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Back to the Neuer Ochsen…

Note: The Neuer Ochsen has long been closed since this post was written.

Bill and I dined at the Neuer Ochsen again this weekend because an old Peace Corps friend of mine, Erik, is in town and wanted to get together.  Neuer Ochsen is in Vaihingen, where there are plenty of restaurants and I knew several would be open today.

As it turned out, Erik was running late and he didn’t have a cell phone.  We also weren’t so clear on where we were going to meet, so we both ended up waiting in the wrong areas for each other.  But then I got the bright idea to check the restaurant and there he was.

We had a very good lunch… indeed, I had the same thing I had last weekend and so did Bill and Erik.  We talked and laughed for about two hours.  I hadn’t seen Erik in 17 years– he was starting his Peace Corps assignment in Armenia and I was finishing mine.  Now that he works for the government, he’s here on business.  The funny thing is, he and my husband will be hanging out this week thanks to their work.

I think it’s funny when my past intersects with Bill’s present.  It was a nice way to spend the afternoon.

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France and Germany… a send off from the Army– Part 6

I have a good friend named Audra who lives in Nimes, France.  I first met her at the high school in the small town where we grew up.  She is a year younger than I am, but we had classes together.  I used to chat with her during our journalism class, which turned out to be one of my favorite high school classes.  For some reason, I didn’t take the second year of journalism.  I probably should have.  My friend also graduated from Longwood University, which in our day was called Longwood College.  We didn’t really hang out when we were in college, so I hadn’t seen her in many years.  Facebook got us reconnected.

Since we were in France, Audra invited Bill and me to come down to Nimes and help her and her family celebrate her son’s 11th birthday.  I had never been to Nimes before.  It turned out to be a wonderful city, famed for its bullfights and Spanish feel.  We got off the train and walked right into a great farmer’s market that included displays, exhibitions, animals, and agricultural goods.  One native said to us in English that this market thing they had going on was not something they had every day.

The air smelled of livestock and the fecal by-product that comes from livestock.  There were goats, pigs, horses, rabbits, birds of every kind, and sheep.  Kids were taking donkey rides and adults were tasting wines, cheeses, and beers.  It was a fun scene.

I booked us at the Majestic Hotel, a two star establishment near the train station.  This hotel is very quirky and there’s no elevator.  We had kind of a funny incident with the lady who checked us in, who spoke no English.  I asked for the WiFi password.  She said what sounded like “D O’s.”  I tried several combinations.  It never occurred to me that what the lady had actually said was that we had to type ten zeros.  “Dix” is French for ten!

We got in touch with Audra, who came with two of her three kids to pick us up at our hotel.  We drove to a very cool village about an hour outside of Nimes where there was a great bar.  Audra, her boyfriend, Cyril, and Cyril’s parents had arranged for “charcuterie”, which is basically a huge pile of meat and bread.  The guy who ran the bar had a great selection of beers and played great music.  Audra and I wasted no time getting caught up while the birthday boy and his friends hung out.  Audra’s younger son and daughter were also in attendance, along with Cyril’s friend– whose name I can’t remember now!  It was a great time and Bill and I were so grateful to be included, especially since we never would have found that great bar on our own!

Big pile of meat!  I actually tasted a couple of sausages that required some bravery… I was rewarded for the effort!

 

Besides the cool bar, this town was very fortified…

The next day, Audra invited us to spend Mother’s Day with her family.  That, too, was a great treat, since Cyril’s family lives just outside of Nimes on a beautiful tree lined plot of land.  Audra and Cyril are building their own house next to Cyril’s parents’ house and, I have to say, Bill and I were very envious of what they’re about to have!

I think this may have been my favorite part of our trip.  Not only was it wonderful to see Audra and meet her kids, boyfriend, and his family, but we really got an authentic taste of France.  Had we not caught up with my old friend, we would have done the usual tourist things or just wandered around town (which is really more like what we tend to do on our trips).  Thanks to Audra and Cyril and Cyril’s parents, we got to see how the locals live… and from what I can see, they live quite well!

