10/16/84

Four weeks later - returned to St V and back to work. Well, my idea to maintain the journal went bust soon after I got started and will no doubt get worse as THE END draws near. Margaret's folks were wonderful and we quickly got settled in then walked into the Leuven for some food and touring. There was a carnival (fair) going on in the midst of the cold and drizzle. It was a bit comforting to walk, hand in hand, around the seemingly ancient building amid the 21st century light shows. Next morning it was more touring. Down to the Beginage (mid-evil) town around the Rathaus and museums. Perhaps it was because it was our first stop in our European tour but Lueven seems the best to me still. From there it was over to Germany - the Great Adventure had begun. 

Originally we had planned to stay in Aachen but we couldn't find the “Zimmer frei” signs Paul and Margaret had told us about so we headed south into the countryside trusting our luck to find a place to rest our heads. Sure enough, we did find a privat Zimmer near Monschau. The woman spoke no English and summoned her son who explained the costs, the runnings of the shower (cost to DM extra) and told us his mom was on the way to church (which explained why she seemed so unnerved by the whole thing). Once settled, we set out to find a place to eat dinner. Order what we assumed to be a meat dish and ended up with a huge cross-section of many different meats on a flaming platter heaped with french fries!  An English-speaking couple at a table across the room wished me a “Happy Birthday” as I unsuccessfully tried to extinguish the blaze. Needless to say, we ate as quickly as we could & returned back to our privat Zimmer across the road. 

Next morning we ate a wonderful breakfast which more than offset the gloomy fog outside. We packed up, gave our thanks, and cruised off into the gloom. Despite the weather, Germans still insisted on at least 140 km/hr on the Autobahn and, after not too long a time, we retreated to the secondary roads so we could drive at a slightly more reasonable 120 km/hr. We drove along the Rhine and stopped in a town called St Goar to stretch and gawk a bit. It was beautiful. The fog had lifted somewhat at the river so the view was marvelous .... Soon, pressed for time, we were forced on to the Autobahn so as to make it to Augsburg in time to find lodging. This time it was not so easy to find a “Zimmer frei” and we had driven to several towns around Augsburg before finding a Pension to stay the night. (around 8:30 p.m). We unnerved a girl at the fast food place when we attempted ordering something to eat. She got the order right but, uncertain, she sought and found someone who spoke English to reconfirm the order (the young man who ‘interpreted’ was functionally unintelligible in English but she looked relieved so we went along with it..)

Our day in Augsburg was a bit disappointing but I'm not sure it was the weather (rain and cold) or our preconceived notion that it would be like a mecca for Lutherans filled with Lutheran memorabilia. It wasn't. Fact is, Germany is Catholic. Luther went over bigger in Minnesota than in Augsburg.

To prevent us from exhausting ourselves in the search for lodgings we left for Munich (a short drive) a bit earlier. It was fortunate we did because we became totally lost in the metropolitan chaos common to larger cities. After much driving and asking of direction we managed to get enough information to equip us for our next day's touring and again we departed for the countryside in search of lodging (always assuming it would be cheaper outside the city than in). We found a nice, clean Gasthaus and even managed to shower, wash our clothes and eat self-supplied meal before going downstairs to have a nightcap (I was anxious to sample my first German beer). I wasn't disappointed. The house beer was Lowenbraü and it was marvelous. Deb had a Glüwien (mulled wine) and we trundled ourselves off to bed. 

The next morning, after what was to become a typical European breakfast (coffee, tea, bread butter, jam (sometimes cheese too)) we headed back into Münich stopping at an info place on the Autobahn to get some advice. We settled on a bus tour because I was tired of city driving and we figured we would see the basics then return to the things we found interesting. Actually it wasn't a bad strategy. The tour gave us a lot of info on the runnings of Münich and since the weather was cold and blustery I didn't mind the obviously touristic trappings of the tour, nor the fact that we were the youngest on the bus. We did return to the Koenigplatz and the Glockenspiel. Took a quick look around at hte Hofbraü house and relieved some of my nagging paranoia about being out of touch with family and P.C. by stopping in at the consulate to see if there were any messages.

