TravelStream™ news feed for member gwaymar on TravelPod's free travel blogs service http://www.travelpod.com/syndication/rss/gwaymar en-us Copyright ©2009 TravelPod.com Sun, 02 Nov 2008 05:47:03 -0500 http://www.travelpod.com http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/gwaymar/14/1201309500/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/gwaymar/14/1201309500/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/gwaymar/14/1201309500/tpod.html Sun, 02 Nov 2008 05:47:03 -0500 Europe

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Geneva, Switzerland

PHOTO_ID_L=europe-map_-2007.gifIt is 1973. I have two daughters born in 1968 and 1970. My wife Jo is pregant with our son-to-be Benjamin. He is due to be born somewhere around the 1st of May. I have a contract with the UN in Geneva (where out family will live) that commences on May 1st and I cannot wait any longer for Ben to come into the world. It turns out that he becomes the sort of guy that does things in his own way... more on that later.Only a few months ago, I was in the thick of a city election where I had been nominated and stood as a candidate for city council. My chances for election were excellent, as I was endorsed by the party that had dominated the Vancouver City elections for over 35 years. I said to friends and family that if I lost (ha ha), I would take the offer to go to Geneva for a year or more if the contract was extended. The timing was not right for my son OR for me to enter politics...Geneva was an amazing, timeless, shocking, beguiling city that captured every part of the Enid Blyton/Thomas Hardy novels of Adventure still remaining in me from my boyhood. I was immediately given a second youth as the awe of the people, buildings, parks: languages & culture, architecture and unseen types of flaura and fauna... all snuck up on me tickling my curiosity, overwhelming me with new, exciting and yet scarey feelings. For instance - going down to breakfast the first morning in my hotel and realizing that I didn't speak French and everyone around me did. It was then that I learned with much relief, that in a hotel ANYWHERE in the world, somebody knows somebody who knows some English. In an international city like Geneva, the waiters were polyglots, much like many Swiss, Dutch and Scandinavians I was to meet from here on, in my life.
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Frankfurt, Hesse, Germany

Last photos of the trip taken. These are of Uschi's home, providing others outside of Germany a look inside, the 'home' enivronment of a wonderful German woman and home-maker.
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Frankfurt, Hesse, Germany

Cats have had their shots, mail is stopped, newspaper cancelled, folded up the driveway and rolled down the roof. We are ready to go. Frankfurt is first stop, then to Hanover where we will be picked up by Ingrid's twin Karen and b.i.l. Holgar Tornow.  We are staying with another sister Uschi.  I of course, will be speaking Greek all the time I am there so that they will feel at home with me as I will with them.... WRONG - they speak English!
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Hanover,, Lower Saxony, Germany