We might have wanted to stay an extra day in Nimes, but my eye was on the calendar and we knew we needed to start thinking about getting back to Germany within a few days so we could get a flight back to the USA.

My new scarf!

After Audra dropped us off during the afternoon, we wandered more around Nimes and I bought a scarf at the farmer’s market that was handmade by a local lady.  We saw a pair of Mormon missionaries who seemed to be having trouble finding things to do.

These three pieces of meat mysteriously fell before us as we walked around Nimes…

Then, for dinner, we stopped at a very charming little bistro that seemed to be a one woman show.  We were the lady’s only guests at about 7:00pm and she served us a fine meal.  I had dorada, which is one of my favorite fish dishes.  Bill had steak.  Then, when it came time to pay, he tried to use his credit card and it didn’t work.  So I had to sit in the restaurant and wait for Bill to get cash to pay the lady for our meal.  She was very gracious about it… I’m sure she’s run into this issue with American patrons more than once!

Awesome French dinner at this restaurant in Nimes…

Our next stop was Nice… but getting to Nice wasn’t all that nice!  Stay tuned!

Bill and the bull fighter! 

Scenes around Nimes…

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And finally, how my late beagle Flea helped break down barriers in Germany…

We lost our beagle, Flea, in November 2009, right after we moved back to the States from Germany.  While we lived in Germany, Flea ended up being both a hinderance and a help to us.  Most of the adults didn’t like him because he was really loud and obnoxious.  Kids loved him, though, and he did help break the ice between us and our German neighbors.  The featured picture is of MacGregor, who also helped us meet people.  Below, is Flea when we still lived in Germany the first time.

Flea

Flea, canine ambassador, helps us break cultural barriers in Germany!

Sep 12, 2008 (Updated May 9, 2012)

The Bottom Line If you live in a German neighborhood, it’s good to have dogs.

It’s hard to believe that on September 17, 2008, my husband Bill and I will have been living near Stuttgart, Germany for an entire year. The time has gone by fast and, after just a little bit of a culture shock and six weeks spent in a hotel, I find that I actually really love living here.

Bill and I have been very lucky since we arrived in Germany. First off, we didn’t get stuck living in a stairwell apartment on any of the local military installations. Bill is an Army officer and, as such, is subject to strict rules regarding housing. The biggest rule is that if there is housing available on a military installation, the servicemember must accept it unless he or she has a very compelling reason not to. As it turned out, when we first arrived in Germany, a lot of the housing was being renovated or was otherwise occupied. That meant that we were allowed to live in German housing on the economy. We ended up finding a huge house in a charming little town about twenty miles south of Stuttgart. The area is beautiful and authentic. Better yet, we have quiet and privacy.

A lot of people prefer the stairwell apartments on post because they are convenient. After all, people who live in those quarters are surrounded by their fellow Americans. Work, school, and shopping are closeby and the area is certainly secure, since armed guards man the entrances. If Bill and I had children, perhaps living on post would have been worthwhile for us. However, living off post and out in the country has turned out to be great… mainly because after ten months, I’m finally starting to get to know and like my German neighbors!

Even though Bill and I first moved into our house in November 2007, it’s only been very recently that we’ve started talking with our next door neighbors. Their household consists of an older couple and their daughter, her husband, and their adorable little two year old boy. When we first moved into our house, I immediately sensed that the family patriarch next door didn’t trust us. He seemed to gaze at our unkempt lawn with contempt, while his lawn and garden were kept pristine. Once, when my dogs were barking at him through the window, I saw him yelling back at them… of course, I couldn’t hear what he was saying because he was in his glass enclosed patio area. Even if I could hear him, I wouldn’t have been able to understand him. But his facial expressions and body language said a lot.

