Swiss Family Grass

Waiting out the camera repair proved lengthy. We camped in Eschenz, a small Swiss village near the German border. Our campsite was on a plateau overlooking Lake Constance, near where the river Rhine feeds the lake. Our wait lasted five days, and we had five days of absolutely spectacular weather. Each night, as the town bell towers struck midnight, we waited and watched as an enormous blood orange moon crested the hills, casting a tremendous glow across the lake. For the most part we stayed at our site relishing the view. At one point a British couple moved in next to us. We shared an evening of wine and conversation of our travels. Also, our neighbor was kind enough to share a copy of Microsoft’s Autoroute for the laptop, assisting Andy and I with mapping out our travels on the computer. The timing was perfect, as our atlas has begun to show some wear, literally tearing free from its’ binding.

Every day we called the Olympus headquarters to find out if our camera was ready, and each day Herr Hartman told us it would be ready the next day. Finally, bright and early on July 19 we drove to pick up the camera.

From Olympus we drove to the Austrian border. It was here that we experienced our first border stop in Europe. The border official asked for our passports and green insurance card. I was actually kind of excited to show the small green piece of paper. We had to pay quite a bit of money for our international auto insurance policy, and to date not one person has asked to see it. We were waved across the border quickly and drove to the lakeside village of Hallstat.

Temperatures in Hallstat hovered in the high nineties. The heat was sweltering and we decided a visit to the Dachstein Giant Ice Cave was in order. Our only mistake was that we decided to ride our bikes to the aerial cable lift. We packed Petey into his trailer and began what we thought would be a short three mile bike ride from the campground to the lift. We had been told by the campground owner that the short ride was mostly flat, with only the last half mile a bit of a climb. That small climb turned into switchback after switchback, and each corner brought a new groan (from both mouth and body) as we looked up the road at the remainder of the climb. We made several stops, red faced and out of breath, and looking for a small patch of shade to shield us from the scathing sun. After what seemed like an eternity we rounded the last bend and arrived at the Dachstein lift.

We boarded the cable car and were rapidly whisked up the Schonbergalpe mountain, where an even more intense hike awaited us. Once you sign up for the cave tour at the gondola exit, you must rapidly make your way along a steep trail to the cave entrance. Sweat pouring from our brows we did our best to try to keep Petey cool by pouring water on his back, the view from the mountain and the door to the cave were our only impetus to continue the trek.

At the top of the trail we waited as a digital clock ticked away the minutes until our guided tour began. We quickly gobbled up two of the nectarines we had packed for our planned ‘leisurely’ lunch and then we saw a guide prop open the door to the cave. Within seconds of entering the ice cave the temperature dropped from ninety plus to thirty two. Andy and I quickly donned warmer clothing and within a few minutes decided that it was time to put Petey’s coat on too. To go from the sweltering heat to such chilly cold air was a shock to the system.

Inside, a system of tunnels is walked through to reach the extensive ice cave. Steps bring visitors into the many viewing areas, with names like King Arthur’s Cathedral, Grail Castle, and Ice Palace.

During the tour we climbed up and down narrow platforms and viewed tremendous blocks of ice that looked as if wide rivers had frozen in place. Ice spires and jagged ice in the shape of daggers loom at every corner. Throughout the year temperatures fluctuate throughout the cave, with the highest shift occurring near cave openings. Yet, the increase of ice in the winter months still exceeds the loss of ice during the summer months. While in the cave one traverses altitude differences of as much as two hundred feet, so by the time the tour finished, we were looking forward to boarding the cable car back to the Dachstein Banhoff.

After a quick downhill ride back to Hallstat Andy and I decided to take a dip in the lake. Our camping neighbors had warned us that the lake was ‘glacier’ cold, but we were willing to risk it. We both enjoyed the swim. The water temperature was warmest near the surface, with only your lower extremities feeling the frigid water beneath. But for our aching calves, it seemed the perfect prescription for muscle pain relief.

Later we toured the tiny town of Hallstat on bicycle. The homes and restaurants that border the lake are literally perched at waters edge. The dollhouse style architecture makes the town visibly appealing, while the vibe is funky. Seeing Hallstat and the towns that led up to our stop led me to say that Austria feels like a morphing of Switzerland and Berkeley. Strange, but true.

The following day we drove around the mountain range that had been our backdrop while in Hallstat. The limestone mountains are dramatic and appear to flow a river of rock from impressive top peaks to wide, colossal base.