The flight ...Was from Ottawa to Frankfurt, where we changed planes from AC to Leufthanser (sp?). Fairly uneventful, good flight; we saw Indianana Jones II for movie of the week and our t.v. screen was built into the seat in front of us. No more straining above or around heads, seat rests etc. and suffering the walking up and down of passengers past the screen. Ah the luxuries we now hold onto with greedy hugs as if they were treasures compared to the normal expectations of in-flight service of only ten short years ago. I miss my peanuts and extra pillows, headsets that always worked even if the sound quality was dubious. I recall once cutting myself with a real utensil and having to ask for a band-aid; today, at the site of blood OR metal, the crew would pull the emergency cord and the plane would come to a complete stop in mid-flight, screeching like an old iron-horse with rusty wheels struggling against the weather-beaten tracks of rough edges, iron filings and slightly askew couplings.  Alas we had no tubes of toothpaste or nivea, water bottles or nail clippers to toss errantly at the stews or pilots. They had all been confiscated at the gates by the wardens of the pilots&stews pension fund collectible and 2nd hand sale union. Nothing passed their desirous eyes...October 12th: As I said, we arrived in two pieces: she and me. We expected no more or less. Well yes, we did expect to be met and we were. There is a saying somewhere in the Rhineland that if two people are to meet you at 11:14 and they are not there, either your watch is wrong or the people are not German. These two: Karine & Holgar are German, through and through. It took them 3 minutes for hugs and tears and then 3 hours to outline all the plans, the itinerary, the destinations: planes, trains & automobiles with a bike rental in between; cities, villages towns and a camp-site on the $#$@#% de Mare (translated meaning is a small lake like a sea or something like that). It took about an hour Canadian time and three hours German time to arrive chez-leurs. We had been there before but not together in the autumn. The whole landscape immediately drew its curtains and all performers commenced their rendition of the dance of the Laurentians with a second act reanactment of the Algonquin Suite's 'Leaves falling on your head while I'm talking/walking..."  The reviews were notable in their kind absence of comparison to the Canadian original score and instead focussed on the originality inherent in some of the many movements. We leaft it alone after the intermission and accessed the home: an artistic array of furniture and artwork that told of neo-modern linear cohesion begging to be kept clean, neat and tidy with curses of the dust-gnomes and spiderweb gods muffled in the background. German high tea consists of a very predictable table of breads, rolls, cold meats, jams and cheeses. The excitement and oompapa instrinsic to these spreads is the unpredictability of the composition of each viz: what meants? what cheeses? what accompaniments etc?  There is always of course a little of something native that cannot be made availalbe outside of the region. Then there are the more common items, foods of fare, that bear different charactertisitcs to those of say 'Kanada'. A cheddar is a cheddar is a cheddar except for when it is a different cheddar if one knows from where I might have come with this train of thought. Weary sleep, combined with the mid day foods and an evening dinner; then, joined hands with jet lag; lolled in luxury with German matresses and down comforters; and then, slipping silently and surreptitiously was a more sonorous, sandman-like sleep of a thousand sanguine, slumbers.Our worlds went travelling elsewhere as our corpus' remained in snuggled confinement.
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Bückeburg, Lower Saxony, Germany

