The Jewish Connections (from events on 10/9/2018)

Now this is a great day worth blogging about, because I can finally separate clean from dirty clothes.  I can finally stop using Jim's spice-scented deodorant because I stupidly packed mine. I am finally in a room, a stateroom, where you don't need stilts to get into the tub or onto the bed, where the pillows are firm and the coffee maker works; where there's not a dictator in sight to cripple the city.

Nah..that's not why it was a good day.  That's why I feel settled, but there are a lot of good things to share.

What are the odds that Jim would be waiting for a drink, small talking like we all do ,with a couple from Buffalo, and when he told them he lives in Aberdeen New Jersey, she immediately asks:  Do you know Harvey?" ..and he finished her sentence.  Yes, of course we know Faith Brenner and Harvey M. Brenner..we just broke fast with them.  So  friends, your congregants from Buffalo, the Lustigs, are on board.  One degree of separation..and I'm sure it's not the first time.

We've been hanging with Betty from Winnipeg.  And no, I did not ask her if she knew my father, who hasn't lived there since the 1940's if she knew his because they both once lived in Canada's fourth largest city.

(OK..I did..wanna make something of it?)

Betty lives in Clearwater now, and she's a colonoscopy nurse.  And she were cool t-shirts with Bette Midler on them.  And she's eighty. And she only wants to take the gentle walking tours, because she's eighty.  And she doesn't want to overdo it, because she's eighty. 

 I think I have a playmate for the duration of the trip.

She joined us for breakfast in Budapest and was very cool when I told Jim that the Hungarian word for butter is

 "v-a-j"...

 She joined us for our first meal on the boat, and I can see why people compare this to a luxury ocean liner, because it is.  Only less congested.  I may even be able to find the stateroom on my own.  We were also seated with Boris and Natasha.  OK, that's stereotyping.  Vlad and Sonya. OK..I'm not sure WHAT their names were because I couldn't understand a word they said.  I don't even recall if I attempted to ask them their names.  Betty kept the conversation  alive with topics like movies and football.  I felt too grungy to be sociable.

I even enjoyed the coach ride that would have been a boat ride if the waters were higher.  Everyone was commenting on the lush countryside, I only notice things like a strip mall called Paprika World."

Even  had The Paprika Hotel.

It RUINS the taste of  beef people!  I'm not noncommittal anymore, it is not a very nice spice.

(Except on chicken..I liked it  sparingly on chicken tonight)

So before anyone thinks that I'm a total waste on a floating hotel trip because all I care about are things like the softness of towels and how many closet  hangers I got, there was something very special to share in Budapest this morning.

Jim signed us up for the Jewish Quarter tour, and it was absolutely fascinating, even with all the walking and the heat.

The city was still pretty much paralyzed by the visit from the despot, but I am getting used to walking.  In fact, as the coach bus was taking us over the famous Chain Bridge as we were living Budapest today, and Jim pointed out how far I actually walked, I was really quite proud of myself.

Back to the tour..turns out we were the only two on it, and so the rests I needed to ward off any future sciatic attacks were almost a built in future.

Our guide was Anna and she was terrific.  In fact, even 'though she spent most of her life in Budapest, she was a history professor..at Evan's alma mater, Rutgers.  She told us she has a two year old son named Max and a husband who is a professional mountain biker.  Her dream is to teach history at the university level in Canada.

We couldn't believe she wasn't Jewish..she was incredibly informed about history, customs, culture  and  architecture.  (She has Jewish in-laws courtesy of some of her siblings)

Anna took us a round a very crumbly section that had a faint urine smell.  We didn't see anything that indicated that the shops were Jewish owned--no Hebrew writing--but she gave us all the rich history of the most renowned street for Hungarian Jews.

Buildings were separated by courtyards, and we snuck into one, only to discover there was no exit..just a wall that at one time locked all the Jewish residents in. I may have shivered just then.

She took us to a much nicer section with cleverly named establishments ..something like Yiddish Mama Mia--and then onto a private section with cobblestone streets and g-l-a-t-t- kosher markets. (Story for spelling it out--autocorrect is not being cooperative)

For a fee of five dollars, we were able to enter the Orthodox temple and see all the ornate decorations and marvelous stained glass. The b-i-m-a  was in the center of the room and there was  balcony seating  for the women.  Even 'though I consider myself to be more or less an agnostic Jew, it was quite stirring to be in this temple with it's painted ceiling that moved me even more than the one found in the Sistine chapel.

Anna took us a little further to the reform temple, the largest synagogue  in all of Europe.  There was a small fee to get in but once I assessed the size of the waiting  crowd, I knew it would be something special. ..and it was.  I couldn't take my eyes off of the art.

The final part of the tour was the courtyard, a pretty peaceful area with a swath of verdant lawn and marble benches to sit on.  Once seated, I noticed all the plaques surrounding different structures.  The plaques were basically tombstones, with varied dates of birth but only 1944 or 1945 at the date of death.

Anna explained that there were so many unidentified corpses buried in mass graves.  It was educational but tough to really grasp.  I thought I was in a pretty park--a peaceful courtyard.  Little did I know it was a cemetery filled with a history I wish I could erase.

This wasn't a fun blog, I know.  There was a lot to say and I'm really exhausted from all the travel.

But I love all the comments and feedback.  I think I'll be funnier tomorrow when I'm clean and rested.

We're doing a city tour of Vienna, a tour of Schoenbrun Palace, and then a classical music concert tomorrow night.

Czech out time!

"I'll take potpourri for $200.00 please, Alex?"

"The answer is:  "Pita, spicy Buffalo chicken, shredded cheese, lettuce, tomato"

"What is a wrap?"

"Correct."

That is a correct answer to the "Jeopardy!" question and this blog...it is time to wrap as we prepare for our long flight home tomorrow.

 It's interesting that this blog started and ended with my Alex Trek impersonation.

Next I'll be asking if you think I should keep the mustache or not.

(Yes, a waxing is scheduled for when I return)

And I want to wrap before this becomes a braggy blog, a blag...(it's enough that I crowed about Jim's wizardry with washboards)

Or worse..you think of me as a Brutally Untalented Blogger, or B.U.B.

"Lime Gelato"

(In case you were going to ask me what the highlight was today, our last day in Prague, our free day.)

Jim spent the morning walking at a break neck pace that he loves, souvenir shopping and enjoying the street performers on the famous Charles  Bridge, bustling with people and activity.

I stayed behind with Jodi Picoult, on the advice of Nurse Betty.  She finally wanted some physical contact as she is a little concerned about my sunburned legs.  (Although she's a colonoscopy nurse, so go figure)

So I enjoyed my book in a beautiful atrium, and Jim got to have a brisk and vigorous walk that was anything but gentle and tailored for the "Walking Dead.".

We just got back from an hour long scenic boat ride and a ninety minute Hop On/Hop Off bus tour.

We've only done the latter twice before, once during our Mediterranean European trip in 2016, and then again for our Northern European trip in 2017.

But the bus tours of Barcelona and London were done while jet lagged and hot and dirty and tired..we both enjoyed Prague's tour, because we were alert and clean.  And because the narration was done by an American..we heard every word.

Is anyone reading this  blog adept at constructing Word Search puzzles?

Because here are the key words you need to know as I summarize this trip.  

(And bless Jim's heart, he has my legs elevated and covered in cold wet towels that are helping with the discomfort)

OK..back to the word search:

Abbeys: Alleys: Architecture: Art: Baroque: Bratwurst: Bridges:  Castles: Cathedrals: Churches:  Clocks: Cobblestones: Courtyards: Cuckoos:  Euros: Gothic: Legends: Kings: Monarchs:  Monuments:  Museums: Operas: Ovaltine:  Palaces: Paprika: Princes: Princesses: Queens: Schnitzel: Shops: Squares: Souvenirs:  Statues:  Strudel: Synagogues: Towns: Villages: 

..and Xylophones.

I didn't see any, but I felt compelled to use the letter X.

(I guess I could have accurately used "xenophobes")

So's there's the Reader's Digest version for those of you who apparently never go to the bathroom, which would be  all the time you'd need to read a typical blog entry.

Only a word nerd like me could sum up a European vacation via a word search puzzle--one I didn't even create yet.

We're hoping to say goodbye to the friends we made on the ship but there is no cohesive activity planned for this evening..just dinner, packing..and planning the next trip.

But for this of you who did read my snarky little blog...

..why..thank you.  Thank you very much!

A lot of Prague-ress.

this is why someone like me shouldn't travel to exotic places, and that's not even factoring in that I have no idea how to use the currency.

1) I cannot decide what to push when the instructions above the loo call it a half flush or full flush. Who is to stay?  And who would know if you lied or cheated?

2) I can't use an elevator with multi-step instructions.

3) I am the only idiot in the world who can get a rather severe sunburn..on my calves..while wearing  long pants, a dark fabric.,.in October.

Well..we "gentle walkers" have grown exponentially since the trip began.  I guess everyone is blistered and travel weary, or maybe it's all the strudel and beer and brat.  Whatever, everyone now wants to be a snail, or slug, or what the hilarious Kathy self-depricatingly calls us, "The Walking Dead."

