The Bookends of the trip ...
first, Lake Lucerne with the Swiss Alps in the distance.
then, trees beside the canal as we sail into Amsterdam.
Day one ... pre-extension in Lucerne Switzerland
I like to have my camera in hand for the first good looks: you know, the serious ones, not just the glances out a van window.
Arriving mid-afternoon after 18 hours of travel, my camera took me out for a stroll along the shore of Lake Lucerne, in the city of (where else?) Lucerne, Switzerland. I sought that first good look of the Swiss Alps backdropping the lake.
But there were other things to photograph too. Two musicians were busking, one a classical harp the other a blues-singing guitarist. They are the first street musicians, since ... well, maybe since our last Viking River cruise. And there were trees with leaves just bursting out in their most vibrant spring green. And daffodils too, daffodils along with other flowers throwing riotous colour every which way.
I’d hoped for these things. They didn’t at all disappoint.
But there was another, one that surprised me.
It was on a non-descript sign marking the place for cars to turn in, out front of Hotel Schweizerhof where we were staying. I often photograph signs as reminders of what was where when during our trips. They embed themselves in in the galleries of photos on my laptop, often as a reference for the spelling as well as for the identification.
But it was the motto on that sign that captured me.
Rarely do we pay much attention to a business mottoes. I suppose they wheedle their way into our minds, somewhere below consciousness. This motto was unobtrusively placed, almost like I wasn’t supposed to notice. It declared what must be hotel’s mission statement: Empathy & Excellence.
It made me think back to my four decades as a mental health professional. I was privileged to work with treasured colleagues who exemplified that motto. Sadly though, there were other folk in that business who didn’t; their minds got stuck elsewhere, typically on protocols and policies.
This hotel motto captures the mix of the subjective experience of the consumer as well as the intention and standards of the business, does so in just three powerful words.
Writing this first blog of our trip has made me think again about first good looks. As an amateur photographer and blogger, those first good looks set me up for what I’ll be watching for as I continue the journey.
I trust my camera to lead the way!
Arriving mid-afternoon after 18 hours of travel, my camera took me out for a stroll along the shore of Lake Lucerne, in the city of (where else?) Lucerne, Switzerland. I sought that first good look of the Swiss Alps backdropping the lake.
But there were other things to photograph too. Two musicians were busking, one a classical harp the other a blues-singing guitarist. They are the first street musicians, since ... well, maybe since our last Viking River cruise. And there were trees with leaves just bursting out in their most vibrant spring green. And daffodils too, daffodils along with other flowers throwing riotous colour every which way.
I’d hoped for these things. They didn’t at all disappoint.
But there was another, one that surprised me.
It was on a non-descript sign marking the place for cars to turn in, out front of Hotel Schweizerhof where we were staying. I often photograph signs as reminders of what was where when during our trips. They embed themselves in in the galleries of photos on my laptop, often as a reference for the spelling as well as for the identification.
But it was the motto on that sign that captured me.
Rarely do we pay much attention to a business mottoes. I suppose they wheedle their way into our minds, somewhere below consciousness. This motto was unobtrusively placed, almost like I wasn’t supposed to notice. It declared what must be hotel’s mission statement: Empathy & Excellence.
It made me think back to my four decades as a mental health professional. I was privileged to work with treasured colleagues who exemplified that motto. Sadly though, there were other folk in that business who didn’t; their minds got stuck elsewhere, typically on protocols and policies.
This hotel motto captures the mix of the subjective experience of the consumer as well as the intention and standards of the business, does so in just three powerful words.
Writing this first blog of our trip has made me think again about first good looks. As an amateur photographer and blogger, those first good looks set me up for what I’ll be watching for as I continue the journey.
I trust my camera to lead the way!
Day 2 Historical tour in Lucerne.
Lucerne is much more than just a pretty place.
My camera and eye can capture the vistas of lake and mountains, the historic wooden bridges across the river, the facades of buildings with their historic artwork. But it is my ear and the monologue of a passionate guide, that gets at the depth of what this city is.
Our past experience of Viking guides has been that they bring Europe’s history to life. Alina did so par excellence in our historical walking tour of the Lucerne’s old city. Our two hours with her passion and delight crammed in hundreds of years and told us a great deal about the nature of the Swiss: a practical people who are determined to hold onto their history, their territory and their values too. Truly, Alina had both history and humour coursing through her veins.
But now I have to back up a bit as a blog writer. I have the bane and blessing of Google to check the details I put into my blogs. Not that I don’t trust the research of our guides, I am assured that their pride and passion would filter out misinformation. It’s my own memory that I don’t trust. And rightly so, as much history gets packed into the tours.
