In the month of Mai in southern Germany, every weekend save one is a holiday weekend. The last weekend of May affords any working Bavarian a Thursday and Friday off (I believe this is to celebrate the ascension of Christ), making it a prime weekend for a roadtrip. R & I took this opportunity to take a 5 hour journey to Opatija, Croatia.
The drive is absolutely breath-taking: first through the craggy Bavarian Alps, then, depending on your route, the soaring Italian Alps, which swallow you in and spit you out of its many tunnels to allow you into the sliver of Slovenia, with its own sloping mountains, green plains, and signs for spelunking, which finally takes you to the charming hillside villages of Croatia along the Adriatic Sea.
Opatija is to me, perhaps, what a smaller, more affordable Monaco might be. I've never been to Monaco, but that is what I picture in my head. While the beaches are nothing to sing about--most are slabs of cement--the villages are quaint, picturesque, with multiple daytrips and see-worthy ancient sites, including a colleseum in Pu'la, similar in size and grandiosity of the ruins in Rome, but less crowded.
We traveled along the outskirts of the provincial plains of Istria till we came to a town (?) village (?) so small, it was literally off the map--our gps system had no idea where we were and just pointed to blank space on its screen, as if to say, "Good luck! I hope you know where you are, because I'm just gonna say you're.....here (insert random arrow)". Hum is reported to be the smallest town in the world, with a population of about 20, and around 8 buildings that date back to medieval times. And it's no wonder it is the smallest town in the world. The road to get there looks more like a bicycle path that hairpins back and forth steep mountains, giving you a mild heart attack any time you turn yet another curve to find a car head on and one inch from your car. Fortunately, we made it through without damage or death, and can live to tell you that Hum is famous not only for its small size, but also for its truffles. White and black, there are jars of every imaginable type of truffle in one of the towns two gift shops (which are directly opposite each other). The other gift shop sells olive oils, honey, and grappa (nasty stuff that tastes like cough syrup). http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hum,_Croatia
We took a fishing trip the next day, but R had our only big catch--a mini-fish about the size of my hand, which we threw back. But it was a beautiful evening with a dreamy sunset--quite a night to be out on a boat when the water and sky cast a pink and orange glow all around us.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Opatija
Frankfurt
Monday, May 31, 2010
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
Rain Boots & Bicycles
It has been raining for nearly 8 weeks straight. We had a brief pause of about 4 days, where sunshine and warmth flood forth and tempted our serotonin levels to rise. But again the Wolkig days are back (for you non- German-speakers, that means, as you may have guessed, cloudy).
You might wonder when the German people ever get a chance to enjoy their bicycles, since it rains so much. Not to worry! No matter the weather here, people go out. People hang out outside with a drink if it's snowing, freezing cold, sleeting, raining....it doesn't matter! When we arrived here for a visit in late November last year, it was snowing and sleeting all weekend. But we still saw people eating (!) outside at several restaurants, with a blanket around them, and hundreds of people downtown having a glass of gluehwein and chatting happily for hours-all outdoors. I suppose that's why they drink so much here-- you don't notice that your toes have fallen off, and you don't care.
Nasty weather does not stop the German spirit, and it's a good thing. In fact, I think we in the U.S. could learn a lesson from them. You may very well see a mother of three, with two kids in tow via bicycle buggy, and her 4-year-old behind her, holding an umbrella over her head as she pedals down the street while balancing groceries in plastic bags. Did I mention she's wearing a skirt and is slim and trim with three kiddos?!!
I saw another guy, that same day I saw the mother, riding a red bicycle in a shiny royal blue jumpsuit with bright neon yellow shoes, while carrying another full sized green bicycle. Oh how I wish I'd had my camera for that!
Another things is, you will see hundreds of bicycles lined up at any given building, but none of them locked to anything solid. Maybe they'll have a lock through the frame of the bike and its tire, but they don't bother attaching their bikes to anything more because Munich is such a crime-free city. As someone who has had no fewer than 3 bicycles stolen in Chicago--all while locked up--this is still shocking in every instance.
You might wonder when the German people ever get a chance to enjoy their bicycles, since it rains so much. Not to worry! No matter the weather here, people go out. People hang out outside with a drink if it's snowing, freezing cold, sleeting, raining....it doesn't matter! When we arrived here for a visit in late November last year, it was snowing and sleeting all weekend. But we still saw people eating (!) outside at several restaurants, with a blanket around them, and hundreds of people downtown having a glass of gluehwein and chatting happily for hours-all outdoors. I suppose that's why they drink so much here-- you don't notice that your toes have fallen off, and you don't care.
