And so this is Christmas...

From the John Lennon song subtitled "War is Over." The next line is "and what have you done?" OK, I confess, Not Much. But - this year I managed to bake cookies for the neighbors and get gifts for all the nieces and nephews (11 + 1 godson and 2 friends' kids). I know, Lennon was talking about world hunger and misery, and so on. I'm still working on that one...

In the meantime, I've done lots of reading and introspection, the kind that's unavoidable when one has no employment and the library is a free place to spend time. The Christmas spirit comes through in fits and starts. The first Sunday of Advent, when the Christmas markets open here in the Old Country was cause for excitement. We've been to markets in Bamberg, charming and sprawling but manageable; Erlangen, compact; Nürnberg - a zoo, I don't know why we do that to ourselves every year; Schloss Tambach near Coburg in the castle of the Countess of Ortenberg with a flaming torch procession through the grounds - more on that later; and Forchheim on the square in front of the medieval town hall, whose windows have been turned into an Advent calendar. Each one has its own charm. All are full of booths selling traditional Christmas treats: hot spiced wine, hot spiced beer (we've not tried it yet) , steamed doughy buns full of rich plum filling coated with poppy seeds and doused in vanilla sauce, hot roasted chestnuts, roasted sugar coated nuts, and of course, bratwurst in a roll with mustard. Christmas ornaments are sold by the boxful and by the handcrafted piece.




The German Christmas tree is a sedate affair. The ones I've seen usually stick to one color scheme, with traditional straw ornaments complementing the red glass balls, and maybe some ribbons, with white candle-like lights replacing the traditional real candles. House decorations are also low key. White lights on the evergreens in the yard is the extent of the external display. In the windows, people display seven-light electric candelabras or wood carved, backlit nativity scenes. 

It takes the Americans to really tart things up! To wit: last night, our old friends from Heroldsbach, Peter and Ulla, drove us to see what they call the "Chevy Chase" house, a reference, of course, to that American classic "National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation." They said that this house informed their picture of an American house decorated for Christmas. It so happens that this house is owned by an American and his German wife. For years, he's asked visiting relatives to bring American light strings and good old-fashioned American lawn ornaments with them on their visits. The result is, for Richard and me, a blast from the past. Multicolored, blinking light strings, those old glass bulbs that used to overheat and burn your hands while you put the ornaments on the tree, Santa in his sled and reindeer that bow their heads and move their feet, a huge, white aluminum Christmas tree of 60's or 70's vintage, plastic lighted candy canes with the red color wearing off, a giant snowman kept upright by a blower, a snow globe similarly run. The yard was full of carefully staged and displayed classic Christmas pieces. Colored icicle light strings ran from the roof peak to the fence. A very bright Christmas angel adorned the peak of the roof. Ulla says you can't buy this stuff in Germany - she might have been teasing by implying that it should be illegal to sell such garish, gaudy things. Peter took all kinds of photographs, until his digital camera gave in to the sub-freezing temperatures.





In traditional American fashion, this display was financed from the husband's small pension and his wife's unemployment check. They had both been laid off from the large Manufacturing Concern AEG in Nuremberg when it closed last year. The family offered hot spiced wine and hot punch for the kids; there were mini candy canes, Brach's hard peppermints and toffees with the green Christmas tree in the middle, and seasonally wrapped mini Hershey bars free for the taking. All donations went to an animal rescue shelter.

It does get cold here, but...
Germans don't wear hats and gloves - too stylish and smart. I, on the other hand, being a sober, common-sense North Country girl, do not hesitate to wear what keeps me warm, damn fashion.
"When it's 10 below zero and the wind is whipping across the tundra, there is no such thing as stylish and smart, and everybody's nose runs. " http://www.salon.com/opinion/feature/2006/12/13/keillor/

Christmas is best enjoyed with kids
With these old friends we went to the Christmas market in Forchheim, not for the food, but this time for the Krippenweg - the path connecting the nativity scenes (Krippe) in old churches and buildings around medieval Forchheim. A display of these scenes is part of several Advent displays in Germany; Bamberg has a whole museum for them. The ones we saw were that much more interesting because 10-year-old Pia was with us. She inserted the coins that made these extensive 100+ year old landscapes light up and begin to move! Around the central stable or barn building, peasants sawed wood, churned butter, tended geese. Swans swam on a pond while a water wheel spun, propelled by the outflow of the pond. Pia was curious about what the old-fashioned characters were doing. Blacksmiths hammered, an old woman pumped water from a well, and from the far side, the three kings approached from their fancy tents, accompanied by white-turbaned bearers. One krippe could display six different scenes according to the progression of the Advent season. During our visit, the angel's annunciation to Mary was being depicted. Pia asked her mother, Who's the person in the building with Mary? The krippe in the Old chapel associated with the former emperor's palace depicted the half-timbered town hall and buildings of Forchheim's town square, with Joseph leading the donkey that carried Mary. Mary, unfortunately, was face down in the dirt, having fallen off the donkey. None of the peasants depicted in the scene was rushing to her aid. Presumably divine intervention was required to open the display and put Mary back in her place.

As for the torchlight procession at Schloss Tambach: the burning four-foot long wax torches were in the careful custody of -- the kids! None of them over ten years old! We were careful not to turn our backs on the little torch wavers, and incredulously told Ulla and Peter that this would never be allowed in the US! We followed the circuit through the pitch-dark grounds of the castle - they have a sort of wild animal refuge full of deer and other four-legged, hoofed characters- all the while marveling at the relative restraint of both kids and parents. We found our way, unscorched, back to the castle and rewarded ourselves with a mug of hot spiced wine and more shopping at the tea, chocolate and jewelry vendor tables in the cellar rooms and the stables.

Yuletide lessons
Seeking traditional Yuletide carols being sung by a choir, we were drawn to the poster outside the Huguenot Reformed Church in the center of town advertising "A Festival of Lessons and Carols for the Advent Season and Christmas" - in just those English words. We showed up at the appropriate time and were handed a thick booklet of hymns, and an order of service. I asked about the ticket prices, and the greeter at the door said there was no entry fee. We had unknowingly stumbled into an annual English service at this church. Everything was in English! Including all the readings from the Bible (so that's what "lessons" are - don't know how I missed that detail in my Catholic education! ) All the carols were in English, too! We are still mystified. (Maybe it's a Protestant thing? See the historic note below) The pastor (Rev.) and her husband (Prof.) led the service in perfect English, with maybe a hint of German grammar creeping in. The readers read in good solid English, with a hint of German pronunciation thrown in. Some around us were singing "Hark ze Herald Angels sing." The organist often got a little ahead of herself and the order of service, so it was hard to sing with her, but the choir sounded good after a shaky start. We enjoyed the chance to sing carols with other people, but next year we will get advanced tickets for the boys' choir.

So finally, the Christmas spirit took hold, and if 24 hours of flight and airport time doesn't kill it, we look forward to celebrating with family in the States in two days.

Merry Christmas!

