And Now for Something Completely Different
Walking out of our hotel this morning past the coach and horses and into a waiting Mercedes van felt great. It’s sad that Andreas managed to spoil the end of the trip, but we had a good time in general and now we are on our way to the bright lights and big city.
The hour and ten minute drive into Munich flew by, and we checked into the Rocco Forte Charles Hotel, a great find by the Travel Goddess. With all the bowing and scraping when we arrived, TG must have told them we were secret royalty. Our rooms are splendid and the service is magnificent.
Dropping the luggage off, we headed to the Haus der Kunst, an art museum dedicated to travelling installations; it has no permanent collection of its own. We saw an exhibition by Louise Burgeois, a French/American artist of immense talent who lived to be 99 and was producing great work until the end–her last piece, I Give Away Everything, was an unimaginable moving series of 6 panels in which she contemplates her imminent demise.
Much of her work consists of “cells”, free-standing work that includes enclosures, making each piece as much a place as a thing. My favorite was Culprit #2, a prison-like atmostpher where the the accused sits in a chair staring into a mirror, facing his own behavior and countenance.
Culprit #2. Louise Burgeois
We took the audio tour, of course, One of the best things we have learned from visiting many many museums is to always take the audio tour–it adds so much to your understanding of the exhibit.
Another thing we have learned is that museums almost always have an excellent cafeteria. Not coincidentally, it was time for lumch.
Even the coffee and bread are works of art in the museum cafe
An excellent plate of pasta swiftly demolished, we headed back to the hotel, where I promptly took a long nap. This doing nothing is damn tiring.
Toby and Kate had a long discussion with the concierge about places and things, and that included dinner. We stuffed ourselves into a taxi and went to Brenner, a large, hip restaurant in the middle of the city. Technology is improving everything, I thought the cab had no meter until I found out that it is built into the rear view mirror.
Excellent food awaited us. Brenner is a very large place, with tables both inside and outside–although the outside are mostly for the bar and the coffere drinkers. Inside, there is a huge display case with various pastries to tempt you for dessert, and an exhibition kitchen:
When the art of cooking becomes performance
Kate and I began with the burrata:
Fresh mozzarella, grape tomatoes and pesto on basil leaves
This seems like it should be a great dish, but it just wasn’t burrata. it was fresh mozzarella, which isn’t bad, but it isn’t burrata either–there was no ifusion of cream to make it magical. Nonetheless, the tomatoes were bright, the pesto was first rate and I ate it all. It just wasn’t what I ordered.
We had a starter of grilled avocado and cous cous.
Grilled avocado, aubergine, zucchini, peppers and cous cous
Toby thinks people won’t eat eggplant because of the name, and prefers the french title, aubergine. I think it’s because eggplant is gooshy and slimy. Still, I was persuaded to try a bit of it grilled, not whatever mother did to it, and it was almost edible. Much better than mushrooms in any event.
I had a dish of linguini and scampi for my main course:
Linguini and scampi with white and green asparagus
We can get asparagus 350 days a year in the local grocery, they seem to be rare and seasonal here, but this is the season and every menu has a special “spargel” section. There is a great preference for the white variety, which we rarely see in the states. My dinner was first rate, but nothing I would consider special. White asparagus don’t seem to have much texture, so I’m not all that fond of them; I’ll take the green ones anyday.
Another cultural difference to note; see the shrimp, all cut into pieces? Every restaurant in the US would serve them whole to accentuate how large and tasty there are. Nothing wrong with this way, I just like to notice differences.
Dessert was perfect for me: a cup with a scoop of hazelnut ice cream and a shot of Baileys. it comes with an espresso, but i gave that away.
Ice cream and Baileys, the perfect pairing
All in all, an excellent meal. Service is slower than we are accustomed to, but that’s just the European way–meals are to be enjoyed with time and conversation. Prices are a little lower than they would be in San Francisco for a comparable meal, thanks to a strong dollar.
Tomorrow, a special excursion. You won’t want to miss it.
We are outta here
This trip, which started so well, has gone to hell in a handbasket.
Lunch today was a picnic, which is good. It was a ham sandwich, an apple, a bottle of water and a cookie, which is OK. It was for 2 people, which is not.