This is the last time I will refer to my British pal Justin as Mr. Monopoly(although wait'll Jim posts the pic--you'll see!)) because he is a totally neat person, or lovely as they say across the pond.  

He breaks the ice with this:  a dirty joke, and some kindly advice:

"Look love, and I'm saying this not to be rude but because I fancy a bit of a pot belly myself, but if you ever find yourself trapped in a narrow tub, you flip yourself around, get on your knees, and hoist yourself up."

So yeah..I guess I'll give him a "get Out of Jail Free" card and call it a day.  He is a wonderful painter and his father was a world famous water colorist.

He proceeds(after the dirty joke but before the tub advice)

"I will tell you a story about Henrietta, or  as I like to call her, Aitch, if you promise to keep it quiet."

I agreed if he'd refrain from smoking, and he told me I drive a hard bargain.

I love my new friend  Henrietta Wentworth Stanley.  If you were Meghan Markle, wouldn't you love a name like that on your baby shower list?

He continues, "seems our Aitch had an awful time with her room..she had to ring the bellhop(don't you love his use of the word "ring?) and change her room four bloody times. One room stank of smoke, the other was in the atrium, and yet another almost killed her when she grabbed the shower bars and they flew right off!"

(Henrietta is about five feet and weighs about 90 pounds)

We were sworn to secrecy but you know Jim:  He sees her later on in the day and says, "Justin told us all about your room changes!"

Anyway, our guide for the morning excursion was named Sabina. Here are the words I misheard her say:

"Crap lunch" for "grab lunch." "Denise's tea" for "dynasty" "asshole" for "asphalt" "hysterical" for "historical."

We gentle walkers saw yet another court yard, castle, church, baroque architecture, crowds, as we were kicking down the cobblestones and feeling groovy.

Today's castle took centuries to build and is the largest in Prague and when you factor in the whole castle complex, it's the largest in the world.

Milos Forman came here to film some of "Amadeus."

Oh okay..you want raunch, I'll give you raunch.

The leader of Prague is not too liked, and this summer, some thugs scaled the scaffolding surrounding a statue of him high in the center square, and they covered his face with red panties.  Sabina went on and told us about their fates, but I cracked Jim and Justin up by pulling a Monica Lewinsky and showing them that I too had red panties.  Well..hot pink, if you must know and they weren't Monica's thong.  They were Karen  granny panties.

Justin loves art and architecture and had to admit that the statue I accused of being slightly pornographic was indeed just that.

We walked through the Jewish Quarter, saw a really pretty synagogue, and was told by Sabina that it's impossible to do a census of the Jewish population in Prague.  People don't fill in "religion" much since WWII

The square was repetitive but bustling with activity. 

After a quick lunch (caesar salad) it was off to the most important excursion of the entire trip..visiting the concentration camp at Terezin, about an hour's drive from Prague.

We had a new guide..Martina..who had me welling up a lot.  Even 'though this wasn't an extermination camp per se, it was all about propaganda and it was a labor camp, where Jewish prisoners succumbed to malnutrition and disease.  So much of it was about fooling the Red Cross, like showing an array of sinks and men's razors but no water came out of the sink.  (it wasn't hooked up to anything) Mattresses were so infested with lice and bugs that they had to be burned. 

We toured the museum and saw a very moving film that presented a LOT of reality.  I've seen so many Holocaust themed movies and read the books, but seeing the art work of the children made me weep.

Freda Brandeis collected  so much art work from the children that she carefully hid  before she was sent to Auschwitz, and Helga Weiss, who is still alive, found them.  Many are masterpieces. 

You can google the town of Terezin for more information, but suffice to say it did not ruin our vacation to be subjected to so many depressing realities:  it was important to go and we're glad we did.

On a lighter not, the Czech Folk Festival was so much fun and we finally found Betty again!  She truly loves us and the feeling is mutual.  The noise level was so loud that I passed around a notebook page and pen and asked everyone to communicate this way, and then I asked Betty to do the same at her table.  The guests were so into this--we've really become fast friends and I will save the comment sheet with all my other important trip memories

Martina said (before we got there) that we would be served a traditional Czechoslovakian appetizer and then meat, chicken and vegetables that would be served on a "needle."

(It was a kebab skewer)

Everyone but me drank their little thimble of what smelled to me like Listerine but it got the crowd really hopping.

The server was pouring red and white wine from what looked like two giant hour glasses that rested under his armpits..but people were too buzzed to care.

We heard the dulcimer, cello, and violinist, and we were entertained by dancers who looked like marionettes ..the girl actually hit you with a stick if you didn't sing.

Jim was called up to join the band..he is quite the washboard whiz, if I may momentarily turn this into a b-l-a-g/ (My portmanteau for brag and blog)

This was a morning filled with "naughtiness"(Justin and Henrietta's favorite adjectives") an afternoon filled with somberness, and an evening filled with glee.

Who could ask for anything more?

Except sleep..I'll enjoy some much earned sleep now.

Czech this out

Time to Czech in to the stunning Hilton Prague.

I will attempt to start my Prague Blog.

In a misty fog, to a hog and and a frog  on a log near a bog.

OK..I had a four hour drive and I am a little spent, so I can get silly.

Actually, we couldn't take the autobahn for most of the trip, so we drove through winding roads peppered with farms and towns and greenery.

The scenic route.

Which means the long route.

I will miss my ship mates but they're all in this hotel, but you know me and faces...I expect to find Betty in our bathroom at any given moment, bless her heart, but I really hope to see some other passengers.

Last night was the kind of camaraderie and laughs that make me want to sail..dirty jokes with a raunchy crew.  The people that our friends Faith and Harvey knew are really nice, and their friends, Michael the dentist(he has had his fingers inside the mouth of Jocelyn something, that famous NY socialite they call the cat woman after all her plastic surgeries..let's hope it was for dental work.).and his wife Shelley, who  round out our crew.

I love my Brits too..Henrietta is getting more adorable by the minute, and Mr. Monopoly(I'll call him Justin from now on because I failed miserably in my attempt to hook him up with Betty) is a hoot as well.  He told us a joke about a sex shop and a blow up doll and the punchline ended in something like:  "She blows herself up!"  The joke was funny because he called it "naughty" and he said "naughty" like he was in Monty Python..

Enough babbling..you want to hear about Prague.

Well..it is a little same old, same old..baroque and gothic architecture, narrow cobblestoned streets, beer companies, fast car companies, cathedrals that I have a waning interest in(the tour guide on the bus, Angela,  says the country is about eighty percent agnostic--you could have fooled me.)

Our guide for the Food and Culture tour was named Ava.  She started right away..and it was more like a fast food, fast talking, fast walking tour.  And because our rooms were not yet ready, we had to lug our carry on stuff.  Which meant while Jim was looking at quaint bridges, I was eyeing the ninety-pound Jessica Simpson handbag he volunteered to carry, because I was certain he'd be so engrossed in the culture that he'd ignore the potential pickpocket.

I have two Jessica Simpson handbags. (I should name them Maxwell and Ace after her kids)  One is the ninety pound one with all my crap in it.  The other one is my vacation JS bag that holds only my useless hairbrush and notebook and pen.  That  vacation bag has been shedding ever since we arrived.  

I swear, I thought we had bedbugs in Budapest: germs in Germany..but it was just bits of Jessica Simpson.  It's going to carry my toiletries(I HATE that word) on Friday's flight home and then it'll be trashed. 

OMG..I get so off track!!  That happened in yesterday's blog too..I forgot to tell you that our guide in Regensburg told us about royalty crossing the bridge with their animals and I heard "with their enemas."

I forgot to tell you that she pointed out a naked baby being tossed in the air in front of a cute little book store and on closer inspection we discover it's a naked doll.  

(Even still...WTF?)

So I discuss fraying handbags but not Prague?

Our three hour tour was a little grueling(because it was three hours) but the area was mostly flat, and it wasn't as hot as when we did this walk and whine tour  in Barcelona. That's a typo that I'm not fixing.  It's supposed to read wine but this is MY Prague blog.

Our first stop was a bar on a boat..we crawled to the underbelly(or so it seemed)to sit at a large wooden table where Ava offered our first course:  Brined cheese or brined fish.  Both sounded bad but the fish turned out to be really good gefilte fish, and the slimy cheese wasn't the dog food/milk of magnesia mixture I feared it would be.  Everyone ordered beer but me..I stuck with lemonade...which tasted more like cleaning fluid than beer ever could.

We walked along more cobblestones and through a very exotic food market with interesting things in the window..and hunks of meat that made me consider going vegan.

Ava served us very elegantly..all the tanned and shapely octogenarians were saying stuff like "I won't eat  dinner now..this is so much food" and I'm seeing two hors de ouvres at best.

I'm a "the plate is half empty" kinda gal, you should know that by now.

Ava is handing out all kinds of Czech delicacies..beets with cream cheese(I wanted a dog to stroll by and snatch it from me) and chopped celery on toast (better than it  sounds) and finally, a slice of salami, ham, beef, prosciutto ,pickles, mustard..and more beer, as if they were sober enough to think this was a real lunch.and for me, lemonade that tasted even more like cleaning fluid than the first drink did.