Historic note: around 1686, a flood of French Protestant refugees were invited to settle in Erlangen by the local Lutheran count. These Calvinists built the Huguenot Reformed Church for themselves. It stands on one of the two main squares in the center of Erlangen. Given that the church was built by the French Protestants, we were surprised that the service wasn't in French. At this point, the evidence of these French Protestants, who settled as craftsmen and farmers, exists primarily in family names, some of which label a café offering fancy cakes and pastry, a garden center and a family farm. As far as I know there are no religious services in French in the local Protestant churches.

Three women and Richard in Ireland, by Katie Gonzales

Ireland 2007

Mom (aka: Sharon) & Katie to leave the States and meet Richard & Kathy in Dublin airport.

Monday, July 9, 2007

Reyes and Sara (Ray’s parents) in Little Elm to take care of Michaela and Isabell while Katie is gone to Ireland.

Mom flies into DFW to be picked up by Reyes, Sara, Michaela, Isabell, and Katie.

Preparations made to get to DFW airport the next day for trip to Ireland.

Tuesday, July 10, 2007

Ray to take Mom and Katie to the airport. He called on his way home from work (mid morning) to have the two of us packed and bags in the garage for his arrival.

After a tearful goodbye – Michaela (5) understanding that I would be gone for many days and Isabell (2) crying either because Michaela was or because Mom and I were riding in Ray’s work truck and she wasn’t .. not sure which.

Mom and I were then loaded in the truck waiting for Ray to come out of the house. As he did, he said to us, “You’re ready?” “Yeah.” We were ready. But we soon got a grin and a shake of his head as he realized our bags were still sitting in the garage. Oops. :0)

Mom and I were through check-in and security at no time at the airport. Lunch at Bennigan’s (setting the Irish tone). Walked by a currency exchange – but the statement was made that Richard was taking care of that.

The flight on Lufthansa over the pond was a bit painful. We were an hour delayed, very little leg room, backs that were difficult to recline, a couple in front of us that never truly got settled, a family behind us that had a little one that cried/screamed the majority of the trip and another that must have had nervous leg reaction as the back of the seat was kicked most of the way.

We drank lots of water, as advised, for jetlag and I ate whenever served which was 3 times on a nine hour flight. I was under the impression that if I ate when served then I wouldn’t be hungry when I would try to sleep. It seemed to work for me! :0)

We flew over the States – up the coast more or less – Carolinas, D.C., Canada, over Ireland to Frankfurt, Germany. We landed at what was 2 am our time and 9 am there.

We had, with the delay at take-off, only an hour layover. I had stated to Mom that I thought we should move as swiftly as we could upon landing. She took it to heart. As we exited the plane and I stopped two times to ask for directions to the next gate … she just kept walking … She knew where she was going. At our gate, we had to go through another round of security with the restroom right there. We had time to spare so I asked her if she needed to use the restroom. She was fine. We entered to our gate and she was going to take her meds… “You can take them dry?” I asked. She stated that there was a coke machine right over there. Indeed there was … but it also required Euros. We had none at that time – because, as you recall, Richard was taking care of that.

Flight from Germany to Ireland was uneventful…. Except that we were in Ireland!

Wednesday, July 11, 2007

Ireland! We arrived! Mom and I walked through baggage claim as we both traveled with carry-on items only and went to the meeting area as was discussed with Kathy and Richard. Found a place to sit and I continued to walk to see if I could find them. Mom asked if I was interested in a smoothie from a stand. I would be – except again – no Euros! :0) Eventually I was going to the restroom to get to my money belt to get cash to exchange and was going to call Richard and Kathy. Kathy had found Mom and then me and then we met up with Richard! Gang all here! Let’s go!

Heather! Mom immediately found heather in the airport gardens. Bus to car rental – car rental to hotel in Dublin. Check in at the Holiday Inn Express and off to grab a bite to eat for lunch. Did I mention that Mom and I had already eaten 3 times in 9 hours and now … a few hours later … eating again! Richard and Mom had their first pint. “Slainte!” (Cheers!)

Grabbed the city bus to downtown Dublin (double decker). We are in Ireland! Once downtown on O’Connell Street we were able to get on a city bus tour. We saw everything from the statue of Father Matthew, the Spire, to O’Connell himself and the 4 virtues. We were trying to write down the four virtues as the bus / tour guide was sharing that info with us. We could remember and wrote down 3. I went to the lower level to ask him the 4^th… Nobility (patriotism), Fidelity, Courage, and Eloquence… The bus driver asked what I had won for guessing the 4th; it was then decided that I was only worth about a pint. I’m good with a pint! :0) We also saw Dilery Street, Trinity College which holds the Book of Kells, to St. Patrick Cathedral, Guinness brewery, to (my favorite) “The Prick with a Stick” aka: James Joyce (see picture at top).

Thursday, July 12, 2007

Continental breakfast at the hotel. Then off to see Ireland!

Heading around Dublin to the N4, NW as the sheep wander. Got to Mullingar in County West Meath and headed SW on N52 to Tullamore.

<Sharon's maiden name is Rochford>

Belvedere House – Once owned by Robert Rochfort, Earl of Belvedere. It was fun to see the Rochfort crest on the house front stair case. Fuchsia bushes! We only have them as potted plants in the states but in Ireland it is a huge bush.

Then back to the NE for Rochfortbridge.

Up to Mullingar again to go NW to Collinstown. A letter from Eliza (mother) to Michael Rochford (who had emigrated to the US) was post marked from Collinstown.

Back to Mullingar for lunch at a local cafe & chatting with a local woman.

NW on N4 toward Longford and happened across the Children of Lir historical site. The Children of Lir is a story about 4 children whose stepmother cursed them, turning them into swans with human voices. They were cursed to stay this way for 900 years, wandering around Ireland, until the sound of a bell ringing for the new God released them.

We couldn’t get over the green, rolling hills, rock and shrub fences, and sheep dotting the hillsides. We also saw the first of the cows and the first sign of peat.

It was fun to take quick stops to get a few pictures of ruins, cemeteries, barns and such along the way. Tulsk provided us with one such stop to check out the ruins of a chapel and of the cemetery.

We made it all the way west across the country to Westport in County Mayo. It was there that we checked into Mrs. O’Malley’s B&B and headed out to Shebeen’s. We sat outside at the roadside. Had a few pints of Guinness and had a local cheese plate and calamari (brown soda bread too).

We had fun as we spoke of two boats anchored in the harbor. Richard had asked why it was that the boats were ‘up’ from the anchor. Wouldn’t the boats go out and away from the anchor with the out-going tide? None of us were sure how that happened … but Mom wanted to know about the man in the boat. ----- There was no man in the boat! ----- too many pints or Bailey’s for her! :0) It was a good laugh.

Shebeen’s also had a thatch roof. It was the first one we’d seen up close.

Friday, July 13, 2007

Breakfast with Mrs. O’Malley’s tenants & off to see Croagh Patrick (mountain) on R335. We then headed back into Westport and SE on R330 toward Galway in Galway County.

