Author: mckillop_vfr@yahoo.ca

September 14: When Notre Dame caught fire last spring, there was a wide-spread sense of loss. Although initially things looked bleak, it emerged that although the roof structures were largely destroyed, much damage to the church may have been avoided.

As the money poured in, President Macron suggested that Notre Dame might be re-built in 5 years, an idea that I find ridiculous. The French can hardly organize going to dinner in 5 years, never mind restoring a monument with international significance. Whatever the case, much work has been done in the intervening few months. The roof has been temporarily replaced and many of the flying buttresses have been reinforced. It may be difficult to see in the accompanying photo, but the timbers used in the roof structure are gigantic. They may be 2 metres thick.

I find it remarkable that so much has been done given the scale of the challenge and the work itself, and it’s surprising to me that so much is in place so soon after the fire. It continues to be a major project that will occupy the heart of Paris for many years to come. I only hope that they can accomplish it in under 20 years.

September 9: When Canadians run out of things to say, they fall back on the weather, which is invariably too cold, or too hot depending on the season. So lacking inspiration, today we start with the weather.

As I reflected on my trip last year, I realized that I had encountered only one day of rain that affected my travels. This is partly because there was so little rain, but also because I can make plans to stay in one place for a couple of days if the weather is threatening.This year has been  similarly kind to me so far. And this week I spent 2 days in Ribeauville to avoid the worst of some passing showers. This is the main square in the older part of town; my hotel was in the new town, which is to say that it was built post-1700.

It has been very cool and overcast for the last 3 or 4 days. By cool I mean 10 C in the morning and 15 C or so in the afternoon. Without the sun, it never seemed to warm up much, and riding the bike was a real chore. At 10 C an 80 k/hr windchill can make it pretty cold pretty fast. I resorted to wearing my rain gear to stay warm. This morning was cool and partly cloudy; some of the clouds were taking a nap on the valley floor down from the hotel.

Once the sun came up, it warmed into a wonderful day for a tour of the Black Forest, which lies in the southwest corner of Germany, with France on one side, and Switzerland on the other. As the name implies, there is a lot of forest, and a lot of forestry happening hereabouts. It feels Swiss in may respects because of the similar topography, but also because it is a very “tidy” part of the country. What isn’t forest is very well looked after. This happens to be a picture of Waldau; my hotel is the brown building to the right of the church.

Tomorrow, I start my trip back to Heidelberg to park the bike. In 2017 the only serious rain I encountered was on the last day into Heidelberg from Waldau and it rained hard the entire trip. I was soaked to the skin. The forecast looks good for this year, so let’s hope there will be no need to talk further about the weather.

August 31: My cousin and travelling companion James and I have spent a couple of days here in Andermatt. It’s in the heart of the Swiss Alps and has the great attraction of being at the bottom of 4 of the higher passes in these parts. For that reason, it’s swarming with motorcycles in the summer, and skiers in the winter.

On our first day here, we decided to do a loop through Susten, Grimsel and Furka passes, before returning to Andermatt. This is a picture taken in the town of Gletsch. You are looking at the west face of the Furka pass which you can see snaking its’ way up the side of the mountain. To the left is a “Y”-shaped area of rock and gravel that is, in fact, all that remains of the Rhone glacier – the source of the Rhone river. When I attended school in Lausanne (yes, 50 years ago) they called it the “Angel glacier” because the shape resembled a white angel on the side of the mountain. The wings are the top of the “Y” shape, and the main part of the glacier, which started about where you see the hotel mid-way up the pass, extended down into the valley. You could walk through a tunnel into the glacier for a small fee.

Now there is only a small lake at the top, fed by a few small fields of snow. I’ve seen the glacier grow smaller on every trip I have taken through these passes – climate change in real time – but this was by far the most sobering as it has now essentially disappeared, never to return.