Today the five of us travelled a crooked mile, past various crooked styles, to arrive after a while at a magical place that produced more than a crooked smile on each of sanguine visages. The town of Bückeburg is beautiful, historical, clean, organized, and resplendent with personality to boot !  To say it had character is to slap it marginally across its face with a velvet glove. Character is imbedded in this town and like a vortex spinning visitors into its centre, there exists a black hole of infinite history and culture to peeled off, scraped away, turned upside down and even minute moments of time swept under rugs where some fear to peak, not realizing that each speck of marginalized dust is in fact a gem, a treasure, a hidden library and chronology of its own moments of life and creation of memories and enhancements of legends.Bückeburg Castle is the former residence of the reigning Graf von Schaumburg, the later Fürst Phillipp-Ernst. He and his family still live in a part of the Castle. At the beginning of the 14th century Graf Adolf VI von Schaumburg had a moated castle erected here making use of a rivulet that comes down from the Weser Mountains. The building was first mentioned in a chronicle of 1304. From 1560 to 1563 the old moated castle was converted into a four-winged castle in the style of the Weser Renaissance. This Renaissance included a repudiation of religion, religious icons and motifs. Accordingly, at that time many of the murals, frescos and other wall/ceiling paintings were white-washed. It was much later that they were rediscovered and recovered.In the accompanying photos one can see the old stone well of virtue in front of the Castle. It dates from 1552. In 1920 it was taken from the court of Stadthagen Castle and brought here. 'Hagen' is the maiden name of Ingrid and of course her father's ancestory.  The 16th century elements of the building have been preserved mose impressively in the inner courtyard of which some photos have been taken for inclusion herein.  One standing tower goes back to the 14th century.  The stone statue of St Christopher standing on a console above the portal to the chapel, dates back to 1500, the doorlock to 1602.The alter in the chapel is of interest for art history, as here the plain table for Holy Communion is one that Martin Luther introduced.  Limewood was used for the woodcarvings; in contrast to the extensive use of olive wood in Italian chapels.  In former times the hearts of the deceased members of the House of Schaumburg-Lippe were buried under the slabs decorated with golden crosses in front of the altar steps. To this day the chapel is still used and is at the disposal of the reformed church of Büchenburg.Our tour of the castle included: the Marble Passage, the White Hall, the Banquetting Hall, the Green Hall, the Smoking Room and Hunting Room; then the Gobelin Hall and Golden Hall.  The last, left to the end of the tour was the most opulent and wondrous. The decoration was performed at the beginning of the 17th Century. A state portal exists in the luxurious form of the late Renaissance in the mannerism of great splendour. On each side of the door is a figure on a pedestal. One, showing Mars, (God of war), another Flora or Abundantia, the Goddessof abundance and wealth, with her hornof plenty at ther side. In the tympanum above the door we saw two female figures lying, to the left the Goddess Juno, guardian of matrimony, tothe right Ceres, the Goddessof Growth. In front of them, standing freely on a pedestal, Mercury, the messenger of the Gods, is holding hisAesculapian staff in a raided hand. The splendidcoffered ceiling of the hall is enriched by hanging cones and marvellous ornaments.  The four paintings in the corner of this ceiling symbolise the four  elements: earth, water, air and fire. The embroidered chairs each represents a Queen who had the task of demonstrating her skills before she could be coronated. Thus, each chair represents one coronation of a Queen.Other photos will be identified upon our return to Canada.The Marble Passage exhibited a wide range of paintings important to the family. Some of them are over 400 years old.  The White Hall is today still used as a reception hall for festivities. It has the family's coat of arms and Bouille clock above thefire-place. In 1762 the general of the army (he was an English field marshal) successfully led the defence of Portuguese and English tropps in a war between Portugaland Spain. King Jose 1 of Portugal honoured him with highest doecorations (in showcase). In the middle Steinhuder Meer (a lake visited by us on our last visit and where Karine and Holger are staying in their caravan, Graf Wilhelm had a fortress built which bears his name. It is important because of the Duke's military academy. Its most famous student was Schanhorst who later became a Prussian general. The Duke called famous men to his Court at Bückeburg, as for example, the scholar Johann Gottfiried Hereder ( a photograph of his statue in the village is included). The lake and much of the land around it was eventually given to the state; however, the fortress remaines in the family's name. The Banqueting Hall was built 1893-1897 in Baroque style. The ceiling frescoe symbolizes the four seasons.  The chandeliers are made of Bohemian glass, handground. The Green Hall following the Banquet Hall is also Baroque style (Louis XIV) - above the hall is a music balcony.
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Nienburg, Lower Saxony, Germany

We are now in the home of Ingrid's elder sister (by 11 months)
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Nienburg, Lower Saxony, Germany

