Lost Diaries 10

Thursday, July 7, 2005

Normally I would not write a journal entry about weekday life, but since we have been doing a little site seeing around Lyon this week, I feel compelled to fill you in. It all started Tuesday, when we made the decision that I would meet Damon after class and we would explore Lyon, since we are leaving in a week and running out of time. We started in front of the law school, like two Japanese tourists, filming everything in our path. No one was spared, least of all a topless fat man hanging out in the street that Damon got some great shots of. We filmed the law school, a fountain, a few statues, the bell tower, an advertisement for Choc magazine, and then grabbed a bite to eat before hitting the Tourist Information Office. We chose our eating location based on a sign they were displaying that read, “Sandwicherie.” Our supposition was that they had sandwiches, of course. Of course not. When they brought us the menu, it was all in French, we could not read a thing, everyone else was eating big salads, and I almost had a meltdown. I was at my French saturation point and sick and tired of being hungry and not being able to read the menu and I went into mini-hissy fit mode. Damon ordered a plate with “meat” and French fries, and I asked for a sandwich. This caused the man to take away my silverware and direct me to a tent set up near the kitchen. Apparently, you can only buy a sandwich as a take away meal. Sandwich people are not good enough for silverware, but since Damon was a regular person I was not totally banished from the table. (We have been kicked off of tables before when we only had sandwiches) At the tent, I was able to get a ham and cheese sandwich (I swear, have these people never heard of turkey?) and I decided that I was going to be adventurous and try a chocolate tart as well. When I got back with mine, Damon’s meal had already been served, which seemed very quick, but then I looked at his “meat” and noticed that it was raw, so that explained that. Damon asked me what kind of meat I thought it was, and I could not identify it. He could not either, and he was getting the sinking feeling that he had ordered horse meat. They eat that over here, you know. He ate his salad and fries, but steered clear of the “meat.” The waiter noticed this, and kept bugging him about whether the meat was good. Finally Damon inquired about its origin, found out it was in fact beef, and told the waiter it was not cooked enough, so he took it away and brought back a completely new steak, still too rare for my taste, but edible for Damon, as well as another plateful of fries. Damon was overjoyed, and made short work of the meat and the fries this time. The chocolate tart was quite a find. Almost like pie, and very good. I will be eating many more of those, and perhaps bringing home a suitcase full of tarts.

After lunch we rode the metro to the stop where the funiculars, or “funiculaires” in French, go up the hill to the sites. First we visited the Basilica of Fourviere, which, as you probably can guess, is another beautiful church in Europe that took who knows how much money to build. For these people to have so many churches, they sure don’t seem very religious. This church was devoted most of all to Mary. The sanctuary was ringed by different sculptures of events in Mary’s life. Even the sculpture of Jesus on the cross was entitled, “The Compassion of Mary.” Outside the church there was a great view of the city, since we were now on top of a kind-of mountain. Damon filmed, but I am pretty much over being high up and seeing European towns. Just as each town has some gorgeous church that they herd everyone through, each town has some sort of “lookout” gimmick that they want you to pay to go to the top of. In this case, it was one of the towers on the church, but it was closed, so we did not make it up there. We rode the funicular down and boarded a separate funicular to go back up the hill to the Roman Amphitheater. That is when it got interesting.

The amphitheater was huge and of course in ruins, but they were setting up a concert for that night. The concert tickets were 24 euros to see Isaac Hayes and someone else. It was a soul concert, and part of the “Nights of Lyon” summer series. We decided to pass, and kept exploring the ruins. The amphitheater itself was large, but more impressive to me were the ruins behind the amphitheater. I am not sure if they were dwelling places, shops, part of the amphitheater complex, who knows, but they did have small tunnels running through them in several places. One thing about me that you probably don’t know is that if there is a fountain, I usually want to put my feet in it, and if there is a tunnel or a cave, I usually want to go in. I told Damon this, and he told me to go. We found one, and I entered. When I got in there I was a little worried about snakes or spiders, but I could see light at the end, so I kept going. When I got to the light, it was a small opening, but large enough for me to shimmy through, and this seemed like a better prospect that turning around and going back out the end I came in, which would take longer. So I got down on my belly and made it out in a few seconds, but when I was able to stand upright I noticed that I was now on the other side of a tall green fence stuck down in some type of walled ruin, and it looked like I was trapped. I started hollering for Damon, but that brought no results. I finally found a place where I could use two walls to climb out Jackie Chan-style, and I made it up near the fence on a ledge, and started hollering for Damon again. In the meantime, some of his school friends had shown up, so he was talking to them and waiting for me to reemerge from the other end of the tunnel, so he could not hear me. One of the girls finally heard me and they told Damon where I was. He came to the fence and I told him that it went all the way through but that he would not fit, and I was stuck and would have to come back through. He gave me the camera and told me to film it, so I carefully climbed back down, grunted my way through the hole into the darkness of the tunnel, got freaked out about snakes and spiders, and basically ran to the other end of the tunnel with the camera held in front of me recording. I think that will be my last tunnel experience for a while. I was a little scratched up from trying to go fast and I had imaginary itches for the rest of the day.

After the tunnel incident, we rode the funicular down and hopped the subway to the Hotel Deville area, where we filmed some skateboarders and my favorite Lyon fountain (some of you may have received postcards with the fountain). Damon had some type of icee (served in a shot glass, it was so small it was pathetic), and I had some ice cream. Then we made our way to the park to film my Lyon hangout. Damon checked on renting a boat while I filmed the rose garden, and then we started hiking to the zoo which is in the park. Unfortunately, it was late, and the animals were already up for the night, so that was a bust. By that time we were really tired, so we headed back to “La Villette” (where we live) and I made hamburger helper. It was delish and we went to bed fat and happy.

The next day Damon got up and went to class and I went to the mall. They have a big sale going on that lasts from the end of June until August 1st, so it was packed. I wandered around looking for souvenirs and clothes, and found nothing that I could not live without. Eventually my feet got tired, so I bought Damon some saline and left. I picked up a few postcards in the train station on my way back, stopped at the Post Office for stamps, and was back in time to make lunch. When Damon got home, he told me we were already late; we were supposed to meet Sonny and Louise at the train station to go wine tasting in the Beaujolais region north of Lyon. Beaujolais wine is red wine that is served chilled. We went to the train station, but there was no Sonny and Louise, so Damon decided we would go by ourselves and we bought tickets for Villefranche, about 30 minutes away from Lyon by train. We caught up on our celebrity gossip while we waited for our train by thumbing through French magazines and looking at Brangelina pictures. When we arrived in Villefranche, we made our way to the tourist information office, which is very inconveniently located about a mile away from the train station. When we inquired about the tours, the lady told us that there were no organized tours at that time, and you could not rent a bike in Villefranche. She gave us the same map they gave us in Lyon, and Damon decided we would take a taxi to one of the places on the map. We did this, and ended up in a remote town called Arnes, where no one spoke English, at a bar. The man who ran the bar called his wife, who spoke a little English. She arrived in a few minutes with a 4 year old girl and a dog in tow, and told us that this was not where they make the wine, but that if we walked down the road 2 kilometers, there was someone there who made wine. We started down the road with a hand drawn map, and apparently took a few wrong turns, but ended up at another bar where no one spoke English in an even smaller town. When we asked a man outside if anyone spoke English, he directed us to the bartender, who spoke Spanish. Those two are apparently the same in the eyes of the French. Eventually a girl came by who did speak English, and we were able to tell them we wanted to go to the winery. One of the men called the owner on his cell phone, and they told us he would be there in 20 minutes, sat us down, and gave us wine. This was wine number 2 for us, because we felt so bad about disturbing the first family (their bar was closed) that we ordered wine there. So, we sat there and spoke in Frenglish to the people in the bar. Eventually the restaurant owner from next door came, and he spoke very good English, so we were able to understand more. While we were sitting there, several interesting things happened. First of all, the bar owner’s 12 year old son came out to clean the tables (they are teaching him to work) and he gave me my first French kiss. Not the kind with spit, the one-on-each-cheek kind. At first I had no idea what he was doing, but after the first one I figured it out and just went with it. Damon said I looked like a pro. He shook Damon’s hand. After that excitement, a troop of 4 preschool children came in and kissed everyone in the bar (about 8 men by this time) before buying cigarettes and leaving. One of the men was their grandpa and he seemed very proud and unconcerned that his grandchildren who could not write their names could buy cigarettes. Two more glasses of wine later, Guy Charbonnel, the winemaker, came and hung out for a while before taking us to his operation. He drove us the back way to his house, which turned out to be 100 yards from the bar, and showed us vineyards. His vineyard is very small and at his house. He showed us the wine vats inside and then took us into the cellar of his house, where his wife and a couple of their friends were hanging out drinking wine. They served us some, and since his wife spoke a little English, we were able to have a pretty decent conversation with them. We talked about all kinds of things, and even covered Bush. I told them I was from Texas, using Damon’s t-shirt, and the first thing that they said was, "Oh, you love Bush." I said, "Yes, I do." They at first thought we were British. Everyone thinks that we are British since we speak English. I guess to them we all sound the same. Anyway, they were all in an uproar because Paris was a candidate for the 2012 Olympic Games, and they lost to London. The headline of the paper today reads, “Pourquoi Londres?” (Why London?) They are all ticked off. We made sure they knew we were Americans, and then they said that Tony Blair and Bush are best friends. It was very funny to see how our President has been demonized all over the world. They are not the first Frenchies that we have talked to who immediately identify Bush with Texas. I think Texas is not their favorite, because of Bush and Lance Armstrong. Their Bush feelings aside, they were very nice, and Damon bought 6 bottles of wine to bring home.

