Rome

We love to travel – I guess that much is clear by now – and so, to the horror of my mother (“you are going away – again???”) we took off for Rome the day after Christmas.  I have been to Rome before – more years ago than I care to admit during the equivalent of my senior year in high-school.  I loved Rome.  Loved it with all the enthusiasm and undying devotion of a small town girl spending time in a big city – with her friends, not with her parents – for the first time.

But besides the delicious freedom to do stupid things (like piling into a Fiat 500 with six people, three of them guys we had just met) there was something more profound about Rome that attracted me, geek that I was even then.  The fact that you turn some random corner to stumble over a column 2000 years old or a fountain – if not by the great Bernini himself so at least by one of his more talented students – history was ever present, real and tangible reaching from classical times throughout all of European history.  Rome ever after had a special place in my heart, a place that no other city could touch – not Paris with its grandiose architecture, not London with all its wonderful museums, not Prague that seemed so unbelievably authentic and different back then when it was still the capital of Czechoslovakia and not San Francisco – beautiful city that it is but so devoid of history that reaches further back than the early 20th century.

Therefore it was with some trepidation that I went to Rome – would it live up to the standard, would it still prove to be special?

I am happy to report it did.  It is a marvelous city, a place so full of history that just walking around feels like a history lesson without the tediousness.  Despite being a big city Rome can be explored by foot if one doesn’t mind a good hike to work up an appetite for pizza or pasta later.  Walking through the narrow streets, turning a corner and finding oneself of one of the many piazzas small and big, unknown or world famous is what makes the Rome experience so special. I am partial to the antique Rome rather that the Catholic Rome and so the Colloseum, Forum Romanum, the Catacombs and Ostia Antica where high on our list.  Despite that focus on the antique it is impossible to not be in awe (and scared of) of the wealth and power displayed by the churches, especially St. Peters.  It brought me a little closer to begin to understand the power the church held – and to some extend is still holding – over ordinary people and how frightening and unreachable its higher ups were and how much the church dominated life down to every detail.

But despite all this, the churches at every corner there is an undeniable joy in life that I have – during my formative years – come to associate with southern countries, esp. Italy.  It’s noisy, a bit chaotic, the buses go when they go (instead of every hour at 07, 22, 37 and 52 mins as they would in Germany) and I am glad I don’t have to deal with the bureaucracy there – but they sure know how to make ice-cream!

I come back from Rome still in awe so many years later, frustrated by too many tourist but with the definite plan to go back in the not so distant future during off-peak season.

Here are some pics from our trip.

150 ice cream flavors – we couldn’t resist even though it was cold

Caracallas therme – lovely and impressive and blissfully few tourists

The underground of the Colloseum

Vestia temple at the Forum Romanum

inside St. Peter – doves, sign of peace, everywhere

Forum Romanum

Free New Year’s concert at the Spanish Steps. Singing the National Anthem.

Ostia Antica – and amazing glimpse into life in Rom 2000 years ago,

New Years parade – Indian bag piping group from London

St. Peters

Swiss Guard protecting a Pope who with his controversial statements and message of poverty and humbleness needs protection more than many before him.

 

 

 

 

Rules and Regulations

Piazza San Marco – almost empty. What a sight, even in the dark and rain.

Naïve as I sometimes am I thought and hoped that some of the buttons my parents used to push so successfully during my formative years had ceased to exist or healed over enough to no longer be readily pushable . Naïve – I admit as a recent episode shows.

It began most harmless the other day when I told my parents that I had booked an apartment for three nights in Venice for a long weekend. In my experience late November is the only time to visit Venice if you really want to stand a chance to encounter the occasional local, not just busloads of tourists from all over the world.

“But geek-boy is in school” my mother saw fit to say. I stare at her blankly. “So?” I think “One Friday away won’t damage his academic performance and a trip to Venice is way more educational than six hours of school, even if it is a double Latin.” Outwardly I continue to stare blankly and say something like “I’ll just take him out of school for a day.” I am thinking of California where this is accepted practice on occasion, sometimes life just interferes with schedules.

By now my mother looks highly alarmed “But they don’t like that.” she states. Such statements bring out the worst in me: trying to regiment my life by stating the likes and dislikes of some abstract entity referred to as “they” which could be the catholic church, the members of some club or association, the totality of all our neighbors or, like in this case, the school system of Baden Wuerttemberg just brings back teenage years and all the “one just does not do that” sermons I had to endure. With that comes teenage obstinacy.