For example, we’re staying at the Hotel Schweizerhof which just happens to be older than the country I come from (Canada). Our guide points out that the wooden parquet and tile on the first floor are still the original. Ergo, I walked on same flooring Queen Victoria had walked on in her day. Yup, I could check that out.
But back when Lucerne’s facades were adorned with sculpture and frescos Google didn’t exist. Imagine! There’s a sculpture on the front façade of the Jesuit Church commemorating Francis Xavier, the Jesuit saint for whom the church is dedicated. That sculpture honors his missionary excursions to India and China, and includes an Indian figure. Unfortunately, that figure is garbed and sculpted in the appearance of a North American Indian. Oops! The fresco on the ceiling shows Francis Xavier in India, his cart being pulled by an elephant. Together with that elephant the image depicts a camel and a leopard as well, two species not native to India. Oops again!
But the classic Swiss mind celebrates those errors being included, not needing to correct them but allowing the errors to be as a source of delight. Perhaps our modern obsession with checking everything for accuracy on Google takes a little of the artistry, and the humanness out of what we create.
Unfortunately, thanks to our modern day political and social media world, misinformation is making quite a comeback. Alas, for more sinister intent.
The image below on the right is from the fresco in the middle of the ceiling of the Jesuit Church. See if you can find the camel and leopard.
My camera and eye can capture the vistas of lake and mountains, the historic wooden bridges across the river, the facades of buildings with their historic artwork. But it is my ear and the monologue of a passionate guide, that gets at the depth of what this city is.
Our past experience of Viking guides has been that they bring Europe’s history to life. Alina did so par excellence in our historical walking tour of the Lucerne’s old city. Our two hours with her passion and delight crammed in hundreds of years and told us a great deal about the nature of the Swiss: a practical people who are determined to hold onto their history, their territory and their values too. Truly, Alina had both history and humour coursing through her veins.
But now I have to back up a bit as a blog writer. I have the bane and blessing of Google to check the details I put into my blogs. Not that I don’t trust the research of our guides, I am assured that their pride and passion would filter out misinformation. It’s my own memory that I don’t trust. And rightly so, as much history gets packed into the tours.
For example, we’re staying at the Hotel Schweizerhof which just happens to be older than the country I come from (Canada). Our guide points out that the wooden parquet and tile on the first floor are still the original. Ergo, I walked on same flooring Queen Victoria had walked on in her day. Yup, I could check that out.
But back when Lucerne’s facades were adorned with sculpture and frescos Google didn’t exist. Imagine! There’s a sculpture on the front façade of the Jesuit Church commemorating Francis Xavier, the Jesuit saint for whom the church is dedicated. That sculpture honors his missionary excursions to India and China, and includes an Indian figure. Unfortunately, that figure is garbed and sculpted in the appearance of a North American Indian. Oops! The fresco on the ceiling shows Francis Xavier in India, his cart being pulled by an elephant. Together with that elephant the image depicts a camel and a leopard as well, two species not native to India. Oops again!
But the classic Swiss mind celebrates those errors being included, not needing to correct them but allowing the errors to be as a source of delight. Perhaps our modern obsession with checking everything for accuracy on Google takes a little of the artistry, and the humanness out of what we create.
Unfortunately, thanks to our modern day political and social media world, misinformation is making quite a comeback. Alas, for more sinister intent.
The image below on the right is from the fresco in the middle of the ceiling of the Jesuit Church. See if you can find the camel and leopard.
Day Three - the train to Inverlaken and embarkation onto the Viking Mani rivership.
We got a coffee in an outdoor bistro in Interlaken. There was a primrose in a tea cup beside our table.
Really, a primrose in a tea cup? That sure sounds like Switzerland. Check out the picture below.
This is a precise country, must be if they put their primroses in tea cups, eh?. But, that said, we also saw lots of spring flowers in proper gardens, even bursting through the lawns of parks and homes.
To get to Interlaken we took the train from Lucerne. We were astounded by the neatness of the farmland as we ascended up the Golden Pass. Lush green fields were just starting to be dotted with cows and sheep early this grazing season (first week of April). Across the valley floors and up the mountainsides there was no wasted land. Homes and barns dotted up those mountainside meadows with their light grey concrete/stone foundations serving as the first floor, dark wood sided floors above, their roofs well-raked to manage the weight of winter snow. Every one of them looked the same. Put it all together and you get a gentle visual harmony, a harmony that is a testament to hard work that has kept this land and its people prosperous, over hundreds of years.
Our ride to Interlaken took us outside the care and feeding by a thoughtful Viking guide or host. With sufficient information we were off on our own for most of the day. We found a helpful greeter at the station to guide us through the steps with the ticket dispenser, rode in a comfortable and impeccable clean train.