Again seeing many interesting things – a bathtub in the harbour, sheep and “Irish Asses,” more thatching, and the first John Deere sighting (until then we’d only seen Red!). We also found more peat near the River Clare. We also sighted two white haired Irishmen on the street in Galway. Funny … we saw a sign to learn to speak Spanish … in Ireland. :0) Galway also is the home for the Lynch Castle which now serves as a bank.

While in Galway we had lunch at a pub … traditional Irish stew for Richard made with lamb. Great! And traditional Irish cabbage and bacon for me. My favorite meal of the trip. The bacon was more like what I would consider to be slices of ham. Great flavor. I guess I could be from there.

We followed the N67 SW along the coast. The landscape changes … now more rock. Found a great little shop with woolens and linen. I really enjoyed a wool hat with a bill and pocket on the hat – just couldn’t justify it in Texas.

Cliffs of Moher in County Clare = Cold! But so impressive! Mom was a little embarrassing as she was so cold she was using her pillow case for her quilted blanket as a stocking cap! But it was cold!

Stopped in a nearby town for a bite to eat. We had fabulous seafood including sea bass & scallops. Delightful!

Found River Shannon and a golf course outside Limerick in Limerick County.

N18 SE out of Limerick to our next B&B – Castleview. It was our first one lane road! Very exciting! At Castleview we learned that many of the castles were in ruins due to invasions and others using the stone for homes.

When asking the gentleman of Castleview about our days travels and his advice … he enjoyed giving me a hard time about my need to kiss the Blarney Stone…. He wouldn’t!

Saturday, July 14, 2007

We made our way back down the one lane road to Limerick’s N7 to N20 SE toward Tralee in County Kerry. We saw a white haired Irishman on a bike with boots and all.

Outside of Tralee on N86 toward Dingle we happened across a neat bridge, cottage, wild roses, and lilies.

We stopped the car and I jumped out to get a few pictures. As I was standing on road’s edge to focus in on the roses, a car stopped at the curve. I took the shot and approached the car with a white haired gentleman driving. “Aye, my roses,” he told me and said that his name was Mike Schmidt. He wanted to know where I was from and although I was from the States, I “could be from here.” The best compliment! He lived there, just up the hill from the roses.

Slieve Mish Mountains were another beautiful sight.

Making our way to Dingle in County Dingle and another great lunch at the Celtic Garden Cafe. Mom and I had open faced salmon sandwiches. Very visually appealing and tasty!

Docked in Dingle Bay were a few fishing boats in which Mom went to go investigate. One of the fishermen told Mom that he had a contract with Spain for his catches.

From Dingle, we headed N86 E to R561 along the coast looking at the Ring of Kerry across Castlemaine Harbour. As we traveled R561, we followed a truck. I soon came to the conclusion that you could not pay me to drive any large vehicle on the roads of Ireland. We wondered how all of the shrubs and greenery on the side of the road stayed so trim. We found out! Trucks seem to keep things tidy. The truck would move over to the left side of the road with oncoming traffic and kept all of the bushes and trees trimmed. The roads are very narrow and things are so very close to the road it was a bit scary for me to see.

Another exciting find on our way to the Ring of Kerry was a gentleman out harvesting peat. The harvested blocks of peat were lined up in neat rows near the field entrance. There was only one gentleman out working and appeared to me to be laborious. Peat looked much like our black soil. Mom was collecting peat … Richard told her she could not take it … she snuck a chunk into the car. She really wanted to see how it burned but never got that accomplished. She did, however, manage to worry the rest of us. I was sure she would try to get the peat through customs and I’d have to get her out of customs jail.

As we reached N70 we took that in the counter clockwise (suggested) direction for the circuit of the Ring of Kerry & still more beautiful country. We saw more forests in this part of the country and, down the road a bit, even an area that had been clear cut of the pine.

Stopping in Cahersiveen on the NW point of the Ring, we stopped to see the Daniel O’Connell Memorial Church and found a Red Rose Cafe. Passed another golf course – can’t imagine my score on the rolling hills of the courses in Ireland. As we made our way toward Kenmare, we found a turn out spot in the road with a statue of Mother Mary. The signs were all in Gaelic so we aren’t sure of the significance but it was neat to see. As we looked down from that point we saw what we believe to be a fort – it was a circular rock formation. We also saw standing rock in fields.

Roads are narrow, winding (I still believe they paved the sheep paths), and somewhat busy. We also encountered the results of what Kathy said must have been a “Hold my beer & watch this!” moment.  On our way to Kenmare we came upon a car that had somehow managed to be on its driver’s side (drivers sitting on the right) in the left lane. It didn’t look pretty but was the only accident we saw during our road trip of Ireland.

In Kenmare still in County Kerry, we stayed at the Annagry House, which Mom and Kathy had made reservations for from the Killorglin Library as the tourist office was closed. It had a family room available and was again, very nice. We checked in and went to town for a meal. As we each headed a different direction to find a place to eat, I came across a plaque on a building front for James Rochford. That was fun to find. Ate at the Velvet Wine Cafe and Restaurant and found our way to Foley’s Pub for Guinness and Irish music. Sitting at the bar, Mom became acquainted with a local fisherman (tanned, solidly built, dark-haired, 60-something). She chatted for a long time and after his departure, she stated she could barely understand a thing he said! Brendan (30-something) then was at my side at the bar, he too was local, and thought that the gentleman singing that evening was very good. He was – there were even a few songs we knew some of the words and could sing along. It was enjoyable. (See the picture at right. The guy in the background with the guitar was the evening's entertainment.)

Sunday, July 15, 2007

Breakfast with the usual cereal, breads, fruit, etc and the meal of our choice. I had a bacon and apple sandwich which was very tasty.

After breakfast, I took a few pictures as we prepared to be on our way … there were sheep just outside our bedroom window… dumb sheep.

On our way from Kenmare, we took N71 to the NW which turned to the NE to make our way to Killarney. In Killarney we took N22 to the SE to Macroom and crossing the River Lee. We also came upon a bridge with barn or mill-like remains. Continued SE to Cork in County Cork.

It was in Cork that I got lost. We were trying to make our way to the Blarney Castle NE of Cork … roads don’t run straight and street signs are marked in many interesting ways. One of the most common places to find a street sign in on the second floor level of the building wall on that corner. Street signs can also be found on a plaque on a short wall at that corner. If there is a “street sign pole” as we are used to in the US, it has landmark/tourist info on it and not street names. We stopped, Kathy jumped out to ask for directions, I found street signs, and we eventually made our way to the Blarney Castle.