We walked some more, waved to some pigeons, and went to the last place, a lookout point from a bar and grill that gave a magnificent panoramic view of this city.

And more beer was consumed.

This time I had iced tea..that tasted like cleaning fluid.

You would think all the mind altering alcohol was all consumed by me when you read the next part:

Ava said we could all walk back to the Hilton, about 30 minutes away, or we could all take the tram, but the decision had to be unanimous.

I scream:  "Tram!" and the entire restaurant, even those not in our group, were stunned.

It felt like I was the lone holdout on a jury that wanted to convict an innocent guy. 

Some of these hikers who probably live year round in the Sierras wanted to walk.

Oh..how I longed for Betty's company! She'd certainly have been a yea for tram.

But I won!!  One other person wanted the tram, so my grateful feet hopped on and here we are, kind of on our own tonight, ready to drink in the sites of Prague.

And of course I want dinner..a real dinner but not 'til later.

Tomorrow the entire group does a walking City tour and then some of us will head out to Terezin to see the concentration camps. 

I'm hoping to see a marionette show(with Marian!)..they're supposed to be great here.

But remember, they said the same thing about Czech lemonade.

More later

Sausage Party

Saturday's word: "Ovaltine"

Today's word: "Sausage"

Today's opinion: Regensburg Germany has been the best excursion(tied with Salzburg) so far.

Here's what Google will tell you:  In 1517, Emporor Maximillian I remarked that Regensburg surpassed every other German city with its outstanding and vast buildings. The city is 2000 years old and has cobblestone lanes and alleys containing fascinating houses from many epochs. Many mansions have high towers built by noble families to emphasize their status. In 2006, the whole of the city has been declared a Unesco World Heritage Site.

Highlights are the old stone bridge, St. Peter's Cathedral, old city hall, old chapel, a closed museum named for a dead astronomer(Kepler) and a museum of history--as if the whole excursion--this whole trip--wasn't one huge museum of history.

But you don't come to this blog for that...

For of all, as I was jotting these notes and Jim was exploring more alleys, I guy supposedly from the ship whom I didn't recognize because I'm facially blind asks me if I'm going to Nuremberg. I answer "no"..he tells me his real name is Charles Dickens...walks away..

..and...

we're off to the kind of blog most of you want to read.

Let me give you a little background on the folks I've been doing most of the excursions with, the white team, we "gentle walkers" with our canes, walkers, recent surgeries, pot bellies, asthma,,ancient sciatica, and flip  phones:

We started off a lot larger than we are now.

And compared to everyone else, I am Usain Bolt.

Betty never left the ship at all today.

Poor Betty..(Warning:  I have to go off topic)

I felt bad ditching her for our anniversary last night(last night's date WAS November 5th--that's my story and I'm sticking to it) and our table for two was next to another pair--a wonderful couple from San Francisco.  She is a retired psychology professor and it was just a refreshing change to talk with world travelers who share our politics.

Well..it's not that Betty doesn't...

She just needs to branch out with other singles.  Maybe tonight, Betty can be seated with Veronica and Jughead.

There's a fun single nurse(like Betty!) named Gloria who is here with her two other single gal pals, also slow walkers but they really love to shop.  I asked Gloria if her friends were as white as she was before I realized how rude the question was...They're all from NJ, which is note worthy, because most passengers forget names.  We just refer to each other as "why hello, Mr. Arizona!" and "how did you like Budapest, Missouri?"

Mr. Monopoly takes the slow tours too and BTW, he is a very talented painter and overall cool guy who didn't even light up.  And his platonic companion Henrietta is so British and hilarious and perky and bold and cool that she made me realize what a cool name Henrietta is, although her friends call her "Aitch."  She is a pistol..see the pic!

So many members of the white team pooped out by the time we crossed the bridge.  There's the lifelong Republican, a former state senator from Kansas(but he thinks Cheeto is an embarrassment) and Mr. Monopoly(real name:  Justin) and a few other panting stragglers.

This village was a little less Hansel and Gretel than I anticipated but it was still charming and snow-globish. 

I'm taking an awfully long, winding, cobblestone road (see??  See??  Do you like it???  Are YOUR calves aching?) just to make a point as to why this is so 'effing great..

..turns out I am absolutely cuckoo for cuckoo clocks!

And no, I didn't buy one, because I think the sound of "The Happy Wanderer" ("Val-der-i..Val-der-rah!") and even "Edelweiss" would makes me nuts if I had to hear them every hour, but the demo we saw held my interest more than any religious story of vengeful kings and city wide plagues ever did.

I tell Lorelei how great her English is.

She tells me she is Lori from California, and married a German only a few years ago.

We learned about the artistry of the Black Forest, and the hand carvings, and pendulums and weights of gilded pinecones. We learned about stone and oakwood, electric vs. mechanical, one day vs. one week winding.. We learned about figurines who danced and sang, who ascended ladders to steal kisses from brides sold to different grooms.  We learned about red pom poms, and their significance to single women, while the black pom poms meant the married women were off limits. We saw clocks that actually have real running water. and we learned about bellows and up and down motions and "Swiss Magic", meaning the clocks can only operate after contacting a wooden surface. We were treated to detailed artwork showing scenes from the Black Forest, and an axman who probably had carpal tunnel syndrome that was less severe than mine after all this typing.

I've shared this in previous blogs:  I have the emotional maturity of a four year old, so ask any pre-schooler what would be better before bedtime:  A fairytale or a boring history lesson.  

(Unless watching Jimmy Kimmel was an option...)

This excursion included lunch, which explains the beginning of this blog:  We heard the word sausage and sausage fest a lot. 

 Some jokes just write themselves..

We crammed inside a tiny room made of wood(didn't want to chance breathing in cigarettes outside) and guess who likes sauerkraut?  This isn't a trick question--paprika still sucks but sauerkraut at the sausage kitchen is terrific!

We were given a basket of what I thought were unlimited rolls(many euros later, we learned there is no such word as unlimited) that tasted like fresh baked rye bread from your favorite Jewish deli.  

And then came the sausages..six crispy, sweet, savory, crunchy, incredibly delicious little weiners that we slathered with sweet tangy mustard.

This, my friends, is the stuff that dreams are made of.  And I  didn't even mention how we broke into show tunes on the long ride home!

Great day!

Passau you doing?

This afternoon's blog comes courtesy of Travelogue Karen and Snarky Karen.

I'll start with the former:  The ride to Vilshon from Passau Germany was a short but beautiful one.  The lake was a mirror stretched from shore to shore. Passau lies on the Austrian border, and three rivers meet here:  The Danube, the Ilz, and the Inn. The confluence and the merge of the different river colors is clearly visible when sailing through Passau. Bavaria is the largest federal state of Germany.  It is the land of Lederhosen, dirndl, u-m-p-a-p-a (autocorrect insists on "impala") music, and hand carved cuckoo clocks. This town is a cultural and artistic center with narrow winding streets and alleyways, giving it a distinctive ambience.  This baroque historical center survived flood and fire.  After the great fire in 1662, Italian Baroque masters created a unique city. It is famous for St, Stephen's Cathedral, and  the fortress "Veste Oberhaus"that gives an extraordinary  panoramic view of the city  and the meeting point of the three rivers.

Okay, for those of you who are still awake, time for some Snark Karen before Jim goes to taste all the beers.

Our guide on the snail tour was named Bernard. He was hilarious.  As I waved to a group of passengers on the mirrored river and they waved back, Bernard chastised me with:  "Don't wave to strangers..they could be Russian spies!" and I answer:  "Nope..I flew in some of my friends who are still reading the blog so they could wave hello at this precise moment.  All seven of them."

We start our ascent up the narrow cobblestone path and mass hysteria could be seen on the faces of everyone who signed up for the gentle walkers tour.   We followed a yellow brick road(yes, it was!) and it was a little more level and came upon the second most important building, the Town Square. Bernard told us "This is called the Rat House"....we have rats in our government" and I reply..(oh c'mon..you KNOW what I replied)

He told us all about the importance of Bohemian crystal as approximately 30 thousand birds flew overhead. 

He also tells us about the most renowned cathedral on the Danube, the aforementioned St. Stephen's.

"It is a church.  And it has a very large organ" he says, and I answer, "those two elements should pique the interest of our Vice President Pence."

Seriously..there are 1800 pipes in the organ.  That's the real number, not an exaggerated number I usually come up with for comic effect.

The stroll was not too taxing and even 'though all the statues and churches and monuments and plazas and courtyards are blending into one another, it is still nice to see a bunch of snails snapping photos.

And romance is always in the air when touring a town with such great charm and beauty.

Maybe Jim will get lucky with Betty and me tonight.

Lock her up!

V-E-L-C-O-M-E to Germany! 

 Auto correct made me shout this..I could yell "welcome!" anywhere and  at any time.

 It wouldn't have the same oomph, which is German for oomph.

I don't feel like we've sailed through a series of towns.  It's more like a series of snow globes or villages one would see in a Christmas ornament. 

 Quaint--that's the word I'm looking for. Quite quaint.

