Europe 2018
Intro
I’ve
long held an aversion to cruise ship travel.
It struck me as something done only by old people interested in a
floating buffet line. Then I remembered my most recent birthday celebration
wherein the candles created a conflagration.
Friends raved about river cruises in Europe, it sounded enticing, so I
booked a trip for the Judester and me on the Danube running from Budapest,
Hungary to Bratislava, Slovakia to Vienna, Krems, and Linz, Austria to Passau,
Germany with a side trip to Cesky Krumlov, Czech Republic. We would visit five countries without having
to change our bedroom. Afterwards we met
up with daughter Lucy, Fred, Waverly, Finn, and Charlie for six days in
Paris. Then we all flew to Dubrovnik,
Croatia for a catamaran sailing charter.
Tourists
see unrepresentative things and meet unrepresentative people, so I don’t
pretend to having any earth-shattering insights from these travels, but it was
fun. As is my custom, I write down a few observations. If you’ve an interest, read on. Otherwise, I apologize for interfering with
your serenity.
Rural Bonds
One
of the most pleasant surprises of the river cruise was meeting interesting
people who would share intimate glimpses into their lives.
We
bonded quickly. Perhaps it was learning
that we shared the experience of growing up in small Midwestern towns. It didn’t hurt that she was attractive and
trim, albeit 83, lending credence to the adage that one of the few advantages
of getting older is that women of a wider range of ages look good to you. She was traveling with her son and granddaughter,
both delightful. On the second day of
the trip we shared a drink in private, and she told me the following story:
“I
met the love of my life while in second grade.
We were closest of friends as children and later dated throughout high
school. Upon graduation my parents
forbade me from continuing to see him.
They believed his father was a bad man who beat his wife and thought the
son would follow suit. Following my
parents’ advice was the biggest mistake of my life. I went to college back east
and married a man I would later divorce.
My marriage was never strong. He is a nice man, but overwhelmingly
dull. The ‘love of my life’ went on to a
distinguished career in the military followed by a career with the State
Department. He was buried with full
honors at Arlington Cemetery. I attended
the service. We were fortunate to have
gotten together a few times before he died.”
I
interrupted and inquired, “Does ‘getting together’ mean what I think it does?”
She
continued, “Yes. The sex was
amazing!”
And
her eyes brightened.
Shirley
The
biggest drawback to group travel is traveling with a group, including the
occasional numb nuts. One follows one’s
tour guide carrying a lollipop like sign and listens to their patter, usually
quite interesting. After one such tour
through the German river town of Passau, we listened to an organ concert (the
largest pipe organ in Europe with 18,000 pipes) performed to a packed house in
the 17th century St. Stephens cathedral. We then followed our guide back to the bus
that would return us to our ship, the Viking Prestige.
Shirley
(not her real name) sat next to us at the concert. She is quite large and wears elastic bandages
on her knees and feet furthering impeding her mobility. The old town of Passau is a peninsula formed
by the confluence of the Danube and the Inn Rivers and is about 3 small blocks
wide at its widest point and about 3 blocks long. We were to meet at a church down by the
Danube with a steeple visible from almost anywhere. Even if separated, it would take an
extraordinary level of disorientation to get lost. But Shirley apparently possesses the spatial
awareness of a fruit fly.
Our
bus waited 30 minutes for her before leaving her behind. Later that evening I saw Shirley on the ship
and inquired what happened. “I was
following our guide when I stopped to buy some postcards. Then I couldn’t find any familiar faces and
didn’t know where to go. A nice German couple
from a nearby restaurant noticed my distress, and they offered to drive me back
to the boat (a 30-minute drive). They were very kind, so I gave them one of my
diamond rings.”
The Russian
Judy
and I were eating lunch in a sidewalk café in Cesky Krumlov, Czech
Republic. A handsome fountain
surrounding a statue commemorating the victims of the 14th century
plague was situated nearby. Boys were
using magnets to retrieve coins from the water.
A small man was sitting on the stone pavement leaning against the wall
of the memorial. He was wearing a funny
hat, smoking, and minding his own business.
I was drinking a cold and tasty Czech beer when I heard the commotion.
