We got off to a later start this morning; we slept in until 8:00, and after breakfast, I had to do internet research on what to do with the day. The problem with Tirol is that is has a ton of worthwhile things to do, so I had to narrow it down a bit. We finally got underway around 10:45.

We first headed west to Mieders, a small town in a valley surrounded by mountains, one of which has a glacier on it — very much still snow-capped in June. We were there to ride the Alpine slide/toboggan. It has the self-claim of being the steepest track in the Alps, and while not the longest, it is nothing to sneer at at 2.8 km long (about 1.7 miles). We arrived and were told that we had to wait for thirty minutes for the track to dry from the overnight rain. We still bought two-ride ticktes (Mer had remembered they are cheaper that way). We discovered while riding a much-shorter slide last year in Slovenia that you want two rides — one to see how the track goes and to take it easy for seeing the sights, and one for speed.

We passed the time chatting with a grandmother from Virginia and her husband from England and their granddaughter from Kansas City. They were very nice, and after about a half hour, the track opened. We rode up the fairly fast gondola with a German couple who were driving about Europe in an RV.

When we got to the top, we got in the short line for the toboggan, and had a few minutes to enjoy the scenery. The mountains here were spectacular, and could be seen easily, since the morning clouds were starting to break up. After a few minutes of quiet contemplation, it was show time!

Mer went first, and about 30 seconds later I got to go. What a rush. It is a beautiful, amazing, fast, wild ride. You control your own speed on a toboggan, as long as you do not hit the person in front. We both could take it easy along good sections of the track, and then let it run free on some of the steep drops. The track went into a dense forest area, and the temperature dropped and you could smell the trees, all while whizzing along. Even the fastest rider takes over four minutes to get to the bottom, and most riders take longer than that.

We both had successful first rides, and jumped right back on the gondola, which we shared with one quiet German man. When we got to the top, we took time to sit on a deck chair and enjoy the beauty around us. We wandered around a couple of small man-made ponds on a trail, mostly to see the mountains from different angles — you could even just catch a glimpse of the side of the glacier a couple of mountains away. We took our time walking, and then headed back for the speed run.

Which turned out to be just okay. I don’t know if it was the sleds we got on, or if they are all like that, but mine did not feel like it was running free (clear of the brake). Even when I had the speed control all the way forward, it felt like something was dragging. I did the entire run at full speed and never felt like I had to brake until the last three very sharp turns. It was still a fun run, but not quite the heart-pounding speed I had hoped for. Mer said hers was the same way. I kicked around buying one more ticket to see if it was a fluke, but the tickets were not cheap and I was afraid we would get the same experience again. It was still a ton of fun, and as Meredith pointed out, we’d gotten to ride Alpine slides in the actual Alps.

We jumped back in the car and drove west to the town of Rattenberg. I had seen on a Tirol tourism site that Rattenberg was known for glass blowing, and had live demonstrations. I love decorative glass, so away we went.

We got to “the smallest town in Austria” (according to the map I picked up) and I was delighted to see it had some castle ruins, and it had another site I had seen online but had not realized was in the same town — the Augustiner Museum. It is a Christian artifact and art museum in an old Augustine monastery. Plus, we found out from the brochure, the four-euro ticket got you entrance to the church attic and the bell tower — the only such climbs you can make in a working church in Austria. We went there first.
Since Mer and I both love religious art and history, the place was amazing. Despite the tour buses that crammed into the main street of the town to buy up glass, we had this museum in a back corner of town all to ourselves. There were tons of paintings from the 14th and 15th centuries (the monastery was built in the late 1300s). Mer pointed out that this random little museum in a dinky town had a collection that would make the core of a great regional museum back home. It is good to be a European Catholic church — you have old things.

One altar had a jointed Jesus on it so he could move for Passion Week plays — we had never seen anything like that. The figure could even move its tongue. There were some very striking paintings covering four hundred years, and it was nice to be able to compare the styles and how they changed.

The treasury room held gold and silver vessels for church services, including crosses, host containers (for the wafers for communion), silver book covers, and more. Again, a little town, which, granted, used to be very wealthy, has a room full of silver and gold objects, most of which were two hundred years old or older. Amazing.

We looked in the elaborately decorated church, and then went through the second floor of exhibits, and then we climbed up to the attic. The attic was an attic — it was full of more old figures and art. That was good in its way, but what was amazing to us was we could climb up over the ceiling of the church, between the ceiling and the real roof. We got to see all the structure that held the ceiling up; since the ceiling was mostly plaster, it could not support its own weight, so there were beams holding the ceiling up, quite separate from the beams holding the roof up. You could walk all around the entire area and even see the superstructure of the main dome. Very, very cool.

Then we climbed all the way up through the bell tower, to a level one level above the bell (no one knows exactly why there was an additional level). Interestingly, the bell tower was made of timber and not stone because it was added on to the existing abbey, and so the usual massive foundation could not be set up. We got to the see the old clock mechanism (the clock itself was removed in a renovation in the 1800s) and the old bells. The views from the top of the tower were excellent, and I did not freak out too badly (I’m scared of heights). We climbed down and looked on one more room of items we had missed, and then left the museum. That was eight euros very well spent.

The town of Rattenberg is very cute, built between a cliff and the Inn River. As such, the layout of the town is much the same as it has been for hundreds of years. Some glass companies opened stores here around 1900, and it has since become a center of glass objects and art. The only downside was the town was overrun by tourists — the town is a stop for some tour buses, and so it was more crowded that I would have wished.