James and I departed Andermatt by climbing the Oberalp pass. It heads east out of town. In this picture you see Andermatt itself, and the east face of the Furka pass in the background. The Oberalp is the most benign of the passes, with wide, well-engineered turns and a fairly steady rate of climb. As we left town, we were some distance behind a group of local riders and I thought it might be a good opportunity to gauge my riding ability against someone with more experience on these roads. With patience and some application of my limited skills, I actually found myself gaining on the last of the riders. It took a long time, but eventually I reeled them in. It was only then that I noticed the bright blue “L” sticker on the back of the bike. This was someone learning to ride and it had taken me a good part of the morning to catch up.

I have a lot to learn – humility first and foremost. Apparently, I am in a good part of the world to learn many of life’s lessons first-hand.

August 27: Today I’m in Andermatt, in the heart of the Swiss Alps. Shortly after arriving yesterday, a parade of Porsche’s – obviously some sort of club on a tour – appeared at the hotel across the street. Over the next while a few other special cars turned up, including these. The one in the middle is a Pagani Huayra. Powered by a 12 cylinder motor, it cranks out 800 hp and will do something over 310 km/hr – just the thing for a winding mountain road with no guardrails. Retail price starts at $2.5 million. When we mentioned the car to the waiter in our hotel, he said that cars like this are common. They come to that hotel frequently. Retail price for the rooms starts at 790 Euro a night.

https://www.thechediandermatt.com/de 

I thought about referring to this hotel in my previous post. The Hotel Rossle is in Altenstieg Berneck in the Black Forest corner of Germany. It’s been in the family for generations, although the “new hotel” – pretty much a modern copy of the old hotel – is just 8 years old. It sits below the centre of the old town which is perched on a rocky outcrop high above the hotel. The most special car here was a ’70’s vintage Alfa Romeo, and the rooms start around 70 Euro. You get no bonus points for figuring out where I would prefer to stay.

https://www.roessle-berneck.de/home/ 

Coming to Andermatt from Lausanne, we passed through part of the Bernese Oberland and the lake district around Interlaken. Switzerland is a beautiful country, but these areas are particularly attractive because of their geography. Lying right along the northern edge of the Alps, the views over the countryside are incredible. As my cousin and travelling companion James said, it is as if someone gets out and grooms the entire country every morning.

On the other hand, France is a very diverse country that can appear a little ragged in some corners. When I first visited in 1977, I found it quite unkempt and shoddy. It’s roads were in bad shape and it really seemed to be miles behind Switzerland in terms of the quality of its’ public spaces and infrastructure. All of that has changed. France is now a much more prosperous place, and provides a quality of life that I personally envy. Thankfully, it retains enough of its’ slightly rumpled past that its’ unique character isn’t lost, as seen here in Pont en Royans.

And finally, not far away, I found Puy en Velay. It is well known since its’ Romanesque cathedral – a UNESCO heritage site –  is a major gathering point for pilgrims on the Santiago de Compostela. It is an impressive building in its’ own right, but the builders didn’t stop there: The church of St Michel de Aiguilhe (seen here) and the statue of Notre Dame de France, both of which are built atop the remains of dormant volcanoes, sit nearby. It is a remarkable sight that leaves me in awe of the extent to which we go to show our devotion to our particular gods.

August 18: Today I find myself in Donzenac, a small town in the Correze. I’m staying at a hotel I first visited in 1977 with my good friend Dennis. We found the place quite by accident, and I enjoyed the memory so much that I have returned at least a dozen times. The hotel (La Gamade – a small lark common in these parts) was started in the ’60’s by Madame Salesse. She was a formidable presence, managing both the hotel and a restaurant up the street for more than three decades. I recall seeing her sitting at a table in the window of the restaurant doing paperwork, watching the street, and greeting neighbours and prospective clients as they passed.

I was concerned that when she retired, the quality of the place would drop, and that sense of commitment would be lost. Fortunately, the current owner – a formidable woman in her own right – has maintained the vision established so long ago, and a stay here remains a comforting ritual for me. These days, Madame Salesse surveys the scene from a framed photograph in the lobby.

