Celebrity Baby Shower Gift

July 4, 2003

We saw a good price for air tickets on one of the Internet travel search engines and decided to jump in. We had already talked about the possibility of going to Europe for Christmas. One of Don’s co-workers had been in Germany for Christmas several years ago and loved it, even though he and his wife about froze to death. Berlin can be very cold. We decided to not go that far north so had checked airfares to Munich, which is about as far south in Germany as one can fly into. We ordered the tickets and began the long wait for December.

July through November 2003

Being California residents, we realized right away that our so-called “winter clothing” that works at home would not work at all in Central Europe in December. So, during these months, we watched for sales and prowled Internet web sites to find deals on long underwear, heavy socks, galoshes, and other items.

December 10, 2003

Auntie Deane gave us a ride to the airport in Sacramento on the morning of December 9th. After a short layover in Chicago we landed in Munich at about 10:00 a.m. December 10th. It was 30 degrees out, but sunny. We were already glad we brought warm clothes.

We boarded the train to Rothenburg and wouldn’t you know it, we made our first blunder right away. Unbeknownst to us, we sat in an area reserved for the disabled. A very nice older gentleman with a cane explained it (in German plus sign language), but also explained that it was okay as long as no other disabled person needed the spot.

In Rothenburg, we found our hotel, the Hotel Altfrankische Weinstube Klosterhof (say that 3 times fast), which was absolutely darling. It contained a restaurant on the ground floor (what we call the first floor) and was housed in a 600-year old building with just 6 hotel rooms on the first (what we call second) floor. Diane decided that everything in the décor would look great in our home. Dried bunches of roses hung from beams, and ceramic plates were mounted on the walls, which were painted green and terra cotta. Distressed furniture filled all the nooks and crannies. It was very homey and inviting. Our room had low-beamed ceilings with the expected enormous bathtub. The shower was installed as an afterthought on the side-wall, with no shower curtain. We showered crouched on our knees in the tub so we wouldn’t get water all over the floor. It wasn’t very comfortable. The people who ran it spoke very clear English, so communication wasn’t an issue. Toward sundown (about 4:00 p.m. – we were pretty far north), it got really cold. We had already put on every single piece of warm clothing we brought – long johns, 2 pair of socks, hats, sweaters, coats, and a scarf. Diane was still cold. We attributed this to being acclimated to warmer temperatures and our bodies weren’t used to the cold yet. Many people were as bundled up as we were, though.

We gave in to jet lag and went to bed at 6:30. At about 1:00 a.m., our neighbors in the next room, who must have been newlyweds, awakened us. Jeesh. Those walls were so thin. We now knew entirely too much about them. We stuffed earplugs in and crashed.

December 11

In the morning, we walked the perimeter walls surrounding the medieval city, which was only about 1-1/2 miles. Access to the perimeter walk was via a narrow stone staircase. In some places, the wall walk wasn’t accessible so back down the stairs you went. Up, down, up, down. Soon we were peeling off our warm layers. Afterward, we watched the famous clock tower which was built in 1466, strike noon, at which time two windows opened, two wooden figures popped out and hoisted beer steins, then after the music was done, they retracted and the windows slammed shut behind them. Pretty cool. We soon discovered gluhwein, a popular hot wine drink. Yum. We warmed ourselves up with that, then went into a clock shop and purchased an eight-day cuckoo clock, which the store would ship home, for us. The wood was from the Black Forest. We hoped the cuckoo wouldn’t torture the dogs.

We toured the Reichsstadt Museum, which was a historical museum of Rothenburg. Its many artifacts included lots of swords, suits of armor, and a variety of guns, including Marie Antoinette’s hunting rifle. The rifle had a velvet pad where her chin rested and protected Her Majesty’s royal cheek. It also had a lot of intricate inlaid carving. Included within that museum was a statue of Moses, only this statue had horns. The horned mistake came from a misinterpretation of a document where “horned” and “crowned” were so similar that the person carving the statue either read the description of Moses incorrectly or he was told incorrect information. So the artist carved away, blissfully unaware of his error.

We visited St. Jakob’s Church, which was built in the 1300s. It contained a huge wooden carving that was 33 feet tall and 500 years old, known as the “Altar of the Holy Blood”. It depicts the Last Supper and has the unique ability to remove the Judas figure. The church takes him out of the carving for four days during Easter time.

We joined the 8:00 p.m. old city tour with Rothenburg’s self-appointed night watchman, George. It felt much less cold than the night before, thankfully. For about $4 each, we got a one-hour historical tour of Rothenburg, along with some interesting factoids. George told us that way back when, there were only two lower salaried jobs than night watchman in the City – executioner and gravedigger. (George pointed out that these jobs went hand-in-hand.) As we crossed the moat, George showed us a small door in an archway. The door, which was on a side-wall and built into the bricks, was called a “manhole” or “the eye of the needle”. It served the practical purpose of allowing someone who was late in returning to be able to sleep safely overnight in the manhole, in the event the City’s fortress gates were closed. It was also very costly to spend the night in the “eye of the needle”. This was where the Biblical phrase “it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle, than a rich man to enter heaven” was contrived. Heaven meant being safely home within the City’s walls.

George also told us that in 1945 at the end of World War II, a high-ranking German officer, along with some of his staff, attempted to hide in Rothenburg. The Americans were given the order to bomb Rothenburg into oblivion, knowing these Germans were hiding out. Happily, the German commander left Rothenburg for a few days to check on his troops. During that time, the German second in command negotiated a surrender with the Americans. What was neat about this story was that coincidentally, the American commander’s mother had spent some time in Rothenburg in years gone by and had brought home a painting of the City. The painting had hung in their home for years, and the American commander had grown to appreciate the beauty of the town. Thus, he was reluctant to blow it to smithereens and was very willing to negotiate with the Germans. So, this adorable town lost only a tiny portion of its northeast corner to battle.

During this walk and upon reentering the City, we needed to traverse a very narrow passageway. But before our group could enter, coming from the other direction was another tour, each of them holding a flaming torch. George told us they were on their way down the valley where they would consume gluhwein, and then they’d trudge back up the hill. Better them than us.

December 12

After a decent night’s sleep (our honeymooning neighbors had gone, thank goodness), we caught the train to Salzburg. We had to be on our toes on this leg of the journey, since we had to change trains 3 times. On the train, a woman was reading, “Volle Deckung, Mr. Bush?”, a political satire known to Americans as “Dude, Where’s My Country?” written by Michael Moore.

We arrived in Salzburg in mid-afternoon. Our hotel room was austere, with only one overhead light. This room was a dreary comparison to our charming room in Rothenburg, but the location was wonderful, being right in the heart of old town.

The historic section of town contained some very expensive clothing and jewelry shops, doing a slow business. After dinner, we went into an Irish pub (“we serve 40 kinds of whiskey”), and Don had a pint of Guinness. The bartender was from Ireland and he spent a great deal of his time talking to us. We guessed he must be lonely being that it seemed very few locals spoke English well enough to carry on a conversation.