Arriving in Interlaken in the rain on Good Friday there was not much for us to do. We grabbed that coffee and then made the return trip an hour later back to Lucerne. But truly the journey there and back was its own destination as we got such a good look at the countryside with its lakes, forests and farms.
It is beautiful. And it is orderly.
When we walked the streets of Lucerne our guide spoke of the pride of the Swiss people in the keeping of their country. A fine could be levied for the careless throwing of a cigarette butt. We even saw men with powerful vacuum cleaners picking up any stray dirt on the wooden bridges that cross the river. This as part of the character of being Swiss in their country. We saw it in the country side too.
A primrose in a tea cup, for sure.
Alas, it is embarkation day and we now say goodbye to the good people of Switzerland. Our river longship awaits us on the Rhine at Basel, in the northwest corner of Switzerland. Shortly after departure France will be to the left of us and Germany to the right.
But I shouldn’t bemoan the transition. There'll be good people on board the ship and ahead in our cruise journey too!
Really, a primrose in a tea cup? That sure sounds like Switzerland. Check out the picture below.
This is a precise country, must be if they put their primroses in tea cups, eh?. But, that said, we also saw lots of spring flowers in proper gardens, even bursting through the lawns of parks and homes.
To get to Interlaken we took the train from Lucerne. We were astounded by the neatness of the farmland as we ascended up the Golden Pass. Lush green fields were just starting to be dotted with cows and sheep early this grazing season (first week of April). Across the valley floors and up the mountainsides there was no wasted land. Homes and barns dotted up those mountainside meadows with their light grey concrete/stone foundations serving as the first floor, dark wood sided floors above, their roofs well-raked to manage the weight of winter snow. Every one of them looked the same. Put it all together and you get a gentle visual harmony, a harmony that is a testament to hard work that has kept this land and its people prosperous, over hundreds of years.
Our ride to Interlaken took us outside the care and feeding by a thoughtful Viking guide or host. With sufficient information we were off on our own for most of the day. We found a helpful greeter at the station to guide us through the steps with the ticket dispenser, rode in a comfortable and impeccable clean train.
Arriving in Interlaken in the rain on Good Friday there was not much for us to do. We grabbed that coffee and then made the return trip an hour later back to Lucerne. But truly the journey there and back was its own destination as we got such a good look at the countryside with its lakes, forests and farms.
It is beautiful. And it is orderly.
When we walked the streets of Lucerne our guide spoke of the pride of the Swiss people in the keeping of their country. A fine could be levied for the careless throwing of a cigarette butt. We even saw men with powerful vacuum cleaners picking up any stray dirt on the wooden bridges that cross the river. This as part of the character of being Swiss in their country. We saw it in the country side too.
A primrose in a tea cup, for sure.
Alas, it is embarkation day and we now say goodbye to the good people of Switzerland. Our river longship awaits us on the Rhine at Basel, in the northwest corner of Switzerland. Shortly after departure France will be to the left of us and Germany to the right.
But I shouldn’t bemoan the transition. There'll be good people on board the ship and ahead in our cruise journey too!
Day Four The Black Forest (Hofgut Sternen) and the Medieval City of Colmar
Is there an iconic, or even typical Viking shore excursion?
I suppose. But then, not really. There’s quite a range.
Now, every excursion is rich in historical detail. From highway men and Marie Antoinette at Hofgut Sternen in the Black Forest of Germany, to half-timbered houses on a maze of medieval streets in Colmar France; we heard a lot of history today. That’s pretty iconic Viking. The history shared by guides is never dry; the narratives told stimulate the imagination. Walking on cobblestones, well that feeling is pretty familiar now too.
This morning I hiked up a narrow gorge with about 20 other Viking cruisers to photograph a waterfall. Coming back I was able to indulge my introverted self by aiming my camera at a 17th Century rural chapel with nobody else around. While I was off doing that others were watching demonstrations of cuckoo clock making, glass blowing and learning how to make a Black Forest cake.
But what happened in the afternoon was the absolute opposite. We spent a couple of hours walking the streets of a Medieval city into which was packed a literal cast of thousands (it is the Easter holiday weekend and Colmar is a pretty popular place for the folk of France and Germany to visit). This introverted guy ended up peopled to death!
And even thought my morning and afternoon were so different what made them Viking was the way they exercised both the mind and the body as well.
Oh, and we saw storks, too. Both morning and afternoon! No baby deliveries though.