Two giant, shirtless men and their equally large female companions exited a
nearby building. I smelled their
cigarettes before turning to look in their direction. I presumed them to be Russians based on their
language, but I could be mistaken. The largest man had a Grizzly Adams beard.
He walked to the little man, picked him up like a rag doll, and threw him into
the fountain. The group laughed
maniacally and walked off. The now wet
man emerged from the waters and ran after them.
I have no idea what just happened.
The Danube
The
Danube is not blue, it’s more a brownish green, but quite clean, and we
observed many people swimming in the river and fishing and camping on the
banks. The river flows 1,800 miles from
the Black Forest in Germany to the Black Sea in Ukraine. We traveled upstream
about 500 miles from Budapest to Passau, Germany and covered 11 locks, some of
them floating us up 50’. The banks were
extremely well manicured, either with stone walls, rocks, or canal berms. Only occasionally would you see a sand or gravel
bar.
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| Danube through the Wachau Valley |
There
were 180 guests and 46 crew aboard our ship, 135 meters long and 12 meters
wide. It was nicely appointed, the food and
wine were superb, and the excursions were interesting and well executed. Our crew was primarily Hungarian. Here are a few tidbits we picked up.
Buda
is on the west side of the Danube and is hilly.
Pest (pronounced Pesht) is flatter. Both cities are modern, tidy, and
charming.
Halloj
in Hungarian means goodbye. Szia (see ya) means hello. Go figure.
When
Hollywood has a character speak in what appears to be a nonsensical language
they are usually speaking Hungarian, i.e. Yoda in Star Wars.
Hungarian
shares linguistic roots with Finnish and Estonian for reasons going back to
fifth century central Asia.
Hungary
had a bad 20th century, fighting on the defeated side of two world
wars, losing their former empire, and ending up enslaved for 45 years by the
Soviets.
Hungary
is the only country surrounded by territories it formerly ruled.
When
Hungary lost Croatia, they conceded their only outlet to the sea.
English
is the Lingua Franca of most of Europe, excepting in France.
Bratislava,
Slovakia has more castles per square km than anywhere in Europe.
As
we walked near a square with trolley tracks, our guide warned, “Be
careful. Trains have the right of way.”
Tour
boats were stacked three deep in Vienna along each of 10 piers. We walked
through the lobbies of other boats to get ashore.
The
old portion of Vienna is beautiful ,although hugely crowded with tourists.
My
favorite excursion was a biking trip through terraced vineyards and tiny
villages from Krems to Durstein, Austria and back. We used sleek German electric assist bikes
that made it feel like you were always pedaling downhill with the wind at your
back.
The
Austrian countryside is immaculate and beautiful, just like a story book.
We
viewed nude bathers on the banks of the Danube upriver from Krems. One such bare breasted beauty stood at
attention as we passed. This caused quite a stir amongst the old-timers on our
boat.
Czech Republic
We
rode a bus for about 1.5 hours to Cesky Krumlov across the Czech Republic border
through the Sudentenland, the disputed territory conceded to Hitler by the
British and the French in 1938. Our
Czech tour guide reminded us that Czech representatives were not invited to the
Munich Conference that settled their fate. After the war three million Germans
were expelled from the region leaving it quite rough.
Our
tour guide’s grandfather was a farmer when the Soviets took over. They confiscated his land, livestock, and
tools, then sent him to Silesia to work in coal mines where he died. Her father
is a surgeon and makes 2,000 euros a month.
Austrian surgeons make 6,000 euros a month. Basic health care is covered by compulsory
insurance. Each person pays 6% of their
salary for coverage. They pay 7% of
their salary for their pension and can retire at age 65 receiving 500 euros a
month.
Cesky
Krumlov was basically in ruins after 45 years of communist rule. After the fall
of the iron curtain, Chinese and Korean tour guides discovered the place, and
it now receives two million visitors a year and has been designated at UNESCO
site.
For
Christmas dinner Czechs buy a live carp and put it in their bath tub. Then they clean it and cook it. The fish will roll over and die if left in the
tub more than two days. We weren’t told
how occupants bathe during this period.
In
Passau, Germany we had an Italian bus driver.