Back in our hotel room, we flipped on the TV and channel surfed. We were stopped dead in our tracks at a “Hogan’s Heroes” rerun, dubbed in German. Sergeant Shultz was saying, “I know nothing, nothing”. We knew this for sure because he had his hands over his eyes, and he was peeking through his fingers. It was a hoot!

December 13

We took “The Sound of Music” tour. Our driver from Bob’s Tours picked us up at 8:30 a.m. Since we were her first passengers, we were lucky to sit in the front seat. We picked up another American couple and headed out. During our tour, we learned that many of the film’s scenes actually took place in a Hollywood studio, with only bits and pieces filmed in Salzburg and vicinity. The film’s gazebo had been moved three times. It was originally located on the grounds of a large estate, but the crowds were trampling everything, so it was moved across the lake to the shore, where tour buses were causing the lakeshores to erode. Finally, it was placed in storage but the City of Salzburg realized it was important to American tourists, so it was moved to nearby Hellbrunn into a park. Hellbrunn is on the outskirts of Salzburg. This permanent location works to the advantage of the City because buses can pull into a large parking lot and hoards of tourists can eye and take photos of the gazebo without doing harm to anything. The doors to the gazebo are locked due to silly American tourists jumping from bench to bench to re-create that “I am 16, going on 17” scene, falling off, and hurting themselves.

We headed to the gorgeous Lake District at the bottom of “the Rockies”, as our driver called them. A series of 5 lakes, all supplied by underground water and a variety of streams is at the base of the mountains. In St. Gilgen, we visited the church where the filming of the wedding scene from the Sound of Music took place. We wandered around St. Gilgen for a while, looking at the home where Mozart’s mother and sister lived. We drove up a narrow, one lane road, and were rewarded with a “Climb Every Mountain” view. The emerald green mountainside and snow-covered caps were stunning. Our driver had a Sound of Music CD playing and it was very hard for Diane not to sing along. No one else was singing, though, so she controlled herself.

Back in Salzburg, our driver’s cell phone rang. She answered it, and we were immediately pulled over by the police. Apparently, it is illegal to drive and talk on a cell phone simultaneously. The police approached and the driver got out her license, and the pandemonium began. She screamed at the policeman and he screamed back. Her cell phone rang again, adding insult to injury. She answered it, hollered into the mouthpiece, and flung down the cell phone, which immediately bounced into the back seat. The woman in the back seat timidly tapped Diane on the shoulder and handed her the cell phone, which Diane quickly set down. The driver reached into the glove compartment (for registration?), and fumbled through the papers, her hands shaking. About that time, she asked us all to pay her and suggested we walk from there. The four of us scrambled out, glad to escape. We felt sort of guilty for abandoning her. But really, there was nothing we could do. We parted company from the other couple and made our way back to our hotel. What a morning.

As we walked through the town we came across the cemetery where Mozart’s wife and father were buried. We laughed that we thus far hadn’t heard any Mozart’s compositions – we only saw decompositions. Argh.

That evening, we discovered the place to “see and be seen” and to drink our requisite cup or two of gluhwein. The location consisted of vendors in little wooden booths selling a variety of items, including Christmas ornaments, jewelry, food, hats and scarves, and the like, and of course, there were gluhwein booths. There were patio umbrellas with strands of white lights, and barrels with burning logs to keep you toasty. Dozens of adults milled around, sipping and chatting. Next to this area was an ice skating rink where kids of all ages went ‘round and ‘round. We alternated between hanging around with the adults and wandering over to the rink to watch skaters fall down. Novice skaters (children) were provided with cute pint sized plastic penguins and snowmen with handles and runners so that the kids could get the hang of skating. Some adults tottered around the rink, their ankles bent precariously. It looked painful. We saw more than a few take some rough falls, only to get up, laugh at themselves, and continue on.

We were amazed that these Teutonic men and women were so big. Not fat big, but tall and very healthy. Diane felt like a Munchkin from the Wizard of Oz. These people were very courteous, though, considering they could have easily squished us like a bug on a windshield.

December 14

As we departed our hotel, we said “Danke” to the hotel clerk. “You’re welcome, “ he called back. “Auf wiedersen” we said. “Goodbye”, he replied. We had asked him to call a cab for us and he asked if we wanted it right away, which we did. We opened the front door and up pulled the cab. Goodness. Such German efficiency.

We took the train from Salzburg to Vienna. The train was practically empty so we were able to stretch out in relative luxury. The Austrian countryside was green and gorgeous. Sweet houses with pointy roofs dotted the landscape. It was about 44 degrees and all things considered, wasn’t miserably cold. (Of course, we were inside.) Once we got to Vienna, we found the subway line that would take us close to our hotel. This was one of the most efficient train stations we have ever been in. All the connecting lines were organized very precisely and it was easy to figure out how to get from the train station to the subway.

After getting settled in our room, which was far nicer than that simple room in Salzburg, we boarded the subway again and headed to the Opera District, where most of the action was. We took the trolley that travels the circumference of the Central City for a quick overview. We saw hundreds of shops, tons of tourists, and another Christmas Market to check out. We hopped off the trolley and headed to the Christmas Market. Everyone was walking toward the Rathous (City Hall). We figured something big must be going on, and so we allowed ourselves to be swept with the current. In the Rathous there were booths with groups of children making crafts. Since this wasn’t our thing, we made our way back to the trolley stop where we finished our self-guided intro to the City.

The Opera House was easily located so we walked over and tried the door. Locked. Rats. We peeked in the windows but couldn’t see anything. We walked down a pedestrian friendly boulevard, when the wind suddenly picked up and it turned really cold. We ducked into St. Stephen’s Cathedral, which was a gothic dark church with tall spires. It was scorched on the outside, from WWII fires and bombings.

Walking the boulevard, we noticed a group of people holding hands and dancing in a circle. They were chanting something that sounded Middle-Eastern but we didn’t think much about it at that moment.

We took the subway back to our room and as we were walking, noticed “Puerto”, a small bar about one block from our hotel, so we went in. The bartender, Ernest, spoke English very well because he had had been educated in London. He told us his father wanted him to become a lawyer. Instead, Ernest’s education had consisted of learning how to party. We told him we were happy to have found a place within crawling distance from our room and he said, “Dees ees very important.” We agreed.

When we returned to our room, we flipped on CNN and learned that Saddam Hussein had been captured, thus the celebration in the street. No wonder those people sounded so joyous.