What also typifies Viking shore excursions is the impeccable attention to logistics so that everything runs smoothly. Today provided an example. Coming back from our morning excursion several buses became lodged in a miles-long traffic slowdown (holiday week stuff). On our bus, we overheard our guide get in touch with the cruise director to advise we would be late getting back for lunch. Given that several of us had another excursion in the afternoon sufficient time to eat was being put in jeopardy. However, when we arrived, all the needed adjustments were made so it would work out: those needing to get a lunch in them quickly were ushered into a part of the dining room that got priority service, the first afternoon bus delayed its departure. Everyone had enough time to eat to without being hurried or missing the lunch needed to fuel the second excursion.
That’s Viking for you.
The middle picture below is the toll both on an ancient entry point to the Hofgut Sternen compound. Note the cute little eyebrow over the door.
I suppose. But then, not really. There’s quite a range.
Now, every excursion is rich in historical detail. From highway men and Marie Antoinette at Hofgut Sternen in the Black Forest of Germany, to half-timbered houses on a maze of medieval streets in Colmar France; we heard a lot of history today. That’s pretty iconic Viking. The history shared by guides is never dry; the narratives told stimulate the imagination. Walking on cobblestones, well that feeling is pretty familiar now too.
This morning I hiked up a narrow gorge with about 20 other Viking cruisers to photograph a waterfall. Coming back I was able to indulge my introverted self by aiming my camera at a 17th Century rural chapel with nobody else around. While I was off doing that others were watching demonstrations of cuckoo clock making, glass blowing and learning how to make a Black Forest cake.
But what happened in the afternoon was the absolute opposite. We spent a couple of hours walking the streets of a Medieval city into which was packed a literal cast of thousands (it is the Easter holiday weekend and Colmar is a pretty popular place for the folk of France and Germany to visit). This introverted guy ended up peopled to death!
And even thought my morning and afternoon were so different what made them Viking was the way they exercised both the mind and the body as well.
Oh, and we saw storks, too. Both morning and afternoon! No baby deliveries though.
What also typifies Viking shore excursions is the impeccable attention to logistics so that everything runs smoothly. Today provided an example. Coming back from our morning excursion several buses became lodged in a miles-long traffic slowdown (holiday week stuff). On our bus, we overheard our guide get in touch with the cruise director to advise we would be late getting back for lunch. Given that several of us had another excursion in the afternoon sufficient time to eat was being put in jeopardy. However, when we arrived, all the needed adjustments were made so it would work out: those needing to get a lunch in them quickly were ushered into a part of the dining room that got priority service, the first afternoon bus delayed its departure. Everyone had enough time to eat to without being hurried or missing the lunch needed to fuel the second excursion.
That’s Viking for you.
The middle picture below is the toll both on an ancient entry point to the Hofgut Sternen compound. Note the cute little eyebrow over the door.
Day Five Strasburg
Imagine you are with me taking in the soundscape outside Notre Dame Cathedral in Strasbourg France on Easter Sunday morning:
-beside us a duo of buskers plays the theme from the Titanic, he on a miked-up violin and she on a digital piano;
-and from time to time massive church bells toll overhead, peal over peal of them tumbling in the heavens, calling worshippers to Mass;
-and, pigeons coo gently;
-and, suitcases clatter as they are wheeled over cobblestones;
-and, there’s the oceanic murmur of hundreds of voices speaking la langue françcaise, die deutsche Sprache, la lingua italiana, the English language with other tongues floating through the mix.
Immersive.
And through it all, into your left ear via the earpiece of your QuietVox listening device, comes the clear voice of our guide, Octave. He speaks metronomically (I would suggest at a gentle andante pace), his English is German accented and precisely annunciated. His stories are rich with humour, leavened with the cosmopolitan wisdom of a world traveller, and animatedly responsive to those in his group.
One detail he shares astounds me: the city of Strasbourg -- astride two parallel rivers, the Rhine and the Ill -- went back and forth between German and French control five times in less than a century. And somehow that, in itself, explains a lot.
-beside us a duo of buskers plays the theme from the Titanic, he on a miked-up violin and she on a digital piano;
-and from time to time massive church bells toll overhead, peal over peal of them tumbling in the heavens, calling worshippers to Mass;
-and, pigeons coo gently;
-and, suitcases clatter as they are wheeled over cobblestones;
-and, there’s the oceanic murmur of hundreds of voices speaking la langue françcaise, die deutsche Sprache, la lingua italiana, the English language with other tongues floating through the mix.
Immersive.
And through it all, into your left ear via the earpiece of your QuietVox listening device, comes the clear voice of our guide, Octave. He speaks metronomically (I would suggest at a gentle andante pace), his English is German accented and precisely annunciated. His stories are rich with humour, leavened with the cosmopolitan wisdom of a world traveller, and animatedly responsive to those in his group.