We ducked into the main glass store I had wanted to see, where they have live glass blowing. The place was amazing — I have never seen so much fine glass artwork, and never in so many styles and colors. We watched a glass blower work for a few minutes before I decided to check out a small opening in the wall. It led to an artificial cave full of thematically arranged glass objects. That “cave” led to another “cave” of glass art, and that “cave” led to a REAL cave. The real cave was damp and cool, and the glass company (Schauglasblaserei) had set up an open-air cabin in it, with two dummies (a man and a woman) sitting at a table with place settings and roses all made of glass. It was not what we were expecting at all. We made our way back out of the cave and the store and into the street. I wanted to check out the castle.

You can walk up to the castle, and it is of course up. We huffed our way up to the top, where we had great views of the Inn valley, the town, and the surrounding mountains. The keep of the castle, which seems to be intact, was locked up, which was disappointing. We rested a bit at the top, and took an easier way back to town. To finish up our visit to Rattenberg, we walked along the paved trail along the Inn (it seems as if Austrians have paved trails along every river, which is amazing).

Back at the car, I got us back on the highway going west back toward Hall, but I got off at Wattens (home of the barfing giant, as you may remember). We kept going, and then up, and up, and up, until we reached Wattenberg at 3,280 feet. I wanted to have supper here, and was surprised to not find a small village as I had envisioned, but a scattering of buildings. We stopped next to what turned out to be a restaurant, but they were closed. A man there told us in broken English to “go 500 meters, left, then down!” We did that, and we found Gasthof Sage, a restaurant next to an unexpected soccer pitch and basketball court.

We went in, and were told, in very limited English, that it was a special evening, and they would have to check to see if they could seat us. They did, and we sat. The special evening was that the restaurant was only serving a traditional area food called krapfen. We had no idea what that was, but we were hungry and charmed at finding something so far off the beaten tourist path, so we said we would try it. It turned out to be a fried turnover stuffed with potato and cheese. You bought them piecemeal, and so Mer and I each had five with the understanding that we would have a second supper back at the hotel so that our only supper would not consist of only fried pastry.

That was a great travel experience, and the servers were very patient with their limited English and our nonexistent German. We drove back home, and I even managed to look away from the winding downhill road once or twice to see the amazing views around us. Then I looked back at the road, which was too narrow and too steep for my liking.

Happily, by then we had found out the name of the dish. So, when we were at a narrow place in the road with an oncoming car and pedestrians on the side of the road, I got to mutter, “Get the krapfen out of my way!” Several other witty remarks like that were made during the evening, because our humor is both juvenile AND culturally insensitive.

We got back to the hotel, tired after a long day, and we did eat a second supper in the hotel restaurant. That left us in good shape to go back to the room and take it easy. Mer and I split time “being in charge” on vacation, and after four days of my saying what we should do, I hand the authority over to Meredith for the next six days. This head will not miss the crown for awhile — it is hard trying not to screw up. Happily, the last four days went well, even with some rain. Here is to Mer having even better success!

Today was happily surreal at times — mountains coming slowly out of hiding, corporate Austria doing something right, and roads far too narrow for traffic going both ways.

Meredith and I had a rough night sleeping — I had a pulled muscle in my neck which was causing a headache and thus a stomachache, and it was really hot in our room. My getting up to get some aspirin woke Meredith up because she was not sleeping well because of the heat. I fixed it by opening the window, which worked, but then the birds woke us up early before dawn, so I closed it again.

We finally woke up for real to the alarm at 8:00 and got ready, including going to the expensive, but convenient, hotel buffet. I then splurged on a taxi to take us the two miles to the car rental place, where a very kind and patient young man got us our car — an Opel five-speed. Once we got underway, we drove the short drive to Hall, where we’ll be staying the next two nights.

Hall is an old salt mining town that has a good-sized old town section. It is located on the Inn River like Innsbruck, and it is surrounded by mountains. We got to our hotel about two hours early, but the room was ready, so they let us in. It is a brand-new room (they came in around 3:00 to put up shelves in the bathroom), located on the third (top) floor with a private balcony overlooking the Inn, the old town, and the mountains beyond. We were delighted.

We crossed over the covered pedestrian bridge to the town, and we explored all of the old town. Though it had not rained all day, the mountains started off the day shrouded in clouds, but while we were in the old town, one mountain came out fully from the clouds, so we grabbed a seat outside at a cafe and ate while soaking in the mountain.

Exploring the old town took a couple of hours (it is not too big, and the main church is closed for renovations), and then we went back to the hotel to regroup. I decided we should check out the Swarovski Kristallwelten (Crystal Worlds). Some background — we saw some billboards in Innsbruck of a giant shrubbery head, with water coming out of its mouth. I thought it was a fantasy picture, and jokingly told Mer it looked like a giant barfing, because that is the quality of humor I aspire to. It turns out the head is real, and when I realized that from a poster today in Hall, I got curious. It turned out to be a park made by the Swarovski Company, which makes crystal. I was skeptical that a commercial company could make anything worthwhile to visit as a tourist attraction, but the website mentioned gardens and art, and I like art in gardens. And I wanted to see the barfing giant.

It was a short drive of about fifteen minutes. We parked in outer Mongolia (or outer Tirol, if you will), because I assumed, wrongly, that the main lot would be full. Ooops. At least the mountains were mostly out from behind the clouds now, so the five-minute walk to the gate was pretty.

We got our tickets and entered the Crystal Worlds just next to and under the giant’s mouth (after the mandatory Meredith picture next to the giant). It was a room full of art showcasing crystals, which were cool, but pretty typical kinds of art. Given the number of tourists who came in with us, I thought it was going to be a long afternoon. But, two things happened — we went into the next room, where the “worlds” actually started, and after just a couple of rooms, we were slow enough that the group left us and went ahead.

