With bleary eyes, we greeted the morning sun across the Italian countryside. We being Aidan and I as we were the first two out of our "couchette" sleeper compartment on the overnight train from Stuttgart. While the kids thought it was pretty cool, I find the idea of the overnight train more romantic sounding than it turned out to be. Maybe it's because we were in a compartment for six, with the remaining two entering the compartment several hours into our attempts at sleep; or maybe it's because the sleeping berth was not really long enough for me, even if I lay on an angle. Regardless, we woke up to bright sun and golden countryside reminiscent of the Colorado Plateau in the late summer with little else to hint at what we would experience and enjoy once settled into Rome.
Settling took a little while. First, the phone number we were provided to contact the guy we rented our apartment from didn't work. Once in the apartment and schooled by Fabrizio (the apartment guy), we made our way through the neighborhood - everything we needed within three blocks, i.e. banco automat (the bank machine), a market, and a train station. Then, we boldly walked to the train station and bus stop to figure out how to get into central Rome. We stared at signs, tried to communicate with bus drivers, even thought of just getting on the train and pleading tourist ignorance. In the end, we skulked back to our apartment temporarily defeated. With a little more information, the next day went much better in that we successfully bought tickets (but used them wrong), and finally got on a train after watching one train go by as we stared at the information board trying to figure it all out. And we learned that schedules in Italy are a relative thing. Despite all of this, we made it into Vatican City for an arranged tour.
Vatican City - at 140 acres, the smallest "country" in the world - packs several "biggest things" into its small area. But even more impressive than St. Peter's Basilica and the Vatican Museum is the amount of influence and power wielded by this center of the Catholic world. But that was something we began to understand during our 5 days here. Rome was the center of the world for hundreds of years; and even after it fell it continued to influence the development of Europe. With so much to see in such a short time, where should we start especially with two boys more interested in climbing on the Roman walls than contemplating what occurred within the walls. To provide some focus and to hopefully engage our guys, we arranged to take two walking tours through Rome, one in the evening and the other in the midday. We got lucky because our guide completely captured our kids, especially Charlie who walked right along side Richard our guide and had a non-stop conversation with him. Richard showed us a part of Rome we might have missed had we poked about on our own.
The evening tour started in the middle of Piazza Venezia, a large and loudly congested square, and ended walking through small ally-like streets, where the sounds of the city seemed to disappear into the ancient buildings. After the tour, we sat in Piazza San Ignazio at a outdoor restaurant that could have been in a country village for how peaceful it was. And after a long day, through which the kids had been super, the parents made a tactical mistake - we missed the signs that said the subway closed at 9pm. Now that it was 11pm, with the kids running out of effort, we couldn't quite remember the name of the street our apartment was on as we hailed a cab. After talking with the cab driver (he in Italian, we in English) and throwing out some names we could remember from around our area, he figured it out and we made it back.
That was last night. We followed it up this morning by heading back into the city (we're out of town a little bit), a little earlier than the kids really wanted to do. They rallied and we had a wonderful tour of the Roman Forum and the Colosseum. We saw so much but missed so much more. At least we have a framework now so that the next time we're in Rome we can really see something...
In the morning we leave for the Amalfi Coast. We'll be staying in the Sorrento area with a plan to go to the ruins of Pompeii and Herculaneum. We'll drop a note after we settle into that area. At least we have the trains figured out...
Ciao,
Paul
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
Sunday, August 21, 2011
The Alps Crossing
Where to start? This was a big ride, one for which I was not completely prepared but nevertheless mentally ready to do. My cousin Peppi, who you met via the last blog entry had proposed that I join him for a mountain bike ride over the Alps. Seemed like a good idea. He had done several similar rides over the years and he thought I would have a good time. With such an invitation, how could I refuse?
As Lucy previously wrote, we arrived in Germany on July 29 and made our way to Niederbayern. Niederbayern, or lower Bavaria, is a region east of Munich to the Czech border comprised of rolling farmland, forest, and villages; and is the region from which my grandfather emigrated to the US in 1927. With just two short days to enjoy family, Peppi, Walter (a friend of Peppi's) and I were off to Innsbruck, Austria where we began our ride.