One detail he shares astounds me: the city of Strasbourg -- astride two parallel rivers, the Rhine and the Ill -- went back and forth between German and French control five times in less than a century. And somehow that, in itself, explains a lot.
Day 6 - Speyer Germany
There’s a dynamic tension between -- no, it would be better to say, a dramatic tension between -- the history told and the humour shared by the excursion guides. Too much history could be a bit dry; too much humour doesn’t match the gravitas of standing beside a massive Romanesque Cathedral, one nearly a millennium old.
We stood by one such Cathedral in Speyer, Germany. It greeted us as we came into the old city. I hadn’t noticed the humour so much at the beginning of the talk, it was just sprinkled in lightly with the stories of a series of Henrys. These Henrys were of the Salian Dynasty and the line ran out at number five. The other Henrys, the British ones with whom we are more familiar, started 150 or so years later.
At one point our guide, Philippa, asked permission to speak a bit more offendedly, not wanting to offend but allowing her prejudices to show a bit. When we nodded our go-ahead she became progressively unleashed. As a German, she had particular perspective (unflattering) on the French. That was understandable, given that this land flipped back and forth between the two peoples. Her telling wasn’t mean spirited, just kind of fun.
And what better way than that to hold onto the 22 of us tailing along behind her red lollipop uninspiringly monikered 34E?
Now, there was too much history crammed into that 90 minutes for me to remember with any accuracy in this blog. And the humour needed Phiippa’s droll and throw-away timing. There was one story I do remember, told about the shape of that oh-so-German pretzel. Apparently a baker was in a contest to submit a uniquely new bread. His wife stood in judgment of his efforts, arms folded in that disapproving way. And thus the distinctive shape of the pretzel was created in mimicry of her posture.
It does seem like the historical/humorous sort of tale that either could be, or could not. But it will certainly be the way I’ll look pretzels into the future. Thank you, Philippa.
We stood by one such Cathedral in Speyer, Germany. It greeted us as we came into the old city. I hadn’t noticed the humour so much at the beginning of the talk, it was just sprinkled in lightly with the stories of a series of Henrys. These Henrys were of the Salian Dynasty and the line ran out at number five. The other Henrys, the British ones with whom we are more familiar, started 150 or so years later.
At one point our guide, Philippa, asked permission to speak a bit more offendedly, not wanting to offend but allowing her prejudices to show a bit. When we nodded our go-ahead she became progressively unleashed. As a German, she had particular perspective (unflattering) on the French. That was understandable, given that this land flipped back and forth between the two peoples. Her telling wasn’t mean spirited, just kind of fun.
And what better way than that to hold onto the 22 of us tailing along behind her red lollipop uninspiringly monikered 34E?
Now, there was too much history crammed into that 90 minutes for me to remember with any accuracy in this blog. And the humour needed Phiippa’s droll and throw-away timing. There was one story I do remember, told about the shape of that oh-so-German pretzel. Apparently a baker was in a contest to submit a uniquely new bread. His wife stood in judgment of his efforts, arms folded in that disapproving way. And thus the distinctive shape of the pretzel was created in mimicry of her posture.
It does seem like the historical/humorous sort of tale that either could be, or could not. But it will certainly be the way I’ll look pretzels into the future. Thank you, Philippa.
Day Seven - Middle Rhine and Koblenz
Settling into the comfy lounge for a Middle Rhine cruise we watched 20 castles slide by to the right and left of us. We’d started up on the sun deck to relish one castle after another but a cold wind and a lack of sun brought us down to where it was warm. Over the public address system came stories of robber barons and toll booths and austere living conditions. We think of them as castles but they were not the place of the palatial. In reality they just housed the taxing and extorting of the traders on the Rhine. So much for romantic notions.
The day was off to a good start.
The day ended with a string quartet concert after dinner. These talented young musicians from Koblenz took us on a historical musical tour through the German composers: Bach to Mozart to Strauss to Brahms. Then they added a couple of American songs; the audience is largely American and would be sure to appreciate that. And perhaps a bit unexpectedly they ended with a tribute to France’s Edith Piaf as their encore.
In between another walking tour, this one in the ancient city of Koblenz.
There was an adage tossed off by the day’s guide that had also been shared by yesterday’s --we are getting to the ABCs of Rhineland tours. The ABCs, you ask? Ah, Another Bloody Castle, or alternately, Another Bloody Church. We now know the difference between a Cathedral and a Basilica and a church and are starting to differentiate the Romanesque from the Gothic architecture by the shape of the windows. We’ve had that pointed out enough. And as historic as those Rhine river castles are, some are now hotels, or hostels, or in private hands, or just in ruins.