As I jotted my morning notes, we were officially in a lock. It seemed to me to be a concrete box, surrounded by an algae covered wall to our stern side, our port side, and directly in front of us. The narration was wonderful and informative: Jim's googling of "How River Locks Work" was wonderful and informative.

You know what was rising alongside the river levels?

My paranoia.

I knew the physics of it, as much as someone like me can understand anything about physics, but I still felt like I was being strapped into the scariest and faster roller coaster at Six Flags. 

I had earlier given the hilarious cruise director a link to the blog, which he seems to be thoroughly enjoying, but I'm wondering what psyche ward in Germany he'll be sending me off to after reading this.

I was just as paranoid in the morning leg of our journey upriver,, sitting on the upper deck, freezing, and marveling how I was sandwiched between two countries at once:  Austria and Germany.  

An Avalon employee told all of us seated on the upper deck(Jim retrieved some blankets from the room by this time and I didn't want to leave my spot) that we had to stay low as we were going to ride under a bridge.

I was positive my charley horse would come to haunt me  and make me dart up just as we made contact with the bridge, but I am not decapitated, so...shut up and enjoy yourself, Karen.

Time to fess up...this was the first time in the whole trip I ate like a human garbage disposal.  Ironically, I pigged out on roasted pig.

And bratwurst. And sausage.  And Bavarian pretzels with a sweet and spicy mustard. And other foods that when you say them you sound like you're clearing your throat.

And I will walk it all off during our tour of Passau at 2:00 PM.

It was nice to view the villages from the river as we had a romantic lunch..with Betty at the end.

I'm fairly certain I won't be attending this afternoon's  Bavarian beer tasting in the piano bar but the entire ship will. Some seem like they already have.

Tonight's musical entertainment is something called the Bavarian Devils.

That'll be the euphemism I use later today when I pay the price for all the sausage and mustard , when Jim asks why I'm clutching my rumbly gut.

We will be in Germany for two nights..then our last destination will be three nights in a luxury hotel in the Czech Republic.

Still hoping I can hold your collective interest with my Prague Blog.

Linzer torts with Ovaltine

Oh what a night...I wasn't going to blog(for lack of anything to say!) but tonight was a funny, blog-worthy night spent in Linz, Austria, the home of Hitler's childhood. 

 (Well..I guess that part's not funny)

So here it is, Saturday night, and it's just Jim and Betty and I for dinner.  Other passengers must think she's the Mom or Aunt of one of us.  We like her, we really do, and admire her spunky eighty year old self, but we really wanted to mix it up just a tad.

Dinner was over early: the night was young.  I suggested to Jim(and Betty) that we head toward the coffee lounge at the back of the ship, maybe round of a few people for a round of charades or something that passengers from all over the country could play on an equal playing field.

We never made it to the coffee house.

We got back to the stateroom and Jim sees a text from Marian, the woman who knows our friends Faith and Harvey. Marian and her husband Steve are here with another couple that they travel with quite often, Michael and Shelley.

So as exhausted as I was, going out on the town with them seemed a little bit more fun than just sorting laundry on a Saturday night.  Not that I begrudge anyone who does.

They invited us for linzer torts, something I'm not sure I've ever had before but Marian assured me I most likely have.

The cruise director told us all the cafes were closed in the town square, that only the bars were open, but we managed to find an open cafe and hilarity ensued.

Michael is hilarious..he in his P-a-r-x Casino sweatshirt.  (For you non-Philadelphians, it's a busy casino that attracts a motley crew)

He notices right away that there are only three linzer torts on display..the cook went home and the server seemed like he wanted to follow suit.

A random employee walks by our table(I think he was a busboy?) and I guess he picked up some regional accents and asked:  "New York?" We nod in unison and he replies:  "Istanbul" and walks away.

Marian decides she wanted some Ovaltine which was on the menu..I don't think any of us had had it in years.  

The waiter didn't understand us..and didn't know that linzer tarts come in multiple flavors.

(Who knew?)

But I swear, I don't think I ever heard the word "Ovaltine" mentioned as many times as it was tonight.  Jim and the rest of our entourage didn't believe me when I said it was from a "Guys and Dolls" song, "Marry the Man Today" and the devices come out and the proof is in the pudding..Adelaide and Sarah DID talk about Ovaltine..which was not even available at the cafe after all that..

Jim orders the tea and it came with a wooden box that contained three different sand timers.  (For seeping purposes, I guess?)

We all thought this was the strangest thing..multi-colored sand timers with different seeping speeds, when all of a sudden, Marian and Shelley felt a need to time the timers. They took out their devices, and there we are, in a deserted cafe in Hitler's boyhood town, eating dessert and timing the accuracy of tea timers.

This reads unfunny, I know.

But I guess you had to be there...

We decide to share with our friends some interesting things that happened on past cruises, 'though I can't imagine anything would be as funny or as blog-worthy as the overuse of Ovaltine.

We told them that we befriended at the kooky daughter of a famed Hollywood actor last year, and the crowd got really revved up..and guessed Charles Bronson really quickly.

Jim showed Michael the photo he had on his phone of Suzanne Bronson--and Michael agreed she was a dead ringer.

Sometimes, you just need to be silly and laugh about tea timers and Ovaltine and Istanbul, and we managed to do it all in our last night in Austria.

Next up:  Vilshofen-Passau, Germany!

These are a few of my favorite things

O, Henrietta exists!  She is a blonde spunky woman with an adorable English accent and she made it clear that she and Mr. Monopoly are NOT a couple and they are NOT sharing a stateroom.  So if he curtails the cigs, I'm back to pimping for Betty.

So now that I got last night's nonsense out of the way..

THIS was an awesome day that exceeded my expectations.  I can't wait to share my "Sound of Music" experience with you all.

The ride from Linz(Austria's third largest city--an industrial town where we're docked) was almost too comfortable. and beautiful! .I've never seen mountains like these..pointy, white, and marble.

The ride was long and as most of us were nodding off,  a very familiar piece of music piped through the bus.  I was ferklempt from the unmistakable intro, and then I started weeping when I heard another great Brit's voice--Julie Andrews bursting into the title song.  If this didn't wet your whistle, then you have no whistle to wet.

"The snails came alive..and we needn't worry

the beautiful drive..made us long to sing!

So weepy yes I've..

never felt this merry!

My heart wants to sing about every-thing!"

Our first stop, and I don't want to call it a pit stop because that conjures up something ugly, was Mondsee Austria. 

The lake was shimmering and spectacular..our wonderful guide Philip told us it attracts perch and pike, snorkelers and sailboats.  I longed to dive in, just to experience it.  And I desperately want Woodloch to open their European resort here and give me all the credit..meaning a window view in the restaurant. I'd settle for that.

The town was adorable and our first stop was St. Michael's church.  I didn't recognize the exterior, and neither would you, because at the time of the filming, it was covered in scaffolding.  But I did recognize the interior, where Liesl helped Maria with the train of that magnificent wedding gown as she prepared to welcome a loving new step Mom into the Von Trapp home,

Our guide gave us some interesting tidbits on the short ride to Salzburg when we were back on board:  Director William Wyler scouted all the iconic locations for weeks, but he had to abandon the project soon after and Robert Wise went on to direct the Best Picture of 1965.

He also told us the movie was not a hit in Austria, where classical and folk music are preferred, and two stories of the Von Trapp family had already been told in previous films.

We saw many familiar spots on our walking tour: the "Do-Re-Mi" fountain(I stepped in Julie Andrews's path!!) the courtyard where the Von Trapps returned from their honeymoon to find Nazi flags, the archway where the nervous nun first made her way to the household singing what I read was Dame Julie Andrews's least favorite song, "I Have Confidence."

The 50th anniversary of the movie was on in 2015, and the myths that Diane Sawyer dispelled in that were verified on the tour:  The family did not escape through the Alps..Switzerland was like 200 kilometers away and they were walking right into Hitler's eagles next in Germany with the route the movie shows. 

 (The real clan simply walked out of the garden, boarded a train to Italy, and started their new lives in Stowe, Vermont)

The people in my group were impressed with some of the tidbits I was randomly shouting out, like "I Have Confidence" being Dame Julie's least favorite song, and a lot of folks hadn't realized Charmian Carr, who played Leisl, had died.  (But I don't want this blog to become a "blag"--my portmanteau of blog and brag, so I'll stop showing off right now)

Oh..and our guide told us Christopher Plummer was a bit of a diva.  The word I'd use would be more like "asshole."

First of all, any regular readers know that I put fat-shamers right up there with racists and homophobes and sexists.

Legend has it that Mr. Plummer refused to carry the actress(Kym something?) who played Gretl because she had gained a little weight from the rich Austrian food(more on that later..I'm sure I did just that from lunch) and they had to substitute a skinny local kid.

Also, we saw the hotel where he was staying.  The shoot went way over budget due to weather, so to cope with boredom. Plummer would entertain Chamian Carr and teach her how to drink.

She played his daughter!!

Is anyone else getting a creepy Woody /Soon Yi vibe?