December 15

Oh, good! The hotel owner would do our laundry for a small fee. Yahoo! No scrubbing in the sink. We handed over some dirty duds and headed back to the Central City. We toured the Hofburg Palace, home of the Hapsburgs who ruled the Austro-Hungarian Empire for several centuries until World War I, when the Empire collapsed. We went through the Imperial Apartments where the Hapsburgs lived, which were extravagantly decorated. Afterward, we went through the Treasury, which was filled with exquisite jewels. In fact, you enter the Treasury through heavy gates and then through a thick door that is actually a door to a safe. The entire building, with its millions of dollars worth of jewelry, was a every large safe. There were diamonds, rubies, emeralds, amethysts, pearls, gold, silver…oh, boy. The jewels made our heads just spin. We got the portable audio guides but after about 20 minutes of excruciating detail, we quit listening and just gawked. After an hour or so our heads threatened to explode, so we found lunch and wine (not necessarily in that order), and regrouped. It was very cold and windy outside so it was nice to find shelter for a while.

Apparently, we couldn’t help ourselves because we went yet to another museum in the Hofburg Palace called the Neve Burg (New Palace) Museum. It contained an extraordinary amount of armor, old musical instruments, ancient Greek statues, and artifacts from Afghanistan, of all places. There were floors and floors of these relics. Soon, we were on a mission for gluhwein. We had had enough museums. We stopped in at the Puerto bar but Ernest wasn’t working and this bartender didn’t speak English so we were stuck talking to each other.

We agreed that Vienna reminded us of Paris, with its wide boulevards, the cosmopolitan feel, and its pedestrian-friendly downtown area. Even though it had been very cold that day and there was snow on the ground from last night’s storm, we loved it. The beautiful Opera House, the parks with statues of musicians such as Schubert, Strauss, Mozart, and others, down to small details as flowerbeds in the shape of a treble clef, made it a music lover’s dream city.

December 16

We toured the Kunsthistorisches Museum. It contained the Hapsburg art collection as well as a temporary exhibit displaying paintings by Francis Bacon. We began there, not knowing anything about him. We’d both heard his name before. Don thought he was the guy who invented nitroglycerin; Diane thought he was an architect. Whatever, his paintings left us cold. One set of paintings, a panel of three, depicted Bacon’s lover, who had committed suicide the night before Bacon’s Paris debut. Apparently, Bacon came home, found his lover dead and perched nude on the toilet, and somehow felt compelled to paint this vision and share it with the rest of us. Jiminy Christmas. Why? It was appalling, to say the least, and it certainly wasn’t something we’d want hanging in our living room. This and other paintings caused us to conclude that Francis Bacon either took way too many drugs or drank way too much alcohol or both. We took our scorched eyeballs to the Renaissance paintings and portraits. Nothing like those one-dimensional Madonna and Bambino oil on canvass paintings to set you straight! There were a lot of Egyptian artifacts, too, so all in all we saw a lot of artwork.

After lunch we hit our last museum (yahoo!). This one, the Haus Der Musik, was an interactive museum. It included a podium where you chose a classical selection by pressing a button. Then a pre-recorded tape of the Vienna Philharmonic came onto a very large screen. Acting as conductor, you waved a baton and the orchestra played. If you increased the tempo the orchestra played faster and faster. You could whip the orchestra into a playing frenzy at which time they gave up, and one of the players stood up and gave you what for. It was very funny. Unfortunately, many of the other hands-on gadgets didn’t seem to work, so we were sort of disappointed.

We spent a quiet last night in Vienna and decided that everyone should go there. What a neat place.

Observation: By now, we had stayed in three different hotels but noticed they all did this one interesting thing: they pushed together two twin beds to make one large king sized bed, except the beds are made up separately. Each bed had its own comforter rolled up a-la burrito. Actually, this was pretty sensible, given how cold it was. No blanket hogging!

December 17

On to Budapest. Our passports were checked twice by the Hungarian police. On the train we met a very friendly family from Milan who were originally from Mexico. They had lived in Milan since March 2003 and loved living in Italy. Their English was excellent so we chatted with for much of the three-hour train trip. The countryside of Hungary was much drier than the lush green in Austria. There was a bit of snow on the ground, probably from that bad storm of a few days ago.

After we exited the train, we needed to get Hungarian cash (forints), a train schedule for the next leg of the journey (always plan your exit from a city, our travel guru advised us), bus passes, and we needed to find the subway. What had been a five-minute experience in Vienna to get these same tasks accomplished took about 2 hours in Budapest. First, we went downstairs to find an ATM. The one we found had no English translation so we skipped it. We were also regularly accosted by men saying, “Taxi?” “No,” we would firmly reply. (We had read that the ones who solicit you in train stations cheat you, anyway.) We found the international train information booth and here’s how that comedy of errors went: We split up because the lines weren’t moving. In Don’s line, he was helped somewhat when he asked for a schedule from Budapest to Krakow. Don was told that the only train to Krakow left at 7:30 p.m. and arrived at 6:15 a.m. the next day. We had previously found on the Internet a train schedule that indicated we would depart at 11:00 a.m. and arrive at 9:00 p.m. that night. This new schedule made no sense. Had something changed? At Diane’s window next to Don’s window, she was told that the only person who could provide this information was at the window at the very end. Diane looked at the end window and said, “But that window is closed and it has a blue curtain over the glass”. “Maybe she went to the toilet”, was the terse response. Ooookay.

By then, Don had been told he needed to go down to that same end window with the blue curtain. As it turned out, the clerk wasn’t taking a toilet break but was at lunch. She would return in about 25 minutes, according to a note taped on the window. She finally returned and we got the information for the train. At that point, with the documents she provided us, we read that we needed a reservation for the first leg of the next portion of our trip and of course, this window didn’t make those reservations. So we traipsed back down to the original window, waited again in a slow moving line, paid for our reservation and went out through the “Taxi?”, “Taxi?” men again. Our exit from Budapest was finally arranged. Phew. What a disorganized place that was, especially after the efficiency of the Vienna train station.

We found the subway and went down, down, down the longest, fastest escalator we had ever seen. While we were waiting for the subway, a man approached us and said something in Hungarian. We were baffled. He quickly switched to perfect American-style English. He said he was looking for a map. We told him where we had found ours. Interestingly, he carried no luggage. We thought about it later and deduced that he was probably a scam artist. We agreed he was probably trying to distract us while someone picked our bags. But our backpacks were all locked up and with our money belts on under our clothes, he had chosen the wrong target. Ha-ha. No loot for you, American thief.

Once we got to our destination, it was up, up, up on another fast, escalator. We entered a large plaza where many buses were going to and fro. Not reading the language had us at a huge disadvantage. We needed bus number 16 but couldn’t find it. A handsome bus driver exited his bus so Diane asked him how to get to our destination by pointing at a spot on the City map. He responded in Hungarian. Yikes. Now what? Fortunately, he was very patient and escorted us over to two teenage boys who spoke English. We followed their clear directions and the next thing we knew, were at the funicular to take us up a steep hill to Buda. We paid the fare, boarded the funicular, and were immediately rewarded with a gorgeous view of the Danube River and “Pest”. The Danube divides the city in half. Actually, they used to be two separate cities but ultimately became one, “Budapest”. We had learned that it’s pronounced “Budapesht”. We had decided to stay on the Buda side because that was where the touristy historic buildings were located. Later, we regretted this decision because Pest has tons of things to see just by walking. It was far lovelier and busier than the Buda side.

