LONDON TOWN

Despite BOJO being accused of lying to The Queen, it does not appear to have adversely affected Londoners.  Sharing the Northern Line service to Balham "Gateway to the South", commuters appeared to be more interested in YouTube, games and social media than the imminent descent into post Brexit armageddon.  Maybe, as the popular press would have it, Brits have "simply given up caring and just want it over with" (dreadful grammar but I am quoting paid journalists).

The millennium crowd at popular drinking hole The Bedford couldn't care less about Brexit , if last night's crowd is a fair representation.  They were only interested in loudly chatting up the opposite sex (perhaps The Bedford isn't favoured by the LGBTQ community) and getting one in ~ beverages that is.  We made our delightful waitress (I shall call her Jo) pine for Sydney's Eastern suburbs where she once resided. The Commonwealth Bank is the lesser for not supporting her visa extension.  Jo, ascertaining our senior status, guided we four to a distant corner table far from the raucous crowd in the front bar who couldn't care less.

Seated under prominent portraits of George Harrison in his psychedelic phase and Mick Jagger applying lipstick to the altered Turner from "Performance", Jo tempted us with the Bedford's dinner specials after taking our drinks order ~ two pints of Camden Hells lager and a carafe of pinot grigio (none of this Greek half kilo EU nonsense).  The groovy decor guaranteed to please assembled baby boomers, was having its effect.  "Some people think that's Frank Zappa" said Jo.  "Rubbish" we cried "That's from The White Album!".  Oh dear, baby boomers do love to show off.

Chris and I ordered the crisp fish and chips with mushy peas, Paulette the calamari and Kim the meatballs with piquant sauce.  Excellent!  There's no getting around it, the Pom's know how to do pub food.  "Would you like to see the pudding selections?" Jo asked.  "I apologise for rushing you, only the kitchen is shutting soon." "No, no, just coffee please, and do you have white Sambucca?."

Feeling the effects of a day traversing the Continent, we made our way out of the still heaving pub and headed in the direction of Bedfordshire.

LAID BACK GREECE

The waiter picks up the plate and bounces it on the paper table cloth dislodging the prawn heads.  At the nearby table the bloke withe the Hollister t-shirt and the 30 something with low slung bazookas are dipping their forks into the salad between drags on their fag.  The bloke next door picks up his t-bone and takes a surreptitious bite.  Knives and forks are all very well, but when the occasion takes you....

Eating in France has a touch of sophistication, in Italy it is a touch frenetic whereas in Greece it's laid back and ordered.  You sit down and the paper table cloth, iced water and bread basket suddenly appear.  You order drinks "a half kilo of wine, two beers and an ouzo" which appear as you peruse the menu.  Greek salad, fried calamari, fava beans, sardines, tzaziki, beetroot salad ~ it may be supplemented by other dishes but remains the same no matter where you dine. Chips are perennials as is fetta, either fried or prominent as an oregano sprinkled slab on top of your salad.

The Mediterranean water laps at their feet while Greek families recline in the hot sun under umbrellas in various states of undress.  Babies, millennials, big mamas and papas gingerly step over stony beaches before immersing themselves, and happy in their own skin, bob about conversing in hats.  Occasionally, they will be required to move their possessions as sudden tidal surges occur threatening thongs and things.  Don't bother getting dressed for lunch, don't even dry yourself.  Dripping, you know the fish will be as briny as you, and that salad will be fresh and crisp.

Sitting in the shade sipping my spritz, I notice two Patsy clones, sunglasses perched on their artfully dressed tresses, discussing the season with a sugar daddy in a pink shirt.  A street vendor toting umbrellas and sunglasses approached their table.  Tolerated by cafes, vendors are a part of life. Expecting the brush off, I was surprised when Pats#1 engaged the down at heel vendor and examined his wares.  She didn't purchase anything but she gave him the time of day.

LOUTRAKI #2

It may not be everyone's idea of a holiday town with favoured tavernas plonked in the middle of municipal utility terminals and abandoned housing shells crumbling into dusty weeds, but Loutraki is handily located for access to the seaside attractions and towns of the Peloponnese Peninsula.  The panoramic views of the sparkling Gulf of Corinth from our B&B are unbeatable and the covered verandah the perfect place to dine.  It is, however, the daily civilian activities that make Loutraki so memorable.