Actually, we drove about 30 km south of Innsbruck to the village of Steinach, avoiding the longish and boringish road ride up the Brenner Pass Road to where the ride really started. It took about 5 minutes to ride through the pretty little village until we were on the first of seemingly thousands of >10% grade climbs - what a warm up, just like riding up Little Park Road from my driveway except steeper. Having done this in the past on previous road rides through the Alps, I knew I would be rewarded with views to sooth the burning legs. Even my seasoned cousin commented several times on the beauty of the valley we were riding through. And if those views didn't suffice, we were on a Waldweg (forest trail) soon enough, passing Bergbauern (mountain farmers) who still use a scythe to cut hay because the valley sides are too steep for machinery. I thought my bike was a bit of a drag to push and carry until I saw those folks cutting and raking hay by hand.
I soon learned the nature of this particular ride when the double track we were following turned steeply uphill into a trail that really was a small stream drainage. Bike on the back but that didn't really feel good; and the trail is really long and steep (was that a bit of whining? on the first day out?, maybe-but I kept it to myself). And just when I thought I was going to have to camp for the night on the side of that trail, Walter whipped out a power gel and I was good to go to the top of Sandjoch (Sand Pass). I made the first big climb of the first day of this six day ride.
Funny thing about this region called South Tirol just over the border from Austria in northern Italy, the valleys are kind of low and the peaks and passes are kind of high making for very spectacular and dramatic elevation changes. In other words, in a flash we descended 1000+ meters and we were in the village of Sterzing. Many of the villages have central squares lined with restaurants filled with people sitting outside, and Sterzing was no exception. I was amazed that evening as I was each time after I ate how much better I felt and how I could get back on my bicycle to ride again. In this case, we rode for another 30 minutes after dinner, gently up valley to our hotel for the night. With the climbing done, I didn't have to think about the next 2000+ meters of elevation gain until the next day.
Day 2 began sunny and warm, and uphill again. We were heading to Schneeberg Pass. We read in the hotel that there is a mine on the far side of the pass, opened in the 1300s. For the first several hundred years of operation, the miners had to carry ore on their backs from the far side of the pass, over the top, and then down valley. I bet their lives were short. We used our modern mountain bike machines to make our way up continuous 10+% grades to the base of the "real" climb. The trail, tipping up to a narrow and blocky 26%, was the same trail used by those miners from the 1300s. As I carried and pushed my bike to the top I thought about how miserable life must have been for those miners and how relatively easy mine was at the moment. And the view from the top, something I am sure the miners of old did not linger for, was again worth every bead of sweat squeezed out of my forehead.
The benefit of traveling in a region that has been settled for longer than 2500 years is that there is a Alpine hut or restaurant at or near every high point in the Alps. We dropped out of Schneeberg Pass to the Schneeberg Alm (an alm is where the cows are cared for in the summer). I ate soup and drank coke until I revived again. In front of us lay about 1300 meters of descent and about 700 meters up to our next night's rest. I knew I could do the descent but that additional 2300 feet at the end of the day would take a little negotiating between my brain and legs but I figured I could worry about that later. And with that thought, we descended.
Despite those 2500 years of settlement, a fall is still a fall and we were pretty far out in the hills. Peppi plopped his front wheel in a water rut and gracefully launched over the handlebars. Happily he was uninjured though it was hard to see how he avoided injury looking at him in a pile of rocks on the trail. His front brake lever was not so lucky as it was snapped off. Now he was looking at 1200 meters of descent with just a rear brake. He pulled it off expertly, though it looked a bit dodgy on some of the steep forest paths. We finally exited onto the main pavement and enjoyed a speedy descent down the Timmelsjoch Road through forests of Larch and Spruce, with the steep walled valley on both sides of us - fantastic!!
At the bottom of the descent we were all intact but Peppi's bike needed to be repaired. Though he got through the descent he did not fancy any more long descents with just one brake. We diverted downhill, giving up a day of riding, into the city of Meran and the Etsch river valley for repair and sleep. For me this was a welcomed diversion, as it gave me a chance to ride through a city I first saw and admired while bicycle touring in 1987. It seems to me this area of northern Italy is completely unknown by Americans and that surprises me. The climate is mild, the surrounding valley is filled with fruit and wine, the peaks are high, and the views are long. In short, I could live there. And we did for the night. The bike repair went well, dinner outdoors filled me up, and the bed in a small home was comfortable enough for my weary legs. We said good-bye to Walter as he left to return to Niederbayern to meet his wife and their upcoming adventure of 3 weeks of bicycle touring in eastern Kazakstan.