But through all the tours I’ve discovered a difference. We’ve had some portions of our tours on buses: the panoramic tours in Viking’s really spiffy, branded motor coaches. On those, the history and geography lessons come over a PA system rather than in the Quietvox earpieces we use when we walk. On the buses, despite the content being equally as good as the walking tours, I’m more inclined to doze off (I blame it on the jet lag but that’s getting stale because I’ve been here for a week now). On the walking tours -- as we brace to the cold wind, navigate the uneven ground of cobblestones, ascend or descend hills in narrow streets and alleys -- I pay attention so much better and remember so much more.
And the walking burns off some of those calories that I’m sure have been hanging around me, threatening to hang on me when I go home. Or so I hope.
The day was off to a good start.
The day ended with a string quartet concert after dinner. These talented young musicians from Koblenz took us on a historical musical tour through the German composers: Bach to Mozart to Strauss to Brahms. Then they added a couple of American songs; the audience is largely American and would be sure to appreciate that. And perhaps a bit unexpectedly they ended with a tribute to France’s Edith Piaf as their encore.
In between another walking tour, this one in the ancient city of Koblenz.
There was an adage tossed off by the day’s guide that had also been shared by yesterday’s --we are getting to the ABCs of Rhineland tours. The ABCs, you ask? Ah, Another Bloody Castle, or alternately, Another Bloody Church. We now know the difference between a Cathedral and a Basilica and a church and are starting to differentiate the Romanesque from the Gothic architecture by the shape of the windows. We’ve had that pointed out enough. And as historic as those Rhine river castles are, some are now hotels, or hostels, or in private hands, or just in ruins.
But through all the tours I’ve discovered a difference. We’ve had some portions of our tours on buses: the panoramic tours in Viking’s really spiffy, branded motor coaches. On those, the history and geography lessons come over a PA system rather than in the Quietvox earpieces we use when we walk. On the buses, despite the content being equally as good as the walking tours, I’m more inclined to doze off (I blame it on the jet lag but that’s getting stale because I’ve been here for a week now). On the walking tours -- as we brace to the cold wind, navigate the uneven ground of cobblestones, ascend or descend hills in narrow streets and alleys -- I pay attention so much better and remember so much more.
And the walking burns off some of those calories that I’m sure have been hanging around me, threatening to hang on me when I go home. Or so I hope.
... and some pictures of Rudesheim Germany, visited on the same day.
Day Eight - Cologne and the Palaces at Bruhl
I found myself looking up at ceilings a lot today. You know, that sort of posture where you end up with your head back and your mouth dropping open, totally looking less intelligent than you want others to think you are.
It was a tale-of-two-tours sort of day.
The ceiling of the nave in the Cologne cathedral soars 143 feet overhead. Truly jaw-dropping. One feels very small looking up, insignificant, humbled. Despite the stained glass and iconography in the Cathedral there is a sense of the space being profoundly beautiful just in itself, reverently and austerely beautiful, deeply comforting and embracing in that beauty. Somehow in being there, all of us are on equal footing. We all share a common humanity as we walk or sit in that hushed and accepting space. It offers a peaceful, replenishing beauty that one can absorb deeply into oneself.
By contrast, the ceilings in Augustusburg and Falkenlust Palaces of Bruhl are ornate, full of scenes and decorative elements. Through a painter’s illusion the ceiling above the staircase is made to look higher than it actually is. Tricky thing that, well executed though, lavishly wrought.
One also feels small when there, but small in a different way: small in the way of a mere commoner standing in the palace of a wealthy and powerful man. Elements of the interior remind us that we are not all equal. There are classes of men, some privileged and powerful and needing the rest of us to be fully aware they are. Everywhere, typically in gold, were the initials of Clemens-August. If you look closely, you can see his initials on a gate in the gallery below. He was the Archbishop-Elector and had these palaces built to show off his wealth, his power, and to revel in the pleasure he got through the practice of falconry.
In the cathedral I was freed to focus inward, toward my soul and spirt. In the palace I was constantly distracted by something outside of myself to look at, to be impressed with, something that demanded being esteemed. It was an exhausting beauty, all full of far-too-much.
A tale-of-two-tours indeed. Close your mouth, Terry. Just show your pictures.
It was a tale-of-two-tours sort of day.
The ceiling of the nave in the Cologne cathedral soars 143 feet overhead. Truly jaw-dropping. One feels very small looking up, insignificant, humbled. Despite the stained glass and iconography in the Cathedral there is a sense of the space being profoundly beautiful just in itself, reverently and austerely beautiful, deeply comforting and embracing in that beauty. Somehow in being there, all of us are on equal footing. We all share a common humanity as we walk or sit in that hushed and accepting space. It offers a peaceful, replenishing beauty that one can absorb deeply into oneself.