Bound for Slovenia we entered onto the freeway only to be stopped some thirty minutes later. What we thought was routine weekend traffic turned out to be one of the worst delays of our travels. Apparently one of the tunnels we needed to pass through to get to Slovenia has a history of accidents, so traffic entering the tunnel is monitored. On this particular day, another accident had taken place. We sat on the freeway for over three hours. It seemed everyone was in the know but us. As soon as the cars came to a stop travelers pulled out chaise lounge chairs and coolers with snacks to wait out the delay. I even saw a woman lying on the freeway pavement sunbathing in a bikini! Andy and I passed the time playing gin and snacking on food from the pantry. With temperatures at an all time high we were glad to be in a campervan, having a cooling fan and ice cubes at our disposal.

By mid afternoon boredom and irritation set in and Andy decided that the traffic delay was a sign that we shouldn’t head south as we had planned. After much discussion and a little arguing we changed course and drove to Graz, Austria.

Graz proved to be a pleasant detour. First, the campground was situated adjacent to a huge waterpark. But, this was no traditional waterpark. Instead, the swimming pool at the campground was designed to look like a lake, complete with a loose stone bottom. It was the largest swimming pool we have ever seen, and the strangest too. The entire pool was fashioned out of stainless steel, with the smooth rounded stones making up the floor. The temperature was warm and we swam the night and next day away, happy to be far from the heat absorbing black tarmac of the highway.

We chose to walk the Old Town of Graz on a Sunday, when tourists would be at a minimum. Graz was listed as Europe’s City of Culture for 2003 and is Austria’s second largest city. Not surprisingly though, the Old Town is manageable by foot and makes for an enjoyable mid afternoon stroll. The brightly colored building facades draw the eye upward toward the towering buildings. Small boutiques and lively cafes fill the streets and alleys that maze through the Old Town. Speaking of alleys, anti-Bush sentiments are alive and well in Graz, as evidenced by the graffiti I found in an alleyway near the town hall.

After exploring the streets of the older region we crossed the river by bridge, stopping to admire Murinsel, the Island in the Mur. Touted as a new landmark of Graz and designed by New York artist Vito Acconci, the Murinsel is a meeting place resting in the river. Intended to look like a giant open mussel shell, the Murinsel is connected to the two shores of the river by narrow plank like walkways. The entire ‘sculpture’ is crafted from metal and is in stark contrast to the muddy, murky waters that flow beneath. Apparently a night viewing of the Murinsel is ideal, as the nightclub housed within radiates with ethereal lighting that brings the structure to life.

From the river we walked through Sackstrasse, a mile of art and antique dealers. Andy and I window shopped, gazing through the cluttered windows at war memorabilia and art deco lighting. Our budget and lack of space kept us from purchasing two boldly shaped art deco lamps.

Having now altered our plans to leave Croatia for another trip, we did decide to drive the three hours necessary to see Ljubljana, Slovenia. The capital of Slovenia, Ljubljana is a mesmerizing city, where the average age is a young thirty.

We arrived at the campground in Ljubljana relatively early in the day and were struck when we found out our neighbors were from San Francisco. Cliff and Sandy have been on the road for sixteen years. Yes, you read that right. The extremely liberal, free thinking, anti-war, couple left California in 1990 bound for a life on the road in Europe. They lived in the city for many years, later moving to Fairfax. Cliff retired at 42 after spending years managing pizza parlors and he and Sandy sold their house, invested the money and began their travels. They are traveling in a 1980 Volkswagen van they shipped over from the states. They have never used electricity while on the road, and don’t use a fridge. Sixteen years without a refrigerator…can you imagine?

Their van is still registered in Oregon, and through some creative networking they have managed to get their mail and essentials forwarded to them on the road. They do go to Washington, to the San Juan islands, every other year. Not completely free of their peaceful protest nature, they organize anti-war events or champion other causes close to their hearts when back in the states.

During the winter months Sandy and Cliff leave the road life, bound for warm climates. For many years they have wintered on Hydra, a Greek island near the Peloponnese. They told us many stories of their adventures, one of which included a time when they almost bought land in Norway during a stopover there. The price was right, but the fact that for two months in the winter the sun wouldn’t make an appearance left them rethinking their new home choice.

Our first day of scheduled sightseeing was delayed by a day filled with politically minded reading. Our peace minded anti-war activist neighbors provided us with several books that immediately peaked our interest and had us diving into the bindings. All totaled, Cliff and Sandy have a collection of over two hundred books in their van. Titles such as
‘Public Power In the Age of Empire’ and ‘War On Iraq What Team Bush Doesn’t Want you To Know’ as well as numerous essays by Noam Chomsky filled our day. We were reminded what prompted our trip in the first place, and recent news of events in Lebanon left us wondering if world peace will ever be an option.

The next day was a hot one. We packed ourselves and a muzzled Petey onto a city bus and headed for Ljubljana’s town center. We got off the bus at Tivoli Park and crossed the sprawling urban park bound for the Old Town.