We continued the tour, an easy walk, through beautiful gardens and saw a few more statues and then came to the footbridge that crossed the river.  The bridge is covered in locks, so if you ever come to Salzburg, buy a small one, ink it with your name and the name of your loved one, and fasten it to the wire mesh.  Jim took a photo--it's a really great site but we were told when there are too many locks some get thrown into the river.

We had a lot of free time--something like three hours--and it was nice to spend it just with Jim. He wanted to explore the Mozart exhibit but I felt I already knew everything there was about him, mainly that he's to the day two hundred years older than me, and infinitely more talented.  

So I sat in the crowded court yard and watched some people and read a little "Subway Girls" and was really quite content.

This self declared foodie has written very few culinary posts, but I have to tell you about where we lunched.

Our guide recommended several spots, but we chose a place that shared the last name of our friends Natalie Mauro Elefante and her hubby Mike.

The waitress looked like Gloria Ruben from "ER" and she was a little bitchy.  She seemed offended when I asked if she spoke English, and she got a little snippy when Jim put a water bottle(courtesy of the ship) on the table.  A guest dining outside at this same restaurant asked to plug in her phone and you would think she asked Nurse Gloria for her first born child.

She offered very little help with the menu, so we were on our own, more or less.

Jim got Zweibelrosraten and I got the Austrian special..the Saltzburger Scmanker and if I could eat this meal weekly, I'd deal with every ounce of crap from Gloria.

It was worthy of a foodgasm!

The starter was soup that tasted like onion soup but better, the beef was tender enough to eat with a spoon.  I was hesitant when it first came out..in a bowl, swimming with carrots and potatoes and served with a side of horse radish.

But one bite had me moaning... soooo sooo good.

I think Gloria sensed she had been too mean, because she came over after and told me how to make this at home:

"You buy beef, but I don't remember what kind.  You boil it in a broth but I don't know what the broth is and I don't know for how long, and then you add seasonings --I don't know what they are--and add carrots."

Maybe I'll just come back to Salzburg and get some more.

Musical chairs in Melk

Now that was fun!  We just went to a really lovely Abbey. (I'll call the MELK Abbey Third Abbey, because the other 

lovely people with that name are blog readers:  First Abby (Schwartz-Dombrowski) and Second Abby (Gusoff-Rosenberg)

They're named according to when I met them.

So hello to all the dear Abbeys!

This was a magnificent cathedral..all Baroque Ivory(the next trendy Hollywood baby name) and beautiful statues. Our guide was great--Marion, and yes, Marion played librarian during one part of the tour.

She gave us a tour through the courtyard and then it was time to go inside and explore.

We see an imposing staircase made of marble when one of the snails I recognized from another excursion speaks up:

"We are the white group.  We don't do steps."

Marion hustled us into the elevator where it was time to explore everything the Magnificent Melk Abbey has to offer:  stories about snakes shattering chalices filled with poison and stuff like that.

So if you check out this blog to read the Travelogue Karen stuff, I suggest you google "Melk Abbey" since we were forbidden to taken photos anyway.  (Except outdoors--they were great) You'll get all the important info with Google.

But, if you're like me and have the emotional maturity of a five year old, please continue to read.

If you like self deprecating Karen, then this is the blog for you.

Every room we'd enter in this maze of gorgeous rooms was comfortable..and well lit..and airy, but most only had one or two seats.

Which Betty and I coveted equally.

Her cartoon bubble read:  "I am eighty!"

Mine read:  "I had sciatica three years ago!"

(But I did it like Al Pacino, it was more like Sciatica! Sciatica! Sciatica! for those of you old enough to remember "Dog Day Afternoon")

So every time Marion would wrap up her speech and move into the next room, Betty and I would actually break into a sprint if there was only one viewing chair.

I should be ashamed of myself.

I'm not ashamed of myself.

We'd sneer at each other in that passive aggressive "but you're still my buddy" way.

My cartoon bubble practically screamed:  "If only Mr. Monopoly hadn't smoked that cigarette, you'd be using that "Get Out of Jail Free" card by now instead of getting into this tortoise vs. hare race with a sixty-two year old."

Mr. Monopoly mentioned something about Henrietta's dislike of cigarettes too, so Betty might have missed a hook up either way. (Because who is Henrietta and why is she messing with this story?)

A river cruise has been called a "thinking man's" vacation as opposed to an ocean cruise, designed for the drinkers.  (Although there is wine tasting here, coming up in a few)

It really is designed for people who aren't the energizer bunny--whether it's sciatica or age or  needing canes.

So long..farewell..(I'm getting myself psyched for tomorrow's "Sound of Music" adventure)  

"Gentle walker" sounds a lot better than lazy grump.

Uuahouua

good morning, early risers! 

We are en route to Melk, Austria

(Fucking Austria,  is not on the schedule) 

Au revoir to our first stop, the picturesque village of Durnstein.  It doesn't rhyme with composer Leonard, it rhymes with..well..I think you have to be from this region to pronounce it.

We "gentle walkers" boarded a miniature train that looked like a life sized Christmas ornament and took a gorgeous ride through the vineyards to this little town built on a rock..or in a rock??  I'm not that good with my prepositions.

Hildegarde was our choo choo's narrator and she pointed out the apricot groves and wineries, and I found myself wishing that my name was something like Heidi so I'd feel more at home.

We saw where Richard the Lionhearted was imprisoned, and it looked like a majestic schloss.  (That means "castle" for those of you reading named something other than Heidi.)

We saw the sparkling Danube with the mountains and mountain homes perched above.  Oh, and you can rest assured that the Danube is clean.  It is a two or three on a scale of one to ten, with drinkable water being a one.

We passed a wine shop and Jim took a photo, but even if he zooms in, nobody is going to be able to read the name on the table.  It started and ended with about ten letters "u's" and had more vowels in between.  Think of Charlie Brown's teacher  and you can probably pronounce the wine.

The village, with all its cobblestoned alleys and turrets and hand painted signs looks like it is possibly made out of gingerbread.  I can't swear to you that it isn't.

Oh!!  And I was a wing man (wing woman?) for Betty.  He used a cane and looked exactly like Mr. Monopoly..I'm pretty sure I saw a monocle. He sounded like he could be part of the Monty Python troupe and they were getting on famously, but then Mr. Monopoly lit a cigarette, so we had to say so long, farewell, to my pimping attempts. 

We took a choo choo back to the dock(it really was an amusement park kiddie ride) and boarded around 10:30, heading for our next destination.

Next time I talk, PLEASE..I beg of you..IGNORE me.

You know how I always bitch about hating travel and tourism trips??

Well..I couldn't be more wrong!!

We went to the sun deck and drank in the indescribable sites, like stones that had faces if you looked carefully enough, and strips of green vineyards beautifying that which was already beautiful.

I love "non-touring" vacations because I love to  sit by a beach and veg and stare at beautiful water while reading a good book, and I got exactly that.  The ride was calm and leisurely, but instead of reading my own book, a book was read to me,,and all the other "M-E-S's" by our wonderful cruise director.  The sun was warm, the wind was gentle.  We saw a castle that was visited by Princess Diana and Dodi shortly before the tragedy: we saw tiny manicured homes and I guarantee that every one of us senior citizens felt like we were four, and our parents were reading us fairytales set in magical settings. (Although the fairytales we heard as kids never mentioned Richard the Lionhearted pooping on the Austrian flag as an act of vengeance)

Cutest kid's t-shirt:  "This is AUSTRIA..no kangaroos here!"

Off to drink in a tall glass of M-E-L-K at the M-E-L-K Abbey.

The Aphrodites

A geography whiz I'm not. We're in Krems Austria, not Germany.  (But Aunt Minnie would still be attempting to say "creams")

And we are very close to Fucking Austria..that is not a verb or an adjective, but a real town real  and I bet they sell a lot of t-shirts.  I'll let you know if I want to use the adjective to describe it after we leave.

So this happens:  We love Betty, we really do, and even 'though we booked this trip as a couple, we're okay with her tagging along.  We saw her alone at a table for six tonight, and feared she might wrap up her meal to eat in her stateroom, so we joined her again for talk that was anything but  repetitive small talk.

And it turns out that Betty knows a lot more than how to avoid ascending 1000 steps in a castle.

To refresh your memory, she is the Winnipeg born, Toronto raised resident from Clearwater who is a nurse, a colonoscopy nurse.  

Tonight's convo was neither small nor suitable to discuss while dining, but Betty assured me that my yet to be scheduled colonoscopy/endoscopy should be fine..and one-stop shopping to boot. She called it "from Gum to Bum"

We discussed spastic colons and prune juice and flat stools and I thought we were the only three guests talking about this topic until I read the room.  

We talked about everything there is to talk about regarding poop.

I have officially turned into my mother,

When we first booked this river cruise and realized there'd be a piano lounge and not a theater, I didn't know what to think...but you know something?  It's actually better to sit in a comfy chair, with the talent just feet away from you and your stateroom just minutes away.

The Aphrodites dressed like beautiful brides, all in white.  A quintet of cellists and violinist and pianists.  Beautiful vocals and the gorgeous sound of a flute.

They did a whole series of themes from Bond movies, followed by songs from "Cats" and "West Side Story" and "Singing in the Rain."