That’s one sandwich, one cookie,one apple and one water to be shared per couple. Not one each, one for both.
Kate and Toby didn’t have to share their sandwich, Toby won’t eat ham. There were no options.
This was bad, but not the deal breaker.
We arrived in Schongau, booked into the Hotel Rossle. Remember, this is supposed to be a luxury tour. This is our room:
Extension cords spanning the room so my CPAP will work
It’s a dump. I think it’s the Motel Sechs. No glasses, just two plastic cups. No electric outlets–I had to unplug the lamp and string an extension cord (which I carry for days like this) to plug in my CPAP machine and sleep.
That was bad, but it wasn’t the dealbreaker, either.We went to dinner. Andreas came over and informed us we owed him €18 for our lunches.
Gail did not take that well. Andreas did not take her response well. Excrement met impeller. Definite dealbreaker.Time to leave.
We needed a car to take us to Munich in the morning. I called the Travel Goddess, but she was not home. Then I got a bright idea.
Because we travel so much, I have one of those fancy Citi cards which gives me American Advantage miles, no foreign transaction fees, Admirals Club entrance and concierge services. I had never used the last of these, but today was the time.
Calling the concierge number on the card, in relatively short order I was talking to Norma, in Minnesota. She worked out where we are, where we want to go and the best way to get us there. She spent 45 minutes on the phone with me, but by the time we were finished I had confirming emails from a limo company who will com get us tomottow at 10 am.
By strange coincidence, that’s the same time our coach is leaving.
I really wanted to like this trip, and indeed most of it was excellent. The trifecta of a rotten lunch, a miserable hotel and inexcusable behavior by the owner, though, was too much to overcome.
Tomorrow we are in a 5 star hotel the Travel Goddess found for us. Life will be better.
(The Travel Goddess called me back. She pointed out that the easiest thing I could have done was call tomorrow’s hotel and tell them to come get me. Duh! That’s why she’s the Travel Goddess.)
Clip, clop, clip, thud
We got a flat.
After we finished lunch the first day, we found Andreas and Malcom busy with the challenge of re-shoeing the lead horse. It’s funny because we recently bought new Vessi Footwear the best shoes for running.
There is no AAA for horses. You could try to roust out a farrier, but that would certainly take a goodly amount of time. Andreas carries spare shoes and a set of tools to smooth out the hoof and nail a new shoe on. It isn’t a particularly difficult process, except that the horse doesn’t really like to stand there with one foot in the air so Malcolm has to use considerable persuasion.
The entire operation takes perhaps 15 minutes and is pretty interesting to city slickers like me. It takes a lot of different skills to run a coaching business; we were impressed.
And so it begins
We landed in Munich, to find that the guy who was going to pick us up had been there 4 hours earlier, due to miscommunication. Living in a world with cell phones and free airport wifi makes these problems relatively trivial, and we just decided to sit and wait unti Toby’s plane came in and we’d all go together. i was texting him while he changed planes in Heathrow, so everything fell into place.
I think they like each other
We collected the boy, found the driver who had been sent and drove off about an hour to Feldafing, a tiny burg where the coach trip would begin. Dinner in the hotel included a glass of Konig Ludvig Dunkel, a dark beer recommended by our coach driver–a man who knows his beer.
The next morning I went for a short stroll around the village, noting the tiny town square where the coffee vendor was already set up and the fish and vegetable merchants were arriving.
Town squares don’t get much smaller Pretty empty at 6:30 am
Coming back into the grounds of the hotel, i saw something new. You can buy a vacuum cleaner that wanders around your house all by itself; this is the first time I have seen a lawn mower do the same thing:
There is no pattern to its path–the mower just goes until it hits a bush or the end of the grass, backs up, turns a bit to one side and goes again. Some mathematician can undoubtedly figure out how long until it cuts the entire yard, I just watched in wonder.
After the walk, time for breakfast. German hotels invariably have an excellent breakfast buffet included in the room rate.
Although France has the reputation for great bread and pastries, I think the Germans are by far the better bakers. The variety and quality of the morning spread is breathtaking and mouthwatering.
A car came to collect us and take us to the stables where we would start our journey.There are 7 others on the trip, and we drove perhaps 10 k to meet our guide and the horses.