He informed us, “An Austrian’s primary hobby is making their homes look
perfect. They have geraniums in flower
boxes under each window to keep the mosquitos out. The thing they hate the most
is being confused with Australia.”
Currently
3,200 cruises ships pass through Passau each year carrying 450,000 visitors. Before 1990 there were none.
During
the two-hour bus ride from Passau to Munich cars passed us like we were sitting
still. The countryside is beautiful with
immaculate farms and forests.
Paris
Son
in law Fred has a distant cousin who lives in Paris. We ended up spending quite a bit of time with
him, his wife, and daughter. They are
Germans but have lived in Paris for the last two years. Both are journalists covering financial news
for European publications. Fred’s cousin
spent several years in the U.S. and loves America. They speak English and French very well and
were delightful and interesting hosts and companions.
They
share an elegant, fifth floor apartment in the 12th arrondissement which has
the advantage of being in the central city but not populated by throngs of
tourists. For dinner one evening we
were served multiple courses over a four-hour period: oysters from Brittany,
artichokes, beef loin, mashed potatoes, asparagus, and a pastry for dessert. We
consumed two bottles of wine per person and stayed up until the wee hours
solving the world’s problems. Here are some nuggets from our new German
Parisian friends:
A
German was bragging to a Frenchman, “Our streets are so clean you can eat off them.” The Frenchman replied, “And a good thing
given your restaurants are so bad.”
People
love France, just not the French people.
In
France, by the time you’re 18 your life trajectory is determined by how well
one does on exams. There is no second
chance for late bloomers.
The
center city of Paris is essentially Disneyland.
It is maintained for and funded by the tourists.
Normandy
I
took a day trip to Normandy while in Paris.
It’s about 145 miles distant. Our
tour guide’s English was laughably bad. I
could understand perhaps one word out of four, and she ended every phrase with
a question, “Oui?” or “No”? It was still
quite pleasing to see the Normandy countryside, the D-Day landing areas, and
the American cemetery overlooking Omaha Beach.
We
first toured the Normandy campaign museum in Caen. It was interesting but
slightly quirky. One exhibit highlighted
some statistics: 30,000 Americans, 17,000 Brits, 5,000 Canadians, 1,000 Poles,
and 650 French soldiers died during the three months of fighting during the ‘Franco-American’
led invasion. Others we encountered commented
on the French tendency to slightly tweak their history.
Here’s
another tidbit. 1.8 million French
soldiers surrendered to the Germans in the first six weeks of fighting. More French civilians, 20,000, died in the
Normandy campaign, than the combined numbers from the French military and
resistance fighters from 1941-1945. But
their country is quite pretty.
Standing
atop Pointe du Hoc, one gets a clear view of the line of fire the Germans had
overlooking Utah and Omaha beaches.
Their gun placements were virtually impregnable. It’s hard to imagine
being on one of those landing craft. The immaculately groomed American cemetery
in Normandy overlooks Omaha Beach and is the final resting place to 9,387 young
men. It is worth seeing and is very moving.
Of
all the tourist attractions in Paris, I loved the Louvre the most.
Passports and Burkas
Like
me you’ve probably pondered the companion questions: what does a passport photo
look like for a woman wearing a burqa or niqab?
And do custom and security officers require that they remove said
covering? The morning before we left
Paris I was reading a NY Times
article about a Montreal comedian of Indian descent whose act is done in both
English and French. He’s been hugely
successful and apparently brings down the house performing in Paris with the
line, “I love traveling to France, it’s my favorite Arab country.”
As
we snaked our way through a long security line at Charles de Gaulle airport, I
had ample opportunity to view our fellow travelers. I would estimate that one third of the women wore
either hijabs (scarf covering the hair), burkas (full face and body covering),
or niqabs (veil covering the face showing only the eyes). Being curious, I observed that women wearing
full face coverings were escorted to a place hidden from view. I presume once in a private setting their
faces were compared to a photo. Now you
know, sort of.
Dubrovnik
Dubrovnik
lies at the southern edge of Croatia on the Adriatic Sea. It’s a fun word to
say, particularly when you roll the r.