There is an ancient Greek custom where men in large groups congregate at coffee shops drinking coffee, playing backgammon and talking very loudly.  Just men, mind you.  Little old ladies plonk themselves down on the busy pavement in comfy chairs watching the passing parade and young dudes on push bikes in message T-shirts do wheelies and call each other Spiro. It is obvious that Greece has an extravagant number of service stations and pharmacies, however while servos are always open, pharmacies rarely are.  I also understand why Greek run grocery stores are so Australian.  They are everywhere, as are pastry shops and gelato bars.  

Taking a number at the post office is worthwhile even if only to purchase stamps.  Fifteen minutes reading yesterday's UK Sunday Times passed before my #16 was called.  Following a three way discussion determining what value stamp I required, I attempted to leave, but due to the speed at which my transaction was completed, I was required to go around again!

The Hellenic traffic laws are something to wonder at. Should a driver wish to pick up a coffee or chat to a mate, it seems perfectly acceptable to just stop and hop out leaving the car and it's indicators flashing.  Greek drivers are remarkably patience and horns don't start blaring until 3 minutes have passed ~ just time for an espresso.  Motor scooters peer out from behind buses before weaving haphazardly through the traffic.  Pedestrian crossings are just for decoration and cars are parallel parked two, sometimes three deep on both sides of the road.  Oh, and you are driving on the wrong side of the road!  

Exiting the town by road is fraught with danger. It is therefore a pleasant surprise when you cross the remarkable Corinth Canal and hit the three lane autobahn. The Peloponnese Peninsula is spectacular with craggy crevasses, laden fruit and olive plantations, archaeology sites and foliage covered mountains.  Even the secondary roads are notable with frequent roadside altars and indicative archaeological signage. Regular comfort stops and overtaking on double yellow lines appears to be obligatory.

Peloponnesean Peninsula

Chris picked up our mighty Nissan Micro from the Hotel Pappas carpark below and we were soon on our way.  Once he had negotiated the perils of Loutraki we cruised down the Peloponnese Peninsula towards Nafplio and the free car parks where registration plates are hardly ever confiscated.  It is difficult to believe that our hardy Nissan Micro is traversing the same terroir as Richard Egan did in the 1962 Cinamascope epic where his gritty and artfully besmirched King Leonidas and his 300 Spartans had their date with destiny at Thermopylae, in a battle against the Persians led by the evil emperor Xerxes.

Google maps led us via a tortured route to our selected destination Nafplio Pargeggio Port which despite it's hidden charms, wasn't where we wanted to go, had we known it.  Retracing our steps and negotiating Nafpilo' undoubted charms, we parked in the Port Pareggio and sought an appropriate beverage purveyor.

Semingly unable to grasp the Greek language (have you seen their alphabet?), I have assumed my nom de plume Giovanni due Collini and begun conversing in Italian.  It is so much more effective.  Mi scuzzi ~ people get out of your way, Il conto per favore ~ your bill arrives etc.  Europeans can't absorb strine at close quarters and think we are Kiwis or worse Poms!  So I was wrapped today to see my enthusiastic suggestion of Greek roast lamb ordered by our nearest dining companions. The Israeli party who had occupied the table earlier had uniformly stuck to salad although I noticed one of the ladies had the good sense to consume a half kilo bottle of my favourite beer Mythos.  We have learned Greeks order beverages by weight ~ half a kilo equals 500ml.  You live and learn!

Driving on the opposite side of the road to what any good quiet Australian would do in his Kingswood HQ, we sailed straight as an arrow from a true Spartan bow towards our besieged Loutraki B&B.  Google maps, a recent Xerxes takeover target, attempted to twart our safe return home to Loutraki but Chris had its measure.  Our eta, prior to the reopening of the Greek pharmacies, was timed to perfection arriving home just before our B&B pool reopened.

KUSADASI~ TURKEY

Daria, our walking guide, provided us with essential facts about Turkey: population 87 million with 12 million in Istanbul, no specified national religion but predominantly moslem.  "We don't mind a drink though".

Two things I noticed while walking was the Turks are very patriotic with many Turkish flags flying, and that they are compulsive traders.  We spent considerable time defending our bank balances against a series of carpet salesmen's "very best offers", even adjusting their previous rock bottom price as they followed us out of their shops.  A Fred Perry polo shirt was my sole purchase and only time will tell whether my €25 was spent on the genuine article.