It was getting close to time for our train, so we left and walked the 100 yards or so to the restaurant, where we ordered pizzas. I had pizza margarita, which means cheese only (and olives, but I picked those off. They don’t even slice them so it is pretty easy to do) and Damon had some concoction that the restaurant owner suggested, which had chicken, potatoes, and an over easy egg in the middle. Very strange, but he liked it. They called a taxi for us, and we made it back to the train station 5 minutes after our train left. Damon said it was okay since there were more trains after that, but what he did not know was that was the last train to Lyon for that night. We met a nice mother and son at the station, and they helped Damon read the schedule, and even checked the bus stop for us to see if there were any more busses to Lyon, but the last one of those was gone too. They showed us where the hotels were in town, and we checked into a Best Western with only the camera and 6 bottles of wine in a box and went to sleep watching the Tour de France replay from that day. We woke up at 6:30, grabbed breakfast, and were back at the train station in time to miss the train we wanted to be on, and wait 20 minutes for another one. We made it back to Lyon and Damon was able to shower and get back to school on time. Remember how it was so hot and unbearable here in Lyon? Well, now that we have air, we are not running it because it is freezing outside. Damon almost turned into a popsicle this morning, because he was wearing shorts and a t-shirt. Apparently, that was just a heat wave.

Tonight we are leaving for Pamplona. Damon has reserved us a hotel room in San Sebastian, which is 300 yards from the beach, so I am sure I will have more naked European stories to tell on Monday. Saturday morning we are hoping to bus our way to the running of the bulls, and then back to Lyon through Paris, where we will spend a few hours on Sunday. This is our last weekend trip, and it is hard to believe that our time in Lyon is almost over. We are looking forward to exploring the United Kingdom, where people speak English, even if it does sound funny. Stay tuned for more adventures!

Lake Charles AR Pictures

The best support team around at the Lake Charles Adventure Race... This is the face you make when your mean mommy takes your pacifier...

And this sweet smile is reserved for Grandpas only...

Burnt Gold was the only team that managed to get a team photo taken. Apparently Jen and I only take pictures of each other's families and not our own.

Playing peek-a-boo with Kirk in the TA. He never figured out where she was...

Playing on the playground nearby...

I see you!

Trying to go back up the slide...

This is so fun!

Whee!

You know you're spoiling your grandchild when...

You allow her to hit you over the head with a giant flower just because she finds it amusing.

Lake Charles Race Report

With "No Sweat" out of the way, we set our sites on Lake Charles, part of Gulf Coast Adventure's "Racing to N'Awlins" Series. This time our team was comprised of Damon, Kirk, and me. Jamie tagged along and was sweet enough to watch Stella during the race. The Sharbono family was there, with multiple generations racing and cheering. Nathan's dad was trying his hand at adventure racing for the first time, Nathan had an all-male team, and the cutest Sharbonos were our cheerleaders and Stella's playmates for the day. Hefner Bunny Pie was also there to dominate everyone, of course. We left later than we wanted to Friday night and caught a few hours of rest at a nearby hotel before heading to Sam Houston Jones State Park.


The first leg of the race was a trail run, and Damon sprinted out in front with the passport. Kirk and I followed at a nice pace. (probably around 9 minute miles) Back at the TA, we caught our first glimpse of Damon since the starting line when we all jumped on our bikes.


The first bike was on very congested single track, and we were stuck behind many inexperienced cyclists. Seems our "nice" pace had put us in the back of the pack behind folks who needed to stay on the pavement. They literally were hopping off their bikes for every obstacle, and Damon and I were getting irritated when we realized that Kirk was not with us. Damon, the almighty holder of the passport, instructed me to slow down and wait for Kirk while he fought on ahead and grabbed the checkpoints. I did, and discovered that Kirk had become roadkill not once but twice when rude cyclists tried to pass him and instead just mowed him down, bike and all. We reunited and easily road the rest of the trail thinking that we would meet up with Damon at the end. Kirk, the almighty holder of the map, navigated with ease. When we got to the end of the trail the race director snapped our photo, and was polite enough not to inquire about the location of our third teammate. Perhaps he realized we were racing with Damon and knew that this was just par for the course. Anyway, when we arrived at the end of the trail and the first mystery event, Damon was nowhere to be seen. Turns out he had followed another team that took a wrong turn and rode about an extra mile through the forest.


Reunited (and it feels so good) we completed the mystery event which was a bike and hike. This is where two team members run and one bikes. I let the boys bike since I knew they would soon be paddling and I would not. After collecting the rest of our bikes, we headed to the canoe put-in. My two boat motors did an excellent job on the paddle, even if they did almost come to blows over Damon's ridiculous resistance to Kirk's plan to refill his water bottle at the boat drop.


After navigating the rough waters of disagreement, we were back on the bikes for more single track, then back to the TA for our second mystery event. Normally, I am great at mystery events, especially the ones that require balance. This one did not require balance and in my opinion, it sucked. We had to use a bucket with three ropes attached to it with loops on the end and touching only the loops fill a larger bucket with water from the nearby lake. I did not take the time to read the instructions, depending on my teammates to keep me up to speed and this resulted in me touching the rope, us losing an entire bucket of water, and me getting yelled at. Whatever.


After that was over, we set out for the final run. We found the checkpoints easily, only really going out of our way once on accident. We finished in a little over 3 hours, and were able to spend time visiting with friends back at the TA.

Lost Diaries 9

To Germany and Back Again:
An American’s Tale
By Scarlett Pourciau

Thursday, June 30, 2004

Our train for Salzburg, Austria, left at 14:40, which is the earliest that we have left town yet. We were really excited, since we had reserved a sleeper car (“couchette”) for the second leg of the trip and would therefore be sleeping on the train and saving cash on a hotel room for Thursday night. We were in a little bit of a hurry getting to the train station, because by the time Damon got home from school we only had about an hour before the train left. We made it.

Our first train went from Lyon to Strasbourg, which is in the northeast corner of France. There we had a bit of a layover, so we went to a Courtepaille restaurant near the train station to eat. We thought about exploring the city, but the sky looked like it might rain, so we decided to eat instead. Courtepaille is some type of chain over here. It was pretty good, Damon had chicken cordon bleu and I had some chicken on a skewer. We were obviously in with the early bird special crowd, since we were the only 2 there under age 60. We were back at the train station in time to board the train.

When we made the reservations, Damon requested first class couchettes, but there were none on that train, so we had to get second class. Damon was concerned about this because his friend Clarence had one the last weekend and said it was too small. When we got to our “room” there was a French lady there already and A LOT of luggage. Turns out our other roommate was a 15 year old Hungarian boy who had been living in France for a year as an exchange student and was now moving all his earthly possessions back home. The way that the couchettes are laid out is that there is a very narrow middle section, and three bunks on each wall. When we got there, the middle bunks were not made out yet, as they can be stowed when not in use to create a couch effect on the bottom bunk. We ended up hanging out on the bottom bunk of one side of the room with the French lady for a while as the Hungarian boy continued to pack massive quantities of luggage into the room. She was a German teacher, so she spoke French, German, and English, and we enjoyed talking to her for a while, but I was pretty worried about the bedding situation. Lots of the trains are sold out, and therefore we stood the chance of having 2 more roommates on the way, and definitely nowhere to put them with all that Hungarian luggage. After the train took off, crew members came by to give us tiny pillows and folded sheets. The sheets are made like a sleeping bag, sewn on one side so that you lay on one half and the other half covers you. I made my bed on the top bunk, and was ready to retire when Damon decided that there was more room on the top bunk and he needed it. So then I moved to the second bunk, re-made my bed, backwards of course, so I had to make it twice. The space between the second bunk and the third is less than 2 feet, so this upped the level of difficulty. The space between the third and the ceiling is probably 2 and a half feet. Anyway, while I was struggling like a contortionist to make my bed for the second time, an interesting thing happened on the third level. The French lady, who was occupying the bunk opposite Damon, began to undress. She took off her shirt, she took off her pants, she took off her bra. Then she calmly sat there naked and put on her pink sleeping shirt. I was rather taken aback when I saw her descending the ladder in a new outfit, but I thought surely she must have left the room without me realizing it to change in the WC. But this was not the case, and Damon was the unfortunate witness of this cultural difference. Up until he saw this atrocity, he was debating whether or not it was rude to take his socks off to sleep. After this event, he decided that the socks were coming off, rude or not. We both slept fully clothed, however, regardless of what the Romans, or the French in this case, were doing.

