what ever happened to..

Freiburg, a city we visited in the Black Forest, popped up in conversation today. We were trying to recount something and realised it was less than two weeks since we were there! And even worse, a gaping hole has been left in the itinerary, but how did they get from Cologne to Milan I hear you mutter into your coffee, well here goes. 

After our little saunter around the cold city of Cologne we mounted the steed and sped south following the Rhine past Koblenz and camped at a site run by a surprised but welcoming forest dwelling German.  The site was about halve way between Koblenz and Mainz on the Rhine and is that bit that features in those cruise brochures that fall out of the Sunday Supplement.  The reason why it is so popular is that is a stunning. A deep sided gorge topped by dozens of castles with white wine vines clinging to the valley walls.  Quite a short drive but very picturesque.  

We have realised that with some sub zero temps and van living, every 5 – 7 days it is best for all on the tour to have some space and warmth.  It is for this reason we were heading to Hochenschwand a small town in the mountains of the Black Forest, where we had booked an apartment but first a stop in Freiburg.

Freiburg came up a lot in my previous life conducting tours of BedZED. Due to its Eco credentials, a lot of overseas visitors would visit BedZED, Freiburg and Malmo to see what Europe had to offer in its green development.  What a charming city, rich in history but forward thinking and very friendly.  

A quick hop and a skip to Hochenschwand, well not so quick as the snow tyres got their first test and we drove very slowly. Nice convey I led up the hill at 10 miles an hour!!

The apartment was down stairs to a lovely family who lent us their sledge; we also convinced Hazel that playing on the swings in sleet for 40 mins was the way to go, as I had mis read the bus timetable and went to the first “village” to kill time. Mmm nice swings though. 

Gwen, the van, was not having it when we asked her to start, on leaving, it being minus something and surrounded by 2 metre high snow but 10 minutes under the bonnet with a hair dryer convinced her otherwise. 

Well that was Germany then.  A very diverse country, friendlier in parts than others, far more industrial than I thought but very pretty and a frankly ridiculous motorway feeder system where you cross cars coming onto the motorway when you are coming off. Madness.

The final missing pieces are Switzerland and The Eiger. Then I get to speak about Italian drivers......

tunnel vision

Every few years on Blue Peter, or so it seemed, one of the presenters would go up in an aeroplane and experience what it like to have increasingly low levels of oxygen. Generally it was with the RAF and they would repeat inane puzzles until the low levels of oxygen meant they couldn’t add 1 and 1, remember their name or indeed where they had put the tortoise for its winter hibernation.

I remembered this piece of children’s TV gold when we travelled through the 16.9 Kms of Gotthards Tunnel in Southern Switzerland yesterday.  Although I could not remember where I put the tortoise even before we entered the void, I did seem to sense a lack of decent oxygen the further we went and a certain amount of Claustrophobia which was exacerbated by the Italian lorry driver who was trying to get in the back for a cuppa.  We came out the other side to blue skies and mesmerising snow topped peaks, which at the moment, crown the deep valley we are camped in.

The camp site sits beside a river and we had a walk down to it before getting the van ready for a cold one (involves covering all the windows in blankets) There is a sign, with a brilliant picture, which says

If the water starts to rise run away quickly.  This can happen even in good weather due to the Hydro Electric station.  

I don’t think I have seen a sign before which sums up pretty much what you would do if a wall of water was coming towards you!
Update    

Hazels Birthday spent in Milan Today, two candles on some ice cream! Milan Cathedral more Gothic than Shelley and Byron on Opium doing a goth video. Amazing city, thank you.

Naves

We have visited a lot of Churches and Cathedrals on our tour so far.  Not surprising when they have generally formed a focal point, over the centuries, for the majority of towns and cities we have been to and have history embedded in their stonework.  They are generally interesting in many different ways and H likes to have an explore and light a candle.

They have also, generally, been warm, welcoming places that have tried to appeal to a growing non secular society. The Rubens paintings in Antwerp, a great example.

Then there is Cologne Cathedral .  It has a magnificent soot stained external edifice which greets you as you emerge from the Underground and twin spires which soar over the Rhine, then we went in.

It was cold, not just in the temperature sense, when we did leave it was to warm up in the polar ice outside, but in the ambience. It just felt un welcoming.  I respect that there was a service on, but two 6 foot 6, bouncer like pretend priests, in their violent red garb, barring the way in the manner of doormen at China White, was a little intimidating. Demanding I remove my wooly hat, added to this impression. The whole of the Cathedral was roped off except the entrance lobby and 10 metres into the building so you could only squint towards the amazing altar and arches. There was no little exhibition, no posters extolling the virtues of anything, not even some pictures of a sister church in Africa, just cold stone.

What a shame.

Ich bein ein berliner

I froze, not because of the sub zero temperatures, but because the amiable German baker asked what I would like and there were no baguettes to point at.  In the last 2 months people have talked to me in over 7 languages, I have tried some words and retained even fewer.  

I have also started speaking a new language, based on English, called Hazelism.  Some words, Baguette, for instance are replaced by words easier to say and remember by the H. Which is why when pressed by the crumbling patience of the baker I said, in an accent somewhere between Major-General Klinkerhoffen

and McClaren Dutch, “Eine Shtick bitte”. The baker repeated in a marked questioning tone “eine Shitck?” I nodded, realising the baker didn’t speak Hazelism.  I felt even more daft miming the shape of a long piece of bread, and she said, in flawless English. “oh, a baguette, sorry we have sold out”

I left with a very expensive, unbleached, sodium free, organically grown loaf which I had pointed at.

Southampton for tea

My Uncle and Aunt were in Southampton for 3 days.  They live in Australia and haven’t been to blighty for 15 years and it was Mum’s birthday. So why not shoot up through Spain, catch a ferry to Portsmouth than scoot back to Dunkirk and continue on the quest.  A ram packed 2 weeks.

We caught the ferry from Bilbao and spent a pleasant afternoon in the Guggenheim. A wonderfully curved building with an unfortunate haughty tone generated by overzealous staff.  (Hazel would not have been able to pick up the stone installation in the middle of the floor anyway)

We then sauntered to the port towards a menacing sea and retreating Sea Gulls.  When the load master spends 3 hours hand picking vehicles from each lane to even the load, then bolts the lorries down, you know it’s going to be rough.

A few things that emphasis you are on a rough crossing:

1)     You look towards the stern and you can either see the sky or the Atlantic not both at the same time

2)     The cafe stops serving chips for fear the chip fat will slop out the fryers.

3)     The cafe staff look at each other when the boat tilts to one side and then keeps tilting, as if to say is this the one?

4)     You have to lean against the wall when having a shower.

We took sea sick drugs and stayed in the cabin.

Arriving in Portsmouth 5 hours late, the roads at 1.30am are quite and my “which side of the road fear" was not tested.  

We enjoyed much too much good food, generous hospitality, we got to see lots of family and the van has winter tyres.  

Thank you all once again, oh and I had some emergency work on my teeth.  I have not yet learnt to suck boiled sweets and not try to crunch them.

So off again from Dunkirk, greeted by an announcement, “today’s crossing will be rough” This isn’t rough.  Bay of Biscay, January, force 9 gales, that’s rough, I muttered.  A night in Antwerp, which is like a happening Bruges, lovely place. Rubens masterpieces in the Cathedral and a pervading smell of chocolate.  Then a slog of a drive through flat, undramatic motorways to Kleve, as in Ann of, in Northern Germany, to Dr Watsons house for the weekend.  More lovely hospitality with the family Watson and off to Cologne tomorrow.   What a two weeks.