Barbershops are ubiquitous with an unusual service provided once the cut was completed, the barber closely waving a lit candle about the customer's head burning away the hair in his ears!  I doubt I'll tell Luigi about this practice upon return to my hairdresser in Belco.

"Would you like an ice cream", Daria asked Hal from Ohio.  "Sure" said Hal unsurely.  Grasping a long ice cream scoop, Omar served up an ice cream and handed it over leaving Hal grasping an empty cone.  A series of swift moves involving cones, ice creams and hands resulted in Hal's nose dabbed with pistachio.

Our cruise itinerary included an excursion to the 2000 year old amphitheatre the Ephesus Odeon.  In Roman times this was a male only study establishment, however in these enlightened times they let anyone in.  As we entered men were adorned with a garland of plastic laurel leaves and ladies with a coronet of colourful flowers.  Once the 500 guests were guided over the crumbling steps and stairs and seated, the musicians made their way into the orchestra pit.  Australian OH&S officers would have conniptions over the everyday practices we witnessed in Greece and Turkey. 

The Aegean Chamber Orchestra played a selection of orchestral pieces by Bach, Brahms and Dvorak etc with and without a flautist.  The depth of the orchestra pit amplified the music with the sound of the double bass and the use of pizzicato on violins particularly effective.  Once the concert was over and the amphitheatre cleared, we were guided back onto our buses by crew members clad in togas and gladiator outfits.

Kasadasi was pumping as we returned, the bus swerving around the world's first roundabout (circa 200BC), passing bars and restaurants filled with customers, many watching the football.  A live broadcast of the game clashed with loud music as shopkeepers continued to tempt returning passengers into wonderful deals "Get your pomegranate molasses here, I'm practically giving it away".

LOUTRAKI

Exiting Athens is like driving along Parramatta Road, crowded in on both sides by car yards and stuck in roadworks equivalent to Gladys' best laid plans.

Following eleven days of cruising the Aegean Sea and lounging on Azamara Pursuit sun beds, it will be a pleasure to get to our B&B where we can lounge about on B&B sunbeds.  I wonder who will bring me my Campari and soda now?

Our taxi driver would fit right into Australia cursing the traffic conditions and the close scraped cars.  I assume it was cursing but its all Greek to me.  Our Opal people mover is brand new and air conditioned and our entertainment a mixture of Katy Perry, Greek pop and inane rap.  Pretty much like being in a taxi in Melbourne.  The 130kph speed limit its making up for the earlier traffic jam and the car yards have been replaced by cement factories.  I now know where the saying "I came, I saw, I concreted" originated.

Rose met us at the door to our home for the next week. The others ooh'd and ah'd over the spectacular seaside panorama while I was impressed by the Campari glasses and cocktail shaker.  A wooden bowl of multicoloured worry beads seemed superfluous.  The foibles of the apartment's electricity were explained at great length before we shoehorned our luggage down the narrow spiral suitcase.  What goes down....

The Hotel Pappas Taverna was but a short walk towards the Gulf of Corinth.  Obligatory, the cat, wound itself around the legs of my chair mewing for tidbits.  "Don't look at me, I haven't ordered lunch yet."  It would appear, from our experience, that Greeks love Aussies, tolerate Americans and scorn the English and their snooty delivery.  Not too many Pom's in Greece this summer what with the value of the Pound and Brexit blues.  Waiter George asked where we came from and when we replied "from the apartments above Hotel Pappas" he enthusiastically promoted the live Greek dancing tonight.  A date is a date.

On Board Observances #2

The Azamara Pursuit staff are top shelf, as is the attentive service we receive "Another gimlet Sir?" Initial cynicism is swiftly extinguished, and you can see why people choose to cruise.  From the person polishing the handrails with a toothbrush through to the effusive Captain, staff are invariably cheerful and welcoming.  I don't know how we will cope with the real world.  To quote Kim the cruise experience for 700 passengers is "very well orchestrated."

Excursions commence with a general muster each morning in the Cabaret Room.  The excursions officer welcomes guests and runs through the required arrangements before announcing specific tour departures.  It is at that point that the usual misfits suddenly race up and crowd about the announcer demanding their itinerary grievances be immediately attended to.  "Some people", Chris remarks, "always gumming up the works".  Descending the stairs I overhear an American women state "Some people". Her companion agrees "Some people, must be from New York."