Ironically, it was our dogs that eventually got us talking to each other. My older dog, Flea, is a beagle who sort of behaves like a little canine ambassador. He loves children of all ages and is especially enchanted by little ones. The little boy next door, an adorable tyke with blond curls, is certainly worthy of enchantment. Every time we took Flea outside and he heard the little boy, Flea would start to whine. The little boy seemed equally intrigued by Flea and MacGregor (my other beagle). He would stand at the edge of his lawn and gaze at the dogs as if he longed to pet them.

One day, Flea saw the boy and let out a pained, eager yelp, which made the boy’s parents laugh. Bill took the dogs to the edge of the lawn and starting using his very basic German skills. It turned out the younger couple spoke some English. They chatted for a bit while Flea eyed the two year old, who shyly backed away. But it wasn’t long before the boy finally started to pet Flea, who was as gentle as a lamb.

After that, I noticed the family was a lot friendlier. We would trade “Guten Morgens” in the mornings and wave cordially. Flea would continue to fret whenever the boy was outside, amusing everybody.
One day a few weeks ago, the boy’s mother stood at the edge of our yards with a small bucket and asked me in German if we liked raspberries. Apparently, they’d had a bumper crop! With that invitation, Flea dragged me over to where she was standing, eager to visit with her little boy, who was hiding behind her. She apologized for her English skills, which I thought were pretty darn good. We ended up chatting for awhile and she confessed that her son had developed a fascination for dogs.

A couple of weeks later, when Flea demanded to have a chat with the toddler next door, the boy’s mother said that she and her husband had bought the boy a toy dog. He had named it Flea and slept with it every night! Also, the boy had taken to using the word English word “dog” instead of the German word, “hund”. We both had a big laugh when I asked her if she knew what the word “flea” means in English. I soon found myself describing what a flea is and telling her that Flea’s rescuer had been the one to name him! Her little boy presented me with a little branch full of cherry tomatoes he’d helped his dad grow in their green house. The boy’s mom said she hoped they were sweet enough.

The other night, Bill was working late and I found myself chatting with the neighbors again. The family patriarch had joined us. I was a little worried about how he would react to Flea and MacGregor being nearby, since they had seemed to annoy him when we first moved in. But when Flea went up to him, he seemed happy to give him lots of attention. Apparently, he’d had dogs as a boy, though he was not familiar with beagles… for which I finally learned the German word. I haven’t seen many beagles in Germany and have actually been stopped a couple of times by neighbors who have asked me if Flea and MacGregor are beagles. I get the feeling they aren’t common here, though people seem to think they’re pretty cute. On the other hand, I’m not sure that many Germans understand that beagles bay when they get on a scent. I’ve gotten a lot of surprised and annoyed looks at times…

Since we’ve been in Germany, my dogs have helped me break the ice with my German neighbors all around. I also get the feeling that they provide some entertainment for the local children. A couple of months ago, we were victims of repeated “ding dong ditching”. A local prankster would ring our doorbell in the early evening, then run away. Of course, it would get the dogs going, which I’m sure was the purpose for the prank. We ended up disconnecting all of our doorbells. In a way, that’s not a bad thing. Most of the people who ring our doorbell nowadays are people trying to sell something… including religion.

It’s true that getting our dogs to Germany and taking care of them here has been, in some ways, a challenge. And goodness knows we’d be able to travel more if we didn’t have our dogs to consider. On the other hand, I doubt I’d be getting to know the neighbors if it weren’t for Flea and his affection for kids. I think having our dogs is going to really enrich this whole international experience for us. And MacGregor, as shy as he can be, is even getting in on the act!

 

MacGregor is looking at the camera while Flea looks off to the side…

 

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Lockhart, Texas…

Today, Bill and I were invited to my cousin’s wife’s birthday party in Lockhart, Texas.  Lockhart reminds me a bit of Sanford, North Carolina, the city where we lived before we moved to Texas.  It’s actually cuter than Sanford, though… with a nice row of mansions in town and some very interesting old buildings.  I was glad to see them, since we now live in the land of box stores and chain restaurants.

