Typical and the untypical Bavaria

We arrived in Munich to a fresh snowfall, and were once again thankful for German efficiency.  The train system was well organized and naturally punctual.  We arrived at the Hauptbahnhof, the main train station, without a clue which exit to take.  We sorted ourselves out and were soon at our hotel, which was a short walk away.  What we immediately noticed about our neighborhood was not the so-called red-light district that surrounds the train station (and which was seemingly benign) but that everything around us was Turkish.  Kebab and schwarma shops were mixed in with produce stalls and hotels.  There were Turkish flags and signs everywhere.  When we went grocery shopping, we found our favorite olives, sesame nuts, and Turkish delights.  Our apartment room was comfortable and spacious.  Sure enough, the only television shows on were also Turkish.  In the mornings, we had a typical Turkish breakfast of rolls, feta cheese, olives, and meats, along with yogurt, fruit, and apple tea.

Determined to brave the colder-than-expected weather, we took the train north to Dachau.  Outside the lovely town sat the infamous concentration camp.  We spent part of the afternoon in the museum, which spelled out in detail the history of the twelve-year-old camp.  It was really too bitterly cold to walk through the existing buildings.  The grey harsh weather even brought more solemnity to our visit.

Later that evening, we visited Liz’s brother, wife, and two kids at a local Thai restaurant.  It was a lovely visit that ended late, which helped our body clocks start to regulate.

Yesterday, we spent the entire afternoon in the old part of the city.  Still cold, we ducked into a half dozen churches varying from the Romanesque to Rococo styles over the past seven hundred years.  We admired the stained glass windows in the Rathaus, the government hall, and even found windows of George Washington and Abraham Lincoln.  We admired and tried on wool hats and sweaters.  We strolled through Marienplatz and the Farmers’ Market, trying samples of pork products, sauces, and bread.  Beautiful fruits, vegetables, and flowers filled the stalls even in the dead of winter.  We seemed to be the only tourists although there were plenty of people milling around.

There are foods and customs unique to Bavaria.  Under the blue and white checkered flags of the region, we started with weissewurst (boiled white sausages) that have their own special sweet grain mustard and are eaten without the casings.  We ate large salted brezels (pretzels) with another brown mustard.  While at the Hofbrauhaus, we drank Dark Radlers, which is their dark beer mixed with lemonade.  Radlers are not solely Bavarian but the biergarten/halle setting is.  We drank weissbiers at the Augustinerhaus, another Munich brewer, while enjoying the music and local color.

It was snowing again this morning, as we travelled by train southeast to Garmisch and into the Alps.  I felt like I was inside of a snow globe as we passed through idyllic villages.  The sun came out as we entered Austria and the immensity of the mountains took our breath away.  The snow was pristine and sparkled in the late morning sunlight.

Flying high

First class is definitely a better way to travel.  I had only flown this way three times previously and each time was better than expected, making the return to Economy all the more depressing.  When we changed our flight from Kuwait-Innsbruck to Albany NY-Munich, we were able to upgrade using miles we had accumulated over the past few years.  Frankly, I was ready to be done with US Airways, which in my opinion, has been a source of bad service and frustration in economy class and how they treat frequent fliers. 

The seats on the tiny jet leaving Albany were roomy and we enjoyed copious snacks and drinks.  When we arrived in Philadelphia, we settled into the Envoy lounge. There were light snacks, wifi, and it brought us out of the florescent lighting of the gate waiting area.  The overseas Diners' Club lounges we have enjoyed were even nicer with showers, dark rooms, and hot meals, but we were not complaining.  Any perk is much appreciated.

I thought that our transatlantic flight was in Business class but it turned out that there was only one large First class section.  Russ and I settled into our pods which was a fully reclining chairbed, with Bose nose cancelling earphones (great advert; I am ready to buy), real feather pillows, and comfy blanket.  We were served sparkling wine before we departed, and a three-course dinner ensued soon after.  The ratio of stewardess to customer was about one to six and she addressed me personally.  We both slept well and had a beautiful fruit arrangement for breakfast in the morning.  This is how travel was meant to be.