We easily located the Hotel Burg. Our room was comfortable and quiet. Apparently not so for a Frenchman, who we heard complaining to the clerk that his room was too noisy, with the clanging church bells and the buses running. At first, the clerk looked suitably concerned when the Frenchman complained. But as the complaints went on and on, the clerk’s face became more bland and unreadable. He finally responded that it would be difficult for him to anything about those particular noises. He was diplomatic but we could see he was baffled. What was he supposed to do about church bells clanging and buses running, for goodness sake?

December 18

We walked around Buda and through a neighborhood. We heard a man in an apartment doing vocal exercises. He was a basso profundo, according to Diane. After seeing the cathedral and the castle, there wasn’t much more left to see in Buda, so we grabbed a bus and headed to Pest. Holy cow! Hustle and bustle. We stumbled onto another Christmas fair, but not before we walked by the British Embassy, which was being dutifully guarded by a lovely young fresh-faced woman in uniform, complete with over-the-shoulder machine gun. We gawked. Actually, Don wanted Diane to stand by the guard so he could take her picture but Diane was intimidated by that big gun. During our walk, a local tapped Diane on the shoulder and pointed up. We looked in that direction and oh, my. A beautiful yellow building had two tall statues built into each side of the wall that gave the illusion of holding up columns supporting the balcony. An intricately woven black rail protected the balcony, which was exquisite in contrast to the deep gold-yellow facade. We were so glad he pointed out that lovely architecture. We would’ve walked right past it.

We stopped for lunch at the Café Mon Martre. We had learned a tip from our travel guru. In this part of Europe, when a restaurant bill is presented, it’s good form to add 10 to 15 percent for a tip. But give the money directly to the waiter. It is considered stupid to do otherwise because the money has a way of disappearing off the table mysteriously if not taken by the waiter.

It was a week before Christmas and until this day, you would have only known it by the Christmas markets. Christmas lights were just now going up in the neighborhoods.

We started our mission for a Hungarian “Beware of the Dog” sign. Having no luck, we later asked the clerk where we might find a pet store that was close by. He told us about a pet store in the large shopping center in Pest. He was very curious as to why we wanted a pet store. “Are you buying an elephant?” We laughed. We explained our collection. He told us his parents have two sons – he and their Dachshund. The dog was mean and spoiled, he said.

December 19

At the very large, multi-story City Center West End Shopping Mall, we found a store selling a small wooden dog sign. Even though it did not read “Beware of the Dog”, we got a translation from someone who told us it read, “The more I know people, the more I love my dog”, with a goofy cartoon picture of a dog on it. Funny.

After our successful shopping trip, we walked to the center of the Danube River Bridge, and down a perpendicular walkway to Margit-Sziget (Margaret Island), located in the middle of the Danube. It was supposedly renowned for its beaches and its thermal baths. However, it was almost deserted because it was about 35 degrees outside and snow was on the ground. We were bundled up and only our faces were cold, but this was not the place to visit in mid-December. So, we went back up the bridge where there was a trolley stop.

We had been noticing that people stared at us a lot. Not rudely, but more out of curiosity, we thought. We tried to blend so this was puzzling. We kept a low profile, dressed conservatively, and spoke quietly. But they continued to stare. We later learned that it didn’t matter how much we tried to blend; Europeans could spot Americans a mile away. It could have been our demeanor or any number of things. We learned that Americans have a “look” about them that is easily identifiable by Europeans. But what that look is remains a mystery. When we pointedly asked, the response was vague.

We noticed was that women proudly wore fur coats (as in mink). When we were in Salzburg, there was a PETA (People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals) demonstration. Yet, that didn’t stop women from wearing their fur. Another thing that was difficult for us was how early darkness fell. By 4:45 it was very dark out and felt like 7:00 p.m. at home.

We found a piano bar with a very talented pianist with a very long name. He played and Diane sang “Summer Time” to an enthusiastic round of applause afterward. Diane surmised that they applauded in relief because she had finished. A British man came up and thanked Diane for singing, though. We bought a CD from the piano player on which he had recorded mostly show tunes. He was a lot of fun.

As an aside, we thought it was interesting that next to the hotel lobby in an adjoining room was a dentist’s office. During the day, you could hear that drill busy at work. We had been told that Austrians regularly travel over the border to Budapest for dental work because it was much cheaper and the quality was good. This dentist seemed to be pretty popular, judging by the regular drilling going on. We never heard anyone scream, either. Undoubtedly a good sign of a competent dentist.

December 20

It was a long train ride from Budapest to Krakow, made even longer for Diane because she had a bad headache from having too much fun the night before at the piano bar. When we boarded the train that morning, we were seated in the very end car. The train made several stops on the way and many hours into the trip, Diane needed a potty stop. She followed a man down the corridor. She figured he was heading to the same destination so imagine her surprise when he opened the back door and continued on. Wait a minute. We were in the end car, so where was he going? Was he going to jump? Then she realized that somewhere along the way and during a stop, additional cars had been added. Phew.

Bratislava, the capital of Slovakia, looked dreary from the train, but we reminded ourselves that trains often go through the not so scenic areas. Much of the architecture appeared blocky and unattractive, likely remnants of the Communist era. There did seem to be a lot of construction going on. We noticed in the countryside there were many hovels next to the rail right of way. They appeared to be constructed of any material that could be scavenged. In this cold weather we wondered how the inhabitants kept warm. Those buildings didn’t look structurally sound at all.

The train was stopped at the border crossing into Poland. There were lots of police going through all the cars, and we had to show our passports three times. We never did figure out what was going on but the delay made us miss our connecting train to Krakow from Katovice. Now we would be arriving at 10:00 p.m., instead of 9:00 p.m. We were getting sick of being on the train and crossed our fingers that our hotel would hold our room.

We traveled through four countries to get to Krakow – Hungary, Slovakia, the Czech Republic, then Poland, finally arriving at about 10:00 p.m. We had our passports checked when we crossed into Slovakia. When the Border Patrolman handed Diane’s passport back to her, she said, “Thank you”, to which he responded something like “Dosh vadonya” (You’re welcome?)

We took a taxi from the train station to our hotel since we didn’t know the lay of the land, and we certainly didn’t want to get lost at this time of night schlepping our backpacks. Our hotel was lovely and cost a grand sum of $55 a night. Highly polished wooden floors with Persian rugs were everywhere. Our room even had a towel warmer in the bathroom. It was splendid. We were grateful our room was still available since we were late.

December 21

Since the beginning of this trip, we had heard a variety of American music, including “Lollipop” (in Rothenburg), “I will Always Love You” (in Budapest), and that first morning at breakfast in Krakow it was no different. We were regaled with “Bewitched, Bothered, and Bewildered (am I)”.