This particular cousin and I hadn’t spent much time together because he and his wife have always lived in Texas and had five kids, now all grown and thoroughly awesome people.  Texas is not close to Virginia, which is where I spent most of my life.  So I didn’t get to see them much as I was growing up and they were raising their family.  In fact, I think I saw them all for the first time in 2000… and it was the first time in many years since I’d seen my cousin Andy.  Since then, I’ve seen them sporadically, but now that we live in Texas, we could become closer.

Lockhart is on the way to Austin, about an hour from San Antonio…  It’s a really cute town.

On the way into downtown Lockhart…

Very cool old building…

Another shot as we passed…

Castle?

It was my cousin’s wife’s 50th… This is their son holding up the pinata.  No, he didn’t hold it as the birthday girl swung at it.

 

We have been invited back for a baby shower in a couple of weeks, so I’ll get a few more shots next time.  We had a great time visiting with my family, though… and their very nice friends and all the sweet dogs in attendance, too.  Next time, we will have to bring Zane and Arran.

Probably the funniest part of the evening was when my cousin’s daughter, Sandra, introduced me as her dad’s cousin.  I laughed and said, “I’m YOUR cousin too, you know!”

I wish I had gotten more photos.  It was quite the blast.

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Fabulous evening last night… impromptu par-tay!

Bill and I went to Dough last night to meet his old high school friend and his wife.  As we were going there, we were commenting on our runaway electric meter, which Bill says shows us using 10,000 kilowatt hours.  So we were bitching about that as we pulled into a crowded parking lot at a strip mall.  We found a place to park and walked up to the restaurant.  There were many people there and a musician was playing jazz.

Suddenly, I saw the back of a guy who looked very familiar to me…  In 1993 and 94, I was the cook at Camp Paddy Run in Star Tannery, Virginia.  Star Tannery is a beautiful place, but it’s tucked away in the mountains and isn’t even noted on a lot of maps.  Anyway, in the summer of 1994, I worked with some great folks and one of them was a guy named Jason who grew up to become an Episcopalian vicar and is now married to a former Paddy Run attendee who is now a San Antonio surgeon.  I knew they were in San Antonio, but I didn’t know they were going to be at Dough last night.  And we ran right into them while they were waiting to buy wine!

I had not seen either of them since 1994, but had reconnected with Jason on Facebook.  I must say, he looks very much the same as he did back in the day.

Bill’s friend Matt, and Matt’s beautiful wife Jess, showed up a little later and we enjoyed two bottles of wine and a couple of pizzas, along with a delightful appetizer.  Matt, Jess, Bill, and I were getting along great… then Jason and his wife, Susannah, finished up and came out and chatted with us for awhile.  I was amazed at how well everyone meshed, despite most of us being strangers.  After all, Jason and I were not really close buddies in 1994, but we were friendly, as most everyone at Paddy Run was.  I remembered Susannah as a “counselor in training”; she was a teen when I last saw her and was only at camp for a week.  I had never met Matt or Jess before, though Bill knew Matt in high school and recently had lunch with him and I had chatted with him on Facebook.

But there we all were, hanging out like long lost friends.  At one point, I got excited and went to drink some water, but missed my mouth and spilled water all over my shirt.  I guess my “drinking problem” is flaring up again.

Our appetizer… Dough makes all cheeses and breads on site.  

This pizza was called Pork Love…  Supposedly, it was showcased on the Food Network and after tasting it, I can see why. It was quite nice.

This was a sausage pizza that had onions and pistachios and it was insanely good!

 Menus

We shared a couple of bottles of wine and then Jason gave us the half he didn’t drink.  The three hours we hung out together passed very quickly.  It’s not often you run into a small group with that much chemistry!  Bill and I really had a marvelous time.   I hope we can do it again sometime soon.

When we got home, Zane and Arran were happy to see us… and Arran had pulled The Joy of Cooking off the bookshelf.  Guess he got hungry.

San Antonio is already turning out to be better for me socially, even if I already want to find a new neighborhood.