The crystal worlds were varied, and each room contained one. Some were good, some amazing, some not so great, but all of them were elaborate and showcasing some use of crystal or drawing on the Swarovski technicians to implement. There was a room with robotic people giving a fashion showcase and dancing — very weird but interesting. The room where I knew I was going to be okay was the crystal dome. You walked inside a huge round room with mirrored facets everywhere. The effect was incredible — and any sound you made came back to you, and localized to you; so I could hear an echo of myself when I spoke, but not when Meredith spoke. The light kept changing in the room, so everything reflected in the room (including us) kept changing. We spent about ten minutes just in that room.

My favorite room was called “Eden.” It was a bronze forest set up in a dimly lit corridor, and the corridor was lined with mirrors. Since the “trees” broke up the direct reflection, you did not immediately see yourself in a bunch of mirrors. Instead, the room gave a very real feeling of being in a huge forest, and I could only make out the mirrors by the line in the floor where the mirror met the floor. It was very effective.

There were about a dozen “worlds” in all, and it was worthwhile. Meredith admitted she was skeptical about the place too since it was a corporate commercial, but she ended up finding it fascinating as well. And all of that was before we got to the gardens, but first we had to get through the gift store, where we managed not to buy (or break) a $17,000 crystal-studded tiger or leopard.

Out on the grounds, we followed a path up to an observation tower that overlooked the shrubbery maze that was shaped like a hand. The mountains were all out now, so it was a great spot. We wandered down to the maze and started taking random paths. We actually ended up finding the center of the maze, quite by accident, and then got back out, with a few wrong turns.

We clambered over and around the outside playground area, which looked like wooded ocean waves, and then we headed into the five-story indoor playground, where “children of all ages” were encouraged to play. Mer was happy because the hostess spoke little English, but very good Italian, so she was able to explain to Meredith how the lockers worked (to store our backpack in) and how we had to take our shoes off. The, we started playing.

The rolling wooden hill was okay, if a little tough in socks — slipping was easy. The FOUR-STORY rope web that we could climb had to be abandoned after I found out that 170 pounds on ropes on bare feet hurt. That was sad. I’m still impressed at a company that can build something that high without giving too much thought to liability.

We liked the trampoline level, and even though the trampolines were small (only about three feet across), they worked surprisingly well. It turns out my sore knee did not like the landing part, so I had to stop. The last level was a giant web — there was no real floor; it was a mesh that looked down on the trampoline level. It was much fun to see parents and grandparents playing with little kids, and we had a good time laughing ourselves.

The last major sight to see was the Crystal Clouds. These were mesh “clouds” filled with crystals that sparkled in the sun and gently banged against each other, making a gentle tinkling sound. There were thirty or more individual clouds, and they were very effective. Many of them were located over a reflecting pool, which must be quite a sight at night (the clouds are lit at night too). You could walk out on a descending ramp into the pond, so that you were waist deep in the water, but completely dry and surrounded by clouds.

So, yes, the place was a giant commercial for the wonders of Swarovski crystal, but they did it very well. We both left impressed. We hiked back to the car, and I took us over to a very small village near Hall, called Thaur.

I found out about Thaur from a tourism pamphlet that Mer happened to grab, and it looked pretty, was close to Hall, and boasted the oldest preserved church in Tirol. We arrived there after a few tight turns on narrow roads, and headed over to the biggest church. We entered through a graveyard, and looked at a few headstones to look at names and dates and the few that had photos on them, and then we headed into the church, which was still open, even at 6:15. The inside was covered in murals, the alter was gilded, and the place was beautiful, all for, as Mer pointed out, a dinky little town in the middle of nowhere. We were not (and still are not) sure that this was the old church, as there were no signs, but since the floor had old gravestones in it, and they were worn almost smooth, we decided to say we had found it.

We left the church and wandered some up toward the mountains toward a small chapel up the hill, and some ruins of an old castle, but I decided to give up, as I was not sure the road we were on went there (it did, as I found out later when I looked it up on a map). Also, it was getting close to 6:30, and we still needed supper.

So, I drove more winding, narrow streets, including a fun encounter with a determined SUV, back to Hall. We walked into Hall from our hotel and grabbed supper at the Goldener Engl, a restaurant my brother recommended from when he was here two weeks ago.

So, we had a good weather and a good-in-general day today. The weather is supposed to be very fine tomorrow, so I am hoping to get up into the mountains to see them up close.

I was momentarily quite angry when Mer’s alarm went off at 7:00 this morning — I could not remember why her alarm would be going off when I was so deep in sleep. I quickly remembered where I was and so that was fine, but it was an indication that my body was still not quite rested.

It was raining and was supposed to rain most of the time at least through early afternoon, but we ate breakfast in the hotel restaurant, where they had an impressive spread for a buffet, including having small Milka chocolate bars. You have to love a country where chocolate bars are considered part of breakfast.

We finished getting ready and headed out into the light Innsbruck rain, looking for Freien Evangelikalen Gemeinde Innsbruck – an evangelical church that has live English translation (as well as Farsi, which is interesting). We did make one wrong turn under my skillful navigation, but while we were pondering our map, we were able to help out a German cyclist who was looking for the River Inn, and could not tell direction because of the lack of sun. Applaud the power of paper maps! At any rate, we did finally find the church, about five minutes after the start of service. I was fairly amused that the church met on the third floor of a building that housed a pool hall.

