Friday, December 2, 2011
Bern Onion Market (Zibele-Marit) excursion cancelled due to Mack maladies :-(
Shame - we were really looking forward to bopping random strangers on the head with plastic hammers...
Les gauntlet du Paris
Cam rolls over groggily: 'What's the time?' ...quarter to 7.00!!!!! Well I guess we won't make the 7.23 train from Siggenthal to begin our journey to Paris...
What followed in the next 40 minutes folks was the most superb piece of slapstick chaos conjured by the Macks on their holiday so far. Ok we have a train to catch to Paris at 9.58, and a lot of trains in between. Think we made it? Stay tuned...
Ok, let's go to plan b and aim for the next train at 7.42. After wrangling dash and Jett into attire suitable for the great outdoors, breakfast coaxed into Dash and last shoving of items that we thought we had already packed, into bags bulging at the sides with clothes, broken shoes and Swiss souvenirs (baahaah !! there goes that yodeling cow again) it was 7.35 - with the 7:42 now impossible as well, it was time for last ditch plan c and after that forget Paris - we will be doomed to a bureaucratic nightmare of ticket changes and admin fees, charged in the surprisingly, still-buoyant Euro.
Basically at this point the timing was looking tight but doable. (However, 'just doable' with two kids and six pieces of luggage is a special type of hell). We waved as the 7:42 passed our struggling crew and made it onto the 7:53. This took us one station to turgi, where we changed trains to get a train to aarau, to get a train to basel and then from basel to catch the train to paris. Still with us?
Well, after blearily misreading G's meticulously hand-plotted train timetable, we ended up mistakenly getting off our train at brugg. Not a good mistake to make when things are getting super-tight to get that Paris train. So we waited for the next train to get us to aarau.
We arrive at aarau and G goes and checks on the next train to Basel, while I guard luggage and a wild dash (for whom it is neither the journey, nor the destination, but all about infiltrating the snack bag).
A rather dour man informs G that the train we want departs in one minute from platform five - Aaaaahhhh!!! G bursts out of ticket office screaming 'GO, GO, GO!!!' Cam makes it up the ramp first and hauls our luggage onto the train, pumping his fists in the air when he makes it, with G throwing herself and Dash through the door moments later, to puzzled looks from our fellow commuters. Unfazed, we sit and high five and look pleased with ourselves. We have good seats and our luggage is tucked away. After a minute or two, something feels wrong, 'Cam, is this platform five?' 'Ummmm...'
No it is not, it is platform four and this train is about to leave for Zurich! No time for recriminations, throw two kids, six pieces of luggage and selves OFF train bound in opposite direction and with Cam in a state of acute stress and caffeine-withdrawal, wonder if Plan D could possibly be viable?
Plan D (the final frontier): The 9:14 train reaches Basel at 9:55, and the Paris train departs at 9:58. This would give us three minutes to change platforms and find our carriage (with two kids and six pieces of luggage, remember) There was no way we were going to make it.
So we waited, feeling defeated, but gradually the family Mack rallied, and decided like in all good backs-against-the-wall moments that we were going get that train!!! Dash mumbled something about mango's (which we took as a sign of "let's do this!!!!" and Jett even looked like she raised a fist in solidarity before passing back into her boob fed stupor).
Like gallant heroes we waited, in a cigarette smoke haze, dreaming of a Paris train that we may never board. Dash mumbled something about more mango. The train arrived and we took up a tense post of readiness by the exit, as it sped towards Basel.
Like most Swiss trains it was strong and true.... and on time. Arriving at Basel, your heroes stumbled bravely in a running kind of way - family of four in full flight - towards the shimmering lights of platform 12.
Picture your heroes triumphantly exiting the platform of our arrival via the ramp (have you ever tried the stairs with a gazillion kilo suitcase??), knowing that they had minutes to spare to board their train and unknowing in their courageous quest that they had charged down an access tunnel for maintenance only!