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My German friend…

A couple of months ago, right around the time my dog MacGregor died, I picked up a new friend on Facebook.  It was a German Army wife who had seen the Facebook page I made for MacGregor and worked with the beagle rescue that gave us Arran.  It’s been fun getting to know her.  I imagine that being a German living in America must be, in some ways, like being an American living in Germany.

My friend, Susi, is about sixteen years younger than I am.  When I was her age, I was single and living in Armenia, serving as a Peace Corps Volunteer.  Susi is married to a soldier.  I’m assuming she met and married him when he was posted in Stuttgart.  Incidentally, that’s where Bill and I lived when we lived in Germany.  In chatting with Susi, I’ve been very impressed by a lot of things…

First off, she has quite an affinity for profanity.  I am not offended by this, actually.  I like to cuss too.  She often uses profanity to express her displeasure with America.  I’m not sure if she feels this way because America– especially where she lives in North Carolina– is not as exciting as Germany is.  I mean, the weather is milder here, but we don’t have the really beautiful old buildings or picturesque towns that they have in Europe.  And we have a lot of ugly big box stores and fast food restaurants.

Last night, she commented on how American kitchens were not designed for people who like to cook.  When we lived in Germany, we actually had a very nice kitchen.  Our landlord had a masonry heater that had a bench built into it, as well as a table bolted to the floor.  We had an infrared stove, which we hated, and a convection oven, which was smaller than what we were used to.  The Army gave us a refrigerator, which was nice because European fridges are smaller.  I didn’t necessarily think that kitchen was better than any I’d had in America, though.

Also, my husband and I love to cook.  My husband has actually turned it into a hobby and has become quite proficient at creating a nice meal.  I taught him a lot and he has since learned more on his own.  There are a lot of Americans who cook.

On the other hand, Americans who are lucky enough to have a job typically work long hours.  And they don’t tend to get as much vacation time as Europeans get, nor is it necessarily guaranteed that Americans will even get a vacation.  The upshot is, a lot of us Yanks eat convenience foods.  Bill and I don’t, really… we cook most days.  But a lot of Americans do.  So maybe that’s why our kitchens “suck”.

I wonder if Susi had a cultural high when she came to America.  I know I did in Germany, though it was actually pretty stressful to move there because we were stuck in a hotel for six weeks with two noisy beagles.  Susi has an advantage because she speaks excellent English, while I don’t speak a lick of German.  And even if I did, it’s likely the Germans I ran into would switch to English anyway.

Given a choice, I’d probably prefer Germany to America.  It’s beautiful there… the food and beverages are excellent… so many wonderful places are within driving distance.  Granted, America has its share of beautiful places too.  But America has become too generic, to the point that you can go most anywhere and it won’t be that different.

I didn’t make a lot of friends in Germany.  There were a few locals we interacted with a bit, but we found that it takes time to get to know Germans.  Once they know you, they seem to be wonderful friends who are solid to the core.  But it takes awhile to crack the surface.  I wonder if Susi finds Americans too easy to make friends with.  Culturally, we are very different… even those of us who have German heritage (and I do, a little, but my family is more Scottish/English/Irish than anything else).

I also wonder if Susi has a trash disposal and if she enjoys using it.  I know compost heaps are big in Germany.  I give Susi props for knowing the town where I lived in Germany.

One of the many views from our back yard in Germany…

An even better shot…

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Old friends…

One very cool thing about today is that we have Facebook.  Granted, Facebook can lead to a lot of problems for a lot of people, particularly those who don’t use their privacy settings.  It can also lead to hurt feelings.  I resisted joining Facebook for a long time, until an old friend talked me into it.  Oddly enough, she seems to have dropped off Facebook.

Anyway, the other day, I looked up a guy I knew in Armenia who had been a Peace Corps Volunteer in Russia, back when Russia still needed some help.  He later got a job in Armenia while I was there and we ended up becoming friends.  I taught business English at his place of business and he also rented an apartment from an Armenian friend of mine whom I met while singing in a choir.