We then settled in for the night. I set multiple alarms on my watch, since we would be getting off the train at 4:44 in the morning. It took me a while to go to sleep, but I finally did and slept rather well. Damon read some homework and then tried to catch some z’s. Unfortunately, the beds are made for people who are 5’2”, (my feet were hanging off the end) and since Damon is about a foot taller than that, there was a lot of extra husband up there with nowhere to go. He claims to have banged his head on the ceiling no less than 20 times, once for each time he woke up cramped and tried to sit up. You can imagine it was not our longest or best night of sleep. Plus, when we woke up in the morning, the French lady went through her wardrobe ritual in reverse, once again revealing all her business to Damon, so he was given a little 35 year old good morning nudity to wake up to. We were both glad to arrive in Salzburg.

When we were off the train, we made our way to the WC. Of course, they were pay WC’s, and we each paid our 50 cents to a large German lady and went inside. She literally ushers you to your stall, so even though we had both just gone on the train, we went again for good measure. Then we came out to accomplish our real purpose for visiting, brushing our teeth. Alas, there was a prominent sign posted on each mirror that body washing and tooth washing were strictly prohibited, so this was a wasted trip and we had to simply wash our hands and walk dejectedly back outside still possessing rather pungent morning breath. We decided that since nothing was open yet, we would set off with some pages from the Rick Steves book to complete his Salzburg historic walk while the sun came up. We secured our belongings in a locker and walked out of the train station in time for it to start raining. I knew that it was going to rain that day in Salzburg, but I thought we had a little time before it started. We had to go back to the locker, open it, get our raincoats, and then pay to close it again. After this we set out in the cold rain, wandering in the direction that we thought was right. We hiked through town for about 30 minutes in the rain until we got to the Old Town section that we were looking for. I had to hold my rain coat closed the entire time, because I tore it last weekend while we were cycling in Interlaken. Also, our feet were very quickly soaked, and we were both wearing our only pair of tennis shoes. By the time we made it to the Old Town, we were too cold and wet and miserable and it was raining too hard to complete the walk, so we ducked into a hotel and asked when we could check in and where we could find a coffee shop that would be open to serve us something hot and let us dry out for a minute. The only coffee shop was back near the train station, so as we left Damon had the bright idea to get on a bus and just ride it around to see the city. We did this, and it was delightful because we finally got dry for a few minutes and arrived back at the train station shortly. There was a Burger King there, so we got off thinking that it would be open and we could have breakfast there. Unfortunately, unlike American Burger King, there was no breakfast to be had, and it did not open until 10. There was a little bakery thing there, so we ordered chocolate chip muffins (gross) and a huge cinnamon roll along with 2 hot chocolates and staked out a table. We ate and drank as slowly as possible and then headed upstairs to the tourist information office to buy our Salzburg cards. The Salzburg card is 20 euros and gives you free access to all the sites, plus a free bus pass for 24 hours. We got 2, and retrieved our baggage, then hopped a bus for the hotel. We were able to store our luggage there until 11 when we could check in. We asked a few questions and then set out for the fort, which is the main attraction of Salzburg. On the way we passed the Salzburg Cathedral, where Mozart was organist for 2 years. We peeked inside at the “whisper dome” which is supposed to create fantastic echoes when you are in the top of it, but the museum section was not open yet, so we trudged on. We made our way to the funicular, which is a train like thing that pulls you up the mountain to the fortress. It was neat. At the top is the Hohensalzburg Fortress, which holds wonderful city views and at least 3 separate museums. One was a marionette museum, and we hit that first. It was very cute and gave me some idea of why they put the “Lonely Goatherd” into the Sound of Music (SOM). We then did the tour of the fortress with the audio guides. This was much shorter and less informative than I thought it would be. The one interesting thing was the torture chamber and dungeon, which was never actually used for torture but rather as a prison for enemies of the crown and Protestants. I told Damon this is where his people persecuted my people and denied them their freedom of religion. There was also an exhibit on the castle kitchen, and it made me very thankful for the advent of the microwave. We really enjoyed the exhibit and were back down in town around noon. We swung by St. Peter’s Church and graveyard, which the graveyard in the SOM is patterned after, and climbed the hill behind it to see the cliff dwellings of ancient monks. Unfortunately, only their chapel was open. We stopped off at the hotel to check in the room and change Damon’s socks, then rather than taking a nap, which is what we felt like, we set off back into the rain to go to Mozart’s birthplace. We stopped on the way in a street market to grab some lunch. Damon had a bratwurst, which was great. Spicy and served with mustard and grated cheese on top and a roll to munch on as well. I opted for some strawberries from what is supposed to be a great organic food market, so says Rick Steves. The strawberries did not have a good flavor and the ones on bottom were rotten, so that was a bust. I trust that man less and less. We went to Mozart’s birthplace, and enjoyed that exhibit, then on to his second home in Salzburg, and got the audio guide there, which made for a nice but time consuming activity. I grabbed a sweet snack from a delicious smelling bake shop…the city was full of them. It appeared to be a donut hole covered with cinnamon and sugar and it was delightful. Damon had another big cinnamon roll, this one dipped in chocolate. It looked like he enjoyed his as well. After this we stopped by the Mirabell Gardens, which is home to the arbor, fountain, and statues used in the SOM. If it had not been raining we would have had a do-re-mi moment, but the rain really put a damper on the mood. It was still very beautiful, though, and I could picture the von Trapp children singing and dancing gaily around the gardens. We then hopped a bus for Hellbrunn Castle. It was a long way out of town, and we actually missed our bus stop and had to wait for a new bus and ride back a stop. We arrived just in time for an English tour of the gardens, and the big attraction is that the Prince-Bishop who built them installed trick fountains to shock and surprise his guests during the summer. It was really a very beautiful garden and the fountains were very cleverly disguised. One featured an entire puppet show of a working town running on water power. It was from the 1700’s and really cool. After you are totally engrossed in the musical show, you are sprayed with water from behind. The tour guide felt bad for everyone since we had been wet all day and warned us about most of the fountains. There was a castle to tour there also, but we were running out of time and we had to see the real piece de resistance, the "16 Going on 17" Gazebo from the SOM. We made it there quickly and I was ready to teach Damon the song and dance and get out of the rain for a few minutes, but it was locked. Apparently there are too many wanna-be Leisl’s out there to leave it open and vulnerable. Time was running out and we had a schedule to keep, so we hopped a bus for the hotel. We had less than 45 minutes to bathe, “wash our teeth” and head out again, so we accomplished this in record time. We then set out for the SOM Dinner Theater, to which we had reservations. We were told we would have table mates, and were a little apprehensive about that, but when they got there we knew them already. We had seen them at the train station that morning trying to use the restroom. All they had was a 50 euro bill and the people would not let the woman use the restroom until she stomped her foot and cried. It was a daughter who is doing an internship in Geneva for the summer and her mom who came to visit her. (the mom was the crier) The girl was just embarrassed because her mom had been wearing a Fraulein Maria hat all day and singing everywhere they went. Dinner was served first, and it was one of the best meals of Europe. It was of course Schnitzel with noodles followed by a wonderful crisp apple strudel. I am not one for apple pie, so I thought I would not like this either, but it was great. I hope I can find a recipe for it once I get home. Schnitzel apparently is chicken. It was good, though. Then the show started. There are 5 singers, 3 women and 2 men, plus an obnoxious lounge lizard on piano. One of the men was excellent, the rest were so-so. Two of the girls were Italians, and their accents really distracted you. Overall I give it a 2.5 on the dinner theater scale, only because of the wonderful food quality. The show felt forced, and they required way too much audience participation, which I loathe. They asked me what one of my favorite things was at one point, so of course I had to say, “Raindrops on roses.” The next man blew it by saying, "Travel." Damon was mortified the whole time that he would be called on. We enjoyed our table mates, though, and had a good time overall. We then went back to the hotel to settle in for the night.