Our host, guide and drive is Andreas Nemitz, who had been doing this for 40 years. He drives around Bavaria in the summer, in Tusany in the spring, averaging over 6000 k per year hauling passengers. Andreas has a variety of coaches for different roads and groups. The coach we have holds three rows of 3 on the top, and seats 2 in moderate comfort inside–4 is conceivable but not comfortable. The wooden wheels are finished with iron “tires”.
About this time a taxi pulled up with daughter Kate, who had just arrived in Munich that morning. Since everyone was on-site, we loaded up and headed out.
Loading the coach with Andreas dressed and in his seat.
This isn’t like the stage coach you see in the movies. It takes a driver and a groom to handle everything. Our groom is Malcolm, a friendly Scotsman who jumps down and and operates gates, gets recalcitrant horses back in line, sets the drag break and generally facilitates the trip.
There is no galloping here. The pace is generally a gentle trot on the flats, a slower walk on the hills. We cover about 30 miles a day in 5 or 6 hours of driving.
We are travelling on tiny one lane roads that connect the farms. In the American model, the farmer lived on his property, well separated from his neighbors. In Germany, the farmers live in small villages and go out to their fields every day. It is written into the constitution of Bavaria that these farming roads are open to all, and they are perfect for coach travel. You see many bicycles and motorcycle and just a few cars on them.
The villages are like storybook pictures of what a village should be–every house is perfectly maintained, there is no litter anywhere, every home has a beautifully tended garden. Imagine travelling through rural A/merica for 3 days and never once seeing a broken car on blocks in somebody’s front yard.
Stay tuned.
Not even out of the airport
And we won’t be leaving the airport soon because the guy who was supposed to pick us up was here 4 hours ago, not now. And I can’t get him on the phone.
Toby is arriving in a few hours, so we’re going to hang out and hope the driver comes back to pick him up. Otherwise we just take a cab.
And the guy in the dress? He’s getting married next month and was here with ten of his buddies on a bachelor spree.
I hate the communications failure that has us waiting here, but they were fun guys to talk to. And the adventure begins…….
Adventure calls
Killing time in the British Airways lounge in London. Heathrow is a zoo, a throbbing mob in the air travel crossroads of the world. The shopping here is like Rodeo Drive. I don’t know who wants to go to an airport to buy expensive luxury goods but there must be a lot of them to justify the stores you see here, the only thing I bought that was actually useful was a packable backpack with a great size and you would believe the lots of space inside, with a lot of pockets of different sizes, and the type of quality material it was so worth it to buy something one time I one of this stores.
Cultural differences abound. The signs in American airport listing the flights are sorted alphabetically by city. In Heathrow, they’re sorted chronologically by departure time, and they don’t tell you the gate until less than an hour before flight time. You have to go through security, and it is slower and sillier than ours. British efficiency does not extend to the airport.
We are headed to Munich for a four day trip by horse drawn carriage through the countryside. It is something we bought at a charity gala, and it looks interesting. We end at Neuschwanstein, mad king Ludwigs fairytale castle. Then a few days of sightseeing around Munich and Zürich. Home in 10 days.
Stay tuned, this should be beautiful.
Celebrating John McMurdie
John McMurdie has been playing bridge forever–he made Life Master in 1972. Last night in Sacramento, about 100 of his friends got together to celebrate his contribution to the game. Through 40 years of teaching, club owning, directing, playing and idiosyncratic column writing (his column in the Forum was my guiding light), John has been one of the pillars of bridge in the Sacramento area, and it is only fitting that he should get the commendation he richly deserves.
The hero of the evening
John has a PhD in Soil Science, so naturally he was a programmer for the Department of Justice. He was also in politics, on the Davis city council for years–after his first election campaign ended in a dead tie and he had to roll dice to get the seat. He also ran for the legislature 3 times, but never got the seat.
The more serious look
Of course, Ronnie, The General, John’s wife of roughly forever, was by his side.
Ronnie without a deck of cards in her hand
The night was put together by Bill Corliss and Judi Calaham
Bill
Bill’s girlfriend Linda Olsen and Judy
The event began with a happy hour–which ran over 90 minutes, so it was very happy.
Socializing before dinner
Then came dinner, the usual banquet fare. There were 11 round tables of 10 people, and a dais in front where the important people were.