Blarney Castle! Here I come! Mom, not climbing all of the stairs in the Castle was off to shop, Kathy was off to the gardens of the castle, and Richard and I off to the castle! More beautiful country and interesting castle. As we entered the castle to get to the stairs, Richard came to an area that was not for him… he backed out of the small area and tried again. Not sure he would make it; there was one exit in the spiral staircase making its way to the stone. Richard took the exit. I continued up the spiral staircase – holding the tow rope which was attached to the inside of the spiral – and kept climbing. The gentleman in front of me was wearing a backpack and had a tight fit most of the way. The spiral was so tight; my foot didn’t fit completely on the steps. As the stairs continued to appear smaller, I was thinking it was a good thing Richard had gotten out when he did. Standing on the Castle’s roof, I was impressed by what I assume was the drainage system. The marble was slanted down toward the outside of the castle with small squares of space for water to run off. Got to the stone and was thinking, “We have all got to be fools for kissing this rock, upside down, with an old man holding on and three steel bars below.” Got to the old man, “Sit down lass, sit down lass, grab the bar lass, grab the bars, kiss the stone…” I’m thinking, “What stone?! It’s all rock” Kissed the rock which was smoother than the rest and was giggling at the fact that I was bent over on my head at my waist to kiss this rock…. Fools! All of us. But I did it! :0) As I worked my way around to the exit spiral staircase, I heard my name. Richard had made it to the top. Said he’d found his “happy place” and kissed the stone too! Whoohoo!


I had previously made comment that we’d see what kind of communicable diseases we could catch kissing the stone… Richard had thought that there wouldn’t be any such thing because we’d surely be related to be fool enough to kiss the stone. I now agree.

The four of us met back at the entrance to the Castle park and off we went to grab some lunch. Kathy spotted a Horgan shop – as close as she would come to her family name. We did some shopping there & grabbed lunch at a cafe down the street. We also found the Blarney Wool Factory and Market. It was a huge place. We did not take the time to tour the factory.

Back to Cork with some confusion again and then to the Island of Cobh (pronounced Cove). As we traveled on the little R624 road, it literally became little! There were markings for cars to park on the road side left & a lane on the right which left only the half of the width of our car to drive on the left! Yipes!

Traveled the same road about 3 or 4 times in search of the train station Heritage Square to find the Immigration museum. That was an interesting stop. There was a ship in port, a statue of Annie Moore, and the museum itself. I was amazed to hear the stories of the coffin ships (ships that would not float) & that people were so desperate to leave Ireland that they chose to get on these ships. I also found it interesting that within a short period of time, the potato fed the population which grew 60% and then was a cause of such despair. Cobh is home to a towering cathedral as well. As we had traveled one of the inner town streets to get a closer look of the cathedral, I got out of the car to get a picture of the steeple. As I did, there was a gentleman walking toward me whom I did not see. He said, “Aye, did ye get me?” “No, but I will!” He continued to walk down the parking lot to his van and as he was getting the door open, we drove by, and as I’d promised, I called to him and got his picture. He pulled a big grin and struck a pose. Another unexpected bit of fun.

On the Island, we stayed at the Tearmann B&B. The lady of the house, Bernadette, was enjoyable & yet again, a lovely place to stay.

Monday, July 16, 2007

Breakfast at Tearmann B&B. This time we had the opportunity to eat black pudding. I tried it and passed it on to Richard.

After breakfast, we headed back into Cobh to the main street and found a shop to buy boxes to ship all of our treasures home. The post office was right on the water’s edge next to the park. Another lovely stop.

We headed out Cove on R624 with more Kodak moments … bridge, ruins, thatch, etc. We found N25 along the Celtic Sea to the NE toward Waterford. We drove by the Waterford Crystal factory and headed NW/N on N9. It was along this route that we found “Saint Guinness.” It was a Guinness sign with a church steeple in the background of it. Funny.

We stopped in Waterford for a bite to eat. We found a mall and a cafe. When leaving the mall, Richard went ahead to get the car and the three of us lasses found the St. Patrick Cathedral. We walked in to find black and white marble floors and Waterford Crystal chandeliers. Another white headed Irishman found me. I could be from here. :0) He was very proud of St. Patrick’s & was baptized there. We found Richard on the street and headed toward Kilkenny on N9 and N10. Kilkenny Castle was the next stop for Richard and Kathy and shopping across the street for Mom and Katie. Mom and Katie found the Ring with history of Ireland symbols on it & a Celtic knot (forget me not) earrings.

Kilkenny on N9 toward Dublin. Stopping along the way for another meal in Castledermot. Crossing the River Liffey on the way.

Dublin = Holiday Inn Express stay again.

Tuesday, July 17, 2007

Bus downtown to Ireland's National Gallery. We paid special attention to the Irish artists, among them expressionist J.B. Yeats, poet W.B. Yeats' brother.

Dublin Airport for flight to Frankfurt. (13 hour layover for in Frankfurt Mom and me in which Richard had arranged for us to stay in the Holiday Inn Express hotel near the airport.) Richard and Kathy flew from Dublin to continue their trip at basically the same time.

When Mom and I arrived in the Frankfort airport, we thought we’d better grab a bite to eat. We found a McDonald’s! We were both game. Had a bite and off to find the shuttle for the airport. We stopped along the way to ask to directions a couple of times. People, gentlemen in particular, were very helpful. ;0) We eventually found the shuttle area and got our hotel called. The shuttle trip made Mom a bit nervous. The road to the airport, now dark, left the city lights for the trees. We did make it to the hotel.

Wednesday, July 18, 2007

The next morning we were up and on the shuttle back to the airport at 7am. That meant we were up at 6 (which was 11pm our time). We got to our C terminal and to security about 2 ½ hours before our flight. Mom got stopped in security and was wanded. We were a little fearful she was going to the clink … but they soon let her go. We were in the construction area of the terminal … no speaker/announcement system, no air conditioning, and no seats. The oil businessman that soon joined us stated that that was the worse he’d ever seen the airport. Good to know.

Germany to DFW. Flight was 10 hours. It was a better flight than the flight over. The plane appeared to be newer with more leg room. Again, we had more than enough to eat and many spirits were offered.

We landed in DFW on time. Tried to get through customs without any paperwork in which they quickly sent us back to a counter … found our way out and found Ray and the girls! We were home!

Ray had prepared a brisket for us for dinner and enjoyed the opportunity to shower in my own shower and to wash the clothes I felt like I’d been wearing for 7 or so days. :0) Mom stayed with us and flew back to Iowa on Friday, July 20^th.

A trip of a lifetime!!!

Tid-Bits:

It was enjoyable to be in a country where people are as pale as I am.

There must be something wrong with going on a summer vacation and having to wear thermal undershirts.

You know it’s bad when you’ve been on road that had much to be desired and then see a sign that states “Leaving Improved Road.”

Rains a bit each day (with exception of one). But the rain was different … it was what I would consider a mist. Just very light and small droplets. Rain was to be expected and Richard was even slightly disappointed when we had two days of sunshine.

Ireland Breakfast at the B&Bs = cereal and yogurt and fruit for appetizer, then breads (brown soda bread always) one fried egg with bacon, sausage, and white pudding. We did get to experience black pudding as well.

Sinks in most locations (other than the hotels) had the hot and cold faucets separate.

Much of the electrical / phone wires and cables were on the outside of the stone buildings and houses. When they weren’t needed anymore, they appeared to just be cut off and left.