The service was excellent. They had maybe 75 people there, and we were later told that the church had attendees from 20-25 countries. The service was conducted in German for the most part, and the over-headsets English translation was used as the lingua franca for the rest of the congregation (except for the Farsi speakers, who had their own translation). Many of the songs sung had some English verses, and one was entirely in English. Of the ones that were in German, most were German translations of songs we sing back in New Baltimore, so we knew the tunes well, so we could concentrate on trying to sing the German words being projected in the front of the church. Meredith did better with that than I did, but that is okay.

We had to concentrate on the sermon, as it turns out to be difficult to hear someone speaking quiet English in your ear as someone else speaks full-volume German. Of course, having to concentrate is not a bad thing when you are trying to pay attention. The sermon text was based on the exchange in Mark 10 in which Peter points out that the disciples had left everything for Jesus. Jesus replies that any who leave mother and brothers and homes will gain a hundred mothers and brothers and homes in the life to come. So, the sermon was that even if it can be hard to give up things for Jesus (like jobs or friends), it is worth it in the end. The pastor told of his own experience of leaving a bank job right after getting married, in order to go to seminary. Some of his friends thought he was crazy, and they drifted away. He himself did not know how he was going to make ends meet, but he said that in retrospect it has been easy to see how it was worth it. It was a good mixture of scripture and personal testimony, and worth hearing.

We chatted with the pastor and then the assistant pastor and then the piano player, all of whom were very friendly and spoke good or even excellent English. We think one of the great ways to experience local culture in a foreign country is to go to church, and this was a great experience. It was also a good reminder that God does not just speak English and love America. He is a little bigger than that….

We walked the twenty minutes back to the hotel in the still-light rain. I did some quick research on some things to do that would be indoors, and I settled on the Museum of Tyrolean Regional Heritage and the connected Court Church where Emperor Maximilian’s impressive (but empty) tomb monument is located.

The museums are in the old town area, and we were getting quite good at navigating that part of Innsbruck. The museum is excellent — it is three floors of well-laid-out exhibits. The first floor featured Tyrolean hand-carved nativity scenes. There were about twenty of them in all, so it made comparison very easy. Some were just three figures (Jesus, Mary, and Joseph), while some were very elaborate, with Tyrolean landscapes and dozens of figures. Many of the nativity scenes dated back to the 1800s or earlier, but they also included several from 1950 and on. They also put the viewer in one room “inside” a nativity set by using a projected film of a standard set being assembled, and the film covered three walls. It was quite effective.

The second floor had two major exhibits. One was a series of complete “Stube” rooms, about a dozen in all. Stube rooms were wood-paneled rooms with a ceramic stove in the corner. These rooms were used for family life and social occasions, and the stove was fed from the other side of the wall from the kitchen to keep the stube clear of smoke. Seeing a dozen of the rooms in quick succession gave us a good chance to compare the simpler ones with the more elaborate ones, and we felt like we got a good look at a small part of the Tyrolean culture.

The other major exhibit on the second floor was a church calendar carved in stone tiles on the floor that went around three sides of the museum courtyard. For each church holiday, there was a folk exhibit; it could be art of a saint, or farm tools for harvest, or costumes for a parade, but each was tied to the time of year suggested by the church calendar. It was a fascinating way to lay out the exhibit.

The third floor had exhibits dedicated to the folk arts (wood carving, iron making, furniture making, etc.), as well as some folk costumes from Tyrol from the past. The major exhibit on the third floor was dedicated to the issue of life and death and folk responses to these. So, it started with birth and the charms and folk customs associated with a safe birth. It progressed throughout life and included death and the customs around that. As you came to the end of the exhibit (death) a door automatically opened and if you went through it it led to a high vantage point behind the crucifix in Court Church. That was very cool.

We left the museum itself and went over to the church. The exhibit there started with a fun introduction to Emperor Maximilian. You sat in a room full of portraits of Maximilian, and a recorded narrator told us of some facts of his life. Then a door opened up on its own and we moved to the next room, where the voice talked about the Renaissance and Austria’s place in world politics during the time of Maximilian. Another door then opened up on its own and we went into a room that talked about Maximilian’s death. The entire thing was a smaller-scale Disney-style exhibit, and we loved it.

We wandered into the church itself, where the tomb is located. It is indeed very impressive. It is massive, and surrounded by twenty or more statues of people Maximilian admired or was friends with. The entire tomb took over 100 years to build, long after Maximilian died. He has never been moved from his original burying place of Wiener Neustadt in lower Austria, so the elaborate tomb is empty. One of the statues around the tomb is of King Arthur, so I got a picture of him with Meredith; the story is that Mer’s parents were going to name her Arthur had she been a boy, without realizing his name would have been Arthur King. I am fond of that story.

Maximillan was an interesting man. When he died, on his own orders, his head was shaved, all his teeth were knocked out, his body was flogged, and then covered in lime. He wanted to show how he did not want to hang on to his body and he wanted to repent from the sins he committed in the body. At the same time, he ordered the construction of one of the most elaborate tombs I have ever seen.

After we finished with the museums around 3:00, the rain had finally stopped, so I wanted to get into the mountains, a least a little. We headed over to the Innsbruck funicular (steep mountain train), which we took up to Hungerburg at 2,800 feet. We could have paid to take a cable car up even higher, but the mountain was in clouds, so we were content to look out over Innsbruck.

Almost. I decided we should take a hike up there, and so we did, even though it was uphill for fifteen minutes. I had hoped it would lead to some great views, but the mountain forest closed in almost immediately, and so after fifteen minutes, we turned around and headed back to the funicular station. After some leisurely gazing over the town, we took it back to the terminal near the old town. Before heading into the old city for supper, we trekked across the street and around the Imperial Gardens. They were very pretty, and we got to see some older men playing life-sized chess. It was only a short walk around the gardens, but it certainly woke my appetite. We found an Italian restaurant in the old town, where we had supper.