The grand finale??

Five songs from "Mamma Mia!"

I'm really really happy as I attempt to type this before losing the  wifi signal.

And I think I know why we're so close to Fucking, Austria.

Because Austria is Fucking Awesome!

Danube is more shallow than a Kardashian

And we're off!  We're moving..at a dizzying speed, but not really. I'm just glad that I'm on a boat that's actually doing what boats were designed to do. They're not designed to sit idly. (I know I know..neither are sixty-two years old bloggers, get over yourselves, would you?)

One can't help but compare an ocean liner to a river cruise, especially when one runs a basement meth lab and can afford both.

There are many  River Cruise pros:  It takes five minutes to leave the coach bus and be in your room--which is a room you can find.  You leave your laundry with a note apologizing for the Budapest scent of a shirt you wore way too often and the entire bag of laundry is cleaned, folded, and hung up within three hours.  The view from the upper deck is stunning, where you enjoy the sunshine in a comfy lounge chair and you can look at houses with gables, once you figure out what gables actually  are.

The cons:

Well..there's no pool..and the hot tub could only fit probably Jim and the blistered guy who tried to give him a lap dance when we were on the Royal Caribbean in 2016. An ocean liner hot tub could fit 20 blistered men.

And there should be more to do on the days "at sea" or "on river."

The only scheduled activity was a talk by Istvan(Steven in Hungarian) the aforementioned stand-up cruise director.

He once again apologized for conditions that were not his fault, beginning his talk with:  "I am so sorry these Danube waters are as shallow as a Kardashian."

Nah..he didn't steal my line.  If he wanted to steal my ideas, there'd be a game of Balderdash or a scavenger hunt on the schedule.  

All there really was to do besides napping, (and trust me, I'm not complaining about napping!) is listening to 140 senior citizens talk about how much they ate.  That's another pro--140 passengers here, 3000 on an ocean liner.

Istvan starts out with:  "So we're not going to Nuremberg" and I hear someone whisper, "that's the only reason I booked this trip."

I do know that we will dock in Germany in a few hours at a place called Krems.  It's a word that's basically how my great Aunt Minnie would pronounce "creams."

Honestly, the octogenarians are following all the power point presentations and the itinerary changes very intently.

All I'm hearing is, "we're not going to Czzcgzzjy, instead we'll be going to Czzcgziy" and yes, the old farts knew the significance of the singular "z"

I heard "and you must walk up eighty four steps--there are no others choices" and I'm thinking, "there are..jumping overboard into the rapidly rising waters of the Danube."

We will be getting all the excursions for free since we can't dock in Nuremberg, so that's really good. 

I do know we're going to Durnstein, Wachau, and Melk, which to me sound like high-scoring Scrabble words. I know  we gentle souls(aka slow walkers) have the option of taking mini train to the center of town, so that I like.

I honestly don't know the meanings or pronunciations of these towns, and I don't even understand the iterinary, but I promise to blog when I do.  Jim is being great--we're going to do everything he wants to do, just at a pace I can manage. 

Tonight the entertainment comes to us..a group called the Aphodites, a "classical music string orchestra experience that is hard to forget , don't miss it or a chance to walk to town."

So I'll be entertained..and maybe I'll force a Name That Tune go round with just the two of us..and Betty..Betty likes to be with us.

A night at the opera

Tonight's dinner was breaded fried cardboard. With cherry sauce.  Without paprika.

If you Little Monsters ever listened to a word I say(which you don't 'cause you're not saving up for Woodloch) you'd board the Avalon Vista  one day and see the dinner described as "weiner schnitzel" but it was cardboard.

That Jim liked.

Jim went to today's meeting and discovered that due to low water, we are not going to Nuremberg.

(No judgement here)

It's nobody's fault, and they're bending over backwards to compensate by offering many free excursions.

We'll be fully refunded, for example, for Saturday's "Sound of Music" experience.  (FYI, Christine Cherry Hommel)

I am so looking forward to this, considering I've loved that movie since I could talk. 

 I always wondered why that goatherd was high on the hill--was he smoking weed? 

 And I'm determined to find out why the perv was so lonely, but I'm betting the tour won't cover this.

Tonight's excursion was to Palais Eschenbach and it is, so far, the highlight of a trip filled with highlights.

I'll tell you what the guide told us on the coach bus..all the important stuff you need to know about Vienna's most renowned citizens.

Strauss had poodles.

Schubert was talented.

Mozart...well..there's only two things you REALLY have to know:

1)  How to google "Mozart"

2) he was born 200 years to the day before I was born.

The concert was breath taking.

There were divas. (so they let us use the elevators)

There were prima ballerinas and comics and talented violinists and cellists.  The women were beautiful in glittering  strapless black gowns, and smart because they wore glasses.  The men were dashing in their tuxes.

I loved the waltz between Maria and Captain Von Trapp, and loved Fur Elise.  (OK autocorrect..you win)

I went into this thinking I like classical music, but I don't LOVE classical music, but I was wrong.

I love it so much that I wanted to do some pirouettes. 

I thought I knew classical music because I saw "Titanic" about 328 times, but I just couldn't get enough of it.

At one point, my ears made a bargain with my eyes.

They said.."give us a few seconds..Let us enjoy this on our own by shutting those lids, and in return, we'll give you an infection one day that'll drown out the sound of seagulls while you're looking at mesmerising waves.

Temporarily.

So my eyes agreed.

I wanted to see Julie Andrews and Christopher Plummer.

Julie Delpy and Ethan Hawke.

Kate Winslet and Leonardo DiCaprio.

But I saw only big wedges of cheese, and clever mice outsmarting cats.

I saw anvils.

So, like you, I guess I learned everything I need to know about classical music from Saturday morning cartoons.

One of the best nights I can remember...

Tomorrow, Jim is touring a small town and I'm sleeping in.

And doing laundry..or paying someone to do it.

And enjoying the best book you've ever recommended, Melissa Amster. ("How to Walk Away"--not loving the title, absolutely LOVING the book)

For now, it's goodnight you Princes of Maine, you Kings of New England

A Viennese Blog

We're docked, which means we have the rarity of  wi-fi, which means I have to decide whether to nap, answer nature's call, go to a mandatory meeting, or blog.

You bastards lucked out...

We woke up way too early and had a nice breakfast with a couple from Indiana named Sam and Ellen, who told us we could remember their names by thinking of "salmonella" which I don't want to think about about on vacation. So I'll just remember that my friend Ellen has a son named Sam.

A river cruise, I'm beginning to see, it's better than an ocean cruise in like a thousand ways, not counting the aforementioned low water issue. Disembarkment takes five minutes..I recall from the previous excursions on ocean liners it took forty five minutes from the time you got off the bus to the time you  got your sweaty body back to your stateroom.  (Curiously, they don't have metal detectors checking bags when you get back on)

So I like that, and I like that there is an option for "gentle walkers"..me and the other eighty year olds who'd carry a radio with the telltale white band.  We'd listen as our guide instructed us what to do with earpieces, and like Sandra Bullock's "Gravity" director, it came out sounding like  "what to do with your "herpes."

So we start our relaxing bus tour of the beautiful and vibrant city of Vienna and we pass our first major landmark..yet another ferris wheel that makes the city unique.  Our guide says, "you may remember a movie called "The Third Man" with Orson Welles that took place in this very location, and I nod off.

She adds:  "And if you're a fan of the "Before" trilogy, it was on this very same ferris wheel that Ethan Hawke and Julie Delpy kissed in "Before Sunrise" and if you don't know why I lost my shit right then and there then you're reading the wrong blog.  

Jessie and Celine were here!

She told us a lot about people we should care about"  Mozart and Strauss.  And Sigmund Freud. I still say we need to dig up Sigmund and see what he has to say about this very blog that you folks are still crazy enough to read.

We park in the active part of town, and our bus guide, Eva, tells us the faster walkers with the blue bands would go with her, and the slow walkers in white would go with her colleague, Thomas.

Only thing is there was no Thomas.

And only a techie like Jim would notice that every word we were hearing from our guide over our radios was not coming from OUR guide.  

He says, "Karen..her lips aren't moving."

I reply:  "Yours don't either when you talk."

Well can you believe this?  There was a whole other group of tourists, not on our ship, and they were divided into two groups..a blue and a white one.  

We idiots were on the wrong channel and didn't even realize it.  

We thought we were SUPPOSED to hear static until Jim saves us all in a moment that reminded me of movies where the smart person knows to cut the white wire and not the blue one.

Our guide decides since Thomas was a no show, she'd take charge of both groups and acquiesce to the snails and decide on how she was going to off Thomas later.

We're standing in front of the first monument that talked about stuff like death and plagues and Fox TV when Thomas shows up, much to the relief of all of us octogenarians. 

I'm trying to pinpoint Thomas's doppelgänger and Betty suggests it's Hugh Jackman and then asks if he could sing and dance like him.