We departed Münich and headed, once again, out into the countryside. We settled in at another Gasthaüs on a large lake east of Munich near Staad.  The place was deserted as the weather and the time of year was not exactly conducive to a lakeside holiday. I wasn't aware of the fact that covered by the shroud of haze and fog was a magnificent view of the Alps which are mirrored in the lake. Someday perhaps, we’ll actually see them in some way other than on a postcard.

The next day we drove the short distance to Salzburg stopping again at an Autobahn info station but this time being told not to take the bus tour since large parts of Salzburg were inaccessible to vehicles anyway. It was a walking city. Fortunately, the sun was making the attempt to shine and we were glad to stretch our legs a bit. Salzburg is beautiful. A large fortress overlooks the city filled with church spires. It is rich in history. Deb and I took in an art museum and just walked about. A budding artist filled an intersection with a huge portrait, looking disdainfully at pedestrians who dared to violate his street-canvas. We ducked into a McDonald's to use the washrooms (McDonald's always has washrooms) and I sighed that Salt Lake City was not as Innovative as Salzburg in adding beer & wine to the menu as a proper accompaniment to a Big Mac. 

That night we stayed at a privat zimmer we had misinterpreted as being 380 rather than 480 Shillings it really was (surprise!). A late night stroll for dinner took us to a small art gallery and some lovely gardens. Surprisingly, we did not worry about being out late. We would have never understood what a robber would have wanted anyway.

Next morning we pressed on for Innsbruck, taking the smallest roads our map had to offer (without getting lost). It was a lovely day (at last), with clouds parting enough to give us occasional glimpses of the Alps and warm warming enough to force us out of sweaters. Easy uncomplicated driving. Actually, Innsbruck seems to offer no more than scenery and the partly cloudy to cloudy conditions were not very conducive to tram rides (besides I can do that in Utah) so, after checking out into in-town accommodations we headed out looking for something more reasonable to help offset the misinterpretation earlier that day. What we discovered was a poorly kept but at least fairly clean zimmer for $10 U.S. (200 Sch) with breakfast included. The bonus was the marvelous old lady who ran the place who, though constantly reminded that we didn't speak German, told us her life story anyway (in German). She was wonderful though a bit deaf and perhaps a bit senile (hard to tell when you yourself are apparently deaf and senile due to language incompatibilities). At her insistence we visited her husband's grave and the local church (one of the most beautiful I saw) and we took a long walk around Zirl. A beautiful area and scene of two Winter Olympics (Innsbruck). We brought some provisions in the market and returned to our room for a sumptuous meal of bread, cheese, tomato, lettuce sandwiches and cheap Austrian wine. The wine was helpful in that it warmed our bodies as temperatures plunged (no heat). 

Our Hostess was gone when we came down for breakfast but her son prepared our meal. she arrived just as we were about to depart and she kept up her constant barrage of German presumably telling us goodbye. and off we went heading for fryborg.

The Austrian/Swiss (a bit of Liechtenstein too) countryside was awesome and beautiful. Again clouds hampered our vision of the majestic Alps but enough glimpses were caught that we were impressed (even coming from Utah). It was a fairly long drive and we stopped from time to time to eat, stretch or just gawk. We arrived in Fribourg late afternoon and after several misguided attempts found our way to the info office to locate  Lucienne, a brief friend of Deb's brother who was at that time a foreign exchange student (10 years ago). We managed to get lost a few times before finally purchasing a map (as we should have it first) and steering directly finding Lucienne's apartment. Unfortunately she was not there so we left a note and found a place to get a cup of coffee. Upon our return she still hadn't returned so we decided to explore the housing possibilities in the area. After a brief but successful encounter with an automat gas dispenser, we found a place to eat (completely unnerving yet another waitress). We made a final check at Lucienne's decided she had departed for the weekend and went back to the hotel we had discovered earlier. There we showered and crashed. 