His former landlady is probably one of the best piano players I’ve ever had the pleasure of hearing live.  We used to get together on Saturdays.  She’d practice her English and we’d practice music.  She was a neat lady, though a bit on the eccentric side.  My friend who rented her apartment told me horror stories of cleaning it up.

I sent this guy a friend request and he remembered me!  I always worry that someone either won’t remember me or will think I’m too annoying to be friends with.  But anyway, he’s a good guy… still lives abroad and has had some very interesting assignments as an expat.  Twenty years ago, I wanted to be back in the States, but now I realize that I envy people who can live abroad.

One of the reasons I like living abroad is that you often end up meeting people you would never meet otherwise.  When you are a minority, you end up running into people who are like you… perhaps people you would not meet if you both lived in your homeland.  Sometimes that’s a bad thing, of course.  You can run into assholes you might wish you’d never laid eyes on.  But sometimes you end up meeting folks who are very intelligent, talented, and interesting.  Of course, you might also meet other expats from other countries, too.  I bumped into folks from all over the world when I lived abroad.

Once you’ve done that and survived it, you kind of crave it again… or at least I do.  I miss being out of the country, even though it can be a pain in the butt to live somewhere else.  I remember being sad when my husband told me we were moving to Germany because I realized it would be a logistical pain.  But once we got there and got settled, I really loved being abroad and didn’t look forward to leaving.  Living abroad is a challenge… and it can lead to great bonding experiences with other people.

I hope we get to do it again someday…

I met this gentleman in Armenia in 1995.  We were near Lake Sevan and he was kind enough to let me photograph him.
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A month on a train in Europe… Spain

Dawn, Chris, and I marveled as we watched the insanely beautiful Spanish countryside fly by.  We had stopped briefly in Port Bou, France, because the train tracks in Spain are different than they are in France and we had to change trains.  A gaggle of American sorority girls were on our train, making me feel both old and slightly irritated.

I remember sitting in my second class seat and looking at the stunning landscape.  A Spanish native said “Welcome to Espana” with a proud smile on his face.

It was bright and sunny as we passed Girona and its cathedral on our way south.  We finally landed in Barcelona in the early evening.  We had been traveling all day and we were tired… and somehow, we ended up at a dirt cheap hostel a few blocks from Barcelona’s train station.  The room was dark, small, and had a window that literally opened into the elevator shaft.  But for three poverty stricken travelers, it would work.

Dawn, Chris and I walked around downtown Barcelona, strolling on Las Ramblas and meeting up with Chris’s friend, Javier, who lived in Barcelona.  I remember getting into his tiny compact car and going on a tour of the city, which highlighted the Olympic stadium.  I also remember eating paella for the first time and discovering bocadillos at Pan and Company, a Barcelona area healthy fast food chain.  We visited the cathedral and stood outside La Sagrada Familia, because we were too poor to pay the admission to go inside.

In 2009, my husband and I went back to Barcelona and stayed in a very nice hotel in Montjuic, which is an area on hill that overlooks the city.  Our 2009 trip was sort of a dream come true, since I had shown my husband my picture of La Sagrada Familia several years prior and he didn’t know what it was.  When I told him about it, he wanted to go there… and we managed to do that, courtesy of a “blind booking” on Germanwings, a discount airline in Germany that lets people book mystery flights (lots of fun– we’ve done it three times so far).

Taken in April 2009.  My husband cried when we went inside because he was overwhelmed by how cool it is…

 

After a couple of days in Barcelona, Dawn, Chris, and I went to Madrid, where I would be meeting my older sister.  We booked a stay in a comfortable hotel suggested by Rick Steves.  I got a single room and Dawn and Chris stayed in a double.  I remember going to the airport to pick up my sister, Becky, and then after lunch, Dawn, Chris, and I parted ways.  They were headed to see another one of Chris’s friends up north and then take Dawn to Salamanca.  My sister and I, on the other hand, planned to head south to Seville.