Saturday, July 2, 2005

You may be wondering what happened to the July 1 heading. Since we never really experienced much of a night, I left it out. We were exhausted that night after site seeing in the rain all day, and slept like babies at a great hotel, Hotel Pension am Dom. We were up before 7 to catch our train to Fussen, Germany, and grabbed breakfast at the hotel before hitting the road. We rode the bus to the train station and our train was there waiting, so we boarded and settled down to sleep. Damon was on the floor and I was curled up on top of my backpack, using it for a pillow. We had gotten train information that morning, and they printed it out for us, but it was in German, so we could not really understand it. When we got on the train it did not list Fussen as a stop, and when Damon pointed this out, I said it was probably because it was not a major stop. Looking at the schedule printout, it looked to me like the train stopped for a really long time in Munich, but I figured that the man would have told us if there were any abnormalities, and just went to sleep. The train was supposed to arrive in Fussen a few minutes before noon, so we set my watch and passed out. I slept until about 11, I was so tired. Damon did not sleep as long, as he was cold and had to go get some soup from the dining car. Around noon, the train appeared to be passing through a large city, and I thought Fussen was a small town. There were lots of big buildings with revolving Mercedes symbols on them also, which I found odd, but I figured maybe all of Germany was like that. Turns out we were in Stuttgart, home of Mercedes Benz, and 4 hours out of the way on the trip to Fussen. What the reservations desk had failed to make clear was that we were supposed to change trains in Munich. We grabbed our stuff, hopped off the train, and found another train going back to Munich. Damon scrambled to get info on how to get to Fussen while I cried on the train platform. I had planned everything so carefully, and now it was ruined, because it was going to take us 4 hours to get back to where we were supposed to be already, and we would miss the tour that we had reserved at the castles. I became more inconsolable after I looked in the Rick Steves book and discovered that the last tour was at 16:00, which was 4 minutes after we would arrive at the train station. Damon left the car to try to fix things while I sat in the train to Augsberg and cried. He ended up buying a calling card, borrowing people’s cell phones, and pleading with the people at the castle to change our reservations and let us still see both castles when we arrived. The Nazi’s are alive and well in Germany. They are running tours of 2 castles in Bavaria. Even though the castles did not close until 18:00 and we would be there with 2 hours to spare, they would not allow us to visit both, we had to choose one. Damon chose the bigger, more impressive castle, with the less informative tour. I was crushed, because my original plan had been to spend a leisurely day touring BOTH castles and taking a ride on a nearby luge. Now we were spending double the necessary time on a train, would only get to see one castle, and luging was out of question. This might be a good time to comment on the German/Austrian attitude. Even on the train, the people were extremely short and rude. They were smart alecks when we asked for directions, and very legalistic and inflexible. There was no reason they could not have let us see both castles, other than they are mean and nasty. Not everyone was this way, for example the man at the hotel was a sweetheart, but others were not so nice. They are also a very big people. Their toilets and trains were much bigger. Damon could stretch all the way out and sleep, and I could not even reach the foot rest. So, Damon, me, and my bad attitude rode the train for another 4 hours and arrived at Fussen. We took a cab to the castles, bought our tickets, and grabbed a bratwurst to eat on the run. You may recall that I had not eaten any lunch, and it was now 16:00. The trains that we were on after noon had no dining cars. We made the 30 minute hike to the castle in 15 minutes. It was treacherous. So steep we are both sore now. When we got there we shot some video and waited for our tour to begin. The tour was only 30 minutes, and there were about 60 people on it. It did not give a ton of info, but the castle was really neat. It was built around the 1880’s by Mad King Ludwig II, who was eventually ruled insane and incapable of ruling Bavaria, dethroned, and sent to a mental hospital, where he and his doctor were found drowned in a lake the next day. Very mysterious. We bought a book to share, plus took about a million pictures of the outside. You were not supposed to film inside, but Damon did, because some other people were, so he thought it was okay. He was admonished. After the tour, we hiked to Marie’s Bridge for a better view, and then climbed a mountain to get an even better view. Yes, you read that right. Damon made me climb a mountain to get a better picture. The castle was on the side of a mountain suspended above a quaint village and waterfall with more mountains in the background. It looked like a fairytale. The view was breathtaking (not in the asthma sense…Damon did not even use the inhaler…I was so proud!) but then I started to think about those people who were eaten by the bear, and I started wondering why the Germans have bears carved all over everything, and I got panicky and begged to leave. We escaped the rough terrain without becoming a bear snack. On the way down the mountain, Damon decided he was tired of reading maps and would do a little orienteering to find the bottom. This resulted in us climbing/sliding through a densely wooded, very steep area of the mountain, at the bottom of which was a rock wall bearing strict instructions, “Don’t Step on the Wall! Danger!” That was great since we were climbing over the wall to make it back to the paved road. I was wearing some capris from Limited, and I think that I should now write them a letter and let them know that their pants are versatile enough for rock climbing and sliding down mountains on your butt. We got back to town and shared a cab with 2 team Korea girls who spoke English and German. When we got back near the train station, we ducked into an Italian restaurant (all the German restaurants were closed already) and ordered some quick pizza and water from a man who spoke no English. To order the water I just covered water in every language that I knew, “Water, L’eau, Aqua…” until he understood one. It was very interesting. We were so starving we scarfed the pizzas in about 5 minutes and made the train right on time. We arrived in Munich a little before midnight, and were able to find a decently priced hotel right across the street from the train station.

Sunday, July 3, 2005

Sunday morning we were up a little before 8 to get dressed and grab breakfast at the hotel, store our bags, and board the train for Dachau. The site opens at 9, and we took the 8:46 train. Once we got there, we had to take a bus to the actual concentration camp. Our train for Lyon left at 12:40, so we grabbed some audio guides and started the tour. We would have liked to do a guided tour, but none started until 10:30, and they took over 4 hours, so the audio guide was the best that we could do. Riding the train out that morning, I tried to imagine others who had taken that fateful train ride over 60 years ago. The train produces a swaying motion much like the feeling of being on a boat. How horrible to sway along the tracks in a cattle car, pressed against other prisoners and bound for a destination you did not know and a fate that was based on the whims of your persecutors. The remnants of a train track and concrete unloading dock are visible outside of the infamous “Arbeit Macht Frei” (“Work Brings Freedom”) gate. Strangely, this was the first day in our weekend that it had not rained. The sky was a brilliant blue dotted with fluffy white clouds and the birds were happily chirping in the forest surrounding the camp. The cheery weather and singing birds seemed quite out of place. Visitors to the site seem to hold their breath. No one makes a sound. It is the same type of ominous feeling one gets in a cemetery. Dachau was the original concentration camp, and the one on which the rest were modeled. From the gate, we worked our way to the bunker, which was a long building that was used to check in prisoners as well as hold special prisoners. I am not sure how many cells there were, but the halls extended on both sides for what seemed like a mile. The camp was in use from 1933-1945, and during that time the original bunker, which was a converted building from some type of abandoned factory, was torn down using inmate labor and rebuilt as it stands today. Besides the regular sized cells, the Nazis installed what were known as “standing cells.” They accomplished this by taking a regular cell and building 4 smaller cells inside it, each large enough to hold a prisoner without allowing them to sit or recline in any way. When the Americans liberated the camp, they took over the bunker and used it to imprison Nazi war criminals. They found the standing cells so barbaric that they ripped them all out. Next we moved on to the museum building, which is full of information on specific prisoners, medical experiments performed on the prisoners, and liberation information. The camp was built to house 6,000 prisoners, but when the American soldiers arrived to liberate it, 32, 000 were being held on the premises. The overcrowding had contributed to the spread of a typhoid epidemic, so that was one of the first things that the soldiers had to try to deal with. Imagine yourself as a young American soldier, faced with 32,000 walking skeletons who need your help but don’t even speak your language. The Americans were also greeted by piles of corpses decomposing in front of the crematorium. A coal shortage had caused the death toll to outpace the ovens, and the ones that were not buried in mass graves were simply left to rot. The crematorium was separated from the rest of the camp, and is only today accessible by a pedestrian bridge installed for camp visitors. The crematorium was designed with several disinfectant chambers for discarded clothing. The concept was for people to be herded into the first room and told to undress. Their clothing would then be taken to the disinfectant chamber next door and they would be ushered into another room where they would be instructed on taking a shower. When they entered the shower room, which had a curiously low ceiling, they would be showered with poisonous gas rather than water. The next room was to hold their bodies before they could be placed in the ovens next door. On the other side of the oven chamber was an additional room to hold bodies of people who had died of “natural” causes such as starvation and disease in the regular camp. As far as we know these gas chambers were never used, but who can be sure? We also toured the barracks, which were built to house 200 people each, but in the end held 2,000. Only 2 barracks stand, and they were reconstructed for the exhibit, but originally 30 such buildings existed on the camp grounds. The foundations of the missing buildings are outlined in concrete and filled with gravel to give visitors perspective on the size of the camp. I think that may be one of the most shocking things about it. The sheer size of the facility, and its existence in the backyards of regular citizens. It is pathetic to think that so many knew of its existence and did nothing. One of the well documented punishments that was inflicted on prisoners for rule infractions was called “pole hanging.” The practice involved handcuffing a prisoner behind their back and then suspending them from a pole in that position. If you clasp your hands behind your back and lift them as high as you can, you can get a glimpse of how miserable this must have been. The shoulders would be ripped completely out of socket and the pain would be excruciating. The camp also sponsored 169 satellite camps, each holding anywhere from 100 to 1000 prisoners. The exhibit was staggering, and you could spend all day without scratching the surface. We saw it as best we could on our schedule, ended up missing the bus back and having to run halfway across the town to catch another. We made it back to Munich with little time to spare to board our train, and did so more quietly and thoughtfully than normal. 10 hours later we were back in Lyon.

