AUF WIEDERSEN, AU REVOIR & GOODBYE

Five weeks, four countries and two pair of tired feet.  A diet of sausage, pretzels, pasta and beer has been countered by many thousands of steps over butt strewn uneven pavements and cobble stones.  Combine that with hauling suitcases onto platforms and train carriages has left us in pretty good shape, but not something we want to do for more than five weeks.

We haven't missed the Australian political shenanigans and are pleased to hear parliament is in going into recess.  The only time Australia made the news in Europe was damage to the Great Barrier Reef, Murdoch's racist cartoon and the strawberry matter.  Europeans all want to visit and are shocked to hear we experience winter. With any luck we will bring the magnificent weather we have enjoyed with us to counter Canberra's rubbish start to spring.

Our last week has involved quite a few train trips, and has brought home to us how poorly Australia is treated by our political masters.  Decades of inaction has left us with a fifth rate rail network and a dinosaur era power grid.  Rather than rely on ugly polluting coal mines and stations, we should do as Europe does and install vast banks of solar panels and wind farms.

It's been a largish last night in Munchen.  Linda's advice was to get to Cafe Palau early to claim the outside seats.  Luckily we got there early as locals Danny and Tim had bagged two of the best spots.  Palau rapidly filled up with bottles of sparkling rose and cava the preferred tipple.  I stuck with Cafe Palau's sponsor Estrella Beer.  Our overnight accommodation was at the Arabest Hotel located in Munich's Arab quarter where wine is unobtainable but shisha pipes and shawarma are available on every corner.  We asked if we could leave our bags while we explored Munich for the last time.  "Of course, and please use one of our rooms to refresh before your flight."  "How much do we owe you?"  "Nothing, it is our pleasure to have had you as our guest."

Munich is being invaded by party animals eager for Octoberfest to begin.  Lederhosen and dirndles are literally flying out the door all over town.  It doesn't suit everyone but that ain't the point.  Other cities like Zurich and Stuttgart are hopping on the tracht bandwagon dressing their citizens as faux Bavarians.  The omnipresent teams of Jehovah Witnesses with their Wachturm aren't in costume.  Perhaps that's their problem?

It has been said that travel broadens the mind.  So I will leave our final comment to Mark Twain: “Travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry, and narrow-mindedness, and many of our people need it sorely on these accounts.  Broad, wholesome, charitable views of men and things cannot be acquired by vegetating in one little corner of the earth all one's lifetime.”

STUTTGART#2

That's a big pumpkin, and it was ~ 916.5kg!.  Our 3 day Stuttgart travel ticket (€19@) took us yesterday to Ludwigsburg, a palace built by Duke Ludwig in the 18th century.  Initially I thought Ludwig referred to Mad King Ludwig because the place was lined with pumpkins.  Only a mad king would have their own Pumpkinmeister.

How to best capture this quirky feature?  As fast as I photographed a particularly robust pumpkin, a better example appeared.  What the..... ?  Our visit had coincided with the world's biggest pumpkin festival.  30 hectares of gardens surrounding the largest baroque palace in Europe and much of that devoted to der Kurbis!  A horse with an epidermis of pale pumpkin.  A three metre orange squirrel, an ever larger multicoloured woodpecker!  You could sample Kurbis chutney, Kurbis wine, Kurbis waffles and Kurbis ketchup.  I didn't find any Kurbis ice cream but that's only for lack of looking.

All that punkin was making us hungry so we headed for a restaurant near the pale horse.  It was a pleasant surprise after Switzerland's pricing.  A cafeteria where you could pour your own beer and not require a bank loan to pay while sitting in the shade surrounded by families happily enjoying themselves.  After lunch our stroll took us past a number of fairy tale reenactments including Rapunzel's Tower and Rumplestilskin's rage.  A short cruise in a small boat reacquainted us with Gepetto and Pinocchio.  Prompt bus and rail services took us home.

It's still hot in Germany with 29C today.  So, let's find a metro station to keep us out of the sun.  Knowledge of the Stuttgart busse und bahnen is imparted by our pension receptionist so we don't end up walking round in circles.  Knowledge of the final destinations of your S or U lines means you don't go in the opposite direction like our experience in Munich.  Today's S1 destination is Neckar Park and the Mercedes Benz Museum.

Considering Germany has in excess of 6,700 museums, you might dismiss my claim that the Mercedes Benz museum is the best I've seen.  The exhibition commences with models of the engineering advances of Karl Benz, Gottlieb Daimler and Wilhelm Maybach.  These involved the development of motorised cycles, boats, buses, railway carriages, locomotives and airships.  Despite their parallel fields of endeavour, we were amazed to discover Benz and Daimler never met!  Benz & Cei. and Daimler-Motoren-Gesellschaft merged in 1926 when they came under financial pressure in the wake of inflation and economic crisis in the Weimar Republic.  I wasn't surprised to find  motorised trucks were first bought by breweries.