But as much as I enjoyed where I was, we were even lower in starting elevation, necessitating gaining all of our meters in one pull. Our goal on day 3 was Tarscher Pass. At almost 2600 meters, we had 2300 meters of climbing in the next 40 or so kilometers. Well, the first part was pleasant enough - we rode along the Etsch River up valley and aside for the 7 switch backs through the 16% grade we had to go over, it was pretty flat. I rode up this valley 24 years ago heading toward the Reschen Pass and return to Austria. For me, I enjoyed reminiscing about that ride.
When the goal of the day is 2300 meters (7546 feet) above where one wakes up, it is best not to ride flat for too long. Eventually, we turned uphill riding through kilometers of apple orchards until we were again in the forest. It was a really long climb to the Tarscher Alm and I thought I would never get there. It was a significant rest goal at 1800 meters in elevation. We sat, ate, and rested to prepare for the last 500 meters of climbing, designated in Peppi's guidebook as a push/carry.
Surprises happen all the time and as I started to push up the trail, I was surprised to know that I was going to make it to the top. I felt good. The trail was surprisingly easy to push on, and as usual, the views were magnificent. From the top, we gazed upon broad and spiky alpine peaks, cloaked with glaciers, a feature of mountain views rapidly melting in our own lower 48 states. It was late in the afternoon, which softened and warmed the light on the surrounding mountains. We could see the head of the valley we were heading toward, where we would stop for another night.
Never say never is a good phrase to live by. We started our descent into Ultental, or Val d'Ultimo in Italian. The region we had been traversing, South Tirol, was officially part of Austria until the late 1930s and retains a strong Austrian feeling. All of the place names are written in both German and Italian. I stumbled upon Ultental on my bicycle tour in 1987. Over the course of a very long day of kilometers and climbing with a loaded bicycle, I camped high on the side of the valley for several days. I clearly remember thinking as I rode out of the valley that I would never be there again and never have to climb up into the valley. Was I in for the second surprise of my day! In my mind, the hotel we had not booked or found yet was exactly at the end of the descent we were enjoying from Tarscher Pass. In reality, we bottomed out and then turned up valley (read: up hill) toward the village of St. Niklaus. Worse yet, the place in the village where the hotels were was at least 75 meters up, believe it or not, a > 10% grade. Worse squared was that when we rode up the steep hill, nobody had any room for two worn out mountain bikers. We ended up visiting with a woman who formerly ran a Pension (small guest house) and she ultimately opened up a room for us in her very beautiful and traditional mountain valley home. I made it through day 3.
Day 4 began with a rapid descent out of town but then gradually uphill to the head of Ultental. We had two goals for the day: Rabbijoch (Rabbi Pass) and then the village of Madonna di Compiglio. I definitely felt better now and was able to ride all of the road up hill until nobody could ride anymore. I was beginning to train into this Alps thing. We crossed Rabbijoch in a cloud, which was the first foreboding weather we had encountered. On the descent we had the pleasure of two events: winding single track through a beautiful meadow filled with flowers and the sounds of cowbells; and the first views of the Dolomiti di Brenti - a group of especially sharp spired peaks within the Dolomites. When we descended to the valley, we were definitely in Italy and no longer in Austrian-influenced Italy. We arrived at 2 pm, just as the Italian restaurants close for the afternoon. We found one place willing to serve us and we enjoyed polenta served on a wooden platter upon which we spooned on a vennison stew. Add some coca cola to that mix and I felt ready to achieve our second goal of the day: Madonna di Compiglio.
So what's the big deal about riding into one of the more exclusive ski resorts in the Dolomites? The 1000 meters of elevation we had to gain to get there (on top to the 1400 we had climbed to the Rabbijoch). By now I can't embellish the climb with any magic; it was really a matter of turning the pedals in such a way that the climb went away. And it did. We arrived in town and found our place to stay all within 30 minutes before the skies opened up with a powerful thunderstorm and deluging rain. Lucky again!
Our last day of riding started in full sunshine with outstanding views of the Dolomiti di Brenti. We made our way through forests, climbing to a glistening lake. Along the way we were passed by some gray-haired fellows on a day ride - I hope I ride like they do when I am their age. The pass we attained from the lake was a walk up, in that all of us, including the gray-hairs, pushed our bikes. Again, the 360 degree view validated the sweat dripped along the way. We thought we had the day in the bag, what with only one pass of < 500 meters elevation gain, how hard could it be? We rode through ride open valleys as we approached Lago di Garda, a glacial lake in northern Italy, where Lucy and the boys were staying in the city of Riva.