It started to rain again lightly as we walked back to the hotel, and since we were both still a bit tired from the trip over to Austria, we called it a night even though it was only 7:00. I drew Meredith a bath and started blogging. I’m hoping to be less shocked when the alarm goes off tomorrow.

Nowadays Meredith and I always fly out of Toronto when we fly to Europe. It is only about five hours away, and it not only costs much less than Cleveland, Pittsburgh, or Detroit, but it offers non-stop flights to most western European destinations. Like Munich. Even though we were aiming for Austria, flying into Munich from Toronto was much cheaper than flying to Vienna, Austria.

The one major downside to flying out of Toronto is that five-hour distance. When you add on the recommended three-hour arrival buffer for international flights, AND you add in the innate Riordan desire to arrive at least an hour earlier than recommended, AND you add in Riordan paranoia about traffic and border crossings and alien invasions and moose crossings, you (meaning me) arrive at the reasonable desire to leave a full twelve hours before your flight leaves at 8:10 pm.

We did not quite make that, leaving home around 9:00 am, but I compensated for that by deciding that lunch and supper should be combined into one meal at the airport itself. Genius! So, of course, after little traffic and an easy border crossing into Canada, we arrived at the airport in Toronto around 2:30 pm. For an 8:10 flight. Um. Yeah.

Still, it was not all bad in that I was relaxed about the time, even when we hit a huge line to drop bags off. I had checked in online, so I thought things would be easy, and they should have been — the line moved along quickly, and I got to a baggage tag kiosk that then promptly told me that it could not help me and directed me to another line to talk to a ticket agent. This line did not move along quite so well, but that was okay, given the five-plus hours we had. We got our bags taken care of, including being complimented by the ticket agent on our packing light, and we headed to security. Where there was a jaw-droppingly huge line. In fact, it turned out to be the biggest airport security line I have ever been in, taking us slightly over a full hour to get through. Who was being paranoid now? It took us over three hours to get from our car to our gate, so if we had showed up as recommended, it would have been very tight.

And, the generous three hours we had at the gate allowed for an expensive airport meal. Meredith was happy to get the Canadian equivalent of chili fries, which is poutine fries, which were covered in gravy, bacon, onions, and cheese curds. I had a more normal burger.

The flight was fine — smooth and uneventful. There was a vast movie selection (I went for Zootopia and Hail, Caesar!), and I even managed to sleep for about an hour and a half, which is not usual for me on a plane.

So we arrived in Munich. Baggage claim and passport control were a breeze — the easiest I have ever experienced, including walking up to the baggage carousel and grabbing our bags that were right in front of us — no waiting at all.

We found the train station with no issues and ran into our first challenge — buying a train ticket. There were touch-screen kiosks, and even English instructions, but we still did not understand everything we were looking at. I punched some buttons and got something that looked right for getting to Innsbruck, but the system would not take our credit card. An Austrian man came over and said something in German. We shrugged and asked if he spoke English, and he said he spoke a little. He then asked where we were going and took charge, punching buttons in a rapid manner and taking our cash (“No card!”) and giving us a ticket. He then held out his hand. I gave him two Euros ($2.50) and we jumped on the train just as it was about to pull out. That was kind, if a little self-interested, of the man, but we still had no idea what we were doing or what kind of ticket we had.

Meredith wisely scoped out a college-aged woman and asked if she spoke English. She did, and she was very helpful and kind. It turns out the man had bought us a ticket to the last town in Germany on the way to Innsbruck, and we could buy the remaining leg of the trip there. She was getting off at the same stop we needed to get off at to catch the southern train, and she printed us a schedule from a machine and got us pointed in the right direction. I am always grateful for the kindness of strangers.

And so, after another transfer and another kind man confirming we were on the right train platform, and after managing to more or less fight sleep for two-plus hours on a very scenic train ride, we arrived in Innsbruck. It was raining lightly as we arrived, but it stopped as we left the station. Along the way we were coincidentally greeted by a Vespa scooter parade — odd things like this are some of the joys of traveling.  We made our way to our fun and funky boutique hotel (the Nala Hotel in Innsbruck — http://www.nala-hotel.at/en/), where we checked in and collapsed in bed. It was 3:00 pm local time, or 9:00 am back home — we had been in motion for 24 hours).

Years ago, Mer came up with a great way to beat jet lag and still enjoy the first day of touring — nap when you get to the hotel for two or three hours, then go to bed that evening at a normal time. It really works — the nap gives you enough rest to get through the remaining four or five hours of the day without feeling exhausted, and you can use those hours to do light touring (eating out and walking around the city).

So, we had a good Austrian meal next to the old town section of Innsbruck, and then we walked down both sides of the River Inn for a few blocks. When we got back to the the old town, we wanted to grab some ice cream, so we went back to the main shopping street, where we heard a piano player singing songs in English (he was quite good) and then a huge cheer. We investigated, and it was a public stage where hundreds of people were watching the EuroCup soccer match of Austria versus Portugal. That was fun to have a public viewing space like that, as well as all of the bars.

We grabbed some ice cream, and then wandered the city for awhile more, finding our way back to the hotel and then back to the old town area near the river to see if we could see any solstice fires in the mountains. Setting bonfires in the mountains on or about the solstice is a tradition in the area, but we did not see any for sure; we thought maybe one light in the mountains could be a fire, but it was not obvious. We are still hoping to catch some over the next few days.