A Christmas faire in the very large Krakow Plaza was in full swing. Groups of teenagers were singing carols and there were hundreds of people milling about. Food was plentiful and gluhwein readily available. We noticed that young women and teenage girls all wore what appeared to be de rigueur – that is, very pointy-toed high heeled cowboy boots. They all minced along, walking like their feet were absolutely killing them. The boots looked to be about 3 sizes too big because the toes curled up. These were definitely cruel shoes.

For our amusement, we walked to the train station, which ended up being about 2 blocks from our hotel. All in all, old town Krakow is fairly compact and after about 4 hours, we had seen most everything. In the Plaza, a 30-foot Christmas tree was decorated with gold Coca-Cola 12-pack boxes, some with the McDonald’s logo added to them. McDonald’s are everywhere in Europe. But one good thing you could count on in a McDonald’s was that it didn’t cost anything to use the bathroom, and they almost always had toilet paper. We carried extra Kleenex just in case.

As we strolled the plaza, we came across a polka band. Yahoo! It was toe-tapping stuff. One of the old guys wanted to dance with Diane. No way! But we tossed some coins in their basket (with some encouragement from them).

That evening while watching an English-speaking news station, we learned from BBC news that the terrorist alert in the U.S. had been heightened over the Christmas season due to increasing “chatter” among the terrorist cells. Great. We wished for the best and hoped we make it back to Sacramento unscathed. We figured if all the security people were doing their job we’d probably be ok.

December 22

The Krakow hotel allowed dogs and on that morning, there was a dog of unknown heritage and a beagle joining the guests in the breakfast room. This is common in many parts of Europe and didn’t bother us at all.

This was our last day in Krakow but our overnight train wasn’t leaving until 10:42 p.m. The hotel graciously stored our backpacks for us for the day. We hired a driver to take us to Auschwitz. It was a sunny day and we began our journey at about 9:00 a.m. At Auschwitz, we were at a loss for a journal entry because nothing can describe the horror of this part of history or of this place. The inhumanity that people are capable of was mind-boggling. Thousands died here, primarily Jews, but others were also executed, including artists, gays, Jehovah’s Witnesses (!), and political dissidents. We also went to Birkenau, which was a few miles from Auschwitz. It was a much larger and more efficient concentration camp than was Auschwitz in terms of the Germans’ extermination program. The death toll was much higher at Birkenau but the Nazis were able to destroy more of their evidence than they were at Auschwitz because the Russian Army showed up in time to save most of Auschwitz.

Back in Krakow, the Christmas season was in full swing. In the large Plaza, people were lined up to get their small (1 to 2 foot) and scrawny Christmas trees.

We ate a late lunch at “Roosters”, which we didn’t realize until we sat down was a Polish version of “Hooters”. The young waitresses were scantily clad – low cut, sleeveless tops and tight, short shorts. The large quantity of food served us was like Chef-Boy-Ar-Dee. Considering how cold it was outside, those girls must’ve frozen on their way to and from work.

Polish people take the tradition of mistletoe to a new level. Vendors sell enormous bouquets of this tree parasite cheaply. Sometimes it was painted solid gold and sometimes it was left green. People were carrying it around everywhere.

We collected our backpacks and made our way to the train station a for our first ever overnight train trip. A new adventure. The Krakow train station was fairly modern and while there were some shady characters around, the vast majority of the people seemed normal enough. While we waited for our train, a group of boys came through, hollering and shouting, linked arm in arm. They were wearing ankle-length blue and white fuzzy capes. Emblazoned on the back was a voluptuous woman in a skimpy bikini. Were these boys soccer players or something? Diane went into a kiosk and asked the clerk about the boys. The clerk explained that Poland required boys at age 18 to join the army for a year. These boys had just finished their year and had celebrated by drinking to excess. In fact, they appeared to be pretty drunk. We felt sorry for them. The next day they were going to feel really, really bad.

Our train arrived and we boarded the sleeper car. A conductor showed us our berths and asked for our tickets, which Don dutifully presented. At first, the conductor was confused and said our rail passes didn’t cover this part of Europe. Don found the specific information that would provide clarification to the conductor and all was well. Interesting that Don would have to explain this to a conductor. But the type of railpass we had purchased was not a common one and the conductor perhaps had not seen many of them. The conductor showed us how to triple lock our door and strongly advised us to use all three of the locks. Apparently, sleeper cars and their inhabitants are easy targets. He then took possession of our rail passes and said he would return them in the morning. He also told us we would be interrupted at about 1:30 a.m. for a passport check when we crossed the border into the Czech Republic. We hadn’t been in our bunks very long when there was a loud knock on our door. Then someone jiggled the handle. We yelled, “You have the wrong door.” They wiggled the handle and pounded again. “Wrong door” we yelled. Don said emphatically to Diane, “Do not open that door.” (Diane had taken the bottom bunk so she had door responsibility.) “The conductor has our tickets,” we yelled through the closed door. The woman in the next room (we think) yelled “she wants to know how many are in your room.” We both yelled back, “Two” at the same time. She left and that was the last we heard from her. It was very suspicious and more than a bit unnerving. We were thankful that we had followed the conductor’s advice and had triple locked that door.

December 23

At about 1:30 a.m. another pounding on the door awakened us. “Passports!” they hollered. Diane jumped up, opened the door, and showed the Polish police our passports. Diane had decided to sleep in her clothes and it was a good thing because those guys were very impatient for us to open the door. We had a feeling if we took too long to answer it might have aroused suspicion, no matter how unfounded it might be. We went through the Polish passport routine 3 times, complete with police pounding on the door. After having been through Auschwitz earlier that day, Diane with her vivid imagination was in no mood to upset any applecart. After they were satisfied and bothered us no more, the train remained at a standstill, seemingly in the middle of nowhere, for about an hour longer. We peeked out the window to see that it was snowing pretty hard. We didn’t care. We actually slept soundly, all things considered. There was a Japanese couple in the room on the other side of us. Each time their door was pounded on the male Asian traveler would say, in that sweet sing-song voice, “Passports again?”

Our train arrived in Prague fairly early that morning. Our room wouldn’t be ready for several hours, but they allowed us to leave our backpacks. We enjoyed exploring Prague, even though we were desperate to brush our teeth and take a shower. As we wandered around, a sign for a classical performance on the 24th caught our eye. It included works by Bach, Mozart, a selection of Czech music, and world carols. We bought two tickets and looked forward to the concert. The store sold only classical music and when we had originally entered, Diane had slowly and carefully enunciated, “Do you speak English?” “Of course I do.” Oops. That response sounded a tad indignant. But it felt presumptuous to assume. We chatted with the clerk about the upcoming concert and he warned us to be careful of “pike pockets”.

We returned to the hotel at 11:45 and glory of glories, our room was ready. Diane admitted she was toying with the idea that when she returned home she’d build a huge bonfire and fling all the clothes she had taken with her into it. But after a long, hot, soapy shower, we were both in a much better frame of mind. We asked the clerk whether shops would be open on Christmas day and he told us that most places would be closed. We would need to plan ahead and purchase a picnic lunch for Christmas day if that was the case.