We glimpsed into what is waiting for us in Economy on our return trip (Firrest was not available): crowded seats, crummy little earphones for a fee, as will any alcohol.  These used to be assured on an overseas flight but not any longer.  Travelling domestic will likely be even worse.  But for this moment in time, it was a delightful way to spend eight hours in the air.

We are in Munich now, where is seems much colder than in the Northeast.  We are adapting to that before we hit the Alps, as well as adjusting our body clocks. 

Check out other travel stories to the right...

Want to read more about the Middle East and Southern Africa?  Take a look at stephsdailygab,blogspot.com and theq8report.blogspot.com which fill in the gaps between now and 2009.  I am still looking for my Ecuador stories however!

US and British Virgin Islands

JULY 2009
Our reason for going to St. Thomas started with Russ wanting to revisit where he had lived twenty years ago as a young bachelor out of college.  He had gone down to work on a boat for six months and then helped someone sail their boat back to Boston.  I had never been to the Caribbean, our closest trip being to Roatan, off the coast of Honduras.  It was the year to do this.  After near daily rain in the northeast and a late exodus from school, we were ready to go to someplace to really relax.  Two weeks was an ideal amount of time; there was not a rush to do anything and we quickly settled into a very lazy routine of sleeping in late, poking around, and then heading off to a beach somewhere.

While much looked the same to Russ, much was different.  It was definitely more developed.  Old standbyes like the Texas Pit BBQ and the Love Shack in Red Hook remained.  The apartment we stayed at was in the Sapphire Beach Condo complex, one building over from where he had lived with a group of friends earlier. 

To get down to our local beach was a short walk down, and that made it easy for when we were too lazy to actually venture out to another beach.  It was a very nice beach, although not as it was in its heydey of the hedonistic 80's and early 90's.  Besides Sapphire Beach, the only other beach we went to on the island was Coki, just down the road, where Russ did a shore dive.  The snorkeling was pretty good there as well, as it is near the Coral World attraction.  It was also the funkiest beach of the trip - very local, very irie.

Going into "town", the capitol Charlotte Amalie, was an adventure.  For $2 we could ride just about anywhere on the island.  It was a beautiful trip around the island and sitting in the covered back of a pickup provided a nice breeze.  The architecture in town was very colonial.  It was also Danish, although I would have guessed Dutch without knowing the history.  Wonderful walking tour.  CA is known for its duty free shopping which was a surreal experience, but nice to take a break and walk through the air conditioned buildings.  When the cruise ships were in town, the American tourists were just annoying.  However, the other thing that CA is known for are happy hours, and that was fun too, knowing that we had a ride home!

St. John is where we seemed to spend most of our time.  While we stayed on St. Thomas, we were just up the road from the ferry and then just a twenty minute ride over to St. John.  The first day we were there, it was the day after the big weekend celebration combining the Fourth of July and Virgin Islands Independence Day (when the slaves became free).  The town of Cruz Bay was in a dazed stupor, with very little open and no one around.  Which is actually a nice time to walk around and over to the National Park center.  We soon headed out to the beach - first to Oppenheimer's and then to Hawksnest.  Both were quiet little stretches of solitude.  We liked Hawksnest so much we went back on another day.

Most of the island belongs to the National Parks, so it remains undeveloped.  Remarkably well tended.

Every place on the island was navigated by taxi, as we did not want to rent a car.  We have been quite used to driving on the left side of the road, but driving on that side with steering wheel on the left instead of the right made it a little daunting.  Add steep inclines and narrown roads, and it seemed best to leave that to taxi drivers.  Plus, we met so many interesting people when taking a safari (group) taxi or hitching a ride (which we managed to do about half the time).

One day, we took the public bus thinking it would go along the north shore.  Instead it took us to the other side of the island, a harrowing trip reminiscient of delapitated "chicken bus" rides of the past.  You get what you pay for and we only paid $1.  We ended up at Salt Pond, another lovely yet desolate (no services) beach at the ocean (not a pond) operated by the National Park Service.  We were two of just a handful of people there and saw giant sea turtles and sting rays out in the water. 