So, we made our tired way back to the hotel, where I drew a bath for Meredith in our room’s very deep tub, and I blogged about the day. It was a smooth start to our Austrian Adventure.

Happy anniversary to my best friend! It has been seventeen years of much fun and lots of joy. I love you, Mer!

(Picture from Central Park,New York City)

Dad died on July 14th, after a six-month battle with cancer. Here is the excellent memorial my sister Kelly wrote for Dad.

We lost my dad today. He did not want an obituary, but we wanted to put something in the paper to let the many people who’ve known him over the last 7 and a half decades know. The following is my effort to adhere to his aversion to the orthodox practices surrounding one’s passing and my attempt to capture his unique essence. I hope it brings a smile and a knowing nod to those who knew him and does not offend.
—–
John Peter Riordan, 75, of East Livermore, left this world on July 14 to join the Great White Buffalo in its happy hunting grounds. Peter was born on April 7, 1940 in the East Livermore home of his late parents, George and Serena Riordan, in sight of the home he later built and in which he resided for the last 26 years of his life.

Peter was a meat and potatoes kind of guy – especially potatoes, a love that was perhaps genetically predetermined by his Irish heritage. As for meat, for him, it came in only two modes – well-done or shoe leather. He appreciated a glass of wine with his meals, but only if the wine came from a box. He was not much for pretensions.

Peter prided himself on being handy and self-sufficient. His years working as a truck driver demanded those skills. No one rivaled him in his ability to string together colorful curse words while working on his truck during the weekends, but he respected that there was a time and place for such language and kept his talents to himself when the occasion demanded it.

As anyone who struck up a conversation with him knew, Peter had strongly-held beliefs, particularly in the matter of politics, and was never afraid to express his views and stand his ground. Those traits may not have served him so well in the Army and he often mused that his penchant for speaking truth to power may have been behind his transfer from the desert of White Sands, New Mexico to the frozen tundra of Fort Churchill, Manitoba. The latter assignment, however, fostered a life-long love for, and appreciation of, polar bears.

Peter’s strong sense of justice was matched only by his willingness to go to court to be vindicated. Notwithstanding frequently being out-lawyered, he never lost a court case because he only chose this route when he knew within his bones that he was right and that he had been wronged. The more esteemed and powerful his opponent, the more he relished his victory. If there is a next life, he’ll undoubtedly be back as a lawyer who is focused solely on fighting for the underdog..

His mother frequently observed, “One drop of Riordan blood spoils generations.” It is clear that Peter’s stubbornness, love of an argument in the pursuit of justice, and fair complexion live on in the two generations which survive him. They are proud to be so “spoiled.”

He is survived by his wife of 33 years, Kellee, his daughter, Kelly Horwitz, his sons, Shannon, Matthew and Jeremy, his grandchildren, Samantha and Isaac Horwitz, his brother, O’Brien, his sisters, Rose Orcutt and Rita Mynahan, and many nieces and nephews.

He was predeceased by his parents, George and Serena, his brothers Joseph, James, Patrick and Hugh, his sister, Jane, and his beloved St. Bernard dog, Dudley.

Per his request, there will be no funeral services. His remains will be interred with Dudley in the family cemetery he built overlooking the home where he was born.

Those who wish to honor him are asked to raise a glass of boxed wine or Bailey’s Irish cream and do something for the underdog.

Somehow, shockingly, it has been six weeks since we got home from Europe. I’m never sure how and why I let  my little blog languish, but life seems to get busy and I lose track of time and ye olde blog. I wanted to jot down a few final thoughts about our trip that may not have made it into the daily entries.

– Our little “Fabio” – The little red car we rented was a great little car. Clean-burning diesel cars are common in Europe, and I have found them to be efficient and to have decent power. Our rental car was a Skoda, which is made in the Czech Republic, and since our model was called a Fabia, Mer took to calling the car “Fabio.” The car could get 500 to 600 miles off of a tank of fuel, and the rental on the car was only $250, which included special insurance to drive in Bosnia, which is required since Bosnia is not yet in the EU.

– Tattoos – I’m always interested in obvious differences between America and Europe, and at least in Eastern Europe, the tattoo fad has not taken off like it has in the under-30 set here in the States. I saw a few tats on young people, but it was far from common.

– Nice people – In almost two weeks of being in Croatia, Slovenia, and Bosnia, I can’t remember running into a rude person. The people we met were all friendly and helpful, culminating in the amazing man who stopped his car to help us in Sarajevo.

– Pedestrian zones – One of the things I love about European cities are the pedestrian zones. I love how people come out to people-friendly streets and eat and visit and people watch. We visited the pedestrian-only zone of Zagreb on both ends of the trip, and it was a marvelous way to see Croatians milling around. We do have a few such areas in the U.S., but they do not seem as central to urban life here as they do in Europe, and I think that is to our loss.

– Natural beauty – Mer and I have become unofficial parts of the Balkan tourist board. We enthusiastically pitch the beauty of Slovenia and Croatia to anyone unfortunate enough to ask. We also liked what we saw of Bosnia, but we were only in Bosnia for about twenty-four hours, so we temper our advice there. Slovenia especially struck me with its amazing beauty, which is all crammed into a very tiny country. It has rivers, lakes, mountains, a pretty-looking capital (that we did not get to, sadly), and even a small stretch of scenic coastline, and all in a country that can be driven across in just a few hours. Big thumbs up to Slovenia and Croatia, each of which could easily demand two week of touring.