And because I'm a special kind of dork and I am in Vienna, I start singing--Strauss's Blue Danube and suddenly all the old snails are joining in. I customize the lyrics in that nerdy Karen way of mine:  "The Danube is very..very..low..I wonder if our..our boat..can go..I don't mean to gripe..or to..complain..but we need a touch..a touch..of rain"

(And I promise not to do that at tonight's concert at the Vienna Opera House)

We get to the very busy square..like a thousand people show up..and Betty wants her first photo.  So we take it..or Jim takes it--when I use a camera I only get pictures of my own eyeball.

... and we come full circle...

Thomas lost us..but then we lose Thomas!  

The three of us..alone in a big square in Vienna.  Jim is screaming out "Thomas! Thomas!" but I don't think the people of Vienna can interpret Midwestern Mumble any better than I can, because nobody helped us.

So the three of us doomed passengers are standing in front of this beautiful church when a tour guide from a total different company sees  and knows Thomas and saves our souls.

Oh, before I forget, I think I saw you, Don Benn, in that crowd but it was the you of forty years ago so that can't be right.

Thomas tells us that most of the beautiful facades have scaffolding and I'm thinking he could say the same thing about the snails and their facelifts.  Oh, and ten percent of all citizens of Vienna are students. And that Vienna is considered the second best place in the world to live after Melbourne.

We come back to the ship for a nice lunch with the folks who know our friends Faith and Harvey. Trust me when I tell you that crispy fried pork skin is delicious, unless someone tries to ruin it with paprika, which nobody did.

The afternoon adventure was to Schoenrun Castle, and now I see what I missed when we toured Windsor Castle last year and the bronchitis made me weary.  This castle was magnificent.  And please don't let Cheeto ever get  hold of this blog, because it's more beautiful than Mar-a-Lago and I don't want him to get jealous and try and buy it..

We learn about the significance of pineapples in fabrics, and splendid lamps.  Our guide Bebe miscounted the number of paying tourists from our bus, so I think someone snuck in through the turnstile, which meant Bebe had to walk back and buy a new ticket, cutting into our free time.

It was OK..We learned that Kennedy and Khrushchev stayed here.  So did Hitler.  Trump  has not.

I paid attention in History Class today as best I could,,Mozart, Maria Theresa's love of carousels..but then I got all ADD again and wasn't sure if our guide said that this royal  lady was always following orders or following otters.

Again..you're reading this by choice..all 16 of you...nobody's forcing you to follow my nonsense. 

Hey!  Blogging's done!  I think I can shower before the concert.  

Unless I think of something else to say

Play broadway for me

Gypsies! Tramps and thieves! We saw 'em all tonight...what a great experience!

The restaurant was five blocks away, and it took the coach bus over a half hour to get there because of that damn dictator from Turkey and an alternate route.  Honestly, can you imagine the US being totally paralyzed if we were governed by an autocrat...never mind.

The restaurant was covered with wine bottles, smelled like sizzling steak, and was family run.  Everyone got champagne when they entered, and about six glasses of wine after, throughout the night, with an interesting history given with each glass.  One lone sheep passed on the wine and made a drunken fool of herself anyway.  Are we taking guesses?

The food was all this exotic goose liver and paprika crap that Jim loves, but it veered a little too far from my meat and potato taste buds.  And for those of you who mistakingly believe it's all about the food for me, I couldn't care less about creamy egg salad and pate, I was totally enthralled by the incredible talent of the violinist and cellist and the dulcimer. They had me with their Hungarian unknowns, but then they REALLY had me when they started with their show tunes, like "On My Own" and the title song from "Phantom" and "If I Were a Rich Man." He looked at Jim and I and drew some obvious conclusions before breaking into "Hava Nagilla."  For once, I was the one who wanted to dance--I wanted to get all these drunken goose eaters up for a hora.."Dance your troubles away..you won't even THINK about low water levels in the Danube!" but..nobody wanted to dance...  

The violinist sensed my enthusiasm.  His name was Chubby, I believe, and he was wondering why all the beef cubes on my plate remained uneaten, and I wasn't about to share with a chubby violinist--one I just met--how I really feel about paprika!  Turns out..it ruins  the taste of beef.

But I didn't care..he was paying me a lot of attention even 'though I wasn't drinking and my hair was starting to frizz up again.

He smiles, looks me directly in the eye, and says, "what shall I play for you Madame?"

I answer "Broadway!"

And then..I guess this was a classic case of misconstrued lyrics, or something similar, because he starts to serenade me with "My Way."

I whisper to Jim, "I like Sinatra enough but I was really hoping for some "Mamma Mia!"  What does "My Way" have to do with ME?"

He responds: "Karen, that song could be your freakin' ANTHEM! Ask anyone reading this who has ever read your face when the movie or restaurant or theme night you picked has been vetoed."

(He's not wrong)

Our tour guide rounds us up and says, "Who wants to walk back to the hotel?"

He says that to drunken octogenarians and to me, who has done that 130 mile uphill sprint to the bath house just hours before.

Jim says, "I'll walk!" and I almost punched him or made him do the hora in the middle of the street.

So guess what happens next??

ALL the dinner guests board the coach bus, sated, drunk, and sleepy, when we get stopped by a cop.  The cop reminded us YET AGAIN that the Turkish Despot was in town and he wouldn't let us by! Our guide made a funny remark about all the iron barriers lining the sidewalk to prevent cars from jumping the curb.  He said to us(but not loud enough for the cop to hear) "he didn't say anything about buses jumping the curb"

Our guide is very funny and he will be a great cruise director if we ever sail on the Danube.  It as apparently as shallow as a Kardashian.

He tells us, in a bragging tone,  about the wars that Hungary has lost--which is apparently ALL of them.

So it's a country of wussy soldiers but tough cops??  We had passengers with walkers and gray hair, and he was making us walk?

And get this..we couldn't even walk directly back to the hotel..again, to protect the safety of the dictator!!

What did he think we were going to do?  Mess up his hair like he were Zsa Zsa Gabor at a 1972 taping of "The Mike Douglas Show?"

So we circled right back to the restaurant with the beef cubes and the paprika, and the talented violinist.

Jim was thrilled!

We're touring the Jewish quarter Hungary tomorrow(and yep, we gotta walk..damn that dictator and his power!) an then, with any luck, we'll board the buses that'll take us to the boat waiting for us in Vienna.  It'll be nice to finally unpack!

I swam with Spartacus

Am I alive? 

 I must be, because I'm typing, but I can't believe I've survived and thrived.

 We're were all set to take the subway to the beautiful thermal baths--all set until we see the subway is closed. The cabs are frozen in their places.  Cars were paralyzed, buses weren't moving. All because that Turkish dictator was in town. 

 But you know what WAS moving?  The friggin ferris wheel in the center of town.  So if some clever person wanted to off the dictator, couldn't he or she do it all those stories up?

So basically, if you wanted to do anything, it had to be done by foot. I assessed the situation:  I am on meds, I was already dizzy, I was already drenched in sweat from the walk to the useless subway.  My sweaty cowlick bangs literally looked like a cow licked them. They looked like a mass of tangled Christmas tree wires in the attic.

But it was either step it up or do nothing at all.  We already walked what seemed like eighty miles to me, but I was not going to disappoint Jim.  He does not ask for anything, except maybe for Luke to stop ripping up the comforter in the middle of the night. (and I didn't want to get the equivalent of the squirt bottle if I didn't comply..)

So we walked.  And we walked.  Over bridges. Over hills.  Over dales.  I felt like Christopher Plummer, walking uphill through the Alps with a toddler on my shoulder. I was damning the dictator and my own lazy soul(and blessing the inventor of Sketcher shoes) but we  still walked. And walked.  And stopped when we saw a bench, but the bench was enclosed and smelled like a urinal, so we walked. Jim is used to this..he didn't even  break a sweat. I looked like I had just crawled out of the Danube.

But we made it!!  We made it to those glorious thermal baths in this luxurious hotel. I have no idea what we paid to get in.  Jim thinks it was six dollars a person, I'm thinking more like sixty.

 I would have paid $600 for a bottle of water at that point..

So we make our way down to the pools.  At least I think it was down.  We'd walk down a million steps, only to be subjected to a million more going up.  We were deep in the labyrinth.  Jim made fun of me because I didn't get his M C Escher reference("are these stairs going up or going down?") but earlier, he had no idea who Frida Kohler was and they're honoring her today. (I only know  her because of crossword puzzles) I could not tell you even now if these thermal baths were in the luxury hotel's basement or on it's roof.

Jim took care of everything from that point on..getting the locker, storing my sweaty shirt...

I jump right into the cold pool, just to cool off, and was immediately kicked out for not wearing a bathing cap.  I haven't had to wear one of those since CAMP, where I never got further than "advanced beginner" in a red cap.  My god folks, I can't swim and I never could--but I'm not the least bit afraid of water..shouldn't that count for something?

So Jim had to go through the mazes once again to get the money to pay for bathing caps for both of us..BLUE ones!! My camp friends know how great that made me feel-- blue--for advanced swimmers!!

The pools are ornately decorated and strange.  I don't know about you, but I dream about swimming pools a lot. And these thermal waters made about as much sense as my weird  dreams.  The cold water was too much for Jim,,I couldn't absorb it quickly enough.