No Sweat Race Report

And now, the post you have all been waiting for. Well, at least all 3 of you who read the blog. A couple of weekends ago Damon talked me into joining him, Kirk, and Dane for a 24 hour adventure race in Austin, Texas. The race was called "No Sweat" and was put on by Too Cool Racing. If the name of the race sounds familiar to you, it might be because it was during the 12 hour version of "No Sweat" last year that Damon actually wound up dehydrated and in a "No Sweat" situation (accompanied by chills, hallucinations, uncontrollable vomiting, you know, fun stuff like that) and ended up in an emergency room somewhere in the Texas hill country. That cautionary tale would make a normal person think that racing for 24 hours in Texas in August might not be such a great idea, but as we all know, Damon is not a normal person. So, on Thursday, August 20, we loaded up the gear and hit the long road to Austin. Since Hefner Bunny Pie was also participating in the event, Kirk opted to ride over with them. What kind of a jerk chooses his own wife over his teammates? Gosh.

Anywho, we spent Thursday night in Columbus, Texas, and picked up the kayaks in Bastrop the next morning. Damon had been longing for a tandem kayak of his own, and in a moment of weakness I agreed that he could buy one of the ones that we normally rent. We got back on the road to Austin with a new hurricane evacuation plan: when the water rises Damon and I will paddle the kayak with Stella in the middle and tow our possessions along behind us in the canoe. Who needs to wait in long lines to buy gas? Not kayak owners, that's for sure.

Back to the race...we spent most of Friday stopping for last minute supplies, hydrating, and setting up our transition area, bikes, and boats. We ate fast food that night and got in bed way too late, which is something of a tradition for the Pourciau/Welch racing team.

Saturday dawned bright and muggy. I was up much earlier than necessary, because Damon convinced me that I would feel better during the race if I at least started it off clean, so I got up in time to take a shower. We left the hotel for 6, and stopped on the way to pick up some batteries that we had forgotten. (You didn't expect us to actually be prepared, did you? I mean, we only spent an entire day staging our gear.) We drove the nauseating 30 minutes of winding hills from the hotel to the race site much faster than I wanted to, but we arrived in plenty of time for the pre-race meeting. Damon discovered that he had a flat bike tire, so he and I skipped the pre-race meeting in order to remedy that situation. We figured since it was such a short race, there wasn't any information they could possibly give us in that meeting that would be worth hearing. I am pretty sure Kirk attended the meeting, and I feel like Dane at least was there for half, so from the beginning we were already depending on our teammates for info.

Our instructions for the first leg of the race were sealed, so following a very dramatic countdown teams tore into their directions and the race was on around 8 a.m. I immediately regretted rising early to shower, since our first task was to cross Lake Travis with our bodies in the water and our bikes on our kayaks. Dang it! Wet and miserable from the beginning. When we arrived on the opposite shore, we faced a hellacious biking leg on rocky single-track littered with a multitude of cacti. I began the ride optimistic. Damon recently bought me some cycling shoes, and it was my first time to try them out on a trail. At the beginning of the ride I felt like a kid who had just graduated from training wheels. Following my third life-threatening fall off of the bike and onto the rocks, I felt like a welterweight who had just been on the wrong end of Mike Tyson's fist. I seriously thought I had fractured bones. Damon was very supportive and encouraging. I was not in the mood to hear support OR encouragement. A few tears were shed. Ugly comments were made to Damon. I changed into my tennis shoes, which were fortunately in my pack, and spent the great majority of leg 2 pushing my bike instead of riding it. So, the race was young and already I had experienced a meltdown. Meltdowns were actually the story of the day. Each member of the team had one, as you will read below, but I was the first egg to crack.

Following the bike from Hades, we set out on foot for a trek. It was uneventful and we easily found the checkpoints and an abandoned football that Dane hurled at Kirk a few times. By the end of the trek, things were heating up.

Back at Transition Area 2, we were instructed to kayak across the river for a mystery challenge. My boat buddy was Dane, and we got our first taste of paddling together during this river crossing. It was a short row, and it really seemed like things might work out. Back onshore we climbed the steep hill to the main TA and headed for the rock wall. Enter Meltdown #2. Dane volunteered to be the first to climb the wall, and with his freakish upper-body strength, scurried up like a monkey in the zoo. Kirk went next and was a little slower, but still skillful and efficient. I was not enthusiastic about going third, but figured I had to so that if I had trouble I could rest during Damon's turn and make another attempt. With coaching from my boys, I was able to conquer the wall in a pretty respectable time with no mishaps. You have probably figured out by now whose meltdown this is. Yes, Damon was our final team member to approach the obstacle. He made it about halfway with no problem, but that is where the wall becomes vertical. About a quarter of the way up the vertical portion of the wall, disaster struck. Damon's size twelves were really too big to get much traction on the teeny footholds, and his upper body strength was waning fast. He slipped, tried to save it, and ended up dangling from his safety rope and almost taking out a member of another team. This happened two or three times, but he finally made it to the top after Kirk and Dane threatened to send me up to help him. Once he was back on the ground, I noticed that his eyes were greener than they should be. This is Damon's #1 sign of severe dehydration. Kirk also saw chills on him, so we hurried him back to the TA and a big waterbottle of gatorade.

After rowing our boats back to TA 2, we faced our second biking expedition. I was praying that there would be no more single track, and God was merciful. This biking portion was on the road! Hooray! As I mentioned before, things got hotter as the day went on. At some points when we were riding the bikes on the rode during this part of the race, it felt like someone was spraying you in the face with a blow torch. We discovered later that temperatures that day were record highs, hitting 103 degrees in the shade. Enter the Zeringue Meltdown. Kirk has recurring cramping problems, and at some point during this ride, they recurred. The cramping culminated with a double-quad cramp so intense that Kirk road his bike off the road and into a thorn tree. Ouch! He persevered, though, and made it through not only that leg, but the remaining 12 plus hours of the race. Must be that marathoner spirit.

Back at TA 2, it was time to transport the bikes back across the river. This time Kirk rowed a boat with a bike strapped on top and towed a boat bearing 3 bikes while the rest of us took a refreshing dip in the lake. Back at the main TA, we received our instructions for the next leg of the race: what we had all been dreading, the paddle.

One thing that I forgot to mention before that made this race very unique was the fact that Austin has been experiencing a pretty major drought recently, and the lake was down 45 feet from its normal water level. This made navigation a challenge, because when the guys were plotting the points, many of them appeared to be in the middle of the lake on the topographical map. As luck would have it, Austin experienced relief for their parched landscape during our race. It did not rain on us, but a huge thunderstorm blew up just in time for us to be paddling down a lake while lightning struck all around and gale-force winds blasted us in the face. Enter the Welch Meltdown. I obviously lack the upper body strength to really pose much of a threat as a kayaker, so we had decided that I would paddle with Dane, who has the most upper-body strength on our team. Unfortunately for both of us, neither one of us are experts at steering a kayak. This deficiency led to a general tendency of our boat to aim to the right, and caused us to have to spend a majority of our paddle strokes on correcting course. When I say "us," I really mean "Dane" because I was just not strong enough to paddle the entire time, and often questioned whether my paddling was benefitting us at all or just making the boat go crooked. Somehow we managed to not get struck by lightning and to make it to the boat takeout. I could have kissed that sandy beach, and I think Dane could have, too. His arms were completely done.