“I don’t care what ‘they’ like” I can’t help but saying. Creating more alarmed faces, “they’ll” just have to deal with it.” Now I am on a role, words starting with f and b (bloody bastards being the friendly variation) come to mind and want out but are held back at the very last second.

I know it is futile to argue and so does my mom and so gladly after a little more sparing the topic gets changed but leaves me with the distinct feeling that as a mother I am a lousy role model and will be single-handedly through this act of defiance ruin my child’s chances in life – or worse yet, risk “their” wrath which will come done in full force on the innocent child.

Needless to say, we went to Venice, it was fun and way more educational than double Latin class and we had the chance to see San Marco Square pretty much empty. Okay, it was on a Friday in late November, after dark and it was raining. But still ….

A week in France isn’t a good time to start a diet

Ever being the Californians we decided short notice (absurdly short notice, as in the week before) to take a week off and drive over to the Alsace region of France and easy two-and-a-half hour drive from where we are. There are tons of vacation apartments (gites) in this area but all but three got eliminated on the particular site I was using due to the high-speed wireless internet connection requirement.  ever the Californians ….

So we piled way too much luggage in the car and off we went. It was four of us, my best friend since middle school days joining us as well.

Now, there is much than could be said about France in general and the Alsace in particular but I’ll condense it. First I have to mention that despite three years of French in school (or rather because of it) I have a rather broken relationship with the language. I hated and feared French classes and always skirted an F.  After three years I was able to drop it and it was one of the best days of my school career which wasn’t very distinguished but ended well after French (and Latin) were gone. Anyways, I have never managed to mend my relationship with French always maintaining that I will learn Mandarin or Arabic before I learn French. This time I thought that – maybe – I could learn to understand it and maybe read it. Who knows, three more visits and I will get comfortable with the notion that maybe one day I might be able to say a couple of sentences.

So, this goes to say that I didn’t feel quite as awkward as I thought I would despite the fact that the French must have thought me weird because I kept answering in Spanish, when addressed in French.

The Alsace is beautiful, great for hiking, lovely little towns and villages which – in late October – were only somewhat inundated with tourists; in summer, I am sure they must be quite unbearably flooded.  They have lovely old houses there, many nicely restored, many of the little towns look like right out of a picture book.

We went on lovely hikes in beautiful terrain, not Alpine but still rugged and demanding, with lovely vistas. Old castles and ruins abound and the aforementioned little towns to visit afterwards for a coffee and a petit pain au chocolate.

Despite my broken relationship with French and basically most things French I have always loved French cheeses – and, boy, they are every bit as good as I remembered them. The prices, despite France not being cheap at all, are fantastic. I basically got three to four times as much cheese per dollar as in the US. And: I can get them all, all the good goat cheeses as well as my all-time favorite, the Chaource, which I can hardly even get in the US and if I can find it it’s worth its weight in gold (well almost).

The food in general, is fantastic, the pates, the nice cold cuts, did I mention the cheeses, cakes, chocolate, wine, I could go on. The operative sentence of the week was uttered by my friend, who constantly tries to go on a diet and generally fails before starting in earnest “a week in France is not a good time to start a diet”. I couldn’t have said it better myself.

Geek-boy was also pretty content with the situation and hiked like a pro, no whining, no complaining and we did serious tours. He, who can never be for more than a few minutes without holding something in his hands (compulsive, ever since he was a tiny little baby) found another endearing French quality. Standing in the middle of a forest trying out a whole bunch of sticks (Geek-boy always has at least two to three sticks in his hands while hiking) he proclaimed “Man, the French have good sticks.”

A good number of these sticks are now under his bed back here at home, a good stick can’t be left behind, we learned that many years ago.

So, in all it was a pleasant week, with good hikes and good food and I might actually be tempted to give France another try in the not so distant future. As to French – not ready to sign up for classes just yet.

 

Lovely little town in the Alsace

One of many cute houses, nicely restored and presented

Half-timbered houses are typical for the area as well as southern Germany and Austria.

All the spices in the world – but for Mexican ones. Sigh!

even as a German I have to admit: good bread

Oh, the cheeses! Just look at all the cheeses!