The name Mercedes originated with the daughter of an early DMG customer who ordered a race car with an even more powerful engine designed by chief engineer Wilhelm Maybach which won an important race in Nice in 1901.  The name Mercedes was trade-marked in 1902.  Other early customers included the Sultan of Morocco who bought one of the earliest Benz vehicles in 1892.  An entire stage was devoted to vehicles owned by customers like Emperor Hirohito, Nicholas Cage, Princess Diana and The Pope.

The museum concentrates on the technical development of motor vehicles and specifically Mercedes Benz vehicles.  In addition there is the progressive history of the changes to regulation, society and culture.  It is fascinating to learn that under Reich Chancellor Bismark laws were enacted from 1883-90 to protect employees in case of illness, accident and disability and in old age.  The social and cultural changes included references to the commencement of recreational travel, Bauhaus architecture, The Beatles, JFK's "Ich bein ein Berliner", AIDS and the Internet.  The music accompanying each display adapted to the era.

Ralph Nader's 1965 book "Unsafe at any speed" was mentioned concerning car safety.  Future improvements occurred with Mercedes Benz leading the motor industry in the introduction of many technical and safety advancements including ABS and Air bags.  I could wax lyrically about further museum features but I will let the attached pictures tell the story.

Our short packed stay in Stuttgart ended with a traditional culinary blowout at Der Ochs & Willy mit lashings of pork, potatoes and dumplings.

STUTTGART

A most interesting evening in Stuttgart.  We expected nothing less than your basic European doddle from Hauptbanhof Stuttgart to our pension with Google maps suggesting our trip was nothing much to talk about, or so we thought.  Only 2.4km to our apartment, cool!  However, it's Europe, or specifically Stuttgart and our Google maps have a problem with distances.

We were hot and sweaty by the time we mounted the steps to Pension am Heusteigstrasse 30 and subsequently to Apartment 11.  Our luggage was heavy and those additional steps didn't help!  Hot showers and BBC 1 news assisted in our recovery.

We had noticed the area about Rathaus was composed of Stuttgartians (sic) celebrating Sunday with a few outdoor drinks.  ATM's with security glass didn't permit Beyond Bank access so we assumed our cards would pass muster.  Europe is like that, just as you assume global banking conditions are in play, your assumptions are disproved.  "What the hell, let's wing it!"

Einstein's bar and grill was the first to be encountered and a vacant table beckoned!  You get a lot of that on the Continent, beckoning tables!  It was a big night with our new friends Yasmin and Christophe.

Next morning following a nutritious breakfast of paprikawurst and abricot jam we went for a wee walk.  6000 steps later we rested under a spreading chestnut tree after visiting Museum Wurttemberg and an Evangelistic church with a magnificent organ.  Tinkling could be heard from just behind the altar where the backup piano was being tuned.  The Monday morning retail session had just commenced and we were bemused to see a ladies apparel store called Closed.  I suppose they could have named it Geschlossen but that doesn't have the required degree of panache.

TRUMMELBACHFALLE

The roar of water cascading through the Corkscrew chute at Trummelbach is tremendous, where it is one of ten glacier-fed waterfalls inside a mountain.  We accessed them by initially riding a tunnel-funicular to level six, and then by mounting another four sets of stairs.  It is difficult to believe the funicular and 140 metres of illuminated stairs were built in 1913 with the rock excavated by hand before the funicular could be installed.  Trummelbach creek drains the glacial defiles of the Eiger and Mönch mountains and carries up to 20,000 litres of water per second.  Inside the mountain, you can get a bit damp and it is chilly even in summer.

Bring cash (either Swiss francs or Euro) as they don't accept payments by card (CF11) at the Falls or the nearby cafe.  Our discounted travel fare of CF16 allowed travel by train to Lauterbrunnen and by bus to Trummelbach passing by very pretty sloping pastures dotted with sheds used to house cows during winter.  Upon return we turned in for a couple of hours, we were pooped!

Visitor cards from our hotel receptionist entitles us to free local transport, discounts and an introductory free gift at Bucherer Watch and Gift Shop.  How do they do it?  Surely the rental alone at their two stores must be poisonous, let alone their high priced lines of watches.  Sadly I never enquired of their neighbourly generosity.

I'm afraid I previously sold Interlaken short.  It is more than just a glitzy tourist trap and a low-rent strip of cheap bars and bistros.  North of the Aare and railway tracks is the old town where hotels and traditional wooden houses are supported by shops, bars, and a billiard hall.  Each corner is marked by a triumvirate of flags ~ national, canton and municipality.  Bypassing our favourite Baren, we fortunately chose Italian restaurant Citta Vecchia.  A shared minestrone and zablione were delicious as were our fungi risotto and tagliatelle.  A leisurely stroll back home revealed smart homeware and apparel stores.  Extensive roadworks led us to a lowered rail barrier where an Inter City train barreled past.

THUNERSEE

It's our first full day in Interlaken and it would be a shame not to spend time on the beautiful lake Thunersee.  Fortunately our Eurail ticket covers boat as well as rail travel and we have sufficient coverage to spend a day cruising.  We notice the leaves are just turning autumnal as the lake is circumnavigated in bright sunshine.  It has been such wonderful weather these past four weeks.  Thunersee is serviced by a number of cruisers, one the paddle steamer Blumlisalp with a first class upstairs lounge and table service.  We opted for the shady side downstairs as it was hot and my trusty Panama had absconded while we were lunching outdoors in Burgundy.