By contrast, the ceilings in Augustusburg and Falkenlust Palaces of Bruhl are ornate, full of scenes and decorative elements. Through a painter’s illusion the ceiling above the staircase is made to look higher than it actually is. Tricky thing that, well executed though, lavishly wrought.
One also feels small when there, but small in a different way: small in the way of a mere commoner standing in the palace of a wealthy and powerful man. Elements of the interior remind us that we are not all equal. There are classes of men, some privileged and powerful and needing the rest of us to be fully aware they are. Everywhere, typically in gold, were the initials of Clemens-August. If you look closely, you can see his initials on a gate in the gallery below. He was the Archbishop-Elector and had these palaces built to show off his wealth, his power, and to revel in the pleasure he got through the practice of falconry.
In the cathedral I was freed to focus inward, toward my soul and spirt. In the palace I was constantly distracted by something outside of myself to look at, to be impressed with, something that demanded being esteemed. It was an exhausting beauty, all full of far-too-much.
A tale-of-two-tours indeed. Close your mouth, Terry. Just show your pictures.
Day Nine - tying up a day early in Amsterdam, heading out to a cheese factory and Kinderdijk
About the little things.
We saw some big things on this cruise; the Swiss Alps in Lucerne in our Pre-cruise excursion and the ingenious canals and windmills in The Netherlands as we came to the end; historical castles all in a row on the Middle Rhine; and of course, massive Cathedrals in Speyer and Cologne.
But it was the little things that impressed me.
Like the bathroom with its odd angles in our stateroom.
Hunh?
I have never seen such an efficiently designed space. The three piece bathroom (sink, shower and toilet) has a floor plan of not much more than a square meter yet it is comfortable for all that you need to do in there, feeling more spacious than it actually has to be. In part this is because two walls are set at an angle rather than square. This makes more room for the counter around the sink but less where it is not needed at one end of the shower. The well-sealing, floor-to-ceiling shower doors are angled to create more space where you stand in front of the sink. The angling of the wall makes a difference in the main part of the cabin too; rather than a narrow hall, the entry into the cabin opens wider from the door, making it all seem a bit more spacious.
Another not-so-little thing.
On our cruise two potentially discombobulating events happened requiring adjustments to schedule. Returning from a morning excursion buses got caught in a Good Friday holiday traffic jam arriving back at the ship half an hour late. The dining room gave special priority to all of us now having a short time to eat lunch before our afternoon excursion. A little thing, but it made a potentially difficult situation work.
And the other one? Our ship ended up bending a propeller, necessitating a 24 hour repair. The part was delivered to the ship in Cologne and the cruise had to get to Amsterdam a day early for it to be done. This threw off timings for both sailings and excursions. Great work by our Captain and Cruise Director to manage all of this with minimal disruption for the passengers.
There are so many other little things … like the delivery of a chocolate bunny to our Staterooms on Easter Sunday. That required someone to think about that ahead, to come up with hundreds of bunnies for cruises that happened to be over the Easter weekend. And, like …
Well, how about just one more? Before our tour to see the windmills at Kinderdijk we visited a dairy farm and cheese factory. While there I got to see a baby calf, born just a few minutes before we got into the barn. That was such a little thing but a wonderful one too!
We saw some big things on this cruise; the Swiss Alps in Lucerne in our Pre-cruise excursion and the ingenious canals and windmills in The Netherlands as we came to the end; historical castles all in a row on the Middle Rhine; and of course, massive Cathedrals in Speyer and Cologne.
But it was the little things that impressed me.
Like the bathroom with its odd angles in our stateroom.
Hunh?
I have never seen such an efficiently designed space. The three piece bathroom (sink, shower and toilet) has a floor plan of not much more than a square meter yet it is comfortable for all that you need to do in there, feeling more spacious than it actually has to be. In part this is because two walls are set at an angle rather than square. This makes more room for the counter around the sink but less where it is not needed at one end of the shower. The well-sealing, floor-to-ceiling shower doors are angled to create more space where you stand in front of the sink. The angling of the wall makes a difference in the main part of the cabin too; rather than a narrow hall, the entry into the cabin opens wider from the door, making it all seem a bit more spacious.
Another not-so-little thing.
On our cruise two potentially discombobulating events happened requiring adjustments to schedule. Returning from a morning excursion buses got caught in a Good Friday holiday traffic jam arriving back at the ship half an hour late. The dining room gave special priority to all of us now having a short time to eat lunch before our afternoon excursion. A little thing, but it made a potentially difficult situation work.