But first we spent a few nights in Madrid…  I remember on the first night, U2 was playing and I could hear their concert in my hotel room.  It was right around the time they had released Pop, an album I don’t own but should probably buy because I heard their concert in my Madrid hotel room.

La Plaza Mayor in Madrid

Courtesy of Wikipedia (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Plaza_Mayor_de_Madrid_06.jpg)

In retrospect, it probably wasn’t that smart to travel with Becky.  She’s a high maintenance person and immediately objected to the cheap places I had gotten used to staying at.  But we got along okay at first… I was excited about going to Seville, which I had heard was amazing.  We went to the Prado, which Becky insisted on because she’s an artist.  I don’t think we got to see much of it, though, because we had a train to catch.  We had book a bullet train to Seville, cutting down the travel time to something manageable.

When we got to Seville, we managed to find a small bed and breakfast in the maze-like old town, Santa Cruz (Jewish Quarter).  We saw a flamenco show, saw Seville’s massive cathedral, and took a carriage ride around the Plaza de Espana… and I remember it was about this time that Becky and I started to bicker.  She objected to the frantic pace I had been keeping and my cheapness.  And she also didn’t seem to like Spain that much, because people eat later at night.  My sister was an ugly American to the extreme and said Spain was like a third world country.  Having just come from Armenia, where 24 hour power still wasn’t guaranteed, I thought that was a pretty foolish remark.

Plaza de Espana

Courtesy of Wikipedia: (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Plaza_de_España_-_Sevilla.jpeg)

Anyway, between stories about her love life and complaints about how dirty Spain was, I was quickly realizing I was better off traveling alone.

Becky and I went to Cadiz, Spain next.  Cadiz is in the extreme southern part of Spain, on the Mediterranean coast.  It was in Cadiz that we stayed in very poor accommodations.  I remember it being a simple room with crucifixes on the walls.  After a day strolling around the very hot city and taking a swim at the beach, we went to an Irish pub, where I proceeded to drink five Irish coffees.  I was up all night because there was a loud party going on in the building next to ours.

Cadiz Cathedral

Courtesy of Wikipedia

Though it was very cool to be so close to Morocco, we got up early the next day for a train heading to France…  Becky’s patience with Spain was wearing dangerously thin…  and my patience with Becky was also becoming pretty short.

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A month on a train in Europe… South of France

The most beautiful part of my month in Europe was probably the trip we took through the South of France.  The Italian Riviera is gorgeous with the Alps looming over the sea and palm trees everywhere.    The beauty continues into France.  Chris, Dawn, and I decided we wanted to hit Nice.  Chris and Dawn also wanted to go to Monaco and that provided a nice side trip from France’s lovely and nice city.

We got off the train and found a fleabag hotel.  It was very close to the train station and had shutters that closed.  We went into the dusty lobby and a very laid back lady showed us a large, dingy room with three beds.  We booked it because it had a bathroom and was dirt cheap.  It also had a TV.

I think by the time we got to Nice, I was really becoming a third wheel.  I remember wandering around Nice a lot by myself, heading down to the beach and checking out all the flamboyant people.  I also discovered a GREAT restaurant there.  They had a deal in which you could get a three course meal for 39 French francs.  I think at that time, the conversion rate was about three or four francs to a dollar, though I could be wrong.  Anyway, the restaurant had really good food and it was very inexpensive.  I remember later reading in a guide book about the place.  It was written up in a Let’s Go book for being exactly as awesome as it was for people who are traveling on a shoestring budget.

I also remember walking around a market and purchasing a double cassette of The Police: Live! and a t-shirt for my niece, who was about four years old back then.  To this day, I can’t listen to that album, since replaced on CD, without being reminded of traveling through France.

