To the Boot

Sun! Heat! Italy!

Our excursion to the boot started out rather rocky. Leaving the two little guys behind with my in-laws proved more difficult than anticipated. Plans to take the overnight train went by the wayside. Driving all night instead was tedious ~ more so because the Gotthard Tunnel was closed. (That meant going up and over, rather than through, the mountain.) Parking in Orvieto, a hillside town an hour outside Rome, and taking the train in to the city was complicated by the fact that we arrived in the pre-dawn hours when the train station was closed.

When at last we settled on a train, it was horribly filthy. The Termini station in Rome was frustrating on a variety of levels. Suffice it to say it was Italian. I was reminded why travel guru Rick Steves encourages travelers who are out of sorts in Rome to head back north ~ while those who revel in it should plunge farther south. It takes conscience effort, especially when coming directly from ueber-clean, ueber-organized Switzerland, to ease into the Roman mindset.

But.

Once you're fully in the rhythm ~ once you've adapted to the noise and activity and near inability to walk without being overrun; once you've shed your inhibitions and need for personal space; once you accept that Rome's not going to win any awards for cleanliness or green space; once punctuality doesn't matter to you and eating dinner at ten at night feels comfortable and, like a true Italian, you can forego shorts in 90+ weather...Once it's all second nature...It'll be time to leave. And you'll start counting the days until your next visit.

The Family Weekend Thing

There was this thing ~ this family weekend thing ~ slated to take place during our time in Switzerland. A hiking sort of thing. A hiking/walking/staying overnight at some sort of place thing that I didn't know much about. And because I prefer to be privy to plans; and because I didn't know what to take along for my family; and because I needed to know ~ for reasons best left unspoken ~ whether bathroom facilities would be available...I was, shall we say, somewhat hesitant about the weekend thing. And ultimately, the weekend thing was not a highlight of my vacation. At all. But there are always pictures worth sharing ~ and events do often look better in retrospect. Hiking in Switzerland, in terms of landscape, is not unlike hiking here in the Cascades. But the differences beyond that are numerous. Hiking at Mount Baker, for instance, can take you to remote locales. Surrounded by endless acres of the North Cascades, it's just you and the trail. Swiss hiking, like Swiss skiing, is more civilized ~ for lack of a better word ~ than that. "Picnic", anyone? These people are way beyond boiled eggs and apples ~ as evidenced by the wine. After a bit more hiking (yes, Virginia, there is a Heidi-land), it was time to stop again for refreshment... ...in a conveniently-located restaurant that appeared seemingly out of nowhere. And I do mean nowhere. The weather was ideal for those of us outfitted for a late-summer vacation.
I call this one, "Find the Cow".
This one is titled, "What Mountains?".While this is, "There Would Be a Really Great View From Here". But this one is too sweet for a silly caption. It's the one I'll keep in mind when I remember the family weekend thing.

Postcards

I didn't take a great many photos on our trip, perhaps because for the most part, these are places that are relatively familiar to us. But walking along the lake in Luzern with Hans, his parents, and the boys, I was reminded what a difference flowers make in daily life. Of the abundance of flowers in Europe: overflowing window boxes, gracing gardens, turning even a mundane little dock into something special. Of course, having Luzern's old town as a backdrop helps, too. And in the distance, on the hill, is the chateau where we had our dinner party, a few days after our slope-side marriage.


A classic portrait of Switzerland that begged to be captured "on film". This is just outside a restaurant we go to with Hans's parents. Driving there makes me feel Very Unwell ~ something about endlessly winding, narrow roads. I remind myself, while feeling Very Unwell, that the destination is utterly unique and, to that end, worthwhile. The "road" doubles as a hiking path. The restaurant looks much the same as this hut ~ two tiny rooms, no windows, a ceiling well-suited for people under the age of, say, eleven. (And once again, note the flowers.)

Don't worry about what to order here, as there's no menu. You go for the alplermagron. You don't like alplermagron? Tough. Fortunately, I do like it, very much. It's a popular regional dish that, in truth, is really just glorified mac-n-cheese. Mac-n-cheese with potatoes and onions ~ and really wonderful cheese. Wonderful cheese makes all the difference.

Should you find yourself in central Switzerland and someone can manage to give you directions to this remote locale; should you remember to call ahead and make sure the owner is actually there, making alplermagron that day...By all means, go, feast on the food; take in the view of the rather ominous mountains; and listen to the call, each evening, of the alphorn bringing home the cows.

In Which We Arrive in Switzerland

I love this picture. Sunflowers are the epitome of Switzerland in the late-summer and early-fall. Seemingly everyone has them in their gardens. And isn't a sunflower lovely to behold? Especially when set against the backdrop of a church steeple.

By the way, I've just realized that this journey will be conveyed in reverse chronological order unless I post my last pictures first and work backwards. But I can't do that. That feels wrong to me. So the hoards of people viewing this ~ and you two know who I'm talking about ~ will have to do the work yourself and page back if chronology is important to you. Which, actually, is what I do when viewing other blogs where a story is being told. Call it obsessive compulsive. Call it chronologically challenged. I like to think of it as organized. : )

Moving right along. We got on the big bird and flew ~ with a change of plans in airport hell also known as Dusseldorf. Oh. My. Word. Talk about the antithesis of Vancouver. But we survived the seemingly endless security checks and flew on to Zurich, where security is altogether non-existent. Unless you're not white, perhaps. All I know is, if you're white, and if you possess an American passport, your "security" check will last approximately three-tenths of a second.