Next morning we swung by Lucienne's to drop a final note, just to discover a note attached to her door explaining her whereabouts and telling us to return at midday. So we left the car and decided to sightsee a bit. We discovered a market where Deb bought some wool pants, and we strolled about the street-side meat and vegetable market (much to my surprise I had thought outdoor markets were common to the W. Indies and South Amer). Finally we returned to and finally met Lucienne.

Actually we stayed two nights (one xtra) with Lucienne because she was such a charming and welcoming hostess, we needed a rest and because it was so nice to talk to a ‘native’ to gain insight on the country. Which points up the main disadvantage of being monolingual. The problem is not taking care of the basics food, sanitation, lodging. Rather it's the isolation of not knowing the language and therefore missing out on the reality of living (knowing the runnings) because you can't communicate with the locals. Anyway Lucienne was a much-needed change of pace and we basked in the glow of her hospitality. She took us to a chateau, we dined on fondue and one day we just went sightseeing in the Alps spending an afternoon watching cheese being made. It was a well-needed break from the hectic schedule. 

Monday we departed freibourg for Paris and, except for an altercation with a gas station attendant who couldn't understand my French (I asked for 4 francs and he gave me 6.5), our last miles in Switzerland were pleasant ones.

France wasn't so bad either except that I couldn't find an open bank to change money at. What few french francs we had left we spent on some basic provisions so we could eat. By the time we reached Paris we were low on fuel and I was desperate for a place to stop and make some calls to some possible free housing connections or a bank. Neither was forthcoming and my blood pressure was rising and my patience waning as we entered Paris in a 5:00 p.m. rush hour traffic jam. 15 minutes later I was traveling the opposite direction in a desperate move to find a place to change money at the airport. Fortunately we did find a change place at the airport and illegally parked though I was, I stood patiently in line for my much-needed cash. Then a quick trip to the gas station and back out to the road again. The next 3 hours were a nightmare of feverishly checking phone booths to find a working phone and looking for a reasonably priced hotel. The only glimmer of hope died as the nearly functional phone I found repeatedly cut out the moment the party answered. Calls seeking help to an international operator who kept assuring me that I was in Paris and one frustrated operator who could not speak English and finally hung up on me. More driving. Seems all we could find were industrial parks and residential areas. Nowhere was there a hotel. Finally a French-speaking service station attendant who directed us to one hotel down the road (10 km). “Comple” replied the Innkeeper and back on the road we went. Finally, Deb forced me to stop at a restaurant to see if they could give us directions to a hotel. The owners spoke not one word of English yet made reservations and drove-directed us to a hotel. The receptionist spoke English (thank God) and we found our room to be quite excellent and promptly showered and went to bed.

The next morning we packed up, loaded the car but this time, armed with information supplied by the receptionist, we headed for the train station where we boarded the commuter train into Paris. Like an idiot, I had forgotten my Michelin guide so we wandered aimlessly, managing to find Notre Dame, the Louvre, Arc de Triomphe and Eiffel Tower plus many other odds and ends (all just like postcards). Calling it a day and counting on checking out the Louvre the next morning, we traveled back out to Montgeron, and remembering our earlier luck at finding hotels, decided to return to the same hotel for the next two nights. 

Paris, day two, was much like Paris day one. In fact, we managed to duplicate our 1st day itinerary and added the Hotel des Invalides and a shopping tour through Gallery Lafayette and Pretemps (on the completely erroneous information that it was a “cheap place to shop”). We had business to do too (reconfirm our return flight and booking passage across the channel). The ‘business’ took us in a nearly double loop again, retracing steps. We didn't see much but we saw it at least twice!! (a word to the wise. PLAN!). Exhausted from walking we again returned (by Metro and train) to Montgeron.