Everything seemed ‘small’ and more compact.

Buildings were usually no more than four stories tall. They were called Georgians after the 4 King Georges. There was few and smaller windows in the buildings also. We were told that that was due to the fact that there was a glass tax.

Ireland for Dummies was my book of choice for our travels. When the locals would see the cover and title, they found humor in it.

Nothing much was fast pace. McDonald’s sightings in two cities and Burger King in another. A few cafe’s mentioned orders to go. Most meals required sitting down for a bit of time.

Sayings:

Slainte (pron. Slawn-cha, cheers)

Lovely

Perfect

Aye

What We Did on Our Summer Vacation: England and Scotland

We were in England, Scotland and Ireland for two weeks in July, managed to drive on the left side of the road, saw many historic sites, very beautiful landscapes, spent too much time in the car, and have a long list of things to go back for in all three countries.

ENGLAND and SCOTLAND

In Search of...

C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien. These two Oxford dons were two of Kathy's favorite writers. They hung out together, with other Oxford lads, in a pub known informally as "the Bird and Baby." This circle of friends called themselves the Inklings, and when they weren't in their favorite pub for a morning pint, used to read their writings to each other in C.S. Lewis's rooms in Magdelen College, Oxford. So with much effort we located their secret pub hangout -- we drove by it on the main street that goes through the University. It's called "The Eagle and Child," and after sightseeing in the University until an acceptable hour for a pint came, had lunch in the Inklings former hangout. Kathy's first English fish and chips with a pint of the house bitter.



In Search of...
The ancient Celts. They left a lot of rocks behind. Big rocks. "In ancient times, hundreds of years before the dawn of history, an ancient race of people... the Druids. No one knows who they were or what they were doing... " from the mockumentary This is Spinal Tap.

Drove to Avebury in order to see the stone circle. we knew the circle would be bigger than Stonehenge, but we didn't imagine it would be 14-times bigger. We also didn't know it was part of a complex of prehistoric monuments. On the way to Avebury, we passed Silbury Hill. It covers 5.5 acres and is 130-ft high. Its purpose is unknown, but antler picks were found that date to 2400 B.C. Nearby is the Long Barrow, one of the largest prehistoric grave mounds in Europe.

Two roads intersect at the middle of the Avebury stone circle. Each road has two causeways for crossing the ditch that circles the stone circle. (The ditch is 30-feet deep at its deepest.) The dirt from the ditch was used to make a circular hill surrounding the ditch. A small village lies at the intersection of the two roads. It is completely surrounded by the stone circle, and includes a haunted Inn and a 17th-century Chapel. The chapel is the only Christian church within a prehistoric stone circle.

The stones are not as big as at Stonehenge, but they are big enough to weigh from 10 to 100 tons. It was also interesting to find smaller stone circles inside the larger one. It was nice to be able to touch the stones.

Just outside of the stone circle is a small church that is more than 1000-years old. It has a rood loft that survived the Reformation by being hidden behind plaster.

We drove to Stonehenge, which is more compact than we expected. From some angles, very little light shines through the stones. Note the small figure of a person at the right in the picture of Stonehenge below.

We stayed in Amesbury at a nice Bed and Breakfast. Actually, I think it was just a nice home with a spare bedroom. We had a traditional English Breakfast of back-bacon, sausage, a fried egg, and toast.

In Search of...
Arthur and Guinevere. OK, this one's more ephemeral. Let's say we were in search of the legend of King Arthur, the guy who brought peace to Britain, pulled the sword from the stone and inspired a Broadway musical with lots of "knights skipping through the castle." (Such is Richard's assessment of the musical Camelot.)

Tintagel

One of several places that claim to be the birthplace of King Arthur is Tintagel. It is a beautiful setting on the Cornish coast. The cliffs have caves in them, and one of them is known as Merlin's Cave. This is where, according to one legend, Merlin lived while tutoring the boy Arthur. In another version of the legend, Merlin found Arthur washed ashore in the cave below the castle.

It was claimed by Geoffrey of Monmouth in History of the Kings of Britain written around 1136 that the castle at Tintagel was where King Uther Pendragon seduced Queen Igraine of Cornwall, while her husband, Gorlois, was under siege elsewhere. The movie “Excalibur” has a scene where Merlin summons the “breath of the dragon”, on which Uther rides across the inlet from one hill top to the other where the castle is. The dramatic landscape begs for a bridge or “breath of the dragon” to reduce the substantial hike up and down the hills to a short ride.

In Gottfried von Strassburg's Tristan und Isolde, the castle's main role is as the chief castle of King Mark of Cornwall, who was the uncle of Sir Tristan and husband of Isolde. The two fall in love after mistakingly drinking a love potion, and are forced to hide their love from Mark for the rest of their lives. Gottfried's version of the legend is the first to exalt love as supreme, regardless of social consequences and the sinful nature of Tristan and Isolde's adultery

Such legends are powerful stuff. In 1233, Richard, Earl of Cornwall, built a castle here due to the Arthurian legends that were associated with the area and because it was seen as the traditional place for Cornish kings. He was not of Cornish birth, being the younger brother of the Plantagenet King Henry III, but was quite successful in winning over his subjects through cunning use of the legends. He was such a skilled politician that he campaigned for Holy Roman Emperor. He almost made it. In 1257 Richard was crowned German King ( officially King of the Romans, i.e., emperor-elect of the Holy Roman Empire) by the pope Alexander IV in Aachen. Such is the power of legends, and being in Tintagel made a far greater impression on me than I expected. The feeling was something similar to being in Rome, with all of its historical significance.

Glastonbury

One of several places that claim to be Avalon, the final resting place of King Arthur, is Glastonbury. Before the surrounding wetlands were drained, the hill of Glastonbury Tor looked like an island.

But Glastonbury is associated as much with the Grail legend as with Avalon. The legend starts back in first years a.d. Joseph of Arimathea was a tin merchant who frequently traveled to England. On one of his trips, he took his great-nephew Jesus with him. When Jesus was crucified, Joseph use the cup of the last supper to catch the blood from the side of Jesus, and then he donated his own tomb for Jesus's burial. Thirty years later, he took the cup to Glastonbury. When he arrived, he planted his walking stick in the ground. It then took root, and sprouted into the Glastonbury Thorn, which blooms twice every year at Easter and Christmas. He then built the first church in England to house the cup, the Holy Grail.

In 1191, the monks at the Abbey claimed to find a buried oak trunk with two skeletons. On the trunk was a lead cross with the inscription, "Here lies interred the famous King Arthur on the Isle of Avalon". The second skeleton was said to be Guenevere's. In 1287, King Edward I had a tomb created in the Abbey church, and the remains of Arthur and Guenevere were reburied.

By the fourteenth century, only Westminster Abbey was richer than Glastonbury. So, in 1539, after Henry VIII became head of the church, the Abbey was stripped of its valuables, and in the following years the stones were used in the construction of other buildings in town. Today, the Abbey is a beautiful ruin. The ruins are more appropriate for my tastes. Too much history distracts from the much more interesting legends.