At the boat drop, we treked again as darkness set in. This was disappointing because things become much more difficult in the dark, but we also felt a sense of accomplishment because the temperatures finally started to drop and we knew we had at least beat the heat. We had a pretty easy time on this trek and all too soon arrived back at the dumb water. Dane was not ready to abandon me yet, and struggled through the paddle back to the TA with a martyr's resign. Damon and Kirk towed when they could, but mostly we just all suffered.

Back at the TA we got the worst news of the entire race: the next leg was another stinking paddle. This was the only point during the race that quitting seriously crossed my mind. I was sick of being in that boat. We decided that in order for Dane to survive the race we needed to switch boat buddies, so Damon took me on and Kirk and Dane teamed up. Navigating a lake at night in a kayak is challenging. It is even more challenging when the water is so low that you encounter unseen obstacles and get stuck, and it is decidedly miserable when the rain storm that just passed opens the floodgates upstream and causes a swift influx of water to turn a placid lake into a class 4 white water rapid that you have to paddle up. We struggled for at least 15 minutes against the waves before we noticed that a tree on the shore was not moving. You guessed it, we were paddling as hard as we could just to stay in one place against the rush of water. It was like a nightmare. We paddled as hard as we could and by some miracle made it to the muddy bank where Damon abandoned ship and stuck fast in hip-deep mud. I literally had to claw my way to the top of the steepest, slickest mud embankment I have ever witnessed. It was not my most graceful moment of life, but it was one of my funniest. Dane single-handedly dragged the kayak onshore by a long rope because he refused to descend into the murky pit. We treked again. More of the same uneventful orienteering. I spent a good portion of the trek sitting on the ground with my headlight off and looking at the stars while the boys searched for the checkpoints. I preferred keeping my light off to having bugs swarm my face. All too soon we were back at the cursed boats, but we at least had a little spring in our step knowing that the current would be with us and this would be our last paddle.

Back at the main TA, we received our instructions for the final leg: a trek. It was after 4 in the morning and exhaustion was setting in. I opted to leave my pack, knowing that I was plenty hydrated and not sweating anymore since the temp was now hovering somewhere in the low 80's or high 70's. There were 4 checkpoints on this leg. We got one, accidentally bypassed a second, and then ran into a bedraggled Hefner Bunny Pie who advised us to abandon one as a lost cause. We took their advice but still searched for the third checkpoint. Kirk spent some time napping on the road, Dane napped while he pace-counted, I did some sleep-walking, and Damon just kept shining his stupid laser pointer and forcing me and Dane to bushwhack through clumps of cactus and thorn trees. Eventually we abandoned the third checkpoint in the interest of making it to the finish line before the cutoff, grabbed the last checkpoint on the hike back, and turned in our passport around 7:11 a.m.

As a veteran of Too Cool Races, I knew not to expect any fanfare at the finish line. After receiving our, "Good job," from the race directors, we faced the most disappointing realization of the night: we now had to pack up all our gear before we could leave. This process took a while, especially since some team members spent portions of the packing up time napping in chairs. Once we finally had everything back on the truck (except for my cycling gloves, which appear to be the one casualty of "No Sweat") we faced the depressing prospect of driving 30 minutes back to civilization before we were able to rest our weary heads. Neither of the big, strong men were up to the task, so it fell to me. Dane slept in blissful ignorance, Damon talked to his parents via cellphone in a monotone drone, and I struggled to keep my eyelids open and the truck on the road. The drive that should have taken about 30 minutes took closer to an hour. Remember what I wrote above about the curvy road? Well, it was so bad that I thought I was going to meet my own back bumper on some of the curves. Truly the most terrifying experience of the whole ordeal.

Back at the hotel, I faced a dilemma. I wanted three things very badly: a shower, food, and sleep. The only problem was the order I would choose for procuring all three. In a perfect world I would have been able to eat while I took a bath and then fall asleep in the tub, but since we don't live in a perfect world, I let the boys shower while I ate. I feasted on a huge burger from Carl's Junior and a chocolate milkshake. When it was my turn for the shower, it was not such a great experience since I had many scrapes from thorns and cactus that stung pretty badly. I also was a little overzealous about scrubbing a few spots that I thought were dirt only to discover that they were bruises. Nice. I finally collapsed in the bed and I must say those 4 hours of sleep were the absolute best that I have ever had. We left around 4 p.m. so that Dane could make it back in time for his early shift at work, and so that we could catch a couple of hours of sleep in our own beds before we reported for duty as well.

All in all, I had fun racing, in spite of the many challenges. It is a big feeling of accomplishment to know that you have completed a 24 hour race, so I am proud of that. I could not have done it without my teammates, who each contributed in his own special way. I think that is the beauty of adventure racing, that it gives you a chance to depend on your friends and vice versa in a very unique way. Thanks, boys.

Also, a big thanks to my wonderful in-laws, without whose babysitting skills "No Sweat" would not have been possible.

Lost Diaries 8

Friday, June 24, 2005

Damon’s first summer school final was due today, so we did not leave Lyon until about 17:30. We had originally planned to visit Lucern and Interlaken, but since we only had 2 days, we decided to stay in Interlaken the whole time. We took the train from Lyon to Geneva, Switzerland, and went through customs there. Every time we go through customs Damon is subjected to increasingly serious scrutiny, since he sweated through his passport and it is hard to read now. We were only in Geneva for about 30 minutes and we were starving, so we followed signs out of the train station to a nearby McDonalds where we enjoyed chicken nuggets and a hamburger. I am normally not a big nugget fan, but I decided that it was better than picking onions off of my cheeseburger, since they are so small you can never get them all. Fast food joints over here have woefully never heard of “your way, right away.” To get anything unusual, like a hamburger with no pickles and onions, takes at least 10 minutes. So I choked down the nuggets and we made the train in time. The next leg was from Geneva to Bern, and the train tracks wound around Lake Geneva, which was just spectacular. You can see the mountains in the distance and from the train tracks the little Swiss houses lead all the way down to the water. The water is the most beautiful blue; it looks more like Disneyland than a real lake. Switzerland in real life looks exactly like it does in your imagination. You just expect Heidi to step out of one of the houses and offer you a Riccola at any moment. Well, as we were chugging along on this train, it stopped in the middle of the tracks and they made an announcement in several languages, none of which we spoke. Turned out the train was broken down, and they were working on it. We had a connection to catch in Bern, so the conductor came through and asked everyone about their destinations, and we told him. The man with the drink cart came by and gave us our pick off the cart for free since the train was stalled. He was from Egypt, and very nice. He spoke Arab, French and English. Damon asked him if he had ever seen the pyramids, and he looked at him like he was crazy and asked what kind of an Egyptian would he be if he had never seen the pyramids? So we were living the good life drinking free orange juice and eating free gummy bears when the train started up again. It was too late for us to make our connection, so the conductor came by and told us to check with the information booth when we got off the train for the next available train to Interlaken, and he also gave us two vouchers worth 15 francs of free rail food each. So we were totally pumped that our train had been delayed, and marveled at how wonderful the Swiss are on customer service compared to the French who have never heard of it. Also, you may have noticed that crossing the border into Switzerland marked the first time that we have been in a country that is not overly fond of the Euro. They will take paper Euros, but no coin Euros, and they always give your change in Swiss francs. The nice thing was that the Franc is weaker than the Euro, so at least we had something going for us there. When we detrained in Bern, there were booths on every train track with people in them to help passengers find their next train. It was amazing. In all the other countries we have traveled to, you are basically on your own in the train station. You can go to the main desk and wait in line forever to ask a question, but it is hit and miss if they even speak English and they are not what you would call “there to serve.” But Switzerland was refreshingly different with customer service people on every track, short lines to ask questions, and plenty of good information given in a friendly manner. Swiss trains get two thumbs up and it must just kill them to work with the rest of these unpredictable yahoos in the other parts of Europe. The Italians are late, the French are rude, the Dutch make their own schedule and don’t let anyone else know about it, but the Swiss are awesome. Too bad it is such a small country.