Courtesy Wikipedia: (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Nice-night-view-with-blurred-cars_1200x900.jpg)

We spent a night or two in Nice, then decided to get on the train and head for Spain.  It turned out that was September 5th, the day of Princess Diana’s funeral.  I tuned in to the radio and listened to her funeral, dubbed into French.  I could hear Charles Spencer’s eulogy under the French dubbing, as we sped west through the mesmerizing southern French countryside.  I wish we’d stopped somewhere along the way for a quick rest.  I’ve been trying to get back to southern France ever since that trip 15 years ago and haven’t quite made it yet.  Fortunately, my husband is now a confirmed Francophile. (ETA: we went back in 2014)

If you ever have the opportunity to take the train from the Italian Riviera through, the French Riviera, to Barcelona, Spain, I highly recommend doing it.  Be sure to stop along the way, though, and soak up some rays at the beach, drink wine, and eat some wonderful French food…

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adventure

A month on a train in Europe… Slovakia and Vienna, Austria

I distinctly recall the Bratislava train station circa 1997.  Although Bratislava, Slovakia is very close to Vienna, Austria, at that time, they were worlds apart in terms of efficiency.  I exchanged some cash and ended up with what I later learned was an ungodly amount of cash.  Like Armenia circa 1997, the Slovak Republic was still a very cheap place to visit.

I bought a train ticket to Zilina, where my Irish friend Chris had an internship that was ending.  His girlfriend, now wife, Dawn, had come from America to see him and start a semester studying in Spain. We were going to meet up in Zilina and travel through Europe together for a couple of weeks.

The trip to Zilina took awhile.  I remember sitting on the train, watching the countryside pass.  I distinctly remember passing Trencin, a charming looking city on the Van River, not too far from the Czech Republic.  Trencin Castle is visible from the train and I remember wanting to get off and explore the city.

When we landed in Zilina, I found the bus my friend told me to take to the university where he was staying.  I was struck by how similar everything was to the other formerly communist countries I had seen, lots of cookie cutter buildings and old, serviceable buses that belched smoke and fumes and still carried the masses along the dirty streets.  I spoke to the front desk person a the university and he told me where Chris’s room was.  I waited there for a little while, until Chris and Dawn showed up.

Zilina turned out to be a cute town.  Chris and his friends, who came from all over Europe, went out that night to a bar.  I don’t remember much about the outing, except that it was a nice looking place… until I went to the bathroom. Someone had puked all over the toilet seat and left it there.

I slept in Chris’s bed with his cheerful French Asian roommate, Jeremy, while Chris and Dawn borrowed a friend’s room so they could have some private time.  The next day, I met more of Chris’s friends, including a guy from Switzerland, whose name escapes me, a Spanish guy named Xavier, and some blonde chick from Finland whom everyone seemed to think was annoying.  I didn’t have an opinion of her.  I think I was just glad that for once, someone else besides me was thought of as irritating.

Everybody played basketball in a very parochial looking gym.  I didn’t play.  I took some pictures instead.

After two nights in Zilina, it was time for us to move on.  Chris, Dawn, and I, along with some of Chris’s friends, boarded a train to Vienna.  There, we got rooms at a university dormitory that Dawn had found in a Let’s Go Europe guide book.  I remember the dorm room looking a lot like they do in the United States.  And I remember the subway stop– Taubstummengasse– because the Vienna U-Bahn system had this horrible male voice that made that word sound just awful!

We walked around Vienna, which is a very grand city… and wandered around the palace gardens, and eventually visited a museum.  I remember seeing a lot of cool exhibits, but my eyes were bothering me, as if I had scratched them with my contact lenses.  Actually, I probably did, since in those days I wore the same pair of contacts for a year or more at a time!  The sun irritated my eyes and I was having trouble keeping them open.  I ended up going back to the university and renting a dorm room for a couple of hours so I could take a nap.

Vienna (courtesy of Wikipedia: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Vienna_Panorama_at_Night.jpg)

Vienna was pricey, though, despite the cheap digs.  By that night, we were on a train headed to Venice, Italy.  Little did I know, that would be Princess Diana’s last night alive.

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