Guidebooks and tourist alike proclaim Trunk Bay one of the best beaches in the Virgin Islands.  It's beautiful without a doubt.  It is one of the largest stretches of that soft "memory foam"  white sand.  On the day we went there, we got there by 10 am and were able to find some good shade.  As someone who loves the sun, it was actually nice to be out of it for most of the day, and a nice shady spot provided a respite of nap taking, book reading, and lunch eating when we were not swimming.  There was a great little snack bar there and showers, which makes a day at the beach infinitely better.

Cinnamon Bay was the place we went back to several times and it felt like "our" beach.  First because of the location.  While everyone else went to Trunk, we went here.  Nice facilities.  We also felt like we had the area to ourselves.  The snorkeling was excellent and we saw fish there on consecutive days that we had never seen before.  The clarity of the water was amazing.  We rented a sailboat one day which was incredibly fun.  Another day we went for a hike through a nearby former sugar plantation, which was interesting but buggy and hot.

Needless to say the air and water temperatures were perfect.  Every day.  There wasn't anything that I would have changed on any day.  And in the late afternoon or early evening when we returned to town, it was nice to sit outside and have something to eat and drink.  I became especially susceptible to frozen cocktails, which seemed like the very island thing to do.

Through most of our stay, our decision to go to this beach or that island was made in the moment, but a trek out to Virgin Gorda required a little planning.  The ferry only sailed twice a week from Red Hook and left at 8:00 am, generally the time we were just stirring.  The nearly three hour journey was so incredibly worth it though.  It was lovely sailing past the islands of St. John, Tortola, and countless smaller cayes, some of which were incredibly steep, lush, and green.  When we arrived at the port of Spanish Town, we were amazed at how dry and flat this part of the island was.  It reminded us in part of the Namib Desert, minus the massive sand dunes.

Immigration and Customs were a formality and we quickly found ourselves on a safari taxi to The Baths.  This is the attraction that brings most of the tourists to the islands.  The Baths are a giant collection of huge boulders or batholiths, brought to the surface by volcanic eruptions, scattered about forming a beautiful grotto and tranquil pools.  It was almost maze-like, climbing over that rock, squeezing through a narrow passageway.  There were pools that seemingly were underground caves, others that were outside, and then another path leading over to Devil's Bay Beach, definitely one of the nicest beaches and places to snorkel and swim.  Russ remembered the place as a popular Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Edition location shoot.  It was stunning and we could have spent days there...

There was a excellent restaurant at the top of The Baths, where we perhaps had our best meal - Caribbean fish curry.  There was also a swimming pool, which made it an excellent place to finish the day.

I do think if we headed back to this part of the Caribbean, we would stay on this island.  In general, it was less developed and just had a much more local feel to it than the USVI.

Roatan Honduras

APRIL 2008
Our flight takes us direct from Newark, NJ on Continental Airlines.  As we step off the airplane, we are greeted by a sweet stickiness in the air, followed by a compelling over-ripeness waiting in a crowded immigration room with a hundred other people.  At least we do not have to wait for our luggage, only packing daypacks with the bare essentials - swimsuits,  a shirt, shorts, and sarong.  Nevertheless, we are eager to get to the beach and decide against waiting for the public bus, instead catching a taxi into the West End.

After checking in to our secluded second story apartment at the Arco Iris, we jump into our swimsuits, go for a swim and then walk the length of the beach to Mavis and Dixie's, where we had the Island lunch special (catch of the day which is mahi, rice and beans, plantains and salad).  Best six dollars spent.  Lounging in the shade, we drink the local beer and watch the tessalating waters of Half Moon Bay.  Then go back to the room and take a nap, only to wake up an hour later and go a hundred feet back to the beach to read, swim, and alternate in the shade and sun (which is fairly intense).

And so it goes for the next seven days.  When we are tired, we sleep. When we are hungry, we eat (street food - baleatas, catch of the day).  We drink fresh fruit smoothies, beer, rum concoctions, and lots of bottled water.  We swim every day and snorkel most of the time.  Russ does some diving and I go out on the dive boat.  We walk several times during the day.  We take kayaks out in the ocean. We people watch.  We stroll into neighborhoods.  The West End is pretty laid back, and we soon see the same people (locals and tourists) over and over again.  Every evening, we watch the sun set on our beach, and know that we are in a very good place.