Okay, so we had to wait a little while to hop our Interlaken train, but we were in such a good mood from the freebies and being treated like human beings that we were not phased at all. We wandered around the train station/shopping mall for a while, but most of it was closed, so we mostly waited. We would be in Interlaken a little after midnight, and we were originally supposed to be there around 23:30. The only thing that I was a little concerned about at this point was the fact that we did not have hotel reservations. Rick Steves was disappointingly short on Switzerland info in the book that we have, basically telling you to skip Interlaken and adventure sports and head to some mountain town with one street and sleep in hay. This is decidedly not our style, so we thought we would just wing this one and see what happened. So of course, I was having a nervous breakdown thinking that I would be sleeping on a park bench in the rain or who knows what. There are 2 Interlaken train stations – West and Ost (East) – so we decided that we would get off at the first one that we came to and that way we would be able to walk through the whole town (which takes 20 minutes) looking for a hotel. When we got off the train, the first hotel was a Best Western, but they had a sign up saying, “No Vacancies,” so that made me a little tense, but the next hotel was Hotel Krebs, and when we walked into the lobby it was the cutest thing I had ever seen, so I thought of course they would want way too much to stay there. Damon asked about the price, and it was at the top of our limit, but then the man said breakfast was included, which is rare here and worth at least 20 Euros, so we were sold. The room was delightful. It had a normal sized bathroom with a shower that functioned in the American style. Plus, washcloths, which they NEVER have over here. The bed was one actual double sized mattress, no top sheet, but a lovely down comforter, and no air, but it was cool enough to open the windows and shutters and enjoy the delicious alpine breeze. We slept like babies, and got to cover up for the first time in weeks. We were happy as pigs in mud.

Saturday, June 25, 2005

We slept in Saturday morning and got downstairs in time to take advantage of our free breakfast. Then we asked a few questions at the front desk and set out to find a company to go white water rafting with. The temperature was great, warm enough for shorts and t-shirts but with a nice cool breeze blowing that gave you chills every once in a while. The sun was out when we started off, and we were so happy to not be sweating in France. We stopped at a few places and asked about their activities, schedules, and prices, and Damon basically decided that he not only wanted to white water raft, but he also wanted to go canyoning, which is strange and I will explain later. Only one company still had spots available and had trips that fit our train schedule, so we decided to go rafting Saturday at 16:00 and canyoning Sunday at 10:30. We rented some mountain bikes and did some quick postcard and souvenir shopping before it started raining, so we stopped by the hotel to pick up our raincoats, and kept peddling. When you are only in Switzerland for 2 days you can’t let the rain mess up your schedule. We asked a few people about mountain bike trails, and the basic response was, “See the mountain you want to ride up? Go to it.” Apparently mountain biking in Switzerland is not quite the same as in the U.S. By just heading toward one of the mountains that we could see, we ended up stumbling across the ruins of a medieval castle. We parked the bikes and climbed all over the castle, which had a historical marker thoughtfully displayed in English among other languages, and said the castle had been built sometime around the year 1200. It was very neat, much smaller than you would think, and very tall and steep. The steps were narrow and would wind right on the edge of the mountain. They had installed all kinds of handrails and stuff, so it was not too dangerous, so chill out, Tonie and Clara. From where we were at the castle, we could see a long way, and we saw a huge tent set up and heard music coming from it. I remembered that Interlaken was having a huge concert/festival thing and that tons of bands would be there, like Green Day and Queens of the Stone Age, and stuff like that, so we decided to go there. It took a while to figure out how to get there, and when we did it cost too much to go in when we were not sure who was playing right then and we only had about 2 hours left before rafting, so we listened for a minute at the gate and headed for another mountain. We ended up riding the bikes through a meadow of knee high grass, crossing two sets of railroad tracks, and lifting them over a fence before discovering that we would have to cross a big river to get where we were trying to go, so we had to do all of that in reverse and find a bridge. We then road up something called Bike Trail D, which was really a narrow paved road, through the mountain village to the top of the mountain. We could look out and see the castle that we had explored and even see another castle above it, and we were so high on the new mountain that we were looking down on both of them. We saw mountain goats, and it was so steep I had to get off and push if that tells you anything about the ride. Damon loved it, but I had finally had enough peddling and being rained on, so we coasted to the bottom and made our way back to the hotel in time to change into our swimsuits, return the bikes, and grab a bite before rafting.

Eating…we had seen a little café near our rafting place so we decided to try it out. This turned out to be a very bad decision. They were not serving lunch anymore, but had the proverbial sandwiches still available, so we ordered two and a large bottle of water and had a seat. The man asked us if we wanted cheese, or bacon, or both, so we asked for both, with visions of lovely tostis floating in our imaginations. Well, our first hint of trouble was when the water came out and it said mineral spring water on the outside, but was in fact the dreaded sparkling water of Europe. We were so thirsty we choked some down anyway and hoped for better things to come with the food. Wrong again. We were served sandwiches composed of 2 slices of really thick homemade wheat bread with very hard crust and slices of fatty ham in the middle with two thick rectangles of some type of pail yellow cheese with a hard white rind all around it and a white spread full of pickle bits and onion pieces. Disgusting. I nearly puked after the first bite, and eventually resorted to eating the dry piece of bread on top, giving Damon my ham, and scraping the white spread off of the remaining bread to make Damon a makeshift sandwich of ham. It was another adventure in really bad European food, so with a few minutes left we set off to find a place that had some Pringles. We found some at a nearby youth hostel, and also purchased some Swiss chocolate, since that seemed to be the thing to do, and a large “real” water. We were sitting on a bench savoring these items when a few of the girls that Damon goes to school with came by and we realized that we were on the same rafting trip. We all boarded a van together headed for the Outdoor Interlaken supply tent. When we got there, they told us to strip down to our swimsuits and use the restroom, then hit the gear room to get ready for rafting. To go rafting, you have to wear a wetsuit, wetsuit jacket, wetsuit booties, life jacket, and snazzy yellow helmet. The most delightful part of this sexy ensemble is that these are the same suits used by everyone of every nationality that comes to Outdoor Interlaken to raft, so you can imagine the smell and general concerns about communicable diseases that were now swirling through my head. Plus, everything was still wet from its previous inhabitant, so I was totally grossed out, but suited up anyway. All the helmets had different names on the front, so Damon’s said “Starfish” and mine said “Luke.” You can imagine that after putting on all this getup, we both felt dead sexy. We were herded into vans and taken to the river. On the way the guides revealed the fact that the river that we would be rafting in is fed by a glacier, and the point where we would be starting at was about 3 miles away from the aforementioned glacier. So basically, the water we would be getting into had been ice a mere 3 miles before rushing down to the boat launch. The temperature of the water? Oh, about 4 degree Celsius, or for you Americans, about 37 degrees Fahrenheit! So basically a very small step above FREEZING. Those of you who know me well probably know that I have been cold literally since birth. I once went to a water park during a tropical depression and got so cold that not only my lips, but my entire nose and lower face turned blue. Cold is not my thing, and I was not too pumped to hear these new revelations. When we got to the launching point, the guides gave us a mini tutorial, or what I like to call, the “Don’t Do This of You Could Die” talk that usually precedes any adventure activity. There was a pretty long list, and my nerves began to fray even more. One of the tips was that if you did fall out of the raft, you should assume the “white water swimming” position, which basically means curling into the fetal postion and letting the angry river wash you downstream. We were separated into groups, and we decided to go with the 3 LSU girls and these 2 other random girls; our assigned guide was Pete from South Africa. Pete had a huge scab across his nose from a recent bungee accident, so that really set my mind at ease about Pete’s level of sanity and professionalism. We had practice there in the parking lot, and learned all of Pete’s commands, which consisted of “Hard forward,” “Backward,” “Jump left,” “Jump right,” and my personal favorite, “Get down.” Practice made it apparent that this was to be a hopeless journey, and we headed for the water feeling very ill-prepared. When we approached the water, the temperature dropped about 20 degrees. The water was so cold that the mist off of it was enough to take your breath away. We took our places in the raft within 10 feet of our first rapid, and they shoved us off with Pete in the back and little warning. The first thing that I did was whack myself hard in the face with my paddle to break the ice. I am not sure how I managed this, but I hit myself in the upper lip/nose area and basically busted my lip and I am pretty sure displaced my nasal cartilage for about the 5th time in my life. But the river was moving fast and there was no time to cry about it, because Pete was screaming commands at us, and we had to row and get soaked with tons of freezing water. It literally took your breath away every time the water hit you. They had cautioned us about not letting go of the T-bar ends of our paddles. This was not a problem for me, because within seconds my hands were frozen into the claw position, the left around my T-bar, and the right around the rope on the side of the raft. Basically the first rapid that they put you into is the worst one, and then you get a few breaks on the way down, including long stretches where you pose for pictures and talk to your guide about his homeland, which I rather enjoyed. Also, one of the other guides got his raft close to ours and grabbed a girl out of our boat and dragged her into his. Pete retaliated by snatching a Korean girl, almost dropping her, and dragging her in the water for about 10 seconds before pulling a very wet and terrified hostage into our raft. They switched back pretty quickly after that. There was also a point in the river where they told us we could get in if we wanted to, so Damon’s bright self bails off in the water, like any of us girls can help him back into the raft. He had to work his way around to Pete to get pulled back in. Peanut Butter (Amanda) also jumped in, and quickly saw the error of her ways and begged us to pull her back in. She is much smaller than Damon, so we were able to help her out. At the end of the river we paddled into one of the Interlaken lakes, and it was just beautiful. (Interlaken means “between the lakes”) The water was clear and blue and the lake was surrounded by snowcapped peaks and Swiss Chalets. The water was supposedly much warmer here, so close to shore I jumped out, but it was actually pretty cold there too, so I lived to regret that decision. When we were back on the shore, one of the guides took one look at my blue face and shoved me into the heated van, promising me a hot shower at the base. I think he thought I had hypothermia or something. Anyway, we went back to the base, stowed our gear, and headed back to the hotel to rest and shower before eating Mexican food with our rafting buddies. The Mexican joint was called El Azteca, and it was a 2 on the 1-10 Mexican scale, but still MUCH better than lunch, since it was edible. We were exhausted after supper, so we crashed at the Hotel Krebs and set the alarm for canyoning in the morning.