Of course it wasn't straight forward, and we lost the trail for a while, ending up in a different place at the top than we expected or hoped for but we made it. The descent was, can you guess?, steep. But the views of the lake with sailboats and windsurfers dotting the surface was like a magnet that drew us even faster down the hill. We arrived, unexpected because we were a day early as a result of the bicycle repair, and were welcomed into the apartment Lucy and the boys had settled into. We were happy, successful, and safe having arrived back with my family.
Despite the physical challenge of the ride, it was absolutely awesome and something I would love to repeat. I would be happy to provide more information to anyone who might be interested in a similar bike tour. This tour is not about riding single track but instead, about using a mountain bike to traverse a long distance, even when the trail seems more appropriate for hiking. In my mind, there is nothing similar to this ride in the US for the volume of climbing for the distance, and the views afforded throughout the route.
Ciao,
Paul
As Lucy previously wrote, we arrived in Germany on July 29 and made our way to Niederbayern. Niederbayern, or lower Bavaria, is a region east of Munich to the Czech border comprised of rolling farmland, forest, and villages; and is the region from which my grandfather emigrated to the US in 1927. With just two short days to enjoy family, Peppi, Walter (a friend of Peppi's) and I were off to Innsbruck, Austria where we began our ride.
Actually, we drove about 30 km south of Innsbruck to the village of Steinach, avoiding the longish and boringish road ride up the Brenner Pass Road to where the ride really started. It took about 5 minutes to ride through the pretty little village until we were on the first of seemingly thousands of >10% grade climbs - what a warm up, just like riding up Little Park Road from my driveway except steeper. Having done this in the past on previous road rides through the Alps, I knew I would be rewarded with views to sooth the burning legs. Even my seasoned cousin commented several times on the beauty of the valley we were riding through. And if those views didn't suffice, we were on a Waldweg (forest trail) soon enough, passing Bergbauern (mountain farmers) who still use a scythe to cut hay because the valley sides are too steep for machinery. I thought my bike was a bit of a drag to push and carry until I saw those folks cutting and raking hay by hand.
I soon learned the nature of this particular ride when the double track we were following turned steeply uphill into a trail that really was a small stream drainage. Bike on the back but that didn't really feel good; and the trail is really long and steep (was that a bit of whining? on the first day out?, maybe-but I kept it to myself). And just when I thought I was going to have to camp for the night on the side of that trail, Walter whipped out a power gel and I was good to go to the top of Sandjoch (Sand Pass). I made the first big climb of the first day of this six day ride.
Funny thing about this region called South Tirol just over the border from Austria in northern Italy, the valleys are kind of low and the peaks and passes are kind of high making for very spectacular and dramatic elevation changes. In other words, in a flash we descended 1000+ meters and we were in the village of Sterzing. Many of the villages have central squares lined with restaurants filled with people sitting outside, and Sterzing was no exception. I was amazed that evening as I was each time after I ate how much better I felt and how I could get back on my bicycle to ride again. In this case, we rode for another 30 minutes after dinner, gently up valley to our hotel for the night. With the climbing done, I didn't have to think about the next 2000+ meters of elevation gain until the next day.
Day 2 began sunny and warm, and uphill again. We were heading to Schneeberg Pass. We read in the hotel that there is a mine on the far side of the pass, opened in the 1300s. For the first several hundred years of operation, the miners had to carry ore on their backs from the far side of the pass, over the top, and then down valley. I bet their lives were short. We used our modern mountain bike machines to make our way up continuous 10+% grades to the base of the "real" climb. The trail, tipping up to a narrow and blocky 26%, was the same trail used by those miners from the 1300s. As I carried and pushed my bike to the top I thought about how miserable life must have been for those miners and how relatively easy mine was at the moment. And the view from the top, something I am sure the miners of old did not linger for, was again worth every bead of sweat squeezed out of my forehead.
The benefit of traveling in a region that has been settled for longer than 2500 years is that there is a Alpine hut or restaurant at or near every high point in the Alps. We dropped out of Schneeberg Pass to the Schneeberg Alm (an alm is where the cows are cared for in the summer). I ate soup and drank coke until I revived again. In front of us lay about 1300 meters of descent and about 700 meters up to our next night's rest. I knew I could do the descent but that additional 2300 feet at the end of the day would take a little negotiating between my brain and legs but I figured I could worry about that later. And with that thought, we descended.
