,000 dinar to a dollar. Some years “they” say the dollar is too “high,” other years too “low,” we have never been told it was “just right.” Since $1,000 in 1970 (our first visit to Europe) would be about the same as $4,000 in 1995 (our last visit), it is difficult to figure the cost of something purchased in Europe, years ago. Both the dollar, and other currencies have changed value. The real value is how long it took to earn the dollar.
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The return flight to Los Angeles, California, from Frankfurt, Germany, was just like any other 12 hours spent like toothpaste in a tube, sardines in a can, peas in a pod, whatever. When we traveled with Lufthansa Airlines one year, part of the plane had as cargo, three race horses that we could see through a peephole. After lunch I peeked through the peephole and said to the Stewardess, “Only two horses now, that explains lunch.” Well, she laughed — a little. (1988)
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The road above Geiranger, Norway, went higher and steeper and got narrower an