Today, we packed up for the journey to Nienburg and also planned a couple of visits on the way; however, Karen even with her medications was only just starting to improve. We drive passed many windmills now dotting the landscape like oilwells in Alberta or water pumps in California. Ubiquitous? everywhere? How about just simply, the placing of a modern oversized airplane propeller on top of a tower in the middle of everywhere in order to somehow conserve or create a burdening requirement/demand for power.&nbsp; What choice is there?&nbsp; We approach Petershagen and then slowly drive by an old historic windmill halted as much by the paralysis of time as the inability to keep up to either those demands or progress. This is a very well known area of Saxony for its <i>gastronomie. The major stop on our way isan historic glass-blowing factory: Glashütte Gernheim. Gernheim is a small town approximately 45 kilometres before Nienburg. There is the actual factory rebuilt from its original in all the traditional styles and incorporating the traditional tools of the ages. Where some of these tools are no longer used, they are exhibited outside or in the museum. In the museum, the art of glass blowing is described going back to the 12th Century, although the reconstruction of this site is as at 1800.&nbsp; An additional building houses works of art made from glass blowing and each stands on its own as a powerful exhibit to the beauty of single,or multiple arrangements, glass within glass and turned inside out, etching on glass, etchings on glass like products and glass-like products themselves made from the residue of glass. This country side is of sunflowers and swans throughout the summer and it is not difficult to envision the same replicated outside of Amsterdam in the 17th Century. The old factory resembles a huge waffle cone upside down in the earth with a big bit out of the lip where now is installed a window looking more like a set of teetch from the outside. Attached photos shows both of these aspects. Today, classes are held once a month, glass objects of art and utility are still produced for resale in limited quantities but the essential use of the facility is as a teaching facility and museum for tourists throughout Germany.&nbsp; While there, we are treated as the only guests to a special showing of glass blowing. No one else was visiting at that time of the morning. They demonstrated the kilns and the new modern ovens where glass sculptures are heated to 500 degrees F. before being carefully filed, sanded, re-shaped etc. with occasional re-heating in the furnace, until the attached stem used to dip the object in the kiln initially is now ready to be snapped off. It goes back into the kiln for this process and then allowed to cool down ready for further sanding, glazing or treatment.&nbsp; There are many steps we missed which included the inclusion of markings, inscriptions, dyes etc... but we were invited back !It is near impossible to describe in words the solitary beauty of a single glass blowing o<i>bjet d'art it is similarly improbable that one could appreciate the many faceted view points of arranged transparent art; however to understand the artists themselves who not only created these extraordinary pieces but for those whom had a hand in placing them and choosing the light, textures, shades and solitudes necessary to accentuate the prisms, reflections and rhythms of each as clear as a single fingerprint would be against another to a trained examiner's eye - therein lies the true unbelievable aspect of a small exhibit that forms a giant impression - a lasting impression and yet like the glass itself - a fragile one.The museum traced the history of not only the tools and the ingredients used in glass blowing, but also the almost primitive wood blocks, forms, molds and other containers used, re-used and used for multiple purposes where possible. Barrels were made to use as forms to make barrels. Barrels were used to store silicone and sand; the latter were used to make glass which again required wooden containers to assist in molding, preserving, packing and then back to barrels which were used for packing also. Grinding machines were simple but sophisticatingly varied in their granuality, from coarse to finer than fine; from use once and discard to using for a life-time.&nbsp; Machines that today we hold in our hand, then had buildings built around them to house them, such as band saws and drill presses. The larger items such as the enormous cast-iron trollies over 25 feet in length used to push in and pull out large objects from the kilns, were originally stored outside when not in use - as they are today exhibited. When in use, they conducted the heat from the kiln rapidly. Thus, the trick was to move close to the undefeatable heat, challenge it in a race of time for how long it would take the fire to reach one's fingertips and palms or how long it would take to push or pull the object in or out of the kiln. From our understanding it was an even battle with many burns resulting.&nbsp; It makes one wonder when asbestos gloves were invented??=30=
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Herford, North Rhine-Westphalia, Germany