Despite those 2500 years of settlement, a fall is still a fall and we were pretty far out in the hills. Peppi plopped his front wheel in a water rut and gracefully launched over the handlebars. Happily he was uninjured though it was hard to see how he avoided injury looking at him in a pile of rocks on the trail. His front brake lever was not so lucky as it was snapped off. Now he was looking at 1200 meters of descent with just a rear brake. He pulled it off expertly, though it looked a bit dodgy on some of the steep forest paths. We finally exited onto the main pavement and enjoyed a speedy descent down the Timmelsjoch Road through forests of Larch and Spruce, with the steep walled valley on both sides of us - fantastic!!
At the bottom of the descent we were all intact but Peppi's bike needed to be repaired. Though he got through the descent he did not fancy any more long descents with just one brake. We diverted downhill, giving up a day of riding, into the city of Meran and the Etsch river valley for repair and sleep. For me this was a welcomed diversion, as it gave me a chance to ride through a city I first saw and admired while bicycle touring in 1987. It seems to me this area of northern Italy is completely unknown by Americans and that surprises me. The climate is mild, the surrounding valley is filled with fruit and wine, the peaks are high, and the views are long. In short, I could live there. And we did for the night. The bike repair went well, dinner outdoors filled me up, and the bed in a small home was comfortable enough for my weary legs. We said good-bye to Walter as he left to return to Niederbayern to meet his wife and their upcoming adventure of 3 weeks of bicycle touring in eastern Kazakstan.
But as much as I enjoyed where I was, we were even lower in starting elevation, necessitating gaining all of our meters in one pull. Our goal on day 3 was Tarscher Pass. At almost 2600 meters, we had 2300 meters of climbing in the next 40 or so kilometers. Well, the first part was pleasant enough - we rode along the Etsch River up valley and aside for the 7 switch backs through the 16% grade we had to go over, it was pretty flat. I rode up this valley 24 years ago heading toward the Reschen Pass and return to Austria. For me, I enjoyed reminiscing about that ride.
When the goal of the day is 2300 meters (7546 feet) above where one wakes up, it is best not to ride flat for too long. Eventually, we turned uphill riding through kilometers of apple orchards until we were again in the forest. It was a really long climb to the Tarscher Alm and I thought I would never get there. It was a significant rest goal at 1800 meters in elevation. We sat, ate, and rested to prepare for the last 500 meters of climbing, designated in Peppi's guidebook as a push/carry.
Surprises happen all the time and as I started to push up the trail, I was surprised to know that I was going to make it to the top. I felt good. The trail was surprisingly easy to push on, and as usual, the views were magnificent. From the top, we gazed upon broad and spiky alpine peaks, cloaked with glaciers, a feature of mountain views rapidly melting in our own lower 48 states. It was late in the afternoon, which softened and warmed the light on the surrounding mountains. We could see the head of the valley we were heading toward, where we would stop for another night.
Never say never is a good phrase to live by. We started our descent into Ultental, or Val d'Ultimo in Italian. The region we had been traversing, South Tirol, was officially part of Austria until the late 1930s and retains a strong Austrian feeling. All of the place names are written in both German and Italian. I stumbled upon Ultental on my bicycle tour in 1987. Over the course of a very long day of kilometers and climbing with a loaded bicycle, I camped high on the side of the valley for several days. I clearly remember thinking as I rode out of the valley that I would never be there again and never have to climb up into the valley. Was I in for the second surprise of my day! In my mind, the hotel we had not booked or found yet was exactly at the end of the descent we were enjoying from Tarscher Pass. In reality, we bottomed out and then turned up valley (read: up hill) toward the village of St. Niklaus. Worse yet, the place in the village where the hotels were was at least 75 meters up, believe it or not, a > 10% grade. Worse squared was that when we rode up the steep hill, nobody had any room for two worn out mountain bikers. We ended up visiting with a woman who formerly ran a Pension (small guest house) and she ultimately opened up a room for us in her very beautiful and traditional mountain valley home. I made it through day 3.
Day 4 began with a rapid descent out of town but then gradually uphill to the head of Ultental. We had two goals for the day: Rabbijoch (Rabbi Pass) and then the village of Madonna di Compiglio. I definitely felt better now and was able to ride all of the road up hill until nobody could ride anymore. I was beginning to train into this Alps thing. We crossed Rabbijoch in a cloud, which was the first foreboding weather we had encountered. On the descent we had the pleasure of two events: winding single track through a beautiful meadow filled with flowers and the sounds of cowbells; and the first views of the Dolomiti di Brenti - a group of especially sharp spired peaks within the Dolomites. When we descended to the valley, we were definitely in Italy and no longer in Austrian-influenced Italy. We arrived at 2 pm, just as the Italian restaurants close for the afternoon. We found one place willing to serve us and we enjoyed polenta served on a wooden platter upon which we spooned on a vennison stew. Add some coca cola to that mix and I felt ready to achieve our second goal of the day: Madonna di Compiglio.