Nasty weather does not stop the German spirit, and it's a good thing. In fact, I think we in the U.S. could learn a lesson from them. You may very well see a mother of three, with two kids in tow via bicycle buggy, and her 4-year-old behind her, holding an umbrella over her head as she pedals down the street while balancing groceries in plastic bags. Did I mention she's wearing a skirt and is slim and trim with three kiddos?!!
I saw another guy, that same day I saw the mother, riding a red bicycle in a shiny royal blue jumpsuit with bright neon yellow shoes, while carrying another full sized green bicycle. Oh how I wish I'd had my camera for that!
Another things is, you will see hundreds of bicycles lined up at any given building, but none of them locked to anything solid. Maybe they'll have a lock through the frame of the bike and its tire, but they don't bother attaching their bikes to anything more because Munich is such a crime-free city. As someone who has had no fewer than 3 bicycles stolen in Chicago--all while locked up--this is still shocking in every instance.
Monday, May 3, 2010
Lamp Lady
Ikea really has a brilliant scheme going: you make a specific trip to go buy a lot of inexpensive, poor quality, but initially nice-looking things for your home---and you want to make the most of your specific trip out to the burbs, so you really stock up on the loot---but then you end up needing to return quite a few things that you didn't notice were scratched, chipped or broken.
However, you remember the loooooooooooong lines you waited in to buy all these things, in cash (that you didn't have, and therefore had to get out of line to retrieve it from the ATM, and then line up in another long queue), and you think to yourself, "Maybe I should just keep it". This is the psychological brilliance that keeps Ikea going. They make you remember two things: cheap prices and long lines. It makes you want to go and buy, but not return---it was cheap anyway right? Is it really worth your time waiting in line to return the $10 shelf that came out of the box chipped?
Well, I decided it was, since I'm a hausfrau and have nothing but time. I got to Ikea early, before the store opened, but after the restaurant opened, so I could wait inside. There was a roped off area near the entrance, where two other people were waiting on my right to return things: a younger man with a small box, and a pursed-lipped woman in her mid-fifties with a large, white floor lamp on a cart. The Ikea worker walked lazily over to us; we all braced ourselves--it's time to save money!
He unlocked the rope on the side closest to myself. At this, the young man took off with a trot, dashing in front of me and speeding ahead to get to be the first in line. I took off at a brisk pace, but none too hurried. I arrived second at the Take-A-Number machine. Just as I had pushed the button and placed my fingers on ticket #2, Lamp Lady pulls up behind me and shouts "German-German-German-German-German!!!!!@!$%" (or something like that), yanks the number out of my hand, and walks firmly up to the second lady at the returns register to take my place! I think my lips must have parted slightly from shock, and two German ladies came up behind me and shook their heads at this insolent woman who stole my place in line. I said nothing, but simply smiled at the ladies behind me, took the next number and got in line. My return ended up being finished before hers, so I glanced her way but she was busy avoiding my gaze. But really, the situation was so silly and in-your-face, all I could do was laugh!
However, you remember the loooooooooooong lines you waited in to buy all these things, in cash (that you didn't have, and therefore had to get out of line to retrieve it from the ATM, and then line up in another long queue), and you think to yourself, "Maybe I should just keep it". This is the psychological brilliance that keeps Ikea going. They make you remember two things: cheap prices and long lines. It makes you want to go and buy, but not return---it was cheap anyway right? Is it really worth your time waiting in line to return the $10 shelf that came out of the box chipped?
Well, I decided it was, since I'm a hausfrau and have nothing but time. I got to Ikea early, before the store opened, but after the restaurant opened, so I could wait inside. There was a roped off area near the entrance, where two other people were waiting on my right to return things: a younger man with a small box, and a pursed-lipped woman in her mid-fifties with a large, white floor lamp on a cart. The Ikea worker walked lazily over to us; we all braced ourselves--it's time to save money!
He unlocked the rope on the side closest to myself. At this, the young man took off with a trot, dashing in front of me and speeding ahead to get to be the first in line. I took off at a brisk pace, but none too hurried. I arrived second at the Take-A-Number machine. Just as I had pushed the button and placed my fingers on ticket #2, Lamp Lady pulls up behind me and shouts "German-German-German-German-German!!!!!@!$%" (or something like that), yanks the number out of my hand, and walks firmly up to the second lady at the returns register to take my place! I think my lips must have parted slightly from shock, and two German ladies came up behind me and shook their heads at this insolent woman who stole my place in line. I said nothing, but simply smiled at the ladies behind me, took the next number and got in line. My return ended up being finished before hers, so I glanced her way but she was busy avoiding my gaze. But really, the situation was so silly and in-your-face, all I could do was laugh!
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