The good ship Blumlisalp stops at a number of towns including Spiez that has a historical castle set in the middle of a vineyard.  We alighted at Oberhofen and walked about town looking for somewhere to eat.  "Terrasse" screamed the blackboard in a town that had shut down for lunch.  "Guten tag, here is your menu". Yum, that goulash soup was so good and seasoned just right. The Swiss do tend to be a little heavy on the salt, but not this time.

Our hotel the Continental Central sits astride an island surrounded on two sides by the River Aare.  It's a 19th century establishment with improved plumbing but no fridge, and as the name suggests centrally located.  We sit on our Juliette balcony drinking wine and watching the descent of hang gliders and the swift flow of the Aare.  The Eiger and Jungfrau are hidden behind the clouds.

Interlaken is an interesting dichotomy.  The glitzy strip commencing east of the railway station is a capitalists' dream ~ high value jewellers, expensive hotels, snooty head waiters and deferring chronograph salespersons of your own nationality all eager to test your credit rating.  A Chinese guy with trailing salesman walked outside and pointed to the watch attached to the photo of a model.  "That one!".

The other side of the tracks is monopolised by low-rent bars and restaurants all offering a selection of vegetarian, Indian, halal, and the ubiquitous pizza ~ often at the same spot.  Opposite the station is a newish shopping mall with two supermarches offering a decent selection of fresh vegetables missing from those restaurant's offerings.  I didn't realise I was so lacking in the life preserving vitamins vegies provide until I ate an energising vegetable soup in Zermatt. 

We were therefore fortunate we chanced upon Restaurant Baren not far from our hotel.  Initially we were testing the waters with a refreshing beverage when we noted the clients all knew each other and were sharing a meal ~ it was the local.  A genuine pork schnitzel with potato dauphinoise hit the spot.  A consecutive night at Restaurant Baren reinforced our opinion.  Excellent!

"Uberschreite der Glase verboten".  Don't worry, I won't cross the rail track, I've seen how fast those babies move.  It's a pity the boy racer in the red Opel didn't heed Swiss traffic advice.  You have to follow the rules if you don't want to be unavoidably detained.  Crunch!!  Our post-cruise reverie over a bottle of red on our Juliet balcony was interrupted by Interlaken's major traffic incident of 2018.  Before too long high-vis vests were being worn by all and sundry, and luminous wands were being waved directing traffic inexpertly.  Bang!  The 215 bus to Fahrplanfelder came into contact with an overhanging 30k zone sign but didn't stop.  He knows when a high-vis vest takes precedence.

INTERLAKEN

Swiss travel posters don't lie.  Switzerland is that beautiful.  Just as you think you have discovered the most picturesque village with gorgeous wooden chalets, bowling green fields, massed floral displays and snow capped mountains positioned just right, you come across another picture postcard village on a sparkling lake.

My initial selection for the Swiss top spot was Reichenbach whose cascading falls are famous as being the site of Sherlock Holmes and Professor Moriarty's denouement.  We were on a comfortable IC (Inter City) train and had just emerged from a long tunnel through solid rock and there it was!  Comfortable seating with panoramic windows and nearby buffet cars make Swiss trains fantastic no matter whether you are in 1st or 2nd class.

A Eurail pass is essential in Europe.  You can drive or fly from one destination to another if you are a masochist, but you will miss so much by not travelling by train.  Our experience is they run as scheduled and if a transfer is required sufficient time is provided to meet your train on a nearby platform.  With the exception of Swiss Rail, WiFi can be a bit iffy but that gives you more ever-engrossing scenery to admire.  

Our train from Zermatt to Interlaken (2 easy transfers) provided stunning views of soaring mountains with glaciers, raging snow fed streams, boulder strewn landslides, Europe's highest vineyards, grazing dairy cattle and finally views of cruising boats from a shoreline rail track.  A Eurail ticket also provides you with access to cruises and discounts.   It's the go!

ZERMATT

Our Matterhorn Gotthard Bahn service contorted as we twisted and turned from Visp to Zermatt. Through tunnels and alongside craggy mountain waterfalls and rockfalls.  A recently dislodged granite rock larger than a #4 route tram was close enough to touch.  Superb!  As was my first gulp of Zermatt air.  Breathtaking!  I would pay big money to relive that experience.  You step out of your stuffy train into ambrosia.

I like Zermatt.  It's singular purpose - the Matterhorn's ascent - draws climbers, skiers, walkers and stickybeaks like us who just want to see that remarkable mountain.  It draws you along drystone walls and well maintained pavements ever closer to a better view.  Skiers catch the chairlifts up nearby mountain slopes and schuss down in the shadow of nature's glory.

I also like Zermatt Bier, the perfect companion to a fat barbecued weisswurst mit mustard.  A trip to Coop supermarket for vittels was memorable with a checkout chick required to confirm our maturity before we could purchase our grog.  Our hotel balcony adjacent to the Gornergrat railway was a top spot to snack and catch up on a few more emails and postcards. Our hotel made a great first impression by welcoming us with a Toblerone chocolate on our pillows.