Upon arrival, some of us did this: While Kai promptly did this: Frankly, after staying up all night packing for a family of seven and then traveling halfway across the world, I think I should've joined Kai. Although drinking wine and watching the guys play soccer was an acceptable alternative. The next morning we awoke to one of the few sunny days. The view outside our apartment ~ we rented the lower floor of a farm house ~ was standard, picture-perfect central Switzerland: Yes, I love nothing more than leaving my farm so I can vacation on a farm. But these are Brown Swiss cows, while the ones I normally look at are Jerseys. A world of difference. Ahem.

Our abode suited us fine, although I have to admit that after some time and circumstances, I would've given my eye-teeth (what are those, anyway?) for a phone. Or television. Or computer. Or book. Something. Anything.But the apartment was big and clean and close enough to the people we visit, so that was good. And the boys rilly, rilly liked the swing in the hallway. A swing! In the house! What a cool idea! Unless you're the adult. Listening to people fight over said swing. And cry over injuries inflicted by people using said swing. So we'll just reserve that swing-in-the-house idea for vacation, thankyouverymuch. : )

Europe...finally!

I'm here! I'm doing it! I'm posting pics from Europe! I've been swept away by politics (and let me just pause here to say...wOOt!) and not in the mode to upload photos. But the time has come to share the journey.

Please ignore the fact that my oldest son looks possessed in this picture. Just yesterday he was the little person sporting the back pack. Now he's a seasoned traveler. Sigh. Where do the years go?

What with sky-high (what an apt phrase) airfare, I bypassed our standard carriers (KLM and SAS) and opted instead for LTU, a division of airberlin. I was pleased with their service and would gladly go this route again, especially as it allows us to fly out of The Best Airport Ever: Vancouver, Canada. I "heart" the Vancouver airport. I'd spend a day just hanging out there. Seriously. I mean, look at this:

..and this:

This is an airport, for cryin' out loud! Airy and spacious and drenched in light and filled with water gardens and all manner of Native art. It's just as beautiful as any Huge Building That Enables Us to Enlarge Our Carbon Footprint can be.
And what's more, Vancouver itself is just cool. Very cool. As the 2010 Winter Olympic hoards who descend upon our region in a short fifteen months will experience for themselves. After which they'll want to move here. And I'll regret telling everyone how great it is. So forget everything I just wrote and pretend the picture below was taken as we prepare to leave Lubbock. ;-D

Wild Kingdom

Good news! I was able to exchange my camera! Alas, my replacement arrived a few days too late to capture an incredible wildlife encounter. While hiking at Mount Baker, we were approached ~ to a distance of fifty meters or less ~ by two mountain goats. It's unusual to see these animals at Baker, even at a distance; viewing them at such close proximity is virtually unheard of. I was just that day telling the boys that many of us who have spent years hiking in the Cascades have never seen mountain goats.

Rafe can claim the credit for our once-in-a-lifetime experience. He's the one who sighted the goats, some distance away and down a slope, causing us to backtrack for a closer look. As we stood watching, the pair came up the slope toward the trail. Minute by minute they kept coming closer as we marveled at the fact that they didn't shy away from us. Soon they were actually on the trail, approaching us and not in the least phased by our presence.

Incredible! For a full five or ten minutes we stood, marveling at these wonderful creatures and our fantastic fortune. But as much as I treasured the experience, I could have cried over the missed photo: Two mountain goats grazing, a stone's throw away from us, with a 10,000+ foot volcanic mountain as a backdrop. What a scene! For the first time in my life I desperately wished to share the trail with another hiker ~ one with a camera on hand. But it was not to be. By the time someone came along, the goats were clambering down the hill. He took several shots, but they were at a distance. Two of his photos are above. The first, facing Mount Shuksan (next to Mount Baker), shows the trail we were hiking at the time. The second captures one of the goats as it ran down the slope. This man was happy just to see mountain goats ~ and of course surprised to hear they'd been right on the trail just before he rounded the corner! Definitely a hike we'll never forget.

Now that I have working camera again, I'll share some of my Europe photos in the next day or two.

Imagine Europe

Can you tell I was in Europe the first few weeks of September? What?! You can't see the pictures?

Ahem.

We were in Switzerland...yet again. It is never as glamorous as it sounds, and always takes a toll in more ways than one. The weather, for the most part, was unseasonably cold and wet. I'm told the weather here at home, while we were away, was absolutely lovely. Sigh. I didn't take a great many photos but I really did want to share some pictures I took in Rome, where we spent a few days. (Rome, the city where people dine outside at 11 at night...There, of course, it was all lovely sun and heat.)

Yes, I want to share those pictures but alas, my camera has suddenly, inexplicably died. From one day to the next. The battery is fully charged but the camera, regardless of any urging and pleading on my part, won't do a thing. And my computer lacks a memory card reader. So, techno-dud that I am, I am waiting for some sort of revelatory notion as to what to do next, short of buying a new camera altogether. Each day I try turning on this one (a Panasonic Lumix DMC FX-07, by the way), hoping for a miracle. No luck so far.

So close your eyes and imagine Caravaggio paintings. Imagine Raphael's "The School of Athens". Envision me in a 16th century apartment in the Campo di Fiori. Isn't it nice?