Passengers come from a variety of nations with Americans to the fore followed by Aussies, Brits and a sprinkling of Europeans, Kiwis and Asians.  Baby Boomers represent about 85% of the guest list and the cruise orientation matches that demography.  The piped music in the various lounges is however quite anachronistic and better reflects the Rat Pack fifties rather than the rebellious Swinging Sixties.  Live music is provided by the Pursuit Band and the Select Singers (ick!!) and The Riviera Sounds who taught me how to "One, two Cha, cha cha!."

Upon your return from an excursion or a city visit, cruise staff are positioned to assist your return to the vessel.  Cold towels are provided for your refreshment and sorbets (with liquor options) or fruit juices welcome you before re-embarking.  Security is rigid and our departure and return is recorded ~ they don't want to lose anyone.  On board, I find it disturbing that so many seemingly intelligent adults want to bake themselves every day.  How dark a tan do you want?  It's obvious the Slip Slop Slap campaign wasn't adopted in other countries.

Many passengers are quite ancient and I doubt they could explore unaided, even if accompanied by walking stocks.  The daily newsletter advises prospective excursionists (sic) of the walking conditions and that sometimes people have to walk up to half a kilometer.  They won't achieve the recommended target of 10,000 steps that way!  And what is it with the backpacks sporting multiple bottles of water?  Are they auditioning for the role of domestics on the next Tour de France?

Returning from our trek into beautiful Paros, I remarked "Quite a few passengers are wearing hearing aids."  "What?" replied Kim cupping her ear.  She's a funny girl.

NAPOLI

I had been anticipating Naples for some time and had kept receiving advice, mostly negative.  "It's dirty".  "It's full of pickpockets".  The sole positive was "eat the pizza" , a plan reinforced by the proprietor at Kingston Foreshore's Molto Restaurant who provided me with a recommendation for a specific parlour.

The Naples train station was a hive of activity offsetting the streets around Piazza Garibaldi that appeared strangely deserted.  Even the pickpockets were absent.  Kim's arrangement for a taxi was spot on and we were soon dicing with death.  "Surely he's not going to squeeze through there!". Yep, he was and that was simply the entree.  Our B&B was located in the Spanish Quarter, a rat's warren of ascending vias crowded on both side by parallel parked and scraped small vehicles.  Motor scooters swerved out of the taxis' way before he deposited us in front of an imposing wooden gateway that opened to give us entry to the classically elegant Palazzo Della Principessa.

An address like that is either a front for somewhere ordinary or we have struck gold.  Gold it is!  Located on the fourth floor our plant encased balcony looked internally onto a courtyard and externally onto the crowded mean streets of Quartieri Spagnoli ~ the Spanish Quarter.

Depositing our luggage, we departed down via San Mattia in search of beverages, pizza and humanity.  Humanity it was!  We had arrived in Napoli on the public holiday Ferro Agosta which explained the deserted streets.  There was nothing deserted about via Toledo which teamed with Neopolitans moving in mass, walking and of course talking in unison.  Love, lunch and everything in between was the topic and our antipodean demure frequently left us adjusting our trail.  Let's have a drink, we're blocking the traffic.  Armed military and police officers were armed to the teeth and it would have been a foolish pickpocket to try his or her chances.

Via Formale led us up to a trattoria preparing for the evening session where cooking and wait staff were eating at the adjacent table.  Pasta, bread and beers were being consumed while a constant stream of bantering Italian invective was being swapped.  Taking the hint we finished our Aperol Spritz and turned back in the direction we hoped would lead home.  Whoops, we missed our street and ended up in Piazza del Plebiscito where a crowd gathered around a flamenco guitarist and sang lustily of lost love and hard fought Spanish liberty.

Showered and refreshed we hit the vias in search of dinner. 

On Board Observances

Holidaying overseas gives you the opportunity to observe the habits of different people and cultures.  European countries are forever fascinating because of the ingrained habits of centuries eg the politeness of the French greeting "Bonjour madam/monsieur" prior to any transaction, the Italian shared conversations at machine-gun pace, the English reserve. 