Like baguettes in France, every visitor to Zermatt should sport a pair of walking stocks to indicate you are seriously heading somewhere treacherous.  Real climbers have backpacks trailing rope, helmets and a pickaxe.  Residents and visitors get about the village via bicycle, scooter, skateboard and the unique Zermatt taxis.  These electric battery powered crates buzz about delivering guests and luggage to their hotels tag undt nacht!. Our accommodation close to the bahnhof negated their service.

Although it costs over $100@ to catch the Gornergrat Bahn to the top of the mountains, it is the only way to appreciate the enormous splendour of The Matterhorn and The Alps.  We were fortunate to take the trip on a superb early Autumn day with clear views of the Matterhorn from a number of angles.  Our trip from go to whoa was just under two hours and a highlight of our holidays.  The Gornergrat cog railway with its panoramic views of waterfalls and the valley below is a bloody engineering marvel!  Just prior to our departure for Interlaken a goods engine carrying a shiny yellow snow making machine tracked into the terminal.

ZURICH #2

Akin to a bedraggled Bluesfest program after 5 intensive days, a European city map reveals a patina of constant perusal.  Switching from the all encompassing municipal map, to the Old Town walking tour mit features, and thence to the public transport grid leaves the double sided nine leaf guide decidedly frayed.  Munich's must-have manual to a good time is one of the robust ones.

Kim's inner compass took a rare RDO and I had to assure her we were on the right track. Routes #4 or #6 would deposit us near Zurich's Old Town and tomorrow's target Bahnhofplatz.  The 12.10 to Zermatt beckons.  It's strangely satisfying how these exotic names become everyday destinations.

Once we were assured, the "world famous" shopping mile on Bahnhofstrasse beckoned.  I must have been playing hooky the day that one was distributed.  According to the list of Zurich's highlights "Here department stores, boutiques and jewellery stores can be found one after another. The further you walk towards Lake Zurich, the more exclusive the stores become."

Dodging trams and yet more Audis, we made it across that world famous strasse and popped into the Lacosse store.  Zurich sales assistants greet you with a Swiss Germanic term I have yet to decifer leaving your fallback to your mother tongue.  They all understand English and have begun to query whether you're covered by the appropriate visa.  As far as they are concerned Brexiteers are a bit dodgy.  My Fred Perry polo only reinforced their concerns.

To our right a slightly bent laneway enticed.  "You must try our soap madam, it will change your life" murmured the smartly attired snake oil salesman.  "No thank you" Kim replied.  As we entered the next store we could hear him say "You must try........".  The next store carried a range of essential homewares including a pair of sunnies Kim simply had to have.

At the top of the intersecting street we remarked how similar it was to Rue Mouffetard in Paris.  A water fountain topped with a statue took pride of place over the descending strip of Italian bistros and brasseries lining Spitalgasse.  History has fashioned these thoroughfares rather than town planners, and the street bumped and ground like a burlesque artist.  An inviting table outside Big Ben Pub enticed and we were soon enjoying a weisswein and a pint of Smithwick's ale.

Zurich's Coop supermarket chain offer a range of premade dishes you simply reheat.  We opted for Schnitzel and salad with a very respectable Cotes du Rhone red wine. The cost? About the same as a serving of hot chips anywhere else.  Our early 11.00 departure from Zurich coincided with the erection of a large marquee emblazoned Oktoberfest ~ September 13 to October 6!  Nothing like getting in early.

ZURICH

Our Airbnb in Weinegg is close to the botanical gardens and Zurichhorn where families go to picnic and test their financial future with CF9(A$13) packets of fries.  Its only a short walk to Seefeldstrasse where trams run like clockwork every 6 minutes.

"How about a snifter before we leave, the washing will take a few minutes yet.". It's making time for the minor menial tasks that make travelling a pleasure.  "Can you change the IPod to Beck?  The Bangles have finished."

OK, before we go any further, let's address the elephant in the room.  Switzerland is bloody expensive!  Anyone who says Australia is expensive hasn't been to Zurich or Singapore.  Fine if you are a diplomat or an international businessman with a charge account.  For mere mortals like us, the best thing is to just accept that a serving of sausage (1, singular) and chips will equal that of an Australian filet mignon.  As we keep telling each other, it's only money.

We're lightly lunching at Barchetta Bar Lounge Piazza adjacent to the Zurichsee inlet, where the well-heeled have their elevenses, or in our case their twelveses.  Our waitress Dora is treating us just the same as the well upholstered, bejewelled matron and banker's wife reclining at the adjacent table.  She lightly applies her napkin to her lips after each sip of her tissane - reminiscent of Hercule Poirot.  I wonder if she is Belgian?

Safe "cool" jazz accompanied my ablutions in the well appointed toiletten but not even the superior quality of the hand lotion could override the stench of moneyed urine.  I returned to our table just as our Americanos and sambuccas arrived.   Dora deposited a small ceramic salver on our table containing the required uneven number of coffee beans.  Now that's class!