– Mer’s mantra for touring, “Everything is either a good experience or a good story”, is a great way to travel. That typically got shortened to simply, “Adventure!” whenever we hit snags or difficulties.

– That about wraps it up. Many thanks to Meredith, who is the driving force (and forward looking money manager) behind our trips to Europe. Here is looking forward to more adventures!

Mer and I were trying to leave our various Balkan lands with as little foreign money as possible. We knew we needed eighty kuna to get back to the airport via tram and bus, and we did not want to take out more money. That left us with fourteen kuna to use for buying breakfast. Fourteen kuna is about two dollars, so we were not too hopeful. We did go to a bakery with the hopes of finding something, and we came away with a roll, a pastry, and a muffin. For two dollars. There are some benefits to the strong dollar. We ate breakfast in our hostel’s very nice enclosed courtyard.

On the way to the tram, we passed by an early morning musician who sure sounded as if he was singing the Croatian version of the traveling song “Five Hundred Miles.” Mer and I had been singing that the day before in the car, so that was both funny and very, very strange, and got us quietly singing along in English, but changing the “five hundred” miles in the lyrics to “five thousand miles.”

We got to the airport and then on our flight with little difficulty. I had us at the gate ninety minutes early – it only took twenty-five minutes to go from the bus to the gate. I expect we will not be that efficient at Heathrow tomorrow. Mer, in her brilliance, had remembered that our bags would be tagged to go through to Toronto, so we remembered to pack a few clothes in our carry-ons so we would have them for our twenty-three-hour layover in London.

And so we arrived in London, with one evening free to explore. We got day passes for the Tube (the subway), and away we went. And went. And went. London is huge. I had hoped to make an evensong service at my favorite church building in the world, St. Paul’s Cathedral, but it started at 5:00. I soon came to the conclusion that we were not going to make it if we went to our B and B first, so we headed to St. Paul’s, backpacks in tow. It had taken about an hour and a half to get from Heathrow to St. Paul’s. That will need to be taken into account for the return trip tomorrow.

The service at St. Paul’s was pretty well attended. I’m sure many people were there as tourists and not so much as worshipers, but the service went off well. The choir started out singing a cappella in that magnificent space, and that was amazing. The evensong service lasted about forty minutes. I do admit my mind wandered during one of the longer choir/organ pieces of music from the fifteenth century, but on the whole, I was very glad we had made time for it.

For some reason, Boy Genius had not printed out directions to the B and B, so it took a couple of Tube stops and a couple of tries to find the place, but we finally checked in around 7:00 pm. We then headed down the block to a pub recommended by our B and B – the Washington. I was sold on it since it had couches and leather chairs, and it had classic pub grub. The Washington theme was carried even to the bathrooms, which were labeled “Presidents” and “First Ladies.” It was a great place to eat and hang out.

Next on our list, after a quick return to the B and B for internet directions, was to walk over to Primrose Hill, a park about ten minutes away. Our B and B booklet said it had great views of downtown London, which it did. Meredith confided to me that when we came to the park, she was surprised, thinking that parks are nice, but that she’d thought I would do something more specific to London. She changed her mind when she saw the skyline. While we were admiring the view, I saw some strange-looking nets a little ways away, so we investigated.

I think it was bird netting of an aviary of the London Zoo, which was closed at the time, but it did help us to stumble across Regent’s Park, an enormous park of 350-plus acres that we had never seen on our previous trips. We spent a good thirty or forty minutes wandering in Regent’s Park, and we never even got to the gardens that I wanted to see. We were running out of daylight, so we headed back up Primrose Hill to admire the city all lit up, which was beautiful. There is one building that (we hope) is still going up that looks at the moment like a poor 1960s version of the CN Tower in Toronto, and it is a bit of an eyesore on the London skyline. I’m hoping it will improve as it gets finished.

That ended the London sightseeing part of our trip, and tomorrow we get to look forward to the long transatlantic flight, followed by a five-hour drive home. Still, it will be good to get home, put the suitcases away, and pet some kitties.

Oh – Meredith pointed out that we have ended up in three different capital cities in three days – Sarajevo, Zagreb, and then London. Neat!

It may be flattery, but when I pulled the car into the “garage” last night in Sarajevo, our hostess said I was an excellent driver, and that she had had guests struggle with smaller cars. When I pulled the car out of the garage this morning, the morning-shift hostess said I was an excellent driver. I’ll take it.

We met an interesting couple from the US at breakfast; they were both college professors. One taught folk tales and one taught American literature. We got along quite well and talked for much of breakfast. We like meeting other couples at B and Bs – they tend to be fun people with engaging stories.

We headed out of Sarajevo, aided by my sometimes-trusty GPS. This time it worked flawlessly. We still had some Bosnian currency left, so at the first pit stop, we bought a rather large Milka candy bar for later. As we got closer to the border, we started looking for a lunch break. I decided on a restaurant that was painted in funky purple and pink colors. Mer asked me why I chose that restaurant, and I said it was due to the large number of trucks in the driveway. Truckers know how to eat. So did we – we got enormous helpings of a Bosnian ground meat specialty, stuffed into a bread shell, all for about nine dollars total. That still left a little money, so yet another Milka was bought. I foresee some temperance required on the food front when we get home.

We got the car back to the Zagreb, Croatia airport without incident, and we grabbed the bus into the city. Then, we got onto a tram, and took a short walk back to the same hostel we were in about two weeks ago. That seemed a bit surreal to walk back into the same room – we have done an awful lot of things since that Sunday.