October 15th The next day the original group of four Holger and Karine, Ingrid &amp; I took the autoban and then side roads to Herford, approximately two hours from Osnabruk.&nbsp; Herford is a small town, and was active with a seasonal fair, exhibition and the light strobbing and music generating rides of glee and gasps that children of all ages love to beg their parents to let them on with equal fervour as they demand the candy floss, coated apples, small game prizes, popcorn and chasing after clowns. However, I am getting ahead of myself. We first stopped in a clothing factory outlet just on the outskirts of Herford, and all of us purchased articles of current fashion (Brax clothes) that we thought would make great additions to closets not truly needing further expansion. But we did it, because you would also, in the same situation - and don't argue with me! Like many outlets, clothes with flaws were specially marked and they introduced a new marketing tool of saying "buy two of our 'flawed' clothes at the discounted price and we will give you another free. They also had tags marking where the flaws were and how extensive they were. These ranged from a) needing a microscope to spot; b) a change in color by 1/100th of a shade from the inside of the pant leg to the outside; c) an extra stitch in the crotch that resembled normal stitching in North America...! This is the German idea of flaws. I am sure that if they had anything major like a pattern missing by 1/32nd of an inch in one spot, then - they would throw the whole outfit into a care package for defeated presidents in the USA, or resigned Prime Ministers in Britain. I came out with only pair of pants restrained by some unusual urge to be prudent for one time in my life; Ingrid made up for it by purchasing three items of clothing. The other two exceeded both of us. Perhaps one hinderance to shopping there which extends its halting hand to many tourists is the refusal of merchants to take credit cards of tourists such as Visa, Amex, Diners etc. They do however, take Master Card as long as the 'M' and the 'C' are linked in some distorted logo to reflect a hockey stick broken around the pound sterling symbol and distorted by Picasso. In other words, it is a closed club... The ones that resemble a North American or International version are verbotten. The little towns we drove through to get here were resplendent in autumn colors that almost reflected a portion of the beauty of Eastern Ontario and Quebec. But not quite. Where one does not pay the price of minus forty winters one is not rewarded with the most gorgeous and edible autumns in the world. To suffer is to know grace. Where they didn't quite fill the expected tones and viscosity of a Canadian canvas, it made up with historic and cultural festivities, decorations, displays, fescues and fauna not seen in the likes of North America.Thus, the day was of site seeing, photo-ops, bakery visits and the wiping of crumbs from the side of our mouths or the clothes we wore. Pastries in Europe are not limited to croissants or to Belgian desserts....Vacations are good and everyone had arranged theirs to coincide with our arrival. Where they hadn't, it turned out that the initial change of plans to come to Germany due to Jeffy and CK's wedding produced the desired result of matching what before had been impossible; however, no one could predict the invasive, not yet recognized 'bug' - about to strike.&nbsp; Karine was feeling queasy before she left her home and now she was looking a greenish tinge of white or vice versa and your scribe herein was visiting the German equivalent of toilets (called 'toilets') a tad bit too often. The 'bug' was about to hit most of us. On our return home Karine went down the street to her family doctor who confirmed that she had the 21st Century version of the Beubonic Plague and got it either from the virus in her husband's computer (which was confirmed by yours truly as extremely and extraordinarily malicious) OR from those nastly colonials who bring 'jungle fever' over to the homeland on every visit. Exorcism and medication were recommended with rest. Accordingly, Karine in true German female form took the tables, cleaned the house, went shopping, prepared a meal for six again and once more her son and his spouse-in-law came over to visit. Husband and son were oblivious to the ghost like apparition sitting mute at the end of the table except for occasionaly arising to be of more service - until she slowly arose and announced that she was either going to fall down the upstairs or crawl up the downstairs; but sleep was invading every part of her being and we were alone in serving ourselves.... such rudeness was forgiven in the name of Tutonic chivarly or something like that. Karine was sick, very sick.....I was starting to feel queasy and Ingrid was not going to be too far behind me (it turned out)...But again, I am getting ahead of myself. If I turn the clock back a few hours, after the factory outlet, we continued our travels to the town of Harford, south of Osnabruck. On arrival we had no idea of the spring and autumn rituals of <i>Jahrmarkt in Germany. This celebration of the 'twaining' period between summers and winters is ubiquitous and repetetive, year after year and has been done so for enough years to wipe out memories with legends.&nbsp; After circumnavigating some of the 'village/town' we entered walls of historic significance marking an inner urban-sanctum where the fair and festivities could take place. Many of the usual fairground ridesof North America were represented or vice versa: we could see the origins of many of the standards and fixtures of our North American fixtures today.&nbsp; But - no matter how much some thing may have been a copy, a plagiarism, an adaptation.... nothing could take away the Germanic/European interpretation of the art form, people's needs, safety, security and service. One felt organized, and in an element of intrinsic trust to be freely metted out.Several of the photos herein are of the fairgound. Others are of the town itself, its festive costume worn for the day over its trees, bushes and carpeting its streets. The sky took on a deep blue in an expanse large enough to ensure it could swallow a harvest moon. ...and expected one. The history of the buildings pointed spherically and monolithically skyward as if to predict this event like Babe Ruth at bat, pointed to the left field fence predicting a home run to end the 1931 World Series.&nbsp; Everything spoke without saying a word. All could be seen through hearing the joy in the air and the&nbsp; fresh decay smell of an autumn breath filled our senses with a parfumerie of scents defying any other objections we might othewise ferret out of such a moment...
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Osnabrück, Lower Saxony, Germany