We walked to the Charles Bridge where a wonderful small choir and chamber group were singing and playing Christmas Carols. The air was cold and crisp, and the sky was bright blue. We were both sniffing and gulping. It was postcard lovely. We walked across the bridge to the Old town where yet another Christmas faire with booths was in full swing. There were porta-potties with the label “Johnny Servis”, which prompted Diane to sing to Don, “Johnny Servis, how I love him” to the tune of “Johnny Angel”. Don laughs at anything and this cracked him up.

We found a “Father Christmas” tree ornament that we later realized we had paid entirely too much for. Don was usually very quick with the money conversion but got lazy on this one because the ornament charmed him. We realized we paid about $30 for an ornament that would have cost about $4 at Cost Plus Imports at home.

We walked for hours, got completely and wonderfully lost for a time, and froze our behinds off. It was cold and slippery out because it had snowed a few inches the previous night. In the early evening we ducked into a charming bistro for something tasty and to warm up. We finally headed back to our room and clunked out. It had been a very full day.

December 24

We began our day attending to some tasks. We had done laundry in our room surreptitiously the night before and it was dry, so that annoyance was done. We needed to buy a phone card so we could call home on Christmas day. We read that money changing booths sold phone cards so we went in and selected a card that would give us about 20 minutes. That would be enough time to call home and wish our loved ones Merry Christmas. Don handed the guy a 2000-koruna note (equivalent to about $60 American). He gave Don change for a 1000 note. When Don pointed it out, the guy showed him a 1000 note from behind the counter, as though it was the note Don gave him. Essentially, it would have been his word against Don’s, since Diane was not paying attention to the transaction. We had to write it off as our mistake but it was a valuable lesson. From now on, we’ll play “show me the money” to each other and the clerk before we hand it over. We simply provided this cheater an opportunity and he took it. Shame on us. After beating ourselves up for a time, the morning took an instant very happy turn. We went to an Internet café to send home a note, and while checking our e-mail, read a message from Don’s boss. Don was part of a team to receive a special award at work. Diane’s first question was “Is it monetary?” We agreed, money or not, it’s an awesome acknowledgement of Don’s hard work on a complex project. It cheered us up tremendously.

We attended the Christmas concert, where a talented organist, a fine trumpet player, and a passable soprano regaled us with lovely classical music. Don told Diane she was too picky about the soprano because Diane was a voice major. She agreed that she was probably being critical, although we both noticed that the soprano only got a smattering of applause while the organist and trumpet player received enthusiastic applause after they finished playing their selections. This concert was only an hour long – just enough to get a nice taste of music but not so much that your brains exploded.

Afterward, we walked across the Charles Bridge toward the Mala Strana neighborhood where we were staying. The crush of humanity was astonishing. Where were all these people coming from? We went back to a place we had ducked into the day before because their food looked yummy. The woman next to us got up to leave and forgot her hat. Diane handed it to Don and he tapped the woman on the arm and handed her hat to her. She thanked us in both Czech and English. Very cool.

We headed back to our hotel at about 7:15 p.m. Oddly, the entrance was dark and the front door was locked. We pounded on the door and rang the bell repeatedly. After a minute or so, a young woman timidly poked her head around the corner. “We’re staying here,” we yelled through the glass door. She came down the short flight of stairs and unlocked the door. As we entered she apologized, explaining that there was a robber with a gun. (Handguns are highly controlled and practically unheard of in most of Europe). He had robbed 4 hotels over the past few days and she was genuinely scared.

The police had provided a composite drawing of him, further fueling her imagination. She by herself had the 7:00 p.m. to 7:00 a.m. shift and since she was supposed to leave the front door unlocked, we sympathized. “Would you like us to stay with you for a while?” we asked. “Oh yes”. Her response was so eager that we made ourselves comfortable in the lobby and began a new friendship. Her name was Sonja and she had worked at the hotel for just 2 weeks.

In a short time, a second young woman appeared. We had seen her working in the hotel restaurant that morning. Sonja introduced Nadja, with whom she had become close friends. “Love at first sight”, said Sonja, explaining how closely the girlfriends had bonded. Nadja was carrying a plastic grocery bag containing some raw fish. She also had a bottle of champagne. Sonja opened the champagne and poured 4 glasses. We toasted each other, and then Nadja disappeared. When she returned, she carried plates of cooked fish, served with some cucumber slices and a deviled egg. Nadja inverted a cardboard box, set our “table” with silverware, and we made ourselves comfortable on the hotel lobby floor, happily eating dinner and chatting as best we could. Sonja told us she was new to the Czech Republic. She had moved from Germany two weeks earlier because her visa had expired and she in effect, had gotten kicked out of that country. She had no possessions. She left behind her furniture, her boyfriend, and her big dog. It seemed cruel. Nadja spoke no English so what little we could learn about her was delivered second handedly to us via Sonja. It appeared she had very little, either -- yet, they were sharing their simple food with us. We were stunned by their generosity. Sonja went upstairs and returned with an elderly woman who lived in the hotel. The woman’s husband had passed away 4 years ago and she was by herself. Sonja, who had earlier in the day found the woman in the corridor crying, didn’t want her to be alone, so we had a fifth person join our merriment! Nadja had given Sonja a small glass pink elephant for Christmas. The elephant’s trunk was raised in the air, evoking much snickering between the three women. We gathered they were having a discussion about the position of the elephant’s trunk, but we didn’t pursue it.

Later in our room, we decided that we would repay Sonja’s and Nadja’s generosity by surprising them with a few simple Christmas gifts.

December 25

We took the trolley up the hill to the Prague Castle. The views of the City were spectacular. It was sort of overcast, making it less cold. It was still very cold but if you kept moving, you survived. The Czechs have ruled from this Castle for over 1000 years. The guards were in full regalia – with rifles, fur hats, and well-pressed immaculate uniforms. They looked very handsome in a boyish, rosy-cheeked way. They stood in small front door type structures. It looked to us like they were guarding the doghouse.

We wandered back down the cobblestoned, narrow streets where hundreds of people were out and about. So much for everything being closed on Christmas day. Shops were open for business and tourist season was in full swing. We purchased identical woolen neck scarves, heavy gloves, and a sweet pair of delicate earrings for both Sonja and Nadja for Christmas as a thank you for their unselfish generosity. We were excited about giving them these small tokens.

We popped into a tiny restaurant called “Restaurace U Rotta” in old town for lunch, and then we headed to the Jewish Quarter to visit the five synagogues recommended by our travel guide. There was so much persecution, death, and general sadness surrounding these synagogues that we ended up at the Svejk Restaurant and drowned a few sorrows. So much heartache was hard to bear after a while. Don had been reading a translated version of “The Good Soldier Svejk” and when we saw this restaurant, of course we had to go in. The book is a classic Czech novel written in the early1920s that took place during WWI and was a satire of military and society and the hopelessness of war.