A uniformed functionary was writing out a strict missive for the owner of a sleek parked Audi A5 who had exceeded his stay.  In Zurich you can have any colour car you like as long as it is black.  Almost all vehicles are European: Audi, Bentley, BMW, Ferrari, Fiat, Lamborgini, Mercedes, Porsche, VW, Volvo.  If the Swiss manufactured motor vehicles instead of millionaires, they could make a motza.  Oh wait, they do....  SUV's are rare with Range Rovers holding up that end of the market.

A pair of white swans were preening themselves in the shade of the overarching Munsterbrucke as we crossed the river. A string quartet (3 violins and a cello) were riffing a superior "Stairway to Heaven" to our satisfaction.  Second violin sashayed her fringed shawl a la Daltrey.

MUNCHEN #3

Today's jaunt to Switzerland means the cultural revelations that frequently occur in Munich have ceased, and I can complete my observations unhindered by further inspiration.

It is very common for males and females in Munchen to be attired in traditional outfits (Tracht).  Men wear lederhosen (leather breeches) that end above or on the knee.  If the breeches end below the knee they are referred to as Platterhosen or knickerbockers.  Male outfits include jackets or waistcoats and are completed with embroidery (Stickerei), pewter pins, Tyrolean hats and woollen socks with stout shoes.  I imagine new lederhosen must take some breaking in and I noticed fellow Bavarians unashamedly adjusting their friends' trews.

Females of all ages wear the traditional dress Dirndle that is teamed with an apron tied with a bow.  It's not just the low cut bodices that attract attention but also the significant positioning of the bow ~ tied on the left side for single available women, on the right side for those in a relationship.  Tied at the front indicates a virgin, and a widow should tie the bow at the back.  Have I whetted your appetite?

Not many residents wear traditional clothing in the mean streets surrounding our hotel near the Hauptbanhof.  The showgirls at nearby Vulkan Nitespot don't wear much at all.

As yesterday was Saturday, we decided to take a trip to the sea.  Starnberger See that is.  Catching the S banh to Starnberg where families and teens alight for a final day of nautical summer fun.  It's just like being on Lake Burley Griffin.  Dads drink beer and little kids blow bubbles in their cola with a straw, while mothers pay minimal attention to their blonde children. The guy adjacent to our table excruciatingly excavated the pineapple from his pizza ~ it was making his Lowenbrau taste funny.  It being Bavaria, large slabs of Sachertote and Himmlisch leichtes Tiramisu were being consumed by entire tables. 

As we headed for the railway station a hen's night party ambushed us and entreated us to buy some trinket to subsidise the wedding. €2 for a small Pringles was a small price to pay for inclusion.  As we exited Hauptbanhof a stag night was just kicking off with the groom dressed in a porky pig onesie.  God help fellow passengers if these marauding hordes cross paths.

MUNCHEN #2

If French cuisine favours regional specialties padded out by classic Gaulist fare, you really have to travel to Bavaria to experience culinary favouritism.  Wurst, pork knuckle, Schnitzel mit sauerkraut etc means you have to select another nation's cafe to vary your tucker.  Vietnamese, Thai, Chinese and of course the ubiquitous burger are available, but being close to Italy a plate of authentic pasta is the best option.

My conversation with our barista on our initial visit to Bar Centrale contained a successful mixture of French, Italian, German and English.  By the second visit, we were successfully conversant in Italian to use inflections forgotten since our last visit to Italy.  I complimented our waiter on their selection of Italian beers, "Une Peroni, per favor" , and he complimented me on my request for the bill "Il conto per favor" .  Ciao! See you tomorrow.

Cool is the best description of Bar Centrale in Munich's little Italy.  Retro fifties decor with dark wood panelling, and azure leather furniture with contrasting maroon pintucking.  We lunched on genuine Italian fare complimented by wines from Abruzzi and Tuscany.

Our three day travel pass proved invaluable with U bahn and S bahn trips available at only €24 for both of us.  A suggestion to visit the Stanberg See, German's 5th largest Freshwater lake, saw us hop on the S6 out of Hauptbanhof.  Two stops on an inebriated German got on and between sips began to converse in German.  We said we were Australian and he welcomed us to Munich. "Congratulations on only letting the right people into Australia."  Oh oh!  I began to look around for alternate seating when he asked us where we were going.  Answering him with our destination, he said "You are going the wrong way!".  Beauty, we hopped off and onto the platform for the return train to Hbh and thence our destination.

Bicycles are the other preferred form of transport for citizens and a distinct approaching "ding" informs you that you should get off the designated cycle path.  Approaching Marienplatz a statuesque blonde on a bike chastised the driver of a sleek Maserati who was going the wrong way.  His numberplate STA GG told us all we needed to know.

MUNCHEN

It's certainly different.  Sometimes referred to as the most northern Italian city, it will forever be for me the land of beer and pretzels.

No le petite dejeurner here in Munich, breakfast is two weisswurst with sauerkraut, pretzels, sweet mustard# and a beer.  Alicia had promised she would show Kim and I what a genuine Municher (sic) ate for breakfast.  She directed us to a market place at the end of central Marienplatz where cafes dispensed a minimum of three varieties of wurst and any number of hot meat options.  I know vegetarians are catered for but just not here!  Pretzels are not optional.
# Hausmachersenfs  -  Bavarian sweet house made mustard.