So what's the big deal about riding into one of the more exclusive ski resorts in the Dolomites? The 1000 meters of elevation we had to gain to get there (on top to the 1400 we had climbed to the Rabbijoch). By now I can't embellish the climb with any magic; it was really a matter of turning the pedals in such a way that the climb went away. And it did. We arrived in town and found our place to stay all within 30 minutes before the skies opened up with a powerful thunderstorm and deluging rain. Lucky again!
Our last day of riding started in full sunshine with outstanding views of the Dolomiti di Brenti. We made our way through forests, climbing to a glistening lake. Along the way we were passed by some gray-haired fellows on a day ride - I hope I ride like they do when I am their age. The pass we attained from the lake was a walk up, in that all of us, including the gray-hairs, pushed our bikes. Again, the 360 degree view validated the sweat dripped along the way. We thought we had the day in the bag, what with only one pass of < 500 meters elevation gain, how hard could it be? We rode through ride open valleys as we approached Lago di Garda, a glacial lake in northern Italy, where Lucy and the boys were staying in the city of Riva.
Of course it wasn't straight forward, and we lost the trail for a while, ending up in a different place at the top than we expected or hoped for but we made it. The descent was, can you guess?, steep. But the views of the lake with sailboats and windsurfers dotting the surface was like a magnet that drew us even faster down the hill. We arrived, unexpected because we were a day early as a result of the bicycle repair, and were welcomed into the apartment Lucy and the boys had settled into. We were happy, successful, and safe having arrived back with my family.
Despite the physical challenge of the ride, it was absolutely awesome and something I would love to repeat. I would be happy to provide more information to anyone who might be interested in a similar bike tour. This tour is not about riding single track but instead, about using a mountain bike to traverse a long distance, even when the trail seems more appropriate for hiking. In my mind, there is nothing similar to this ride in the US for the volume of climbing for the distance, and the views afforded throughout the route.
Ciao,
Paul
Thursday, August 18, 2011
Germany and Italy
Paul will write more erudite prose shortly, but for now I'll provide, in conversational babble, an update of our travels. We have only had intermittent internet so I apologize for our slow update! Our last week in London was filled with cramming in the last minute 'must see' sights and enjoying dinners with family. We took the train ~ 1 hour to Windsor Castle and enjoyed the beauty, art, and amazing history of this still-used residence of the monarchy. We also toured the Tower of London, finding ourselves engrossed in the gruesome history of prisoners and torture...not to mention those privileged enough to get their heads cut off there (Anne Boleyn among them.) We had our first (hopefully last?) brush with health care abroad as one of Aidan's semi-repaired front teeth, both of which were sheered off in an accident when he was 7, fractured off and we spent many hours over two days in a dental clinic trying to get the tooth repaired. The dentist was wonderful and tried to make a new segment of the tooth, but sadly it broke off again only a week later. So, if Aidan's not smiling much in pictures it's his attempt to hide his tooth, not that he's not having fun (I hope.) It was a wonderful time in London and my longest stint there since college. After a somewhat sappy good-bye to my aunt and family there, we were off to Germany to connect with Paul's family.
We arrived in Munich on July 29 and rented a car to drive to Paul's family's house ~1 1/2 hours east of Munich. They live just outside a small village called Tann very near the Austrian border. This is the home where Paul traveled to as a teen and the home of his mother's first cousin and her family. Paul is quite close to her two children (his second cousins.) We were just there for a day and two nights initially as Paul and one of his cousin's, Joe (aka Peppi), had planned a trans-Alp mountain bike ride from July 31-August 5. Paul and Joe headed off early Sunday morning, July 31, to start their ride and the boys and I made our way later in the day to a town in northern Italy called Riva di Garda where we were to wait for them. Riva is on the northern tip of a large, gorgeous, glacially-formed lake called Lago di Garda. I had rented an apartment ~ 1/4 mile from the lake and the boys and I settled into a nice routine. "School" for us started August 1 so we would play in the morning and "school" in the afternoons. Aidan took four days of wind surfing lessons all morning and Charlie and I rented bikes and rode to neighboring villages during his lessons. There is a large network of bike paths so the riding was car-free which made it stress-free for me (except when Charlie swatted at a bug, swerved on his bike, and careened down an embankment to a gravel road below--fortunately sustaining only a few minor flesh wounds.) While we had a car, we walked or biked everywhere as August in northern Italy is high season and there were swarms of people. I did not run into any Americans, however. Most of the tourists were Italian or German.