 

Weekend Trip Recap

Once in a while one encounters a place that is such a perfect embodiment of an idea that it almost seems unreal, like the place is trying to mock itself by shamelessly overdoing it.

This weekend we visited such a place – and I am not just speaking of Ludwig’s castle Neuschwanstein but the whole area around it called Allgaeu.  It is rolling hills and happy cows, churches, fountains made from hollowed out tree trunks and free-ranging chickens, farm houses where each son of the family learned a different trade and so they all band together, bring their friends and build their own houses (to code, not just some artsy-fartsy shacks).  It is a place where villages are old and build around the churches, the home of amazing bakery products and meat-and-potato/dumpling dishes like you wouldn’t believe it.  This is where the streets are full of cow shit and nobody minds and of profuse flower pots on each and every balcony.  This is where – if one were to believe in such things – one would want to be reincarnated as a cat on such a farm.

Behind the rolling hills far enough away not to cast too much of a shadow rise the raggedy Alps providing a dramatic backdrop to all that absurd idyll.  This were geek-boy decided that he liked rural and could live in such a place (I let that one go) and geek-husband declared that this was ridiculously idyllic (no mention of moving there, I think he realizes that high-speed Internet access is not up to expectations).

We hiked for hours and finally ended up at the famous castle. It is amazing – and a bit of a let down at the same time.  Here we were on a grey mid-October day and the place was crawling with tourists.  I can’t even imagine what this looks like on a sunny July day.  They might have to close the road to walk up because there are so many people. Of course, I understand and of course I can’t judge because we were tourists, too, and of course the place is otherworldly somehow but in the end I enjoyed the villages cum cow shit and the rolling hills with raggedy mountains towering over them more.  Maybe we have to go back in like late November, maybe then one gets the castle without the crowds and a bit more of an idea of how it must have all felt when Ludwig was frolicking around there (I assume he was frolicking, I mean, why wouldn’t he).

So, today a few pictures which because of the grey skies – being the worst for a photographer – don’t do reality justice.

 

More Neuschwanstein on a grey October day
(c) Tina Baumgartner

Neushwanstein on a grey October day
(c) Tina Baumgartner

Can’t even call it a village – no street names, just house numbers
(c) Tina Baumgartner

Across he border in Austria – just as idyllic
(c) Tina Baumgartner

Happy Allgaeu cow in evening light.
(c) Tina Baumgartner

historic and idyllic
(c) Tina Baumgartner

pretty art deco details on the local pharmacy
(c) Tina Baumgartner

Tourist on the Marienbruecke, on a grey October day, more kept storming on until there was hardly any moving anymore
(c) Tina Baumgartner

this is how I want to be reincarnated
(c) Tina Baumgartner

 

Weekend Trip

So we are doing a weekend trip – California style.  As opposed to any self-respecting German who would leave work a little early – which means like 11 am because a regular Friday generally already ends plenty early – we will leave late and arrive late thanks to phone calls with, well, California.  (it is amazing what a change of location does to perspective, in California I used to be annoyed about the world pretty much being shut down by the time I got to my desk and now I am think “why the hell can’t they get up a bit earlier in California on a Friday if they want to speak to the rest of the world, its Friday evening here, hello, Friday evening, weekend, time off!!  Why can’t that 8:30 am conference call be at like 7:30 am?  Isn’t Silicon Valley supposedly always working!!)

King Ludwig’s Princess – oops, Prince castle.
Source: wiki

Its a short drive by US standards, less than 100 miles to a little town close to Fuessen.  Claim to fame: crazy King Ludwig’s fairy tale castle, Neuschwanstein.  The model for every Disney castle there ever was and is to come.  It is an absurd place, beautiful in its overdoneness, with this amazing location just on the border between the foothills and the Alps, archetypical for every little girl’s princess dreams (or at least those who do have princess dreams, I can’t remember any but maybe I am in denial).

I wanted to visit this place, I don’t know why, maybe because it will make me feel more like an American tourist than a local.  Maybe because this is the real deal, copied many times over, but it looks unreal itself.  Who knows, maybe just to get away for the weekend because I know if we stay here there will be cleaning and working and not much fun to be had.  I am determined to have a little fun, once in a while, even if my naive dreams of an easier and simpler life in Germany are all but shattered by now  between early morning calls to APAC and evening calls to California and geek-boy coming home from school so darn early.

Princess castle, here we come!