A few days ago, I stayed at a hotel in Murol, a small town crawling with tourists. Several places I tried were fully booked, so it was with some desperation and trepidation that I found les Pins. What had once been a well-established and top quality hotel was now a bit frayed around the edges; the lobby and restaurant are dated, the rooms are small (without either TV or WiFi), and the gardens need a really thorough weeding. The owner seemed to be an older woman who was doing paperwork in the dining room; the manager was a diffident guy who may have been her son. I was prepared for the worst.

I took a room and a package that included breakfast and dinner along with some wine. The room had 2 single beds, and a bathroom including a shower which could not have been bigger than 4 feet by 4 feet. At dinner, salmon en croute appeared for everyone, followed by some cheese and fruit if requested. The wine was local plonk (red) in a carafe left on the table. Although it was all quite acceptable, I couldn’t help wondering what would have happened had I an allergy to something on offer. There didn’t seem to be a lot of options….

There were many paintings in the main rooms. When I was checking out, I asked the manager who had done them. He said that it was his grandfather, the youngest and last member of the Murol school. It was founded in the town during the early years of the 19th century, and included Georges Clemenceau among its’ members. When I asked if he painted himself, he said no, that he was a sculptor. Some of his work was in the lobby as well. As we chatted, a young woman stood nearby. It was his daughter. She was clearly struggling with some sort of disability – whether Down syndrome or something else was not clear – and was demanding of her father’s attention.

He was kind and patient as we concluded our business, As I departed I began thinking about the people we encounter as tourists: servers, store clerks, hotel owners. Our encounters are superficial; a transaction and then we are gone. Yet behind each of these people there is a story – a history even – of a life being lived. They are not just players in a scene contrived for tourists; they have dimension. Sometimes they succeed, and sometimes perhaps they find themselves in a less happy place. Whatever the case, they are trying to make life a bit more comfortable for me and my fellow travelers – a thought that I will try hard to remember over the next few weeks.

 

August 9: I’ve said several times in these pages that travel is an adventure, and my first day here in Germany was an adventure from start to finish.

The journey started with the trip to Pearson airport which took longer than the slog through security and getting on the plane. The flight was 7 hours of uneventful tedium and we arrived in Frankfurt just as the sun was coming up. I took a local  train to the main station in downtown Frankfurt. Although I debated stopping here to explore a bit and perhaps get a SIM card for my phone, the shops would not open for a couple of hours so I decided to press on to Heidelberg.

Interestingly, it seems that Heidelberg can’t be reached by one train; you have to pass through other cities and transfer between trains. I inquired at the Deutch Bahn (DB) counter and was given a route through Mannheim. Ticket in hand, I hopped on the train waiting at the appropriate track, but the destination sign seemed wrong, so I asked a fellow passenger if it was the right train. He consulted an app and found that the correct train was delayed and on a different track, so I got off and went back the DB to confirm which train to take.

A different guy at the counter scratched his head for a while and then directed me to yet another train – also to Mannheim – leaving in 10 minutes. It was the German equivalent of TGV called ICE, and in 35 minutes, I was standing on the platform in Mannheim. I found the local train to Heidelberg and hopped on. A few moments later there was a quick announcement in German and several people got off. Something seemed odd, so I too got off, only to watch the front half of the train depart for Heidelberg. I have no idea where I would have gone had I stayed on the back half….

After standing in line at the DB counter for 20 minutes, I was told that the ticket was still valid and that there was a train to Heidelberg in 2 minutes on Track 10. Out of the office, down the stairs, through the station, up the stairs to the platform and through the train doors with a loud crash just as they were closing. All while dragging a 20KG suitcase. Fellow passengers were alarmed and amused ….

In Heidelberg I walked a very long way to find a store that carried an international SIM for my phone. It’s worth the effort – long distance calls to Canada at 5 centimes a minute. That accomplished, I walked still further to a stop for the tram that passes the hotel where I stay. It’s a very efficient and quick system using LRT-type cars in their own right-of-way downtown, or in mixed traffic where car volumes are low. If Heidelberg, a city of 150,000 can do this, why can’t Toronto?