October 14th The 2nd day was of rest, conversation, reading, switching from language to language and catching up until the evening when we were joined for dinner with the nine year 'spouses of unmarried bliss' son and 'daughter-in-law' of Holger and Karine: Lars &amp; Marion. The day also consisted of a walk in the neighborhood, the newly built up 'Champs' (field) of which much is still conserved like the 'Greenbelt' around Ottawa. In the evening discourse, it did not take Lars and I long to get into an English conversation of law school (now complete) for him, his recent employment with the firm of which Marion works and the rigours of such employment. It took many more minutes to get into the supposed rhetoric of why these two were still not officially married. Only seconds passed before they both realized (much to the chagrin of Lars and the&nbsp; delightful interest of Marion) that the question contained little or no rhetoric. In of itself and its inherent logic rose a 'truth' waiting to be linked with an answer. Silence filled the next chapter of the discussion and then Lars using the 'precedence' of all his legal training abandoned any cognitive thinking and socratic thought, instead resorting to 'weasle words' to extricate himself from this difficult self-dug situation. The whole topic was 'parked' gently for 24 hours as Marion took Lars home to 'her place' (where the two of them have lived for an eternity) with a mischievous smile on her face that translated into English read: "Gotcha !!!"&nbsp; Sleep came easily for all of us but one...Karine had a bug of some sort and as much as we wished to joke about it, it was neither the food/cooking nor the virus in Holger's computer. October 15th The next day the original group of four H&amp;K, Ingrid &amp; me took the autoban and then side roads to Hertford, approximately two hours from Osnabrück...
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Osnabrück, Lower Saxony, Germany

October 13th: We awake late this day and before we know it with a lazy breakfast and slow showers it is past noon and the hour hands of all the clocks are racing as quickly to the number two as the minute hands are. Or it seemed that way. Everything is still a blur and the two languages intertwining with each other are both blending the day into a whole and slicing it into disparate parts juxtapositioning the reality of any moment. A snapshot of any moment shows one of us at home preparing for the days activities as normal (Karine), the other (Holgar) pressing each dash of time into an urgent need to do something as if required when one has guests. The guests can be seen chattering away in recollections, updates and sharing of physical presence, eye contact, and ability to hug at will (Ingrid), while the other waits for moments in conversations when he recognizes topics that have an English meaning, and he then contributes or asks questions (Graeme); he can also be seen relaxed and happy reading his books or doing Sudoku puzzles. The first novel of the lap and back into the suitcase as read is the new Canadian Passchendaele based on the screenplay by Paul Gross, the actor of "Due South" fame. The novel is set in WW 1 where a smallband of Canadian soldiers challenged an enormous German army. Plus there are insights, interviews and more regarding the film. The second novel is by another great WW1 author Sebastian Faulkes writing A Girl at the Lion d'Or. Our guests arrive for dinner and again I am taken by simple foods most probably available in Canada, prepared with kitchen utensils, spices &amp; condiments, under similar heating, roasting, frying, toasting methods of the 'Colonies' and yet nothing tastes the same, appears similar or goes down with as much originality as what passes by us 'gourmand-candy' here in this country of autumn harvest and cornuuppia of caloric riches.
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