Sunday, June 26, 2005

We slept in again and got up in time to pack up our things, eat breakfast, check out, and wait for Outdoor Interlaken to pick us up. Kacey picked us up at 10:30, and we headed back to the base to grab some gear. Since you have an hour van ride to the canyoning location, you only pack your gear, and do not have to put it on yet, which was a relief. The gear situation was much the same as the day before, communal and wet, but the suits were thicker and there was an additional top layer. Sleeping through the night had revealed that the swelling had gone down from my paddle injury, but my nose was very sore, and apparently I had also jammed my finger somehow, so it was a little swollen. Our canyoning group consisted of us, three American guys, and 6 Frenchmen, plus 2 guides: Kacey from New Zealand and some other guy. The mountain views on the ride to the canyon were spectacular. Waterfalls cutting their way down mountains from snow-capped peaks. Breathtaking. We really wished we had brought the camera, but thought it would be safer in the lockers back at the base, so sorry about that. We arrived without incident and suited up. After we had all of our gear on, Kacey drove us to the top of the mountain, and we got ready for our first obstacle…the 200 foot repel down the side of a vertical rock wall into the canyon. Needless to say, neither of us volunteered to go first. After Damon went, there was just me and 3 Frenchies left at the top with the guides. One of the French guys asked me, “Aren’t you afraid?” I said, “Yes, a little. Are you?” He was VERY afraid. When my turn came and the guide hooked the rope to my karabiner, I told him I was kind of scared, so he went easy on me. I made it without incident, but I did NOT look down. Once we were down in the canyon the Frenchies started running around and splashing each other and jumping on rocks, which is exactly what Kacey told us NOT to do, so when the other guide came down there he chewed them out, and that made me feel better, since at least he was serious about safety while guiding us in this very unsafe activity. The first obstacle was a huge rock waterfall that you jump off of about 15 feet to the pool below. Kacey would throw a rock to show you where to land. I was a little nervous about landing in the right spot, but I did alright. The water was cold, but not nearly as cold as the rafting water, and we had so many layers on that it was not too bad. My hands weren’t even cold, because I stayed out of the water most of the time. We made our way down the canyon sliding down rocks on our backs, “rock grinding” – which is basically throwing your weight onto a slick rock surface and riding down on your life jacket like a sled, and jumping off of rocks. At the end was a zip line. They would fix a releasable rope from the pulley to your karabiner, and then when you swung out over the water Kacey would yell, “Let go!” when you needed to release. Damon tried to coach me on how to land, but the guide told me to lay back and I did, which resulted in my third injury of the adventure weekend, falling from at least 25 feet in the air and landing in the water flat on my back. It knocked the wind out of me and made me a little sore today. I kept having flashbacks to that time I jumped off of Jamie and Tres’ roof onto the trampoline and nearly killed myself the entire time we were in the canyon, because if you land wrong you are out of luck. I definitely landed wrong on this one, but I survived. The last slide we went down headfirst superman style, and I took that opportunity to bruise and scrape my hip bone on the rock. But I made it out of the canyon alive, and at the bottom after we changed all our gear they had “sandwiches” and beers for us. You all know I am a lady and though very thirsty, drank no beer I am glad to report. The sandwiches consisted of the same kind of bread we had at the worst café ever on Saturday, as well as cheese that is derived from the cows in the adjacent pasture that were roaming by when we arrived. The cows were a trip, because they all had bells on. It sounded like a high school football game. The cheese was like most cheese in Europe, dry and weird tasting. I tried a small piece, but stuck with the bread for the most part. After we made it back down to the base we changed into dry clothes and asked if there were any pictures or video that we could buy from the trip. We bought a CD of rafting photos Saturday, but for some reason there was no photographer on Sunday, so we don’t have any pictures from that adventure, but there are some random canyoning pictures on the CD we have so you can all see that when we get home. Kacey drove us back to train station and we were there in plenty of time.

The rides from Interlaken to Bern and Bern to Geneva were without incident. We spent our 30 free francs at the dining car, so that was a free meal and we were excited about that. We had about an hour and a half layover in Geneva, so we stored our luggage and set out with the camera to do Geneva freestyle – no map, no plan, no problem. Saw some cool things including Cow Parade cows, which I love and Damon photographed me with. Were back on the train in plenty of time, but that is where it got complicated. We have a first class Eurail pass, but when I booked the tickets (by myself for the first time) the lady told me there were no first class seats available and we would have to go second class. It was only one train, and we needed to be on it, so I took it. Well Damon just had a Pourciau fit over this. He had first class tickets and WOULD NOT ride in second class under any circumstances. But, the only first class car was a sleeper car. So Damon found a cabin with no one in it and a “Not Reserved” sign on the outside and we set up shop in there. This was really nice for 15 minutes until the VERY irate French conductor came in and proceeded to scream at us about being in the wrong place, and needing reservations even to get a seat on this train, and that it was not possible for us to sit in first class, regardless of our Eurail pass, and all these cabins were reserved, and we must leave NOW. So that of course really embarrassed me, because it made a huge scene, and it did not phase Damon at all, but we were banished back to second class where our reservations were for and Damon vowed that he will make the reservations next time and it is no more mister nice guy at the reservation counter. I feel sorry for the next person who waits on him there. We made it home fine though, and arrived a little before midnight, were able to catch one of the last buses back to the hot apartment, where at least the elevator was finally fixed, so we did not have to climb 6 flights of stairs to sweat, but could do it gradually after entering our apartment/sauna. Mom and Damon’s family were all on line when we got home so we both got to chat with family. That was a nice way to end the weekend. Sweaty…I mean sweet dreams.

Monday, June 27, 2005
This morning was Damon’s first day of class for the second summer term, so his schedule changed and he had to leave a little earlier and stay gone a little longer. I was so exhausted from the weekend that I did not get up with Damon but slept in. (which I never do) When I finally got up I checked email and celebrity gossip, and went downstairs to ask about moving. Today was supposed to be the day we got moved to an air conditioned apartment. You may remember that we were supposed to be in one from the beginning, and then were promised one after two weeks, and then after two weeks were told it would be today. Today when I went downstairs and inquired, they told me it might not be possible today, and might be tomorrow. I said, “Well, I would just like to warn you that my husband is at school now, but he will be back at 13:30, and if we don’t have air conditioning he will be VERY, VERY UNHAPPY.” They said they would check it out and call me. That must have done the trick, because an hour later they called and said I could come get a key to the apartment across the hall and move. When I picked up the key, our second package from the Pourciau’s had arrived, so it was indeed the best day yet in France. We got air conditioning and American foodstuffs all in one fell swoop, and the two of us could hardly contain our excitement. We are now living in a semi-civilized fashion, (there is still no dishwasher, which we all know is a required item for the truly genteel) and the prospects for the next 5 weeks away from home seem decidedly brighter. Thanks for your prayers and thoughts. More on the journey soon. We are in Germany next weekend!