While breakfasting outdoor under spreading shallow rooted trees##, two nannies passed us pushing prams.  One pram resembled a large handcart and transported six gurgling cherubs wearing hats and sun visors.
## Shallow rooted because the bierkellers are located under the market.

Bavarians live up to their stereotyping.  The Englischer Garten was full of people sunbathing and walking in the extensive lush gardens.  If they weren't doing that, they were fueling up at the various biergartens throughout der Englischer on pork knuckles, giant pretzels and beers.  When I say Beer, the smallest is a pint and the biggest..... ?  Who knows?
I felt a bit of a wimp drinking a pint.  Why, little old German ladies on zimmerframes were knocking back litre steins of lager.  However, as we were bicyclists for the first time in a decade it was best we were limiting ourselves to the mere pint.
It has to be said German beer is so much better than French beer!

Any day of the week you could be fooled into thinking it was Beerfest, but it's just Munich having a refreshing ale, admittedly in a swarm. Adjacent to Marienplatz is the market area Viktualienmark where tables full of Germans and their guests drink beer and eat large meals.  Snacks comprising sausages, Schnitzel, pork knuckle, sauerkraut and giant pretzels are consumed in great order.

It's all very well living life like a Peter Stuyvesen commercial, but even sophisticated international jetsetters have to do their laundry, so off we tramped through the mean streets near Hauptbanhof where brothels occur more frequently than laundromats.  City Waschcenter is where the world goes to do their soiled smalls when it can no longer be put off.  Being Germany, laundromats are efficient, Jah!  Not only efficient but entertaining with Spiderman pinball machines, baby boomer friendly radio and helpful laundromistresses.  It's also a great place to complete your overdue blog.

STRASBOURG

I love it when a plan comes together. Leaving Gare de Strasbourg, Kim googled Le Grand Hotel, "It should be close by."  "Do you mean that hotel there?"  It was just across the road.  Perfect.

You notice you are closer to the German border when the rail notifications turn bilingual.  The second clue is menus begin to offer schnitzel and krugelhopf instead of boeuf Bourguignon and Le Petite Dejeurner.  They are still there, this being France, but Deutsch is just over the border.  The sealer is when you go to the hotel breakfast and you are surrounded by robust couples in hiking clothes planning their day over a big plate of small goods and coffee with hot milk.

Our upgraded chamber deluxe room featured two BBC channels that offered Rugby League and Pot Black instead of Jai Alai and soccer volleyball.  We were informed that Britain is enthusiastically adopting solar energy incorporating electronics.  The latest development is municipal litter bins incorporating a solar panel that inform councils when the bins are full and require emptying!

French railway stations have a life of their own: player pianos, walking strips reserved for the sight impaired, high vaulted ceilings, a variety of security services, €0.80 toilet fees complete with turnstiles, marches and bars.  Sometimes you score a lounge reserved for Eurail passengers where you can follow the progress of the platform allotment of your train.  However, in most cases you will find yourself in a scrum equivalent to an under sevens soccer match staring anxiously up at a blue screen marked Departs.

C'est Tragique!!!!  We got on the wrong train.  We should have realised by the composition and livery that this could not possibly be our TGV to Stuttgart.  Unfortunately the train was moving before a fellow passenger informed us we were headed for somewhere obscure.  A quick turnaround at the next station and back to Strasbourg Central to throw ourselves on the mercy of French Rail officialdom.  "Unfortunately Madame, the next train to Stuttgart is full! " Not even 2nd class?" we implored. "You will have to speak to le tren manager."

Now there are some pretty important positions in French society ~ President Macron, top Michelin-starred chefs, your local boulangerist, waiters etc.  But raised to a level high above these mere mortals is Le Tren Manager.  Until you receive their tick of approval the rail network grinds to a halt.  Racing up and down from one platform to another enquiring whether a person in SNCF uniform is your train manager is guaranteed to raise a sweat, and your Eurail voucher to look decidedly soiled.

"Let's just get onto Platform 1 and we will board the next train into Germany and let God sort it out!"  I then noticed a uniformed gentleman adjusting his tie.  "Bonjour, Are you the train manager for the next TGV to Frankfurt?"  "Qui, your tickets s'il vous plait".  "We were informed your train was full, but do you think we could be squeezed on as 2nd class passengers despite our expensive 1st booking." "Qui, there are plenty of seats available in 1st class."

Just outside Baden Baden (so good they named it twice), Kim expansively waved her arms at the multitude of empty seats in our carriage.  "So fortunate they squeezed us in."  Our sole companions were two bright lady pensioners who must have chatted for France.

Bienvenue A Bord.

GENERAL OBSERVATIONS #3

Having travelled through the South of France, to Paris and on to Burgundy, it is apparent there is a noticeable adherence to regional culinary choices. You eat a lot of seafood in the south, escargots in Burgundy and Andiollete and Lyonaisse sausage in Lyon. Our next destination Strasbourg will have a German influence.