That evening, we walked back to our hotel. Sonja was on duty and Nadja was keeping her company. Perfect! We told them to stay right where they were and that we would be right back. They looked puzzled. We rushed up to our room and since we didn’t have any way to wrap our gifts, we used our bath towels as wrapping paper. We headed back downstairs and Sonia exclaimed, “Oh my god, you don’t have fresh towels.” We assured them that we were ok and made a joke about very expensive wrapping paper as we handed the towels over to them and told them to open them up. They looked confused, but as they began “unwrapping” the towels they were just floored, and so were we at their response. “I have never met anyone like you before” Sonja exclaimed, adding, “I will never forget you”. Nadja was over in the corner, red faced and giggling. She said something to Sonja, who immediately translated for us, “Nadja said tomorrow when the boss sees us with our matching scarves, he will think we are lesbians.” They must have hugged us 5 times. Sonja said she didn’t have any gloves. In Prague in winter? No gloves? It was unthinkable. Don took pictures of Diane, Sonja, and Nadja, who wouldn’t stop giggling. This was one of the most awesome Christmases we have ever experienced.

We topped off this lovely evening by calling home. Ah, the sound of family. It was very reassuring.

December 26

We walked to Wenceslas Square. The statue of Good King Wenceslas was impressive but the square was grimy, and filled with neon lights and casinos. We guarded our packs because there were more than a few seedy looking characters around. One of the small annoyances we found in Prague was to be regularly accosted by men asking, “Change?” Don would ignore them, then they would say, “English? Japanese? Montenegro?” Huh? Finally, one guy too many asked Diane, “Change?” and she responded, “No, I like myself just the way I am.” Don felt this was too esoteric and that the joke probably went over this man’s head.

We explored the wonderful Alfons Mucha (pronounced Mooka) Museum. Alfons Mucha was the artist who drew those beautiful reclining women posters for Sarah Bernhardt in the 1890s. He pretty much created the art nouveau style. We purchased a few postcards and toyed with the idea of buying a print but realized we would have had to drag it all around so we decided against that.

We walked back to the main square where a talented Dixieland jazz band was playing. The drummer ditched his drumsticks for two empty plastic Pepsi bottles and they made a great hollow acoustic sound for the rhythm. We promptly purchased their CD for Auntie Deane. She would love this.

We crossed over the Charles Bridge for the umpteenth time and Diane rubbed one of the statues for good luck, as is a local tradition.

Lunch turned out to be an embarrassing experience for Diane. Sometimes ordering from the menu is a real adventure and on this trip where the language was so different, it was no exception. You couldn’t even hazard a guess what a menu item represented. At least in Italian and Spanish you had half a chance of ordering something you found palatable. Diane ordered the “House Special” on blind faith. Shortly, the waitress brought out an oversized plate on which an enormous pig knuckle rested. It looked like something you’d see at a medieval feast. Oh my. Diane plunged in and Don helped her, but there was just so much of it. We got out of there and walked for a couple of hours until our lunch digested.

We found ourselves wandering through a residential neighborhood not in our guidebook and wouldn’t you know it, found a pet store (still looking for that darned Beware of the Dog sign in the Czech language), but it was closed and we were leaving the next morning before it opened.

December 27

As we checked out of the Hotel Atos in Prague, Sonja was waiting in the lobby to say goodbye. Since it was only 7:45 a.m. and the kitchen didn’t open until 8:00 a.m., Sonja buzzed Nadja and asked her to prepare a picnic lunch for us. This was very thoughtful and sweet of her. We exchanged e-mail addresses. Sonja told us of a more efficient way to get to the train station. In fact, she would be riding part way with us to her stop. Nadja came upstairs carrying a huge bag of goodies, including cold cuts and cheese, liverwurst, cream cheese, two kinds of bread, four containers of yogurt, and some chocolate that Diane ate before Don saw it. What a feast! We hugged Nadja and she kissed us on both cheeks (very endearing and so European). The three of us took the trolley and when Sonja got off at her stop, she hugged Diane and said, “Goodbye, darling”. We laughed and promised to e-mail her. They were both adorable.

At the train station, we boarded and were onto our next adventure, Dresden, Germany.

As it turned out, Dresden was not really an ideal tourist destination. It was very dismal in many ways. Dresden was part of East Germany before the collapse of the Communist Government, and it showed. There were large blocky apartment buildings that reeked of Communist architecture, seemingly designed to discourage any creativity people might have. Further, Dresden was carpet bombed in WWII by the Americans and British. The City was pretty much leveled and an estimated 50,000 people died in one 24-hour period. Under Communist East German rule, not much was restored after WWII and up to 1989 when Communism fell. Now, in the past 14 years, efforts have begun to seriously rebuild what was once an important industrial center. Gigantic construction cranes were everywhere. The devastation was truly profound. Enormous craters still existed where bombs had been dropped. Obviously, much work still remains.

December 28

We took the hop-on, hop-off bus tour of Dresden and we were so glad we did. We stayed hopped on, for the most part, because it was very cold and breezy out. From our snuggly bus seats we saw huge manors where an inventor of a German mouthwash lived (a name we couldn’t understand but sounded like it could have been Lister? For Listerine?), and where the inventor of rat poison lived (that one we understood)! We drove past a Volkswagen assembly plant. It was an interesting glass building that was at least 5 stories tall. The workers assemble about 150 vehicles per day. A tour could be arranged, if one desired. Toward the end of our ride, we decided to hop off and walk across the bridge over the Elbe River. This lovely old bridge was one of the fortunate ones to have been saved in WW II. In 1945, when the Nazis were making a last ditch effort to delay losing the war, they set explosives under the bridge at each end to blow it up. Their intent was to slow down the Russian Allied Forces. However, two citizens of Dresden, unbeknownst to each other, cut the wires at each end of the bridge (the wires only needed to be cut once to undermine the Nazis’ plans), thereby saving the bridge. Unfortunately, our romantic notion of walking across the bridge was quickly squelched when the icy winds howled down the river and we began to freeze our you-know-what’s off.

Our first impression of Dresden was that it was pretty bleak. The City has rebuilt a few really important sites like the Cathedral and the Zwinger Museum. We predicted to ourselves that in 10 to 15 years Dresden would be beautiful once again and heavily touristed. The Elbe River runs through the City and it was lovely and looked unpolluted. Dresden gave you the feeling that the City is struggling along, with an ever-present hope for tomorrow.

We toured the Zwinger Palace, which housed several museums including a wonderful collection of porcelain. The museum also included a math and physics collection, displaying world globes dating from the 1500s. In actuality, the cartographers by then had a pretty accurate idea for the most part, of what the world looked like. There were also microscopes, telescopes, calculators, and other scientific gear that fascinated Don. In fairness to Diane, Don accompanied her through the porcelain displays. 15th Century Prince Elector Augustus the Strong, who readily admitted he had “porcelain sickness”, collected this porcelain. Don guessed that modern doctors would probably diagnose this guy as having an obsessive personality.