One day we spent a morning in the Carambola Botanical Garden, a rich land preserve started by a former Peace Corps Volunteer who has served on the island in the late 1970's and never really left.  It is pretty facinating that no matter where we go, we always meet other volunteers and there is an instant connection.  The garden is filled with indigineous flowers, trees, and undergrowth.  Coffee, cashew, banana, cinnamon, mahogany, cymbindium to name a few.

Another afternoon, we leave the West End to walk the deserted stretch of beach to the West Bay, which could not be more opposite than where we are staying.  Where the West End is more low-key, West Bay is hoppin'.  It is more glamourous, more glitzy.  The sand is even whiter here and the water even more turquoise.  It is said this is the most beautiful beach in Central America for that reason and it is easy to see why.

Our tastefully decorated place at the Arco Iris feels like home.  There is a table, chairs, and hammock on the patio.  The inside has a fridge and small kitchen.  We walk around barefoot (actually we walk most anywhere without shoes).  We overlook a huge garden in the courtyard.  And if we follow the path of the couple staying next to us, we will be back repeatedly (they have been here every April for the past fifteen years).

Breaking from our state of doing nothing, we actually make a plan to take an entire day to go of the opposite end of the island.  We meet a colorful local guide called Jimmy, who was born and raised on the island, moved to Los Angeles, and then came back where he lives with his family.  Quite a character.  We negotiated a fair enough price the night before and promptly leave at 7:00 am. (unusual, given our experiences with Africa time).  We thought we were going to be the only ones but quickly met the six other girls who joined us.  They are from the midwest, just out of college or still in.  A lively chattering bunch.  We pile into the minivan and set off.  Early morning is a wonderful way to be up and around, as there was much activity.  Kids in blue and white, grey and white, white and maroon school uniforms.  Adults riding bikes, horses, waiting for taxis, walking - all presumably to work.  There is a distinguishable smell of burning garbage, a familiar, somewhat comfortable odor that brings back days in Africa.

We pass through the towns of  Coxen Hole and French Cay.   We see the new cruise ship terminal (sigh) and massive water treatment plant.  We stop off at a sunny spot where there are hordes of iguanas.  They are not as big as the Malaysian ones, but still quite large.  At some points during the drive, we can see both sides of the island.  We pass through Honduran settlements as well as Garif ones.  We see the brightly colored houses you see everywhere else in Latin America as well as buildings not quite put together.  There is a sense that life in every aspect is flourishing.

We arrive at the port town of Oak Ridge and Jimmy negotiates with a captain of a very small boat to ferry us up to the eastern end of the island (the roads eastward at this point are difficult and often impassable).  Jimmy is the self-described Gilligan and we are about to set sail on a three-hour cruise (which turns more into six as we soon find out).  The boat starts off at a slow pace which we think is normal as we go through the canal.  It never really picks up, making our venture into the open ocean  with six feet swells an interesting one to say the least.  Our captain - Bob Marley is our name for him - is calm and steady, and no one gets sick so that is a plus.  It is just very very slow going, and the mood of the girls is mutinious.  We choose to take it in stride - this is the Central American/ island aspect time we are used to.  It is wonderful to be out on the water and take in the island from a new perspective.

Once reaching Barbareto Island 50 kilometers from West End, we stop on a sandbar for lunch and snorkeling.  It feels good to be standing and stretching our legs after sitting for so long.  We make just one stop on the way back to Old Port Royal, a former English fortress.  Back in West End we are tired and definitely ready for a sundowner.

Safe to say, this is some of the best snorkeling and diving we have ever done.  Our amateur photos and unsophisticated equipment will not do it justice.  We saw fish that we had not ever seen in aquariums.  A barracuda swims alongside us for awhile.  One day, Russ spots a sea turtle. The reef is alive and well, in sharp contrast the the dead, bleached coral we saw north of here in Belize.  The water was warm and crystal clear.  Easy to lose oneself once you go under; it is another world.

Lake Michigan

JULY 2006
Because of high fuel costs and the fact that we had extra time on our hands, we decided to take the Amtrak out to Michigan. We also wanted to go to Chicago, so taking the train made sense. We love train travel and have had good experiences in Africa and southeast Asia. A few years ago, I took the train all the way to California and back. Plus, the new train station opened up 6 miles from our house. So why not?