We are all still trying to find our groove with "school." Where is my beloved Scenic family?? Of course I do everything 'wrong' and not like Mrs. Hunt, Mrs. Williams, Mrs. McComb (insert any Scenic teacher name here), but together we are trying to find some routine. Thanks to my girlfriend Darcie, who spent an evening showing me some great curricula, Aidan has a excellent math book (Life of Fred) and is very motivated in other subjects. Since we'll be in Rome the end of next week, we've been studying ancient Rome and Aidan's current history project is to research a character from ancient Roman times, make a costume for himself, dress up, then tell us about who is he, how he lives, what he does, etc. followed by familial Q & A. We should have a fun evening role playing in Rome after a day of sightseeing. Charlie is doing a biography of an emperor of his choice. Charlie has been less enthusiastic in school so far and finds everything 'boring.' He's using a Singapore math curriculum and doing very well, but he misses Mad Minutes and other fun things he has done in the classroom setting. I'll be emailing teachers, I'm sure, to solicit some help. Both boys are not very interested in putting pen to paper so writing is another challenge. Fortunately, Aidan is an avid reader and plows through books. Charlie's reading has really picked up also and he's reading more and more books independently. They both love books and still enjoy being read to every night.
One afternoon in Italy just as we finished our school work the doorbell of our flat rang. I assumed it was someone wanting me to move my rental car and was so surprised when I looked out the window and saw Paul and Joe. Joe had crashed his bike and while his body was uninjured his bike sustained a breakage requiring a part and a one day shortening of their ride. They arrived sweaty, tan, happy, and tired. We enjoyed two more nights in Riva before heading back to Tann, Germany. Paul and Joe had to take the train with their bikes to their starting point as the rental car had no place for bikes. The boys and I drove to meet them. Unfortunately the traffic was so horrific on the Saturday morning we left that it took us three hours to go 30 km. Ugh! Thankfully Joe left us with a bag of Haribo gummy bears which I doled out slowly, getting us through the worst of the traffic with minimal hand-to-hand backseat combat.
We spent the next eight days in Tann enjoying the countryside, hiking a mountain near Salzburg, Austria; eating, drinking, eating, drinking, swimming a bit, and generally relaxing. We had Kaffee and Kuchen most afternoons (a most civilized event) either at home or at homes of extended family. It was fun to hear stories of when Paul was in Germany as a teenager. My most proper husband, I'm happy to know, was not always so proper. On one visit, Joe had to bring Paul and his younger brother, Stephen, to school with him. Paul and Stephen were soon kicked out of the classroom for being disruptive. They sat on the steps outside the classroom windows loudly whistling "Yankee Doodle Dandy" for hours. Who knew Paulie could be so ornery? Makes me love him even more.
We are now staying with Joe at his house in a city called Esslingen just outside of Stuttgart. We are enjoying this gorgeous area (we are not in Bavaria anymore, this region is called Baden-Wurttemberg) and there is great running and biking from the door. Many of the paths are paved, but there are steep, short hills that wind through vineyards and forests with impressive views of the surrounding cities and countryside. We are cooking at home predominately on this trip so far, but we have eaten out enough to know that the food is wonderful. I'm enjoying daily visits to the bakery for amazing bread, the butcher for sausages/salamis, and the market for other things. Of course, I don't always get it right. Yesterday I came home with what I thought were frozen chicken breasts only to find they were frozen chicken parts no one eats. Thank God for Paul--without hesitating he made a great chicken stock out of these gory bits which he then used to make a delicious spinach/mushroom risotto.
More later as time goes on. We think of our friends often and miss everyone back home! We're working on the pictures...really!