We headed back to our room as darkness began to fall. Once the sun went down, the cold was unbearable and staying outside was not an option. We purchased a bottle of Chianti and hunkered down in our room. This room was very comfortable, with a separate seating area complete with couch and coffee table, to watch TV. Unfortunately, the only thing on TV we could understand was CNN. The bummer about CNN was that after a while, they repeated their news stories. It became mind numbing.

December 29

We took the train to Munich, the last leg of our trip. We had a train change in Leipzig and let us be the first to tell you that the Leipzig Train Station is fabulous! There were 140 (yes count ‘em, 140) businesses in the train station. It was like a large, multi-story shopping center. It was incredibly clean with very comfortable wooden benches, not the traditional cold cement ones that froze your buns froze after a while.

In Munich, we made a rookie mistake of thinking we could find our room ourselves rather than grabbing a taxi. Getting lost with 20 pounds on your back is no fun at all. We got on a tram and got off at the wrong place. Then we got back on and off again (guessing wrong again about our destination), and ended up taking the subway, where we lucked out and found the general area of our hotel. The map we had purchased had very tiny print and was practically impossible to read. (Isn’t it odd how much smaller the print seems to get every year?) We finally ducked into a cheese shop (it smelled so good in there), and got directions from a kindly proprietor. By then, we were only off by one block. When we walked up to the Pension Ludwig, the hotel clerk couldn’t find our reservation. Fortunately, Don had brought our hotel confirmation from back in July. Suddenly, they “found” our room. It was tiny and it smelled like vinegar. We left the window cracked open. We figured since vinegar is a cheap cleaning liquid, maybe the hotel bought it by the gross.

We dumped our packs in the room and found dinner at a scrumptious Italian restaurant called the Etne. The workers spoke both Italian and German. Diane asked if they had gelato (Italian ice cream, which is awesome). “No, Signora, the climate…brrr.” Shoot.

We wandered around the City and went into a small pub that had a photo collage of regulars pasted on the wall. Hey – there’s our friend Suzanne from Sacramento! What’s her picture doing here? Suzanne had a twin in Munich!

Almost everywhere we had traveled on this trip we had seen advertising signs with the word “Sylvester”. We had wondered what Sylvester meant – Sylvester Stallone, Sylvester the Cat? The bartender, Gabriella, asked us if we would be in Munich for Sylvester. Ah ha! We were about to learn that Sylvester referred to December 31, or New Year’s Eve.

We met an Irish fellow (Mike) who had lived in Munich for 15 years and who enjoyed speaking English with us. Every once in a while he would be in mid-sentence and he would unconsciously switch to German. It was fascinating. We noticed that the later it got, the lower the zipper was slipped on Gabriella’s sweater. By about 10:00 p.m. she was really becoming Ms. Sexpot. (Better tips?) Mike told us an Irish whopper about how to grow large carrots. According to him, if you dug a large hole, put some clay in it and threw in the seed, the carrot would grow as large as the hole you dug. Oh brother. The Irish and their stories!

December 30

We wiled away the day, wandering leisurely up and down a lengthy pedestrian boulevard that was filled with bookstores, department stores, souvenir shops, and an array of other shopping choices. We walked to the end where an ice skating rink was set up and wonder of wonders, a gluhwein stand. Yahoo! Don had now fulfilled his quest to consume at least one gluhwein in every city. Diane was very proud of him. She also noted that the gluhwein tasted much better to her now that she had fully recovered from her “Bacchanal in Budapest”.

We had lunch at Augustinan Brau Munchen, a popular beer hall filled with lengths of picnic tables to be shared by friends and strangers who would become friends. We were seated at a table with three German women who were engrossed in conversation and not interested in getting to know us at all. Our optimism at the possibility of striking up a conversation with them was really squelched after Diane put catsup on her French fries. This totally offended the woman seated to Diane’s right. That woman was simply horrified and actually scooted farther away, like Diane had B.O. or something. (Europeans put mayonnaise, not catsup, on their French fries.) In trying to appear as European as he could, Don dutifully put mayo on his French fries, thus offending no one. Plus, French fries with mayo taste pretty good!

We found a German “Beware of the Dog” sign at a pet store! We also purchased and arranged for shipment of 3 beer steins – one each for Don’s son Warren, son-in-law Markus, and Don.

We went back to the pub we had visited the night before. This time, it was filled with an international mix of people - Turkish, Italian, Yugoslavian, as well as Germans. We were jotting this down in our journal when it appeared we were offending the Turkish man. He apparently didn’t like that we were writing something down so we put the journal away. Don explained to him the best he could that it was a travel journal but he was upset, nonetheless.

December 31

We had a major disappointment. One of the sites we were really looking forward to seeing was the Deutsches Museum, which is Germany’s equivalent of the Smithsonian. It has about 10 miles of exhibits. Our guidebook describes it as the Louvre of science and technology. The disappointment was that it was closed on New Year’s Eve, our last day here. Had we known that, we would have come the day before, when we basically goofed off all day.

It had been snowing all day, not heavily but enough to make everything slippery. We found ourselves walking gingerly. We were rookies at this weather, and we noted people of all ages marching along confidently around us. We carefully made our way to the subway where we purchased tickets for tomorrow’s ride to the airport. Our tickets were called “partner tickets” and they applied to your family of up to 5 people as well as a dog.

Munich was crazy that night, with fireworks and large crowds. We opted to stay in our room and stuffed earplugs in our ears so we could sleep. Tomorrow was going to be a very big travel day. The fireworks woke us up briefly at midnight. Don got up and peeked through the curtains for a few minutes, watching the falling snow and the extravaganza around us. We were glad to be warm and toasty.

January 1, 2004

We got up at 6:15 a.m. to head to the airport. We flipped on the TV to find out that New Year’s had just occurred in New York, where it was 12:15 a.m. We realized that it was still December 31 in California and would be for three more hours. Even though we had been aware of the time difference, it was odd to realize that 2004 was already several hours old in Munich but still had a while to happen at home. On our way to the subway, we noticed a few party animals still out on the street, with beer in hand. They appeared to be single young men with nothing better to do. A few partying couples were also out, being quite amorous. Get a room already. Jeesh.

At the airport, we were told that our seats would have to be upgraded for free to Business Class. Oh darn. Never having sat in Business Class before and getting quickly used to being pampered, Diane said she never wanted to go “back there” (to the Economy Class) again. Flying in Business Class was quite civilized, with your very own television and choice of several movies, seats that reclined like a barkolounger with a retractable foot rest, free champagne, and fabulous meals. When we got home, we learned that a Business Class flight would have cost us over $7000. It will be back to the cheap seats for us on our next trip!

Auntie Deane picked us up at the airport and we arrived home at about 9:00 p.m., tired but happy and glad to be relatively warm.