In search of...

ghosts, a good sermon and centuries of history in York.

One of several places that Richard could live in is York. It has a nice mixture of ancient and medieval history, the oldest part of town is pedestrian-friendly, and it's a fun College Town with many ghost stories. The York Minster has good examples of the ancient and medieval history. The church has a central tower that weighs 16,000 tons. In the 1960s cracks were forming in the walls, and it was discovered that the tower was falling. So the foundations were excavated, and the problem was fixed. In the process, the foundations of a roman legionary fortress were found. People tell of seeing the ghost of a roman soldier walking in front of the church, but only the top half of the ghost is above the ground, as if the ghost were walking on the level of the ancient fortress. In 306 a.d. the Emperor Constantine was at the foreign outpost when he learned of the death of his father (Emperor Constantius), and was proclaimed emperor of Rome.

Also in the crypt were found the foundations of the previous Anglo-Saxon and Norman churches. The present church was begun in 1220. The north transept, with the lancet windows called the Five Sisters, and the south transept, with the Rose Window, were completed first. The choir has the Great East Window, which is the largest expanse of medieval stained glass in the world.

We stayed for Evensong, in order to hear the boys' choir. It was held in the choir, with its beautiful wooden stalls. The singing was also beautiful, of course. The choir is as big as some parish churches. What we didn't expect was to hear a sermon, and a good one it was. The preacher was criticizing a statement made by “my Lord Carlisle,” (an elderly member of the House of Lords) who said something about the recent flooding being God's punishment for “declining moral standards”. The vicar explained how that made God out to be a monster, and how it was as bad as those Muslims who blame Hurricane Katrina on God's vengeance for declining moral standards in America, or Jerry Falwell when he attributed the September 11 terrorist attacks to gays and feminists in America. He made the point that if God works on this Earth, then he works through humans, through their compassionate reponses, not through natural disasters to punish a society through its poorest citizens. He finished by asking the rhetorical question: “Why don't more preachers speak out against such statements?” Good question. We were astonished to hear such reasoned common sense in a sermon.

We ate well in York. For lunch we went to a Carvery, a restaurant serving roast beef, pork, or lamb with a selection of traditional side dishes. All the different meats looked juicy, and the Yorkshire Pudding was very light and fluffy. We had a nice dinner at a place called Cafe Concerto, across from the Minster. Richard had a Frittata, with its light egg base and nice vegetables and spices and cheese. Kathy had Mediterranean vegetables and, for dessert, cinnamon-raspberry-almond cake.

We walked the old walls, and took a tour of the museum.

Scotland
Only Edinburgh actually, where we only had a few hours, but Kathy was too fascinated by the tartan weaving mill next to the Edinburgh castle entrance to visit the castle itself. We arrived around lunchtime, had a very tasty lunch in a small, quirky kind of place called "Ecce Vino," (behold the wine), on a sloping side street between the train station and the Royal Mile. Then Kathy had to seek out a shop specializing in funky, handmade knitwear on the Royal Mile: Ragamuffin. Riotous colors covered the walls. Knit and felted sweaters, hats and scarves were stacked everywhere, most locally made. Didn't buy anything, but it counted toward the inspiration storehouse in the wannabe fiber artist's head. So we made our way toward the castle, but Kathy was distracted by the weaving mill churning out tartans, where you could watch the machines in operation. Tartans by the hundreds were sold in wool or synthetic blends as well as ready-made blankets, shirts, hats, kilts, you name it. Mannequins in kilts from throughout history displayed the history of Scottish dress, accompanied by a taped narration. Close by, one could be photographed wearing traditional dress. At the time we visited, one of the weaving machines was turning out the Scottish National Rugby Team's tartan by the foot before our eyes. An attendant kept full bobbins loaded into the shuttles, and we could see the metal "cards" that determined which harnesses rose to form the sheds while the shuttle arms swung violently in and out. We couldn't see the shuttles, they were moving so fast. Then we watched a guy operating a warping machine. Behind him was a massive bank of yarn cones all threaded through a piece of a rigid heddle, mounted ahead of the warping frame, in sequence so as to form half of a symmetric red, black and yellow pattern. The worker pushed a button to start a large cylindrical warping frame turning, and stopped it after a certain number of turns. Then he turned the rigid heddle upside down, reversing the color order, and rotated the frame some more turns. His scissors snipped all the threads as one and he tucked the cut ends behind the wound warp with a practiced turn of the wrist, turned the heddle again and attached the threads for the next section of warp, ready to start again. Fascinating. The trick of getting the warp threads into the loom was one I very much wanted to see. Another good inspirational stop.

But far be it from us not to visit a historical building when so many present themselves. We did make it to St. Giles Cathedral, full of banners witness to the proud, warlike Scots' service in many world conflicts on behalf of the British Crown. This Church is home to the Thistle Chapel, built in 1911 with exclusively Scottish materials. We saw the royal seat, used by the Queen when she inducts a new member of the Order of the Thistle (the order dates back to 1687). Fascinating were the profusion of plaques of coats of arms for the royalty and nobility who had occupied the designated seats in the chapel over the time of its existence . A dignified gentleman was answering questions for visitors, and he pointed out that the coat of arms of the United Kingdom displayed in front of the monarch's seat, as one looks at it, had the Scottish unicorn on the left and the English lion on the right, because the monarch is here as Queen of Scotland first. In England the two animals would be reversed. In addition, the red Scottish lion rampant appears in two quarters of the shield as well as on top of the crest. All those details bound up in the heraldry of English royalty are fascinating to me, symbols of an old-fashioned system though they are. Maybe it appeals to me because these people are very aware of their origins and can proclaim it in symbols, while this humble American hardly even knows where in France, Ireland, England, and Germany her ancestors came from.

The mystique of English history and legend has a pull, I believe, for these two Anglo-Americans, because it is in part the history and legend of our origins. The legends and stories which inspire so, inspire us because we can read them in English. The German and Scandinavian legends were not as available to us in book form when we were at the impressionable age when the Arthur stories took hold of us. When I was a kid, my grandmother's collection of children's books included Greek mythology and the Arthur legends. That's what I read when I visited her. My father had a Classics Illustrated comic book of Sir Walter Scott's Ivanhoe. Richard says that the Parzival story by a German author, Wolfram von Eschenbach, was particularly inspiring for him. Even though the story was interpreted by a German, the story of Parzival references the court and knights of King Arthur. The Irish (and Welsh) legends of Arthur and all the fairy stories of those two countries were either co-opted by the medieval English authors, or not a part of our awareness when we were young. They are no less interesting for all that, though.

