And, if you’re like me, and can spend entire winters watching tongues of fire flicker in an open fireplace, as Bill Watterson said, “there’s never enough time to do all the nothing you want.”
-quote by Mohit Satyanand
*The Sweetness Of Doing Nothing
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Time unwatched is its own treasure, gracious host to conversations that drift and swoop, afternoons that stretch into evenings, dinners that slur into a last coffee.
And, if you’re like me, and can spend entire winters watching tongues of fire flicker in an open fireplace, as Bill Watterson said, “there’s never enough time to do all the nothing you want.” -quote by Mohit Satyanand *The Sweetness Of Doing Nothing
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We decided to return to Italy this year. Why not? We loved it there. Besides, things are just a little hectic at work. Southern Italy this time, mostly south of Rome, with some time in Sicily, Malta and then meeting up with our German friends, Ralph and Angelika, to hike in the Austrian Alps. So I was looking for tickets on 4 December 2014, just to get a baseline price. No intention of buying until at least January or later. Throw in some fooling around, trying out various ideas, and just plain luck and I found round-trip, nonstop tickets on Norwegian Air; Oakland to Oslo for $891. I didn't even hesitate, I just bought them on the spot. And yes, the price includes advance seating assignments, meals and luggage (though we will just have carry-on, as usual). I knew for a fact that, once on the European Mainland, I could pick up connecting flights, as needed, on the cheap. In fact, throw in a flight from Copenhagen to Rome, then one from Malta to Venice, and finally Düsseldorf to Oslo and our total airfare comes to only $1140 per person. And with the euro down to about $1.10 this shapes up to be a great, affordable trip. Now, if I can just work out that first class upgrade... "You can't smoke the bacon in the lightbulb, sir." The pearl of wisdom offered to me by Homeless Woman, camped out in the bus stop, on Hilltop Drive. Friday 1-23-15 July, 2009 We ended out trip by staying one night outside Paris, in the largest city of the Champagne Region. Reims is noted for the wine, and for the large Notre Dame de Reims cathedral, which towers over the surrounding countryside. The Place Drouet d'Erlon is the main square under the cathedral in the city center, and we spent time exploring there among the lively restaurants and bars, statues and fountains. We stayed in a private, garden house, with the Van den Borre family. They rent one room only, and we had a nice time talking with them. Mr. Van den Borre speaks English, and he recommended a café for us, called ahead to make reservations, and ensured that they had a glass of the best local champagne waiting. The café fronted the Place Drouet d'Erlon, so it was a great place to sit for a long, last dinner, lingering over wine and espresso, watching French life happen around us. I had frog legs, and they were excellent. We didn’t stay out too late since we had to get back to the room and pack everything in tight for the trip home the next day. We got up early, and Madame Van den Borre walked down the street to buy us fresh bread and pastry for breakfast. After hugs all around, they bid us “adieu” and we set out, the last 130KM back to the Paris airport and our flight home. It was the saddest day of the trip. July, 2009 The Alsace region in north-eastern France is close to the Rhine River, right on the border with Germany. You can see the German influence in the half-timbered buildings, and German is widely spoken in the area. We were staying in Colmar, with a wine growing family at the Martin Jund Guest House. While we were checking in, in English, an Italian man was next to us and our host was translating between us all. Suddenly there was a small commotion on the street; she jumped out from behind the counter, went out and helped a lost German find his way (in German). All of it seamlessly. And French is her first language. I realized right then how little I really know. We were given a big, quaint and simple, old fashioned room, and a bottle of the family wine which we enjoyed later with some bread. Colmar is actually on the Launch River, with canals diverted through the old town. The water used to power mills and industry, and was a handy place to flush the waste, but now it is cleaned up and you can take a canal boat ride through the tunnels and along flower lined banks of the canal. This area is called the Petite Venise, and we took a ride with a fun, young guy who was continually rolling cigarettes, tucking them behind his ear or in his pocket as he told us about the city. Most of the stories were English, with bits of Italian, French, German or Arabic thrown in when he got stuck on a word. It was a great little trip. One interesting thing we learned from him was that, if you look at the timbered houses, many have red or blue lines tracing the outline of the plaster. This was how you let people know if you were a protestant or catholic family. You know: I can do business with you, can't talk to you, and so on. Also, the color of the house indicated what sort of profession you had: wine producer, boatman, food, and so on. Somehow Colmar was not destroyed in the war, so the houses date from the 1400 or 1500s on. When they first invented indoor toilets, it was simply a toilet in a room that stuck out from the side of the house, over the canal. You can still see some of those rooms today, though they now have plumbing. The original beams still support the houses, and it is interesting to see how they have warped and bent over the centuries. In the main town square is the huge Saint Martin church, made of reddish and yellow – brown sandstone. It is beautiful in the pattern of the natural colors and blocks. There is still some un-repaired bomb and bullet damage from the war. We were snacking in the late afternoon on some cheese and wine in the café below, when the bells started to toll to mass. Again, it was one of those deafening, five minute interludes, where your whole body just absorbs the magnificent sound. When we returned home from this trip, it was one of the things I missed most: the sound of the bells. On our way out of Colmar, we ran into the Statue of Liberty, the second one of the trip. (The other was in Paris, on an island in the Seine.) The sculptor, Bartholdi, was born here in Colmar, and they are proud that he designed the statue. We made a short stop in Strasbourg, the next city over, to see the huge Cathédrale de Notre Dame and its famous astronomical clock. Built in the 1400s, it still works keeping accurate time, moon phases, month and date and astrological sign. It also has a cool mechanical set up, kind of like a cuckoo clock on steroids. The bells chime, twelve apostles march around and say hi to Jesus. A rooster crows three times, a baby angel turns over an hourglass, and everyone is amazed. Think of it: built over 600 years ago, and still ticking. The show is best at noon:thirty. Tickets cost €2 at the time. Because I parked at the train station lot, it was easy in and out of the city for us. July, 2009 The Burgundy Region defines the word bucolic. Rolling hills of grapes, with narrow, one lane roads winding around; fields sliced and carved by rock walls, and the hole scene backed by stone villages with steeples and little chateau castles here and there. Add in the food: the local cuisine is fantastic. I mean, France overall is a gastronomic treat, but in this area it is taken to a whole other level. It was in Beaune where I fist had boeuf bourguignon and coq a vin paired with local red table wine. Here we could just walk into any old café and expect a righteous meal, at once filling, tasty and well priced. We spent a couple too-short days driving slowly around the lanes, town to town. The roads are a great place to bike, but since I am not really a bike rider, I’d like to return and walk the back roads and paths, going winery to winery, village to village. I hear that they keep back their best wine for the locals, and serve it up as the every day drinking wine, then sell off the rest. It might be true, at any rate we never “ordered” a specific wine, just a pitcher of the house wine, and it was always fantastic, always went perfect with the meal. We stayed up a small valley, in the small village of St. Romain. The village, at the head of the valley, is surrounded by cliffs. We stayed in a wine maker’s home, the Maison d’ Hotes, Domaine Corgette, and it was a surprisingly stylish place to stay. |
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