Watching the program
There were photos and videos of John’s life:
Video of John reciting epic poetry he wrote before some insane bike race.
Friends got up to talke about life:
Gary isn’t likely to pass up an available microphone
Poetry to bring the room to tears.
The event was a smash, bringing together friends made over the last 5 decades. There was also family–here are two of John’s sons:. It was quite a challenge to photograph them–they’re both about 6’5″.
I had fun taking photos of the guests, here’s a gallery of everyone I could catch and an apology for the ones that got away:
Don’t they want to talk to me?
Last week we rented a car at the airport in Seattle. On Sunday night, we drove back to Sea-Tac, found the rental center, drove over two sets of those tire-ripping security bars and left the car. Not that I’m big on waiting around to get a receipt, but there wasn’t anyone there to check in with anyway. I just left the keys on the console and we flew home.
Yesterday, we got a call on the home phone (although Thrifty has my cell number, and email address) wondering where the car is. They said I needed to call IMMEDIATELY to avoid the car being reported stolen.
Today I called the magic number. There was a long announcement, including a very long email address I could (if I always called companies prepared to write down very long email addresses) send a detailed email to with every fact of my life to solve their problem for them. There was the standard announcement that I should listen carefully because their menu had changed–as if I was responsible for memorizing their menu all the other times I had called, which is none.
Then a person answered. He asked my name, and instantly decided we were friends so he could call me “Chris”. We are not friends.
He asked why I was calling. I told him Thrifty had called me. That seemed to confuse him.
Eventually, he figured out the situation, and handled it in classic bureaucratic style. He told me I needed to call another number.
I refused. They asked me to call, and I did. If their purpose was that I should call only to be given another number, that plan doesn’t make a lick of sense, and it didn’t work, either.
I told the call center droid that I was making ONE call, and this was it. If they wanted something from me, this was their chance. He told me I needed to call some other number.
Is there some point to this exercise? Thrifty wasn’t capable of checking in the car properly. They seem to have lost it in their system. They need my help, and instead of asking nicely they threaten to call the cops. I call them at the number they left, and all they do is try to get me to make another call, to another bored call center drone, to get more runaround.
T’aint happening. I called them, and have the phone records to prove it. Thrifty chose to make no use whatsoever of my help and now they have to sort it out for themselves.
Now, the next time I need to rent a car, will it be from Thrifty, or Hertz?
The correct answer is neither. After my experience with Thrifty, I decided I definitely do not want to deal with rental companies anymore. I decided that I would instead visit my local automotive dealership, Nathaniel Car Sales, and purchase a car of my own. In the end, having your own car will be less expensive than renting cars. It will also be my own car, so I won’t have to deal with those pesky car rental agents.
So before you think about getting a rental next time, consider purchasing your own car. Save yourself the time and the money.
Home at last
Clouds this great don’t happen often, especially on the high desert. The
Home and dry. The dry part wasn’t easy–huge rains today both in Nevada and California, I’m very happy to say.
2,260 miles from Indianapolis to Napa. Roughly 225 gallons of gas, 28 diet Cokes, 3 packs of Hostess cupcakes, 8 packets of peanut butter crackers, cheap Mexican food, cheap Thai food, one Subway sandwich, one Burger King breakfast (English Muffins because they were out of biscuits at 9 am), no partridges in pear trees.
The drive was glorious, magestic and stirring. The vast expanses of the great plains and the high desert, so sparsely populated, are breathtakingly beautiful. So much of this is dismissively referred to as “flyover country”, but it’s also the heart of the nation.
It isn’t all perfect, of course. The radio plays little but sermonizing preachers and Rush Limbaugh. The food isn’t good, if you’ve been spoiled by the culinary excitement of the Bay Area. Bridge games are few and far between.
My trip across the country was wonderful; I enjoyed every minute and would do it again. And I’m glad to be home, sleeping in my own bed with my favorite blonde.
Heavey Rain At Summit
Yep, that’s what the electronic sign over the freeway on Kingvale Grade said this afternoon, “Heavey rain at summit.”
It was indeed exceptionally heavey rain, rain that we need every drop of, rain to celebrate.
If only we could celebrate state employees who can spell.
Totally Unauthorized 