The buildings that line the Old Town have both a Mediterranean and Baroque style and the town exerts a natural beauty not often felt in city’s of its’ size.

A huge daily general market lines the riverside pedestrianized street and we took advantage of the colorful awnings that shaded each stall, looking at tourist souvenirs and fresh produce stalls, a welcome respite from the burning sun.

We strolled both sides of the river, crossing the famous dragon bridge to reach the nineteenth century quarter, where most of the city’s museums are housed.

After getting our bearings in town center we hiked the steep hills climbing to the castle in the late afternoon. The castle now houses art exhibitions and nightly outdoor cinema events, and not much else unless you are willing to part with some cash to go up to the viewing tower. Supposedly the viewing tower affords spectacular views of the city. We would have been happy donors, had the viewing deck allowed dogs. Instead, we carefully navigated the steep grade back to the Old Town and caught a bus back to the campground. After a dip in the strangely ‘Las Vegas’ like swimming pool (and I use the term pool loosely here, it was more like a bar and night club dropped into a swimming grotto), we ate dinner and looked at the atlas, trying to plan our next stop.

We decided that the heat made southern travel unappealing and chose to focus our future travels on Northern, Eastern Europe. We looked at Lithuania, Latvia, and Estonia, and all looked promising. By now, we were getting used to the fact that even some European Union countries were not yet totally on the Euro, so traveling to lands that required multiple currencies might not be such a hassle after all.

From Ljubljana we drove north, crossing the Austrian border and continuing until we reached the Czech Republic. At the border crossing into Austria was the first time we have had to actually hand over passports and stop and wait as our information was processed. The border agent eyed us suspiciously, especially Andy as his passport photo is incredibly grainy and dark. After a few minutes the agent stamped our passports, the first time they have been stamped in over a year of travel and let us through. We were beginning to realize that maybe the European Union’s borders were not as open as we had been led to believe. All through France, Portugal, and Spain we had never encountered an actual border crossing. Usually, a small sign on a bridge or the side of the road was the only indicator that we had passed from one country to another. Now, when we cross from country to country we reach a border maintained by the military, with checkpoints still in place. So much for ‘open borders’.

Crossing into the Czech Republic we were again stopped and passports stamped. Andy was most amused, as our passports began to look like the world travelers we felt we had grown to become. A short detour to a town recommended by Cliff and Sandy, Cesky Krumlov, resulted in our moving on to Prague. Cesky Krumlov is a Unesco World Heritage Site, but the overcrowded atmosphere by the murky river left us longing to move on to the excitement Prague had begun to stir inside us.

Arriving in Prague in the late evening during the high season is probably not a wise idea. On the outskirts of Prague in Troja, many homeowners have converted their fruit tree laden backyards to accommodate the flood of campers that arrive during July and August. Andy walked the streets in vain, coming back to the van after each stop to tell me that the campground was full. Nearing eleven o’clock we decided to try our look at a campground on the other side of town, on an island in the river Vltaba. We arrived at ten minutes to midnight and were wearily greeted by the campground manager. She agreed to let us in, and we were both surprised and pleased. We awoke the next morning feeling as if we had been trapped inside an oven, the van temperature quickly rising from the glaring sun, and ended up moving to a different campground on the island, seeking trees and the shade they provide from the heat.

By late afternoon the temperature had cooled a bit, due in part to a thunderstorm, and we road our bikes into Prague’s city center. Prague is probably the most visually striking city we have visited on this trip. The architecture is simply magnificent. You could walk the streets for weeks and not have enough time to take in the remarkable buildings that line the streets. I know that I have often described grand facades and moving architectural masterpieces in this travel log, but Prague takes the prize. Never have I been so transfixed on the architecture of a city. Prague is a must see for anyone intrigued by the artistic style of period architectural buildings.

Our first stop was in the Jewish Quarter, filled with synagogues, the most famous of which is Pinkus Temple. Kosher eating establishments line the streets and we stopped at a place called Bohemian Bagel to check our e-mail and sample a Czech bagel with cream cheese.

Next, we biked through the Staromestske namesti, the most famous of all Prague’s squares and took time to soak in all the surroundings. Many tourists filed into the square from small pedestrian side streets and the grandeur of the square could be seen in their faces as they made the final turn from alleyway to the Staromestske namesti.

As the sun set we walked across the Charles Bridge, a world famous bridge started in the fourteenth century and lined with massive statues, including some Jesuit propaganda pieces. During our walk we stopped to listen to the Original Prague Syncopated Orchestra, a band playing songs that would make any fan of Woody Allen movies proud. The authentic 1920’s early American jazz enticed many a tourist, and after listening for nearly an hour, Andy bought their cd, to liven up our traveling music collection.