We then go to the thermal spring, which at first seemed like a lukewarm hot tub until I realized we were in the wrong place. And oh man, Jim and his patience!!  Not only did he wait on me and cater to every whim, but he didn't even think about divorce(most men WOULD have) when I tried to tell him what I believed the difference was between celsius and Fahrenheit. I kept insisting that 40 degrees meant it was COLDER than 36 degrees.  I'm still not sure I know what I am talking about even now, but Jim was truly concerned that I might have had a touch of delirium.

We befriend(well..I befriended) a vacationer from London who told me there WERE a lot more pools in the back.  (I TOLD Jim that earlier--he didn't believe me!)  

So we walk through a maze of marble lions spewing out streams of water, and naked men(STATUES of naked men) and decorative columns.  I felt like we were in the remake of "Spartacus" but more important, I felt cooled off..and stress free..and relaxed..and very happy with our afternoon excursion.

So screw you, Turkish dictator! You did NOT spoil our fun!

The best part of all?  There were tons of cabs waiting for us to take us back to the hotel...

On tap for tonight:  An authentic Hungarian dinner and dancing gypsies for entertainment...and group prayers for rising waters.

Next stop:  Vienna!!!!

Karen likes touring, call a medic

I'm enjoying touring! I'm enjoying sight seeing! Who is this imposter taking over my very soul? 

 Hungary is so friggin' beautiful that it knocks the crabbiness right out of you, even if you're the most whiny curmudgeon in the world. I think this is the prettiest European city we've been to.  And you know what's even more beautiful than the architecture?  The faces on every Hungarian woman we've seen.  Our delightful tour guide, Vivian, looked like a more beautiful version of Ivanka Trump, and let's give credit where credit is due, that feckless c-u next Tuesday is, at least on the outside, undeniably beautiful. 

We learned a lot about Budapest on this morning's tour--mostly that the city is divided into two parts, the hilly, wealthy "Buda" and the "phasht" section for the common folk.

I knew I was going to be in my comfort zone when an octogenarian boards our bus and says, "look at the beautiful faces on all these folks in their forties."  Which meant my bus fellow rider was blind or clever or both, because we're probably the youngest people here, which means everyone walks slowly and leisurely, which means I am comfortable, and could actually follow the history of the statues, like the one about a raven stealing a ring and why the king's favorite color is black. We were given ear pieces that actually loop around the lobe, so everyone with hearing aids could actually follow what was going on.

Jim still could use subtitles.  If you ever meet him in a bar and he opens with "my wife doesn't understand me" bear in mind that he's not looking for something on the side, it means I literally can't decipher Midwest Mumble, even after nearly twenty nine years of marriage.

My takeaways from this morning's tour: The Parliament building is magnificent. Streudel is important here, and male Hungarians like it with a a cabbage flavor. (not a typo) 

And finally, paprika....

It is what makes Hungary Hungary. It is..well..she never called it a national spice, but I think it transcends even that.  It is everywhere and used in everything.  I am neutral about paprika..the one jar I have in my spice rack it probably thirty years old.  (So maybe I'm not THAT neutral)

We're about to take the metro to the thermal baths, hoping that the arrival of the Turkish dictator doesn't rain on our parade.

But we'd like a little rain.  This "low water" situation is a little unnerving...what if you plan a river cruise and there's no river?

We knew the blue Danube wasn't exactly blue by looking at photos, but we never expected it to be so shallow and un-riverish..   

We can hope for the best..and realize we're still talking first world problems in he scheme of things..  More later..

Trout of the gods

the next time I try to claim that I don't like fish, call me out for being the liar that I am. Tonight's dinner, we both agree, was probably the best we've ever had in Europe--and within the top five in all the time we've known each other. We went to Paris Budapest, and it was outstanding. Jim had the trout.  That wasn't trout--it was food of the gods. 

 I do feel like such a princess, which is odd, because I've always rejected the princesses of my girlhood, who were all about the bouncy ponytails and the tiny waistlines.  But this city is lit up like a castle, and I like fish. And I'm some kind of royal something..

Speaking of fish, we met a couple from Chicago tonight at orientation.  The guy says, "don't try to take a bath in the tubs here.  I felt like a gutted fish with no escape.  I was floundering, and grabbing onto bars, and wondering how the hell I'd ever escape."

I laughed at the silly man's story--without letting on that the exact same thing happened to me while Jim was out exploring. And I could not for the life of me figure out how to use the shower head.

I am too dumb to bathe..to breathe..

Oh..that butter tonight!  With delectable red peppercorns blended in.  This is how I know I'll never get addicted to opioids.  Not when cows make butter like this.

THE BEST MEAL OF OUR GOURMAND LIVES.

Speaking of baths, another couple told us we must check out the herbal bath houses in Hungary.  There are several, and they sound amazing.  They're even coed.  Full body massages go for twenty dollars. Dating back to the 1600's..

This sounds too good to be true.

And it probably is, because not only do we have the low water of the Danube to contend with(we met the cruise director tonight, who assured us in that "Woodloch is great even when it's raining!" way that we will have an amazing time on our cruise even if the cruising part is compromised by Mother Nature.

Oh..and get this..guess who's coming to town tomorrow?  I'll give you a hint:  it rhymes with "Turkish Dictator" because it IS that damn turkish dictator Erdogan who was responsible for that coup and for wrecking the career of Raffi, the guide we fell in love with during our trip to Turkey in 2016. They anticipate mass chaos--foot traffic, subways, buses--the concierge said it may be even more hectic than when Putin was here just recently.

Great....

Now..in the immortal words of Fred Flintstone when he went back to school without Wilma knowing:

"B-b-b-ed....Must go to b-b-b-ed..."

The hop on nod off tour

"I'll take   clever typographical errors for $200.. Alex" 

 The answer is: "Hungary"

"What is an adjective to describe Karen Amster's constant state of being?"

"We'll allow that..we'd also accept bitch-a-y, sleep-a-y..and menopausal-y"

Ok... to all 18 of you still reading my vacation journal, I am punch drunk silly from no sleep(which is why I started with an optimistically high reader number and a forced joke) but we have arrived in Budapest, which some people insist on calling Buda-PESHT.  Which is sad--the first way is easier to remember as Buddha and Pest are aptly named monikers for we weary world travelers. 

I should be napping--no, I shouldn't--that'll throw off my clock--but I have to blog because I am on vacation. I promised myself I would never blog more often that that, out of fear of becoming a BUB--my acronym for Brutally Untalented Blogger, which I'd be if I did this more often. And we've all had our share of BUBS...

Obviously I'm ignoring all those requests to cut the blog because I am selfish and have a lot to say. Would you ask Rapunzel to cut her ladder hair? She'd die if no rescuer could climb her..so..for those of you still reading my insanity in its entirety, you'll get an acknowledgement when the blog becomes a best seller.  Which it won't because I won't listen to an editor.

The shower in this hotel is extremely high.  It make no sense. It makes no scents. OMG, I need to nap...

Let me tell you about the airport adventure before I detail today's events.  Nah..I'll do the events first since there's not too much to say.  This is the most beautiful hotel I've ever seen, and we'll be here for two nights before we board the Avalon Riverboat in Vienna on Tuesday.

We did the Hop on Hop Off tour which was interesting enough, considering that we were nodding off and trying to keep the ear buds plugged in. The streets were mobbed with marathoners in costumes..I saw a Rubik's Cube trying awfully hard to keep his balance.  The Danube is a beautiful sight to behold, but apparently, there's a low water situation--which is why we can't board the boat here and why we have to be bussed to Vienna. 

I fell in love with Vienna from the "Before" trilogy and dreamt that I'd be there with Ethan Hawke's Jessie one day, talking everything from politics to art.  (My real dream was playing Chutes and Ladders with Charlie Sheen--I THINK--I can't SWEAR I slept on the plane)

But the airport experience...A woman named Danica tells me I have a choice: Public or private.  Because I was getting a very..shall we say..thorough..pat down either way.  She told me she'd be handling buttocks and crotch and everything in between.

This happened at 4:42 PM on October 6th, 2018 at the Philadelphia International airport. Danica wore blue gloves and a standard black  airline employee uniform.  She wore small hoop earrings and the trays that held our wallets and keys were grey.  

I feel a need to document these details in case either Danica or myself are being considered for SCOTUS.  Because if every detail isn't remembered exactly as it happened, there could be consequences. Like..nobody will believe what happened with Danica.

OK..no more politics...for the next five seconds.

The architecture here is really impressive. I think the best is yet to come--they say Budapest is magical after dark.

All I knew about Hungary before I got here was that Jim's ancestors came from here.  And  the goulash. And the  Gabors.

Because my blog wouldn't be MY blog without an irrelevant random story, I remember as a teenager going to the Mike Douglas Show where Zsa Zsa was his vain and obnoxious guest.  During every single commercial break, she had a crew of at least four-six hairstylists primping her every strand.  Someone in the audience stood up and yelled what we were all thinking:  "Zsa Zsa..who the hell do you think is messing it up?"

I miss that Hungarian bitch, I truly do.

I know my Gabors.

And my goulash..I had some for lunch and it was quite good.

More later when I am coherent...