Travel hints
Tip 1: If you're going to England and planning on visiting many famous historic sites and monuments, most of which are managed by English Heritage, it pays to get a membership. With it you get free parking, and free admission to many, many historical sites throughout England. It pays for itself if you visit seven sites or more, which is easy to do.

http://www.britishheritagepass.com/Welcome

Accommodation tip: Make reservations as you go for Bed and Breakfasts through any town's Tourist Information office. Generally we stopped in the afternoon in a town in which we were sightseeing and made a reservation for where we thought we could drive to that evening. We have heard that you can just walk right up to a B&B, designated in England by a red and white rose symbol and in Ireland by a green shamrock, and get a room for the night, but then you wouldn't know the rates ahead of time, and might have to drive a while before coming to the next possibility. By reserving through the tourist information office you get a range of options according to the price you're willing to pay. We paid around €35 per person per night. If you require more than one room, it's definitely a good idea to book ahead during the high season June through August. We were advised that less crowded times to visit are April or September.

Tip 3: When a good bakery is hard to find, and you just want a good cup of coffee or tea and a pastry to relax with, the chain Costa Coffee is easy to find both in Ireland and in the UK. Expect a wide variety of coffee drinks, baked goods, and possibly sarnies (sandwiches). In some English towns the level of industrialization is such that no more traditional bakery exists, or the ones that do offer (probably canned) strawberry pie topping on a cream puff as a substitute for a scone with jam and cream and use artificially colored cherry bits in their "scones." Sad. I normally avoid chains (esp. Starbucks) and make snide remarks ("We don't have to worry about starving") when I see a Pizza Hut or KFC billboard in a European train station, but sometimes, when you're exhausted at the end of a two week vacation and have only enough energy to see a movie and get a coffee afterwards, you want something dependable.

That was our first week of vacation. The second week, in Ireland, we spent with Richard's sister Katie and his mother Sharon. Katie wrote a previously posted description of our week in Ireland (see the August archive).

Cologne: Roman Luxury, Three Kings, and Toilette Water

Warning: contains descriptions of food that might not be suitable for dieters.

One weekend in June, we met our friends from Switzerland for a weekend of historical churches, good food and drink in Cologne. We had a good time in spite of the hot, humid and overcast weather, visited the biggest Cathedral in Europe next to St. Peter's in Rome, and several smaller, older churches from before 800AD. There were museums galore, but we could only visit a couple.

Roman(tic) Cologne
The Rhein (Rhine) river flows through Cologne, and the train ride along the Rhein is very romantic. Castle ruins overlook terraced vineyards, while boats float by the little towns that hug the shore.

The city got its name not because the French were looking for something to tack onto “Eau de”, but from its history as an outpost of the Roman empire, a "colonia," thus the French name Cologne. It was declared a city of the Roman empire in 50 AD, having been settled first by Germanic tribes in 38 BC. Its beginnings as a Colonia are connected with the fascinating intra-dynasty politics of the Roman imperial family.

The woman responsible for its designation as a proper Roman colony was local girl Agrippina the Younger, mother of Nero and wife and niece of Emperor Claudius (ruled 41-54). If you have ever seen or read "I, Claudius," then you know what a knotty situation beset the Roman Imperial family in the first decades AD. Ambitious and cunning, Agrippina Junior was the daughter of Agrippina the elder and Germanicus, son of Emp. Tiberius. She was sister to Caligula, also known as the Nut Case. After she was called back from a Caligula-imposed exile, she married her uncle Claudius after he succeeded Caligula. Always scheming to put a better emperor on the throne, she eventually poisoned her husband. In her turn she was exiled and murdered by her son, Emperor Nero.

So Cologne has a rich Roman history, and a museum to go with it, which we visited. One of the most spectacular pieces of the collection is the Dionysus floor mosaic which is the size of a very large Oriental carpet. The mosaic was found in 1941 during the digging of an air-raid shelter and in 1974 the museum was built around it.

Roman life in Cologne had all the comforts of the time. After their retirement from the army some former soldiers established themselves as public leaders and became regular middle-class residents. They even built elaborate 2-story-high grave monuments for themselves and their families. Lamps (some with erotic designs), makeup kits, surgeon's tools, grave markers, wall paintings, beautiful glassware, many beautiful pieces of jewelry and a reconstructed wooden wagon display what a rich, comfortable life the Roman citizens led. The museum also maintains artifacts from prehistoric and post-Roman times. Below is an example of the achievements of Roman glass craftsmanship.


After the Roman period, Cologne became a wealthy city as a result of its participation in the Hanseatic League. Its status grew and it became a medieval pilgrimage destination. In order to enhance its status and secure more power for Friedrich Barbarossa, the Holy Roman Emperor of the time, the archbishop in 1164 secured (read: stole from Milan) the relics of the Three Kings (the magi of the Bible account) and housed them in the Cathedral in Cologne. These legendary kings were thought to exemplify the best of kingly power on earth and so lent legitimacy to whomever possessed their relics. The upshot is, that these relics are still the centerpiece of the Cathedral, housed in a large gold box in a place of honor behind the altar. Precious stones adorn its edges. Once a year, on January 6, the reliquary is opened and pushed out from behind the altar for display to the faithful. The bones and skulls, which were embellished with gold and jewels, still draw a crowd.

The Cathedral itself is no slouch when it comes to splendor and economy of size. The builders got maximum impact with maximum space. In the 12th century they achieved the feat of minimizing the stone structural mass of the walls and maximizing the space for glorious windows. The view from the back to the front of the church is awesome. The ceiling keeps its incredible height (four times its width) all the way, and at far end is a small, brilliant golden glow, which is the reliquary of the Three Kings.





This gothic marvel draws the crowds, but the older Romanesque churches are beautiful too. We visited St. Gereon's Church, named after a Roman officer who was martyred around 350 a.d. This church started out as a 4th(!) century chapel on a Roman graveyard, and the Roman masonry can still be seen in the lower 50 feet. Later, the Kings of Germanic tribes, including the Franks while the Merovingians were in power, used it as a burial site. Between 1151 and 1227, the decagon dome, which is unique north of the Alps, was added. A couple of us agreed on having had strange sensations while inside this church. Kathy felt her heart beating a little more quickly and put it down to the lunch she had just eaten, but Sereena confirmed that she, too, felt "something." To Kathy, it seemed as if the decagon dome imposed its weight in a metaphysical way.

Another interesting church in St. Pantaleon's basilica. It was originally built in 866, but was enlarged in 984 by Theophanu, who was the Greek wife of the Holy Roman Emperor, Otto II. The church was part of a monastery, and the upper floors of the west end (see photos of balcony and ceiling) were the Emperor's residence for his visits to the monastery.

Eau de Quoi?

We visited the source of the famous Eau de Cologne, the 4711 house on Glockengasse. Have you ever heard the number 4711 in connection with "cologne"? I hadn't until I got to Germany. Napoleon, in his passion for making everything orderly in the French fashion, had his soldiers number all the houses in Cologne, and this particular house, which was the factory for "Kölnisch Wasser," received this number. Inside the shop on the ground floor was a fountain continuously dispensing the fragrant product. I promptly ran my fingers under the stream. Suddenly I smelled like my grandmother's bathroom! A broad variety of products were for sale, including soap and other types of perfume made by the same manufacturer. We went a little nuts sampling the wares, and I, remembering the unpleasant consequences of a combination of a woodsy summer camp, my first perfume behind the ears and black flies, doused my hands in the first fountain we came to after leaving the store.