We arrived in Munich on July 29 and rented a car to drive to Paul's family's house ~1 1/2 hours east of Munich. They live just outside a small village called Tann very near the Austrian border. This is the home where Paul traveled to as a teen and the home of his mother's first cousin and her family. Paul is quite close to her two children (his second cousins.) We were just there for a day and two nights initially as Paul and one of his cousin's, Joe (aka Peppi), had planned a trans-Alp mountain bike ride from July 31-August 5. Paul and Joe headed off early Sunday morning, July 31, to start their ride and the boys and I made our way later in the day to a town in northern Italy called Riva di Garda where we were to wait for them. Riva is on the northern tip of a large, gorgeous, glacially-formed lake called Lago di Garda. I had rented an apartment ~ 1/4 mile from the lake and the boys and I settled into a nice routine. "School" for us started August 1 so we would play in the morning and "school" in the afternoons. Aidan took four days of wind surfing lessons all morning and Charlie and I rented bikes and rode to neighboring villages during his lessons. There is a large network of bike paths so the riding was car-free which made it stress-free for me (except when Charlie swatted at a bug, swerved on his bike, and careened down an embankment to a gravel road below--fortunately sustaining only a few minor flesh wounds.) While we had a car, we walked or biked everywhere as August in northern Italy is high season and there were swarms of people. I did not run into any Americans, however. Most of the tourists were Italian or German.
We are all still trying to find our groove with "school." Where is my beloved Scenic family?? Of course I do everything 'wrong' and not like Mrs. Hunt, Mrs. Williams, Mrs. McComb (insert any Scenic teacher name here), but together we are trying to find some routine. Thanks to my girlfriend Darcie, who spent an evening showing me some great curricula, Aidan has a excellent math book (Life of Fred) and is very motivated in other subjects. Since we'll be in Rome the end of next week, we've been studying ancient Rome and Aidan's current history project is to research a character from ancient Roman times, make a costume for himself, dress up, then tell us about who is he, how he lives, what he does, etc. followed by familial Q & A. We should have a fun evening role playing in Rome after a day of sightseeing. Charlie is doing a biography of an emperor of his choice. Charlie has been less enthusiastic in school so far and finds everything 'boring.' He's using a Singapore math curriculum and doing very well, but he misses Mad Minutes and other fun things he has done in the classroom setting. I'll be emailing teachers, I'm sure, to solicit some help. Both boys are not very interested in putting pen to paper so writing is another challenge. Fortunately, Aidan is an avid reader and plows through books. Charlie's reading has really picked up also and he's reading more and more books independently. They both love books and still enjoy being read to every night.
One afternoon in Italy just as we finished our school work the doorbell of our flat rang. I assumed it was someone wanting me to move my rental car and was so surprised when I looked out the window and saw Paul and Joe. Joe had crashed his bike and while his body was uninjured his bike sustained a breakage requiring a part and a one day shortening of their ride. They arrived sweaty, tan, happy, and tired. We enjoyed two more nights in Riva before heading back to Tann, Germany. Paul and Joe had to take the train with their bikes to their starting point as the rental car had no place for bikes. The boys and I drove to meet them. Unfortunately the traffic was so horrific on the Saturday morning we left that it took us three hours to go 30 km. Ugh! Thankfully Joe left us with a bag of Haribo gummy bears which I doled out slowly, getting us through the worst of the traffic with minimal hand-to-hand backseat combat.
We spent the next eight days in Tann enjoying the countryside, hiking a mountain near Salzburg, Austria; eating, drinking, eating, drinking, swimming a bit, and generally relaxing. We had Kaffee and Kuchen most afternoons (a most civilized event) either at home or at homes of extended family. It was fun to hear stories of when Paul was in Germany as a teenager. My most proper husband, I'm happy to know, was not always so proper. On one visit, Joe had to bring Paul and his younger brother, Stephen, to school with him. Paul and Stephen were soon kicked out of the classroom for being disruptive. They sat on the steps outside the classroom windows loudly whistling "Yankee Doodle Dandy" for hours. Who knew Paulie could be so ornery? Makes me love him even more.
We are now staying with Joe at his house in a city called Esslingen just outside of Stuttgart. We are enjoying this gorgeous area (we are not in Bavaria anymore, this region is called Baden-Wurttemberg) and there is great running and biking from the door. Many of the paths are paved, but there are steep, short hills that wind through vineyards and forests with impressive views of the surrounding cities and countryside. We are cooking at home predominately on this trip so far, but we have eaten out enough to know that the food is wonderful. I'm enjoying daily visits to the bakery for amazing bread, the butcher for sausages/salamis, and the market for other things. Of course, I don't always get it right. Yesterday I came home with what I thought were frozen chicken breasts only to find they were frozen chicken parts no one eats. Thank God for Paul--without hesitating he made a great chicken stock out of these gory bits which he then used to make a delicious spinach/mushroom risotto.
More later as time goes on. We think of our friends often and miss everyone back home! We're working on the pictures...really!
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