Exhausted and sodden with sweat, I arrived at the hotel around noon. An “eventful” journey with several challenges, but worth the effort. I learned some new things, gained resiliency, and recharged my reserve of patience and understanding. After a nap and a hot shower, as a treat before dinner, I had a cold glass of Riesling from a vineyard on the Rhine and thought about all the other adventures yet to come. Only one day but worth the journey.

 

July 29: Frequent reader(s) have mentioned that I have been somewhat lax in updating these pages. A lot of time has passed since the last entry, and not a lot has happened that I thought would be interesting to anyone passing through. A long cool and wet Spring has finally morphed into a blazing hot summer; the Raptors have taken an inspired ride to the Championship of the NBA; American – and lately Ontario Provincial politics – continues to amaze, amuse and insult our intelligence. Perhaps some, or all, of these topics would make for an interesting paragraph or two, had I the insight or intelligence to make it happen. Alas – or fortunately for you perhaps – such is not the case.

As todays’ temperature approaches 32C, with a stated humidex in the low 40’sC, basic indolence has taken hold. It has become hard to become motivated and inspired to undertake much of anything.

That said, in 10 days I depart for Germany and there is much to do. Much of the “paperwork” (airline tickets, motorcycle insurance, medical insurance etc. ) has been put in place. Since my friend Kate is coming for 2 weeks, several hotels have been reserved, a car rented, train tickets booked, and a route through the south of France roughly plotted. We will be spending 3 days in Paris with my cousin James and his partner Andrea, before taking the TGV south and touring Provence and the Riviera. James and I are hovering over maps and picking mountain passes to ride through during the 2 weeks when we will be together before Paris. And prior to that, I have about 14 days to get from Heidelberg to Lyon ( to meet James ). There’s a route in the back of my head, but I suspect this part of the trip will be a day-to-day proposition.

That is the case primarily because the weather has been increasingly unpredictable. Temperatures across Europe are in the 40’s, and monster storms are becoming common. A heavy rain and hail storm flooded roads in the Alps and caused the cancellation of the second-last stage of the Tour de France, the re-routing of the last stage, and materially changed the outcome of the race. Hopefully, the extreme heat will have dissipated somewhat before I arrive on August 9.

In the meantime, there’s packing and checking to be done ( again and again ). I need to tidy up around my apartment and clean out the fridge, pre-pay rent and some of my bills, and say au revoir to friends and family. All very necessary but distracting as I get geared up to leave. So there you have it: with nothing to say, I’ve written almost 500 words. Hopefully, the next post will be a lot more inspired and inspiring, as I report in on early days in the trip.

Enjoy your Summer. See you in October.

 

May 30: I started keeping a personal journal nine years ago today. It was for my eyes only and tracked many significant events during that period including the death of my parents, the end of my marriage, retirement, selling the house and moving to a new neighbourhood, the birth of 3 grandchildren, and 3 trips to Europe.

My journal was not a daily diary; there are many long gaps devoid of entries. What I was attempting to do was document “significant” events, and then spend a few moments trying to understand their effect and my reaction to them. Writing something down forced me to think about the impact of those events on me and others. It forced me to consider the words I was using, what they conveyed and why I reacted as I did. It gave me greater insight to the person I am, and with insight to my personality and conditioning, it allowed me the benefit of considering who I might become.

In many respects, the journal was a forerunner to these pages. This blog was suggested by a friend as a way of “staying in touch” during my first trip to Europe in 2015. At first, I thought of it as a fairly casual way of sharing photos and observations of my travel experience. Shortly after I started writing my first entries, my friend Ed Murphy died suddenly of a heart attack. It was shattering and deeply disappointing for me because it seemed that he had finally reached a point where he was about to embark on a much happier stage in his life. It all ended too soon.