And the other one? Our ship ended up bending a propeller, necessitating a 24 hour repair. The part was delivered to the ship in Cologne and the cruise had to get to Amsterdam a day early for it to be done. This threw off timings for both sailings and excursions. Great work by our Captain and Cruise Director to manage all of this with minimal disruption for the passengers.
There are so many other little things … like the delivery of a chocolate bunny to our Staterooms on Easter Sunday. That required someone to think about that ahead, to come up with hundreds of bunnies for cruises that happened to be over the Easter weekend. And, like …
Well, how about just one more? Before our tour to see the windmills at Kinderdijk we visited a dairy farm and cheese factory. While there I got to see a baby calf, born just a few minutes before we got into the barn. That was such a little thing but a wonderful one too!
Days 10 and 11 - Amsterdam including the Keukenhof Gardens
For more photos and writing about the windmills at Kinderdijk see the travel blog for the Grand European cruise on this website.
There were several times on this trip we found ourselves walking in the midst of thousands of others. Being from a small city on the Canadian Prairies I felt claustrophobic, especially on narrow streets with multistorey buildings on either side. We had that experience in the Colmar but also to a lesser degree in Amsterdam. I found myself getting people-wearied.
Amsterdam is city of enormous human energy. The sidewalks in the shopping districts of Old Town are crammed with people. At the crossing of bicycle lanes and where the sidewalk narrows a pedestrian can infringe on the bikes; very fast and very frequent cyclists pose a danger necessitating constant vigilance. Adding to the mix was a persistent presence of delivery trucks parking on the pedestrian sidewalks. On our walking tour one of the other Viking guests was hit by a bicycle, bouncing back with remarkable agility and resilience. We were all the more careful after that.
But there was a place that the thousands of others was not wearying. The Keukenhof is 79 acres of gardens, grass, magnificent trees, pavilions and people. Our guide mentioned that the maximum people daily capacity for the gardens in 46,000 and that the day we were visiting (a Sunday mid April) it had hit its limit. And yet we didn’t feel crowded.
We arrived about 9:30am and left at noon before the largest influx of visitors. Early on I found myself commenting on a hush to the people there, birdsong from the treetops could be heard and people spoke softly perhaps out of reverence for the great beauty of the gardens. You might remember my blog post on the way we were in the Cologne cathedral. It was kind of like that.
From children in strollers to elderly in wheelchairs we were all entranced. Tons of selfies were taken. For those having their photos taken by friends with the backdrop of vivid colour I was amused by the photo-poses folk adopted, trying to look their most attractive in the midst of such grand beauty. I was even able to get some photos that didn’t have people in them (and some that showed the density of folk on the paths).
The Keukenhof was the crowning jewel for our trip. We saw much else that was also magnificent. But I'm glad our Rhine Getaway was book-ended with beauty in nature. The Swiss Alps seen across Lake Lucerne and then these gardens on a sunny spring day. Somehow, I can return home even more satisfied.
Amsterdam is city of enormous human energy. The sidewalks in the shopping districts of Old Town are crammed with people. At the crossing of bicycle lanes and where the sidewalk narrows a pedestrian can infringe on the bikes; very fast and very frequent cyclists pose a danger necessitating constant vigilance. Adding to the mix was a persistent presence of delivery trucks parking on the pedestrian sidewalks. On our walking tour one of the other Viking guests was hit by a bicycle, bouncing back with remarkable agility and resilience. We were all the more careful after that.
But there was a place that the thousands of others was not wearying. The Keukenhof is 79 acres of gardens, grass, magnificent trees, pavilions and people. Our guide mentioned that the maximum people daily capacity for the gardens in 46,000 and that the day we were visiting (a Sunday mid April) it had hit its limit. And yet we didn’t feel crowded.
We arrived about 9:30am and left at noon before the largest influx of visitors. Early on I found myself commenting on a hush to the people there, birdsong from the treetops could be heard and people spoke softly perhaps out of reverence for the great beauty of the gardens. You might remember my blog post on the way we were in the Cologne cathedral. It was kind of like that.
From children in strollers to elderly in wheelchairs we were all entranced. Tons of selfies were taken. For those having their photos taken by friends with the backdrop of vivid colour I was amused by the photo-poses folk adopted, trying to look their most attractive in the midst of such grand beauty. I was even able to get some photos that didn’t have people in them (and some that showed the density of folk on the paths).
The Keukenhof was the crowning jewel for our trip. We saw much else that was also magnificent. But I'm glad our Rhine Getaway was book-ended with beauty in nature. The Swiss Alps seen across Lake Lucerne and then these gardens on a sunny spring day. Somehow, I can return home even more satisfied.