It was well over 95 degrees on our departure day. We arrived at the station a little early, and then proceeded to wait over two hours for the train to arrive from Boston. What they told us later was that the train has to go slower when it is so hot outside. Strange excuse. We brought our laptop along and settled in to watch a movie on the way out. Our night was not particularly restful - the tracks were being worked on and the ride was bumpy. Plus, the two chaps behind us were chattering like fishwives. But it did feel like the adventure we were looking for.

We probably only got 6 hours of sleep and woke up at dawn. This was incredible to watch the sun rise, as the rest of the passengers were still sleeping (especially the two behind us). We passed through Gary, Indiana - a massive sprawling area of decrepit steel manufacturing buildings that had seen better days. We arrived in Chicago just one hour late at 10:00 am. We put our bags in storage and then set out into the city. With a cloud cover overhead and a slight breeze, we walked over three miles down through the city to the waterfront and over to Navy Pier, where we were rewarded with some great barbeque. Other great finds included farmer's markets along our way, amazing architecture, Grant Park, and the Smith Museum of Stained Glass, the only museum of its kind in the country. Playing true to the tourists that we were, we went up to the top of the Sears Tower, looked around, and then exhausted by the day, dragged ourselves back to Union Station, where we found that our train to Grand Rapids was cancelled because last night's thunderstorm knocked out the powergrid. More waiting until a bus fetched us and brought us 5 hours north. Arriving in Grand Rapids late at night, we crashed hard.

We did sleep well at the appropriately named Sleep Inn, and then rented a car and picked up mom and dad at the airport. They had taken the red-eye flight from Los Angeles, but were in good spirits. We drove two and half hours north to Beulah, which is close to Traverse City. Beulah, as we would come to discover, seemed to be like Cape Cod 50 years ago. A laid back town, with no traffic and no crowds to speak of, with small locally owned businesses, it was situated on the good-sized Crystal Lake. The house that we stayed in was a stone's throw from the lake, and had a private beach that we essentially could call our own. This was all just a couple of miles from the oceanic Lake Michigan. My sister Beth, Max, and the kids were already there, and it was a lovely reunion. The boys referred to the house as a four level one - it had a finished basement, two living floors, and then a finished attic, which they loved to call their own fort. The house was quietly tucked away in the woods. After Marshall and Zack showed us the lay of the land, we all gathered in the kitchen to eat and catch up with each other.

Here is where hours spilled into days and days turned into a week. There was no real sense of time. We slept in, hung out, read, played with the boys and Faith, walked endlessly, ventured into town, hiked in the woods, bathed in the lake, cooked and ate well, and soaked up as much relaxation as we could.

One outing was at Sleeping Bear Dunes - a national park that featured towering sand dunes, the likes we had not seen since Namibia. It was a great deal of fun walking up and running down them.  We rented a small sailboat and took the boys out in that one day. Unfortunately, for most of the week, there was either not enough wind or too much wind, but for one day it was perfect.

Another day, we went over to Interlochen and the music school there. Other people went to Traverse City. We all went out for ice cream several times. The Point Bessie Lighthouse was also a frequented place, as it was closeby, on a nice beach on Lake Michigan, and seemed to be the perfect place to hunt for Petrosky (fossilized) stones.

Loved spending time with everyone. The house was big enough to give everyone the space they needed and yet was so nice to have us all under the same roof.

After dropping mom and dad off at the airport, we had some time to ourselves. The Murphy's met us for lunch in Grand Rapids at the Big Boy, which is the boys' newest favorite place to eat.

Back in Chicago, we went over the Field Musuem. It is the premier natural history museum in my mind. We were there for the King Tut exhibit. I had been to the first Tut exhibit 28 years ago and was eager to see it again and share it with Russ. While spectacular, my expectations were too grand and I was slightly disappointed. We were tired and only got through a fraction of the immense building. They did have an incredible interactive exhibit on life in Africa. More walking around town. Saw the large Picasso sculture in the center of the city. Ended up eating at a nouveau German restaurant that had a lot of character. Loved it.

Went back to Union Station and waited for our night train to leave. Again, it was a couple of hours late, and without a plausible excuse, it was a little frustraing in the crowded terminal. We slept a little better once we got settled in though.