It is therefore fascinating to observe the travelling American close up.  Despite my six decades I am yet to visit the USA, so eleven days and nights cruising the Agean Sea is my first experience of their men and women en masse at close quarters.  The ship's demography is overwhelmingly post WWII the infamous Baby Boomers, and the cruise is designed with our generation in mind.  Breakfast choices are interesting and foreign to the Australian palate.  Hash browns have become a part of our culture but creamed wheat, pork patties and corn beef hash have previously only been encountered in popular American media like McHale's Navy and MASH.

Apparel is very interesting with ladies of indeterminate age frequently clad in pedal pushers reminiscent of my Aunt Bonny.  Sportswear is very popular as are T-shirts proclaiming their college affiliation or previously visited tourist destinations.  Men invariably wear polo shirts tucked into walk shorts and clinched "high-waist Harry" style with belts.  This was captured beautifully in the Tom Hanks movie Larry Crown where his home decor, hair style and wardrobe were updated by his friends.

The American trophy wife abounds, usually gym tight thin with blonde or silver hair either sleek pompadour or ponytail.  "Bob" or "Al" or "Bill" nondescript but definitely loaded.  Moustaches are ubiquitous and frequently matching that of Trump's war warrior John Bolton.

There are, apart from our sartorial selves (yuk, yuk), a number of very elegant couples.  A Spanish husband and wife (I assume) distinctly sophisticated ~ She immaculately coiffeured and frequently clad entirely in white, and he moustacioed and probably a television talk show host.  Another (possibly English) are standouts ~ he is also sporting a mo, handled barred and silver and affecting a Mediterranean wardrobe, and she a stern Amazonian with an amazing tan and ever present  notebook and cigarette.

The smokers are an uncomfortable clique, quarantined in a small enclave off the pool deck.  The Pool Bar is well attended whilst waiters are engaged serving the prostrate multitudes reclining on sun lounges.  "No reservations" is the rule and lounges are scarce soon after breakfast. The prevailing wind is blocked by glass panelling with only the occasional humid gust fluttering the pages of novels opened on snoozing bellies.

Bluesfest 2019 Thursday and Good Friday

Melody Angel was presenting her steely version of the blues at the Juke Joint stage as we arrived.  Melody's imposing presence and her powerful and evocative "true blues" reveal her wide range of influences (Hendrix, Santana, Slash).  Passing by Delta, Samantha Fish sounded interesting and will be worth a future visit.  However, it being first night, we continued along the midway perusing the 2019 'fest setup and were pleased to see the beverage concessions have been significantly improved.  No need any longer to credit-load RFID wrist bands and a greater range of decent and reasonably priced wines, beer and spirits.  In addition Festival goers have access to craft beers and alternate wine outlets.  It is evident that Bluesfest have listened to their audience and have ironed out many of the annoying aspects of attendance.  

Next stop Mojo where Alternate music favourite Kurt Vile was playing his first Bluesfest.  The former War on Drugs guitarist played selections from his albums including the recent collaboration with Courtney Barnett "Lotta Sea Lice".  Sounding very similar to his records he hid behind a curtain of hair and the stage shadows.  I have to admit I prefer Kurt when he is diluted by Courteney Barnett.

Jambalaya was full-on Aussie tonight with Russell Morris, Richard Clapton and the Black Sorrows making their only appearances before sizeable appreciative audiences.



In my opinion the nights' major attraction was Little Steven and The Disciples of Soul. Steve Van Zant of Sopranos fame and long time ally of Bruce Springsteen led a 15 member ensemble complete with a five piece brass section and your genuine sassy backing chorus. Fabulous!  The performance commenced with "Sweet Soul Music" by Arthur Conley.   "Do you like good music?"  Yeah Yeah!  

This was one of those heroic performances that rank up there with previous Bluesfest performances by Funkadelic and John Fogarty.  Steven's reputation as a true fan was evident with his in between song patter where he referred to Motown 

Bluesfest  T-shirts

Six60 Ocean Alley

Grafton Sir John Kerr

Tow truck  Customer parking


Blanch's bus service or Chris' minivan service?  The $5 beers available on Chris sold it.

Chris' spotify (everything from Murtceps to Donna Summer) powered Good Friday morning until it was wine o'clock.  Despite dreadful traffic our traditional Holy Thursday trip to the Ballina fish shop has proven the goods with tip top prawns,oysters and sashimi on offer at lunch.

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.