In the morning, we headed south and west toward Tours. We intended to spend as much time as possible on smaller roads. Taking our time and soaking in the sights. We stopped for an hour or so in Orleans discovering (of course) that most shops and sites were closed for the lengthy French lunch hour (12 to 2:00 p.m). We did manage to buy the usual lunch (baguette, cheese lettuce and tomatoes) and we headed out of town to find a quiet roadside spot to eat. As usual, we gave up looking & simply pulled over and ate, just to discover, upon resuming our travels, an excellent picnicking spot was just a half mile away. 

We made stops at several castles (chateaus) but refused to pay the $2-5 (US) in order to see the insides. The outsides were beautiful enough and in order to do justice to a castle tour one needs plenty of time, and that we were short of. So the day was spent cruising, shopping and gawking. And we eventually, after some trouble and debate, settled into a one-star hotel for $85 French francs ($9 US). I get picky when it comes to staying at a hotel and sometimes I regret it. Fortunately, my peculiar tastes paid (often it doesn't). We called Denis after settling in and left a message with his “automatic replayer” that we would be there the next evening. Then we went back to our room and had a replay of lunch (with wine) and went to bed (exciting aren't we). 

The weather was much more encouraging the next morning and, after the usual bread, butter, jelly and coffee, we set out once again. We stopped in Angers for a break in the driving and to check out a castle (closed as usual for lunch). We reprovisioned at a couple of stores before they closed and climbed back into our trusty Polo-c for the easy drive to Rennes. 

Our plan, when we arrived in Rennes was to find a post office, phone or train station and try to locate Denis’ apartment. Again, our first challenge was finding someone who could speak English (fruitless). The train and bus stations proved to be worthless sources of information since the only info they provide is on their own trains and buses. A haphazard search (following signs that pointed in random directions) did miraculously turn up a post office where we both got directions to Denis’ place and change some money. And, after several missed turns and doubling back we managed to find his place. However as his “automatic replayer” apparently told us in French, he was not at home. So we called his girlfriend (Anne) whom I assumed lived in the same complex (not so). She offered to pick us up and show us the way to her place and wait for Denis to arrive at 10:00 p.m. that evening. About 15 minutes later, she showed up walking. Denis’ car was having mechanical difficulties. So we drove her back and camped out at her apartment. We made small talk and she made a couple of trips: one to pick up food and one to pick up a friend of Denis’ who also happened to be dropping in for a visit that weekend. 

Finally, we met Denis at the airport and returned to Anne's apartment for a three-course ‘snack’. Eventually we tumbled into his apartment and into bed.

The weekend with Denis was very enjoyable. We went to the open street market and out to a place called Mont St.Michelle. We were constantly plied with food and wine and were refused at every attempt to pay. First Denis then Anne then Nicole would buy something for us. That was frustrating. We also went to a place called St Malo. All of it beautifully & impeccably French. Sunday (the next day) was a bit more restful. Nicole left for her home and then Denis and Anne and Deb and I went to a Creperie for lunch then went mushroom picking. We finally ended up at a movie “Paris Texas” subtitled in French (thank goodness) and returned to Denis’ apartment for a late night snack of fresh fried mushrooms. 

Monday morning, Anne and Denis left before we did, which allowed us to leave some money to reduce the damage of their extravagance. We finally packed up and left, making a beeline for Boulogne to catch our “Sea Link” ferry to England at 8:00 p.m. Again it was a pleasant, uneventful drive. We even arrived early enough to find a P.O., make some sandwiches and fill up with gas before driving onto the boat, parking the car and taking a seat in the “motorists lounge” where we enjoyed our lovely sandwiches, had coffee and tea and gently crossed the channel. After a few brief formalities at customs and immigration, I cautiously wielded the Polo over to the left and we began to search for a bed and breakfast place that was reasonable. Deb was tired and remembering our terrifying night cruising the banlieu of Paris we said “yes” to £8 per person (B&B) asked by the first place we checked. So much for ‘shopping around’. We were in England!