French biscuits are yummy.  It must be the butter.  People eat late.  More than one course is the norm and restaurant bathroom facilities are usually shared ~ "Toilettes Mixtes".  From my observances kitchen staff frequently have a migrant background (African or Algerian) but waiters are home grown.  Vaping is everywhere as is smoking, frequently at the adjoining table.  

Restaurants named Le Parisian are everywhere but less frequently in Paris.  Our favourite name was Le Petite Glouton aka The Little Glutton.  When your meal is finished you should call your waiter and say "L'addition s'il vous plait" and they will present you with the bill.  If you run all the words together you may get your bill quicker.  French waiters and waitresses have the uncanny ability to be turning the opposite way the moment you want their attention.

I usually feel pretty safe in France despite pickpockets because security is visibly enforced. It is not unusual for soldiers armed to the teeth to patrol with their fingers on their machine gun triggers.  My favourite was a SNCF (railway) officer who could have been the inspiration for the Sontarans in Dr Who. As wide as he was tall with a bullet head.

We have the canny ability to travel from Gares (railway stations) where road facilitities are constantly being improved for your convenience.  I must return when this is achieved.

The funicular aka chain made our Lyon stay most pleasant. I couldn't have walked up that hill to our hotel.  If you intend to visit Les Halles in Lyon, don't plan on a Monday.  It's shut!  However the Quay markets along the river Saone are open if you are in the market for bric-a-brac, textiles or apparel.

French children are generally well behaved and very cute.  Their elders however are frequently seen to be kissing and hugging. French couples are outwardly romantic no matter the age. The French are well dressed as a rule, but have a penchant for wearing T-shirts with stupid slogans e.g. "Enjoy your problem".

Dogs are well loved but small and ugly.

The Northern Hemisphere sky's are remarkably free of stars.

If you intend to cross the road LOOK RIGHT!

Meursault

In Sydney, a taxi driver claims to hold the political pulse of the nation. In Burgundy, they know the nuances of the impending  harvest. Tomorrow is the first day of the 2018 grape harvest.

Our driver conversed with Moritz authoritivly on each Beaune appellation and the time required to complete the harvest.  As the outskirts of Meursault approached, we simply sat back and admired the the vineyards and the diminishing rays of the setting sun.

Le Soufflot is different. The exterior resembles a  modern factory and the interior is completely bereft of soft furnishings.  Our table however, was minimally laid with cutlery and superb wine glasses with the slimmest stems possible.  Few tables were occupied and I began to feel sorry for a bearded 30 something who looked to have been stood up.

Moritz eagerly scanned the wine ledger with a passion only a true oenophile could muster.  His reaction suggested we were in for a remarkable evening.  The five dishes described in our fixed menu would require some serious wine matching.  My layman knowledge of burgundian wine was restricted to an awareness they produced exquisite red wines. Prior to meeting Moritz I had no idea how great Burgundian whites were.

Le Soufflot began to fill up, with our sole diner suddenly joined by five companions.  The remarkable 1996 Pommard Clos des Epeneaux was soon joined by its '98 sibling and a 93 Nuits Saint Georges.  Great wine begats good neighbours and it was soon a party with three tables sniffing and sampling various appellations and vintages. My favourite dish involved a soufflé of nettle over salmon. The waiter, unlikely in checked shirt avec tattoos, paid us due preference, but not excessively.

It all began to get a little blurred and Alicia and Kim announced they were catching our return taxi back to Beaune.  Being altruistic, I offered to stay and accompany Moritz when the hour occurred.  The party moved to the table nearest where our (no longer) sole diner, described to the nth degree the Alsace riesling Moritz had thrown into the mix.  He, we shall call him Guy, was a sommelier!

Our quaffing companions were, in the main, Americans and they were kind enough to give us a lift home.  Despite the nights excesses, Moritz held up a passing pair of mobile gendarmes just long enough for our chauffeur to flee the breathalyser.

LYON

Lyon is surprising to a first time visitor.  A prior viewing of French Food Safari, where Maeve met legendary Lyon chef Paul Bocuse*, led me to imagine it was on a flat plain, however our beautiful hotel is located high above the city close to Basilica Fourviere.  A funicular runs from the Basilica down to Vieux Lyon, but is not called a funicular by locals but chaine meaning string.  Given the elevation, we don't mind being stringed along.  Lyon is divided by the rivers Rhone and Saone but is said to possess another river as a byproduct of the consumption of bougelaise.

There are 250 historically listed buildings in Lyon, many located around Place Bellecore which is the largest square in Europe.  It is the place to shop with Lindt, Zara, McDonalds and Monoprix paying the premium rentals.  I contributed to the economy by purchasing two chardonnays and a tube of shaving creme for sensitive skin.

We invested in two tickets for the Lyon City bus tour, as we have already achieved our 10,000 steps and don't want to show you up (dear reader).  Enroute we passed yet another fine fountain designed by the same artist responsible for the Statue of Liberty.  Originally draughted for erection in the city of Bordeau, the artist grew tired of that cities' farnarkling and opted instead for Lyons' franc.