The next morning we drove to Terezin, to the Thierrenstadt prison and concentration camp. We stopped at the Small Fortress, a fortification built in the 1700’s. Throughout history, the fortress was used to protect access routes, while in the 1800’s it served less as a fortress and more as a prison, including during World War I. However, it was during the occupation of Czech lands in 1939 that led to the Small Fortress’s occupation by the Prague Gestapo Police. From 1940 through 1945 the fortress housed prisoners of war and people resisting the Nazi regime. Many nationalities were held in Terezin including Russians, British, French, and many Central European groups.

In November 1941 the Nazi’s made the town of Terezin itself a Ghetto, a concentration camp for Jews. Within one year the town’s original population had to be removed to make room for the large number of Jews being brought there. Terezin became the Main Fortress, a town behind bars. Terezin’s concentration camp was originally established solely as a reception and transit station for Jews. What occurred at Terezin was in fact a carefully orchestrated Nazi propaganda campaign. The Nazi’s told the world that Terezin was actually a “self administered Jewish settlement territiory”, and went so far as to develop a ‘beautification’ campaign meant to dupe the international public and cover up the atrocities occurring in Terezin. In fact, famous Nazi propaganda footage was shot in Terezin , film and photos designed to prove to the world how well the Nazi’s were treating those imprisoned in the territory. And, accredited doctors and dignitaries visited to tour Terezin and bring reports back to their respective homeland that the Jews were, ‘okay’. Many of these high ranking people were fooled too.

Touring the Small Fortress we were able to see where prisoners were housed in the concentration camp. When we entered the barracks style buildings my heart sank. The mutli-level bunk beds brought back images I had seen as a child while studying history in school. Moderately sized rooms housed racks and racks of the rickety wooden bunks. Pictures of hundreds of emaciated concentration camp victims crammed into the makeshift beds filled my mind.

We walked the entire camp and viewed execution grounds, administrative buildings, solitary cells and areas where mass burials took place. I couldn’t bring myself to take one photo. I watched as individual tourists and large guided groups walk by pointing their cameras and shooting photographs of selected sites. For me, it was a place not to be recorded on film, but absorbed by the naked eye. The organization and precision with which the Nazi’s orchestrated their campaign against the Jews and others, and the level of deceit are all apparent, all the way down to the entrance gates with large black letters looming above stating, “Arbeicht Macht Frei” (Work Makes Free).

As we left the grounds we walked backed to the van in near silence, only uttering a few words about the dark clouds that had begun to fill the sky. Within moments of reaching the parking lot a downpour began of a magnitude I have not seen in years. It was as if the sky had parted and a river from the heavens began to flow onto us. We watched in astonishment as the roads began to swell with small lakes and people ran for cover.

We drove slowly in the rainstorm the short drive from the Small Fortress into Terezin town and visited the Ghetto Museum. The museum is probably one of the most informative I’ve visited. Exhibits clearly outline what occurred in Terezin and provide an exceptional description of Nazi propaganda and a brief history of other concentration camps, specifically Auschwitz. After visiting the Museum of the Ghetto, one can take a self guided tour of the town, with all of the sights during the occupation clearly delineated.

By late afternoon we were on the road again, destined for the German border. We planned to drive to Poland from the Czech Republic, but decided the efficient German Autobahn system would make for less travel time. As we approached the German border we noticed something that we have seen quite frequently at border towns. Typically, there are a number of flea market style booths selling garden gnomes, cigarettes, and other knick-knack items. And, we almost always see prostitutes. Usually the prostitutes begin to show up on the side of the road, sitting on buckets or chairs. Some flag cars down, but most sit by the highway bemused. Next, the string of prostitutes gives way to strip clubs, and then you reach the border. The Czech Republic border town of Cinovec had all the usual makings of border towns with which we were familiar, with a few added visuals. First, prostitutes were rather conspicuously mixed in with fruit vendors. Sometimes it was impossible to tell who was who. Women sat on both sides of the highway, some under sun umbrellas, hawking their wares. I would imagine it could become quite confusing for the customer. Next, as the road narrowed and we left the town and drove the last few miles to the border, the area becomes desolate. That is, until small shacks appear on the side of the road, real hillbilly style lean-to’s with barely clothes women dancing in doorways. Some of the women were standing in the shoulder of the road in just their underwear. It was really bizarre.

At the German border we were stopped and our passports stamped out of the Czech Republic and into Germany. We are going to spend a day or so in Dresden, visiting the palace Zwinger, now home to some of Dresden’s finest museums.