And now for the food portion of our program...

We sampled just one other of the many museums: the chocolate museum. Chocolate lovers would have hated it. No need to visit us to get the real scoop, it was terrible! ;-> The whole museum was about chocolate growing and processing and history. With the admission ticket came a piece of Lindt milk chocolate. After describing the growing, harvesting (still done by hand!), and processing of chocolate beans, the exhibits related how the Spanish learned about chocolate from the Aztecs. Then in order to ensure a chocolate supply for European generations to come, those enterprising Spanish soldiers killed or enslaved the Indians and made them work on chocolate plantations*. Was chocolate, not gold, the driving force for colonization of the New World? The things they don't teach you in school!

Naturally there was a Lindt production line in operation and free samples at the end. There was also a café where they sold several kinds of chocolate drinks, and several kinds of chocolate cake. We sat on the riverside terrace and indulged. I suffered through their own "house" chocolate cake, called the Three Kings Torte. On offer were also a four-layer chocolate cake, and a simple single-layer chocolate cake. No one else ordered any cake, so I don't know how they would have tasted. The Three Kings Torte had three layers separated by dark chocolate ganache, and covered with a generous dusting of cocoa powder. The lighter umm, chocolate color of the powder made a good contrast with the darker ganache. And together the textures complemented each other perfectly, as the creamy ganache melted in your mouth and the grainy powder and the cake contrasted with the creamy stuff. None of it was too sweet, and the cake had not one hint of the disagreeable metallic flavor one finds in some chocolate cake.

Of course there was a gift shop! But the only one who braved it was Sereena, who graciously bought us each a sample of milk-chocolate made with sea-salt. At first it tastes like regular milk chocolate, but as it melts on your tongue the salt subtly comes through: just enough to let you know it's there. It's nowhere near as salty as chocolate-covered pretzels. I could see where it would be doubly addictive. To the right is the chocolate fountain where at the end of the tour a staff member handed out waffle cookies that had been dipped in the basin.

I know, it's somewhat cruel, telling you all about this good chocolate, but you'll just have to come here and experience it for yourselves!

In other recent chocolate experiences, Richard's brother Paul is somewhat of a chocoholic. We introduced him to the Lindt dark chocolate bars made with chili, and he wanted more! Brittany (18), on the other hand found it disgusting, "and it's dark chocolate, " she said and wrinkled her nose. Her palette will mature, I'm sure. 'Til then, there's more for us.

Our first night there, we visited a local eating establishment where we were assured we could get some typical local dishes and beer. The beer made in Köln is called Kölsch. Kölsch happens to be the name of the local dialect. So the saying goes, Kölsch is the only language you can drink. The beer came in 0.20 l glasses instead of the usual half-liter quantities, but it kept coming, borne by cocky, briskly efficient waiters who presumed to know what you wanted before you even asked for it. At one long-established restaurant-brewery, one of us asked for a glass of wine, and was told, "You don't want that. I don't know if it's good or not. This is a brewery, not a winery." By the way, the beer was good. Light and without too much hops to make it bitter. It was served cool and went down well in the humid weather.

Saturday night was about the food. We started with an "Aperol," Swiss for a pre-dinner drink (white wine) at a swanky, hip bar near the Cathedral: The Ice Bar. The surface of the bar was covered with a puffy white batting that turned out to be ice! We sipped a Riesling, and a buttery Chardonnay, and Richard ordered a Perfect Martini that was generous with the olives. Other specialty drinks, and there were many original concoctions, were displayed on small computer screens mounted on the walls. Slick. Snacks consisted of an upscale mixture of wasabi-covered peanuts, plain peanuts, and other spicy Japanese crackers, including the red ones that look like miniature chilis. Surprise, the prices of the drinks were upscale, too.

For dinner that night, we searched in the Latin Quarter for a vegetarian restaurant mentioned in the guide book. At the same address we found instead a Basque restaurant! Basque food, who'd have thought? What is Basque food? Well, it's strongly similar to Spanish food and embellished with extra X's. Pintxos, for example: Tapas. The waiter had greeted us with "Hola!" as we sat down on benches in the courtyard, and asked in Spanish what he could bring us to drink. Prompted by the Spanish greeting, I pulled some half-remembered Spanish-by-osmosis out of the mists of college experiences and asked for "uno litro agua minerale, Per Favore-- uh, Por Favor." (Pretty pleased with myself, there). Stefan asked for a wine recommendation, was recommended a hearty red from the Iberian peninsula, followed by recommendations for jamón Ibérico ( air-cured ham from acorn-fed pigs, deeper-colored, stronger and nuttier than Serrano and Parma) and a cheese sampler to accompany this hearty Spanish red. The wine was velvety and looked it too, without being sweet and without unpleasant tannins. It came with flat bottom tumblers for glasses. Stefan said you could tell it had been aged in oak barrels. The cheese and ham came on separate wooden disks with a basket of bread. Tasty little green olives were strewn over the ham. (These weren't your bland grocery store green olives stuffed with pimento!) This was totally finger food, man. Forget the German compunctions of knife and fork, we were eating Mediterranean-style. By then, 9 pm, we were eating at a Mediterranean hour, too. The cheeses were on the hard side, but crumbly and pleasantly tangy with a contrasting creamy/buttery background.

The orders around the table consisted of: Gambas con ajillo (shrimp with garlic sauce); Brocheta de verdura (grilled vegetables on skewers); Gazpacho (gazpacho); and Txipirones a lo Pelayo (Calamari marinated in garlic, olive oil and parsley with poached julienned vegetables and salad). All were pronounced very tasty. The dishes were either sturdy ceramic shallow dishes or translucent orange plates. Almost forgot about dessert! We had room for Créma Catalana, a sort of crème brûlée, which was creamy and cool. The thin layer of burnt sugar on top made my mouth water while reminding me of the best part of roasting marshmallows.

Basque digestifs followed. "Pacharán°", a sloe-based, anise-flavored reddish liqueur and a clear fire-water called "Orujo," similar to grappa, provided after-dinner refreshment. Then, through an apparent miscommunication, we topped it all off with a glass of Port each. Miscommunication can sometimes be successful.

On our last afternoon, we stopped for some well-deserved ice cream at a cafe in front of the cathedral. Group photo below.

And that's the news from Cologne, where the water smells, the chocolate flows, the beer is a language, and the good eats are Basque.

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*Caution: this statement contains wild misstatement of the facts and speculation about motives of the Conquistadors.

° Of Pacharan, Wikipedia says,"The liqueur is made by soaking sloe berries, collected from the blackthorn, in an anise-flavored spirit (anisette) with a small number of coffee beans and a vanilla pod for several months. It results in a light reddish-brown sweet liquid, around 25-30% alcohol by volume. It is served cold or on ice as a digestif."

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