I wrote an entry about his death that came from emotion and sadness. I wrote it as a I might have written something for my journal, so I felt it was honest and true to my feelings. As I prepared to push the “Publish” button, I spent a moment thinking of how people might react. It was a bit intimidating to think that my emotion, my reaction would be available and judged by anyone having access to the site. Would they accept my thoughts or see them as self-indulgent or inappropriate ? Ultimately, I realized that if these entries are to be meaningful, they need to have integrity and be as open as possible. It became a benchmark for future posts.

I enjoy the act of writing, of trying to capture thought, emotion and experience in a meaningful way. I hope that these pages will be entertaining, perhaps amusing and even insightful from time to time. I am now 4 years into this blog, and you can judge for yourself how well I have been doing.

 

May 12: I was recently listening to an interview with pianist Herbie Hancock as he talked about his early years learning to play jazz with the Miles Davis Quintet. He spoke of an evening when “everything we did just worked. It was like you could read the other guy’s mind. And then, after a long solo, I ended on a wrong note. Not just a ‘bad choice’, as some musicians might say, but a completely wrong note. It just made no sense at all.” He expected Davis to make an example of his inexperience, but instead, after a beat or two, he did a solo built entirely on the mistaken note.

It was at that moment that Hancock began to truly understand creativity. From his perspective, it was the ability to take something unexpected, or perhaps even wrong, and use it as the basis of experimentation. It was the ability to accept something as it is and use it to take your creativity in a new or different direction.

Frequent reader(s) will know that I have been a member of the New Horizons Band for the last couple of years. I can more or less play pieces like this one, navigating through time changes, key changes, accidental notes, a short solo, and a host of dynamics. It has been a bit like learning a new language and it’s a measure of how far I have come that I can look at a score like this and not have a heart attack. Still, I’m at a very early stage in my musical development – I’m no Herbie Hancock and never will be. And in a way, that’s a problem. To take my musical ability to a higher level, where I can be truly comfortable playing more complex musical arrangements, will take an investment of time and effort that I am presently unwilling to make.

The process of learning something new takes patience and repetition. I think that learning music is especially demanding because the timing and the pitch and the inflection all have to be correct every time. It literally takes years of practice to build a base of knowledge upon which greater creativity can then be built. At this point, the commitment of time to practicing music feels like an obligation that interferes with other interests, rather than an investment in something exciting that will take me to a higher level.

I’ve recently completed a couple of new paintings that go in a slightly different direction from the work I usually attempt. What I have realized is that I now have adequate skills that allow me to place paint on canvas and then make something from it, whether what I do initially is what I intended, somehow not technically correct, or perhaps more simply a “mistake”. Through years of practice it finally feels like I am accomplished enough to accept what the paint does and then, if needed,  to evolve the painting into something that pleases me.

The visual arts are exciting and interesting to me. It now feels like this is an area where I want to devote more attention,  more learning and experimentation. Art is enjoyable to me, not an obligation,  and worthy of a greater commitment of time and practice on my part. Not to be pretentious, but I think this quote from astronaut Chris Hadfield, about personal fulfillment, is appropriate:

“Decide in your heart of hearts what really excites and challenges you, and start moving your life in that direction. Every decision you make, from what you eat to what you do with your time tonight, turns you into who you are tomorrow, and the day after that. Look at who you want to be, and start sculpting yourself into that person. You may not get exactly where you thought you’d be, but you will be doing things that suit you in a profession you believe in. Don’t let life randomly kick you into the adult you don’t want to become.”

May 9: On this day last year, I reported that the Saucer Magnolia at the end of the street was finally in bloom, and that Spring could be officially declared. I recommended that we commence wearing shorts and drinking rosé.

Well, the Magnolia is just about in full bloom, but it feels like we are weeks away from Spring. We have had exactly one day with a temperature greater than 20C in the last 30 days, and the Weather Network reports that we’ve had about 20 mm more rain, spread over about a week more of rainy days. So I will only conclude that Spring is underway. And like my furry friend here, I will regard rosé with suspicion until we have a solid week of warmer weather.