Located on the Saone, a futuristic orange cube resembling a facet of Star Wars' Death Star, and the vivid green building housing Euronews television are in stark contrast to the historic buildings. This modern neighbourhood replete with cutting edge chic apartments is located on the site of the old customs wharves. Melbourne's Docklands don't compare.

*Despite departing this mortal coil, Paul Bocuse has retained his 3 Michelin stars for more than 50 years.

A TASTE OF TWO CITIES
Apologies to Charles Dickens

Visiting La Table d'Emile in the Languedoc's Marseillan is an experience of which we never tire.  Bookings are essential with the guarantee of haut cuisine and impeccable service. Located within a historic building resembling a cave, you have the option of three fixed price menus with the pinnacle being the chef's selection.

Previous complicity with Chris Paterson in going for the summit was not an option as he had returned earlier to Canberra to ensure the smooth running of Parliament.  Well, we all know how that turned out!  We six, we happy band of brothers (and sisters) thus decided upon the €33 three course option.  What a bargain!

A delicious thick seafood consommé arrives before your entree. Consumed with a straw, I had to have two helpings because Kim is allergic to crustacea ~ well someone had to.  Kim's entree of carpaccio of salmon made up for missing out.

Our main course of a rare fillet mignon was accompanied by a selection of succulent vegetables and our initial viewing of a large marrow bone ~ a fixture in traditional French restaurants.  While my companions ate delicious sweets, I partook of La Tables' piece d'resistance ~ the cheese trolley!.  Roquefort, brie, goats, hard and pimento, plus a sweet jam accompaniment.  This is what it is all about.

Chez Paul in the Bastille area of Paris boasts its menu has not changed since 1940, and it was Alicia's second visit to that week. "You have to go" she insisted, "Its so authentic."  "What did you eat?" asked Kim.   Well, it was a bit of a shock" Alicia replied,  "It was called Andouillette sausage and when you cut it open tripe explodes out of the casing!"  It was good, particularly the mashed potato.  So will you be having it again?"  "No."

"Doux escargot et six escargot, s'il vous plait, to share". Bon."  Delicious with plenty of bread to mop up the hot garlicky olive oil.  I noticed the barman was grimacing occasionally as he moved about the bar making drinks and pulling beers. It takes one to recognise a fellow gout sufferer, and he was in agony.  Still, the show must go on.

Our pepper steaks were perfectly cooked and accompanied by frites.  "Americano coffees but no sweets thanks" . "No sweets!!"  "Non, merci."

BEAUNE

HI DUM proclaimed the bright yellow number plate on the big Black BMW labelled UK.  Appropriate, as it was heading the wrong way around Place Carnot.  We had skirted the ancient ramparts of this walled city and were enjoying observations and a post luncheon beverage at Le Chalet cafe brasserie.

There were just the two of us as Alicia and Moritz were unavoidably detained in Lyon where they had gone on a three hour cruise, "a three hour cruise".  Unfortunately the head gasket on Moritz's classic Peugeot had suffered a spack attack and they had to bivouac overnight in Lyon.  Our Friday night reservation had to be changed to Saturday. Fortunately, the colourful Beaune market day crowd had apparently opted for another of the myriad of available restaurants.

Compared to last Saturday's market in summery southern Pezenas, this morning's market of bric a brac and the entire oeuvre of Simeons' Maigret series were slim pickings.  Still, to each his own as was evidenced by the sighting of a couple wandering proudly past with their selection from a dealer specialising in outright ugly metal avian garden adornments.

Mon Dieu! What a mistake.  Exiting Place Carnot and it's Carrousel, we turned towards the historic Hotel-Dieu and walked straight into a pulsing Halles de produce.  Olives, tapenards , fresh home-grown vegetables and saucissons of every shape were laid out row upon row.  Yum!

Adjacent to the Hotel-Dieu was an indoor fresh meat market that included a purveyor who sold the pinnacle of poultry ~ the Brest chicken!  The symbol of France, it has a red comb, white body and blue feet.  Fantastique!a  Pausing only to purchase a baguette, we gather our luncheon selections and head back to Rue Hyppolyte for a well earned drink and lunch.

NB
L'abus d'alcool est dangereux pour la sante, a consumer avec moderation.

PARIS #2
More general observations:

50's French rocker Johnny Halliday is still revered with an homage to him currently being staged.  I note that his ex- and renown ye ye singer Sylvi Vartan continues to tour.

The Paris Marie or mayor has an enormous workforce ranging from armed police (not gendarmes) to garbage men and streetsweepers who keep the city clean. Municipal installations such as fountains all operate efficiently.

Pianos to play are installed at the major railway terminals and you better know your chops if you intend to tinkle the ivories.  I'm continuously impressed.  Maybe France has a troupe of travelling maestros?.

This year's fashion hue is mustard and denim jackets are worn by all including enfants.  Small dogs are de rigeur.

Le Musee national d'art moderne at the Centre Pompidou is fantastic and a must see.  I was particularly taken by the Fauvist artists and their raw passionate perception of life. How French and arty is that!

Oh, and have I mentioned the wasps?