After we got settled, we headed up into the hill above the main old town square, near the colorfully-tiled church in the upper square. There, we visited the Museum of Broken Relationships, which is a small museum displaying mementos sent in by people whose relationship with another person had ended, and they gave the story of the item as well. The relationships were usually lovers, but a few were about parents or children who had died or broken off contact for some reason. The museum was tastefully done, with exhibits in Croatian and in English. It was thought-provoking and fairly sad. There was a lot of pain on display in there – some very short (one day) relationships and some long (twenty years or more), but almost all of them expressed anger or regret of some sort. I left the museum very, very glad that I have a happy and fulfilling relationship with someone I like as well as love.

We wandered past the colorfully-roofed church on our way to supper, when we heard music. We wandered over to investigate, just in time to see a bride and groom get into a car together. That was fun, but it was also pretty fun to see a large group of Croatians all dressed up – they were pretty classy, on the whole.

We made our way down to the main food area, which was very lively on this Friday night. We settled on a burger joint, where many cultures collided. We were on a busy street in Zagreb, at a burger joint, eating a burger with Italian-style toppings (olive oil and parmesan), listening to live Irish music from some street musicians, while talking to a young couple from Oregon. As one does.

After supper, we strolled in the lovely twilight air, heading over to the cathedral to see it in fine weather, since it was about to rain last time we were here. We walked down to the main square, where we stumbled across two young men playing violins very well. We ended our evening in our B and B’s courtyard, happily munching on a Milka while chatting about our trip. We leave Zagreb tomorrow, and I am starting to miss home. I find living out of a suitcase and moving every two days to be a bit wearing. But I know I will miss this part of the world. We have had a wonderful time and met lots of pretty great people. Well done, Croatia, Slovenia, Bosnia, and a tiny sliver of Italy!

This was the first of two days of long drives. We started the day in Plitvice, where we basically packed up the car and left around 10:00, and we headed to Sarajevo, in Bosnia-Herzegovina, which should be about five hours away, but, after two pit stops and some tense we’re-lost driving, took us about six hours. And since we did not have any money yet, in the local and suspiciously named “konvertible mark,” we did not stop for lunch. Another moment for the marital bliss book (actually, we both did surprisingly well, considering, as I put it, “I’m a stupid American in a Croatian car in Sarajevo. How does this happen?”).

Anyway, we landed in Sarajevo. We found our B and B only after one of the more amazing acts of kindness I have ever seen: we overshot the area likely to hold our B and B after thirty minutes of tense I-can’t-read-the-signs-that-I’m-not-seeing, and we pulled off at an exit to another road. The car behind us pulled after us, even though it seemed a minor road. The man pulled up next to us and said something we did not understand. We told him we only spoke English, so he pulled ahead on the road and got out of his car and came back to ours to explain in broken English how to get to the main square our B and B was near. He then drove ahead of us to show us the road back into the main part of Sarajevo. That was impressive kindness, and it helped diffuse the tension in the car significantly, until I saw my parking spot.

We found our B and B, and I was directed to the “garage,” which is a Bosnian word meaning “storage shed.” Meredith got our stuff out of the car, and I did manage to fit the vehicle in the space provided, but it was a near thing. Once I was parked, it was all the gut-sucking action I could manage to get out of my door.

The first order of business after getting checked in was to get some konvertible marks from the local ATM, quickly followed by supper. We wandered into the market square area, which had the feel of a Turkish bazaar (or at least my TV-fueled version of one). We found a Rick-Steves-recommended restaurant specializing in a local dish called burek, which is a wonderful pastry, stuffed with potatoes, and then wood-fired. Yum. That was followed by cheap pastries from a bakery (prices are low here). Finally fed properly, I was ready to tour.

We saw the newly finished town hall (the original was destroyed in the war in the 1990s), wandered the market street a little bit, and got to note where it changed from eastern-style Turkish buildings from the Ottoman Empire days to the newer Austro-Hungarian Empire days, and it really changes on a line – they even have it marked in the pavement (an “east meets west” kind of line). We finished up our solo wanderings down by the river, stumbling on the Latin Bridge, which is within a few feet of where Archduke Ferdinand was assassinated, which helped start WWI.

We walked back to our B and B, where we met a local guide – a retired teacher who had lived through the war in the 90s. She took us on a three-hour walking tour of the city, and was very informative. She showed us a bunch of things; some things that stood out to me:

– Sarajevo is a tolerant city. Within a few blocks, we saw several mosques, a large Catholic church, a large Orthodox church, several synagogues, and a Protestant church. When Pope Francis was here a few weeks ago, he was given a chair carved by a Muslim family.

– Our guide filled in more details of the sharp east/west line, saying it was unique in the world as a place where you could stand in one spot and see such a sharp architectural divide.

– She took us up to a ninth-floor lounge with outdoor seating to show us the whole of the city at twilight (Meredith loved it; I was scared of the height).

– Our guide filled us in on the details of the assassination of the archduke. One attempt was made on his life that failed, but wounded a guard. Thirty minutes later, the archduke was heading back from city hall and wanted to visit the guard. No one told his driver, who turned down a street as originally planned. A general told him to reverse and go back to the first street; when the driver tried to do that, a second assassin saw his chance and shot the archduke.

– There are still shrapnel holes around the city. The bigger holes are filled in with a red cement to mark where shells fell. No house in the city escaped some kind of damage over the 1,400 days of the siege.

Our walk took us from daylight hours, to twilight, to evening in Sarajevo. Evenings are special in cities, especially when it is a pedestrian area. I enjoyed our brief time here in the city. It firmed up some older and newer history for me, and also made me happy at a vibrant city that seems to be getting along well.

Tomorrow is another long-travel day of about five hours, assuming I can get my car out of the “garage.”