The old portion of town is enclosed by a stone wall built in the 16th
century. The city of 45,000 is quite
picturesque, but also enormously crowded owing to it being one of the sites
where the popular series Game of Thrones was
filmed. While walking along the perimeter of the ancient wall I observed people
taking pictures of their friends walking down a steep stone staircase yelling
‘Shame! Shame!” Apparently, this
replicates a noted scene in the show.
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| Dubrovnik harbor |
Nude woman in cabin cruiser
After
our first full day of sailing in and around the islands off the Croatian coast,
we headed for a secluded cove to anchor for the night. En route we stopped at a small seaside
restaurant apparently accessible only by water.
There were about six yachts of varying sizes tied up to the ancient
stone pier and connected by gangplanks. The tables were situated on the pier
only a few feet from the crystal, clear water line.
As
we motored into the sheltered harbor, I espied a site that caught my eye, a
large, topless woman sitting on the back of her boat unconcerned about the gazes
of passersby. At first, I averted my
eyes from her fleshy appendages in a manner similar when one encounters a
Burger King clerk with an eruptive facial pimple, but I was involuntarily drawn
back to take in her full measure. I had
expected see a wide sampling of attractive toplessness during our sailing trip,
but, this was to be it. Mildly disappointing.
The
restaurant was terrific. We enjoyed
oysters, mussels, and tuna caught earlier that day and drank Croatian
wine. Our host was friendly, helpful,
and spoke excellent English. While
dining we observed divers bringing in fresh oysters and mussels from the sea.
Rescue at Sea
Matija
was the captain for our charter sailing out of Dubrovnik. He is from a small Croatian town, abandoned
an IT career with Nokia five years earlier to go to sea, and he has been
licensed as a charter captain for the past three years. He is handsome and looks every bit the part. In
the off season he ferries boats from the Mediterranean to the Caribbean. Tenna served
as our hostess, cooking, tidying and tending to our peculiarities. She is
pretty, her English is excellent, and she speaks with an American accent. She explained that she graduated from law
school and worked as an intern with a NYC law firm for two years. Both performed their duties capably and were
delightful companions. Our boat was a 2018 Bali 4.5 (45’) catamaran featuring
four berths, each with a roomy bathroom. It was quite spacious for our family
of seven plus the two crew.
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| Our boat |
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| Matija |
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| Finn and Lucy |
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| Add caption |
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| Charlie |
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| Lucy |
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| Waverly |
On
the fourth day of our trip, we were anchored near the island of Korcula enjoying
our daily routines, swimming with the grandkids and enjoying a tasty lunch. Matija said his radar showed a storm was
coming and we should immediately head to the sheltered waters near the city of Korcula. We weighed anchor and motored off. The rains
started almost immediately. We were
heading dead into the wind as we neared the mouth of the harbor when Matija
shouted, “There is a boat in distress, we need to go to their aid.” It was raining heavily, and the winds were
blowing 50 mph. We saw four people in a
small wooden boat with a striped canvas sun shade flapping violently. All four
were standing making their craft even more unstable. The temps had dropped dramatically, they were
in swim suits, and they were not wearing life jackets. Their outboard engine failed, and their boat
was rocking at a right angle to the wind and waves. It appeared they would
capsize any minute. We were downwind of
them and approached slowly. A man in a large rubberized dinghy tried to help
them but ended up causing more distress by directing the troubled craft towards
our bow between our twin hulls. Matija
kept backing our boat away from them to keep them from going under us. Fred and Tenna journeyed out into the raging storm
to our port bow and, after several failed attempts, caught their pathetically skinny
bowline and started walking the disabled boat back towards our stern.
Simultaneously, Matija turned and backed our catamaran, all perfectly
choreographed with Fred and Tenna’s efforts.
As an aside, the following day we read about another good Samaritan who lost
his fingers during the same storm while grabbing a bow line that snapped
against his boat. Fred, Tenna, and Lucy helped the four frightened boaters up
from our swim deck and gave them towels.
They were shivering and shaken.
They
didn’t speak English or Croatian, but we learned they were from Milan, Italy
and had rented the rowboat-sized craft for a ride around Korcula harbor. When the storm hit, their engine conked out,
and they were blown into the open Adriatic.
It was mindful of the scene portrayed in Gericault’s Raft of the Medusa. The sea was angry. Kudos to Matija, Fred, and Tenna. My duties were confined to comforting 9-year-old
Waverly below decks, as she was justifiably terrified. We invented Magic Mermaid Princess stories.
I
asked Matija what he thought would have happened had he not rescued them. He responded, “They would have either drifted
until they hit land somewhere, were rescued by someone else, or they could have
capsized and drowned.”
Here
are a couple of other Croatian tidbits:
Croatian
wines were terrific especially anything called Dingac. We took a wine tour that was fun, but it
required riding on narrow roads with hair pin turns, along steep cliffs. Croatian grapes are not grown on vines, but
instead on the ground, like pumpkins.
The soil is rocky and it gets very hot.
There is little level land, most everything appears to be grown on steep
slopes.
I
was astonished to see so many large, extravagant yachts in the 150’ – 250’
range while sailing on the Dalmatian coast. Our 45’ craft was roughly the size
of some of their dinghies. It was a real-life
boat show, and I loved it.
The
best dinner we enjoyed was in Korcula as we unwound from the earlier sea
rescue. Korcula is dubbed the ‘little
Dubrovnik’ as it is also a walled city in a protected harbor. It is also the birthplace of Marco Polo
(1254). After dinner we were walking to
catch a water taxi back to our boat when we heard a woman singing Love Me Tender. She was pretty darn good.
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| Seafood special in Korcula |
Matija
and Tenna report that all Croatian crew agree on one thing. The French make the worst guests. They are demanding and complain about
everything. The Americans are the
best. What else are they going to say to
a bunch of Americans. They even thought that
Waverly, Finn, and Charlie were well behaved.
Coming Home
Judy
and I disembarked from the boat two days early.
We journeyed by ferry from Korcula to Dubrovnik, then flew to Paris,
spent the night, and returned to America.
Our luggage even joined us. It
was great fun.
Miscellaneous
14er
Son
Ben, his wife Deb, and I climbed Mt. Sherman (14,036’) in early July. Unfortunately, Deb and I didn’t reach the
top. We turned back having ascended to
13,500’ then running out of gas. Ben
went on to successfully finish the climb, although he did return in a
hailstorm. Yea Ben! This is my second
straight failed attempt. I can only
deduce that my training continues to be inadequate, or perhaps I have had my
day in the high altitude world. The only
comfort is that I can now claim to having climbed two 13ers.
Waverly at the Royals game
Earlier in the summer Wavy
and I had a perfectly delightful time at the Royals game. The weather was
perfect, she got a ball, cotton candy, and her picture with Slugger (the
Royal’s foam-rubber-muscled mascot lion), and even seemed to enjoy the game.
For clarity, her ball was a foul ball off the bat of Detroit Tiger
leadoff hitter Leonys Martin. The Detroit bat boy retrieved it, Wavy ran
down to the front row, looked cute, and held her hands out. The batboy
was obviously mesmerized and threw it to her, and she snagged it cleanly.
We left in the eighth
inning with the Royals leading 4-2. They later lost 4-5, but while riding
home Wavy said, “It doesn’t matter who wins, it just matters that we had fun
being together.”
The little tyke knows
how to melt my heart.
Book Sales
I
still remain short of my goal of besting Herman Melville, but I haven’t totally
given up. Christmas is coming, and Nude
Nuns and Other Peculiar People or Ordinary People Who Aren’t would
make the perfect stocking stuffer.
For
those who’ve read this long missive and are still with me, I hope all is well
with each of you. That’s the news from
here.
Chuck
p.s. If you’re interested in any of the
accompanying photos, I’ve posted a few on my blog http://www.ordinarypeoplewhoarent.blogspot.com
Charles A. Wells, Jr.
3317 W. 68th Street
Shawnee Mission, KS 66208
816 289-1924
Author of: Ordinary People Who Aren't:
An Anthology and
Nude Nuns and Other Peculiar People
or at: http://www.nudenuns.blogspot.com
Available at:
Rainy Day Books, 2706 W. 53rd Street,
Fairway, KS