Faced with a dead end, they turn, only to see a Minotaur (oh dear getting carried away) ahem, a service vehicle, with it's flashing lights and a very confused and baffled driver seeing the family Mack rabbit-like caught in his headlights, laden with children and luggage looking for a way out. He pointed back up the ramp in a stunned and 'not sure what the hell is going on here' kind of way. We again ran, back up the ramp across the platform, up the escalator through the pressing throng of people.
Reaching the top of the escalator at platform twelve, we can see the Paris train. C charges ahead, but G is slowed by oblivious non-Paris-bound commuters and a toddler wary of escalators, screaming, 'No fanks, nooo fanks' (manners! at a time like this!) Down the escalator and glory be, the train is still there, although the whistle is screeching - where the hell is Cam??!! G can't see him on the platform, but It's crowded and long. What to do??!! Only one choice, jump on and hope for the best. The train departs as the door closes behind G, who must look shellshocked as a conductor approaches and gestures her to her empty compartment. Where is Cam? He has no money, no ticket, no passport and no phone. As G thinks through the catastrophic implications, thankfully he comes striding through the train - thank God! With ridiculous toothy grins, we realized that we had made it, with full group intact, luggage and a train to Paris.
EPILOGUE: The family Mack unloaded their luggage and settled into their seats for the three hour journey, eating their lunch and enjoying the countryside flashing by...only to be rudely interrupted by another family claiming ownership of said hard-won seats. We showed them the correct corresponding seat numbers on our tickets, only to realize we had the right seat numbers, but the wrong carriage. Can we not catch a break?
Re-pack lunch (disengaging Jett from hers as well), gather up strewn mass of belongings and decamp, but not before Dash spills his yoghurt drink on one of our usurpers.
When we stumble into the right carriage, with Jett yelling for her interrupted lunch, (the family Mack know how to make an entrance!) there is already a woman sleeping, with her head on the communal table, who continues to sleep for almost the entire journey. She even snores, to the amusement of the passengers opposite, but not Cam who is seated next to her. However, a small price to pay because we still made the Paris train.
When we arrive in Paris we even manage to negotiate two trains on the Paris metro to get to our chic apartment in Marais. Life is good!
N.B. Gratuitous inclusion of photo of beautifully wrapped French pastries.
What followed in the next 40 minutes folks was the most superb piece of slapstick chaos conjured by the Macks on their holiday so far. Ok we have a train to catch to Paris at 9.58, and a lot of trains in between. Think we made it? Stay tuned...
Ok, let's go to plan b and aim for the next train at 7.42. After wrangling dash and Jett into attire suitable for the great outdoors, breakfast coaxed into Dash and last shoving of items that we thought we had already packed, into bags bulging at the sides with clothes, broken shoes and Swiss souvenirs (baahaah !! there goes that yodeling cow again) it was 7.35 - with the 7:42 now impossible as well, it was time for last ditch plan c and after that forget Paris - we will be doomed to a bureaucratic nightmare of ticket changes and admin fees, charged in the surprisingly, still-buoyant Euro.
Basically at this point the timing was looking tight but doable. (However, 'just doable' with two kids and six pieces of luggage is a special type of hell). We waved as the 7:42 passed our struggling crew and made it onto the 7:53. This took us one station to turgi, where we changed trains to get a train to aarau, to get a train to basel and then from basel to catch the train to paris. Still with us?
Well, after blearily misreading G's meticulously hand-plotted train timetable, we ended up mistakenly getting off our train at brugg. Not a good mistake to make when things are getting super-tight to get that Paris train. So we waited for the next train to get us to aarau.
We arrive at aarau and G goes and checks on the next train to Basel, while I guard luggage and a wild dash (for whom it is neither the journey, nor the destination, but all about infiltrating the snack bag).
A rather dour man informs G that the train we want departs in one minute from platform five - Aaaaahhhh!!! G bursts out of ticket office screaming 'GO, GO, GO!!!' Cam makes it up the ramp first and hauls our luggage onto the train, pumping his fists in the air when he makes it, with G throwing herself and Dash through the door moments later, to puzzled looks from our fellow commuters. Unfazed, we sit and high five and look pleased with ourselves. We have good seats and our luggage is tucked away. After a minute or two, something feels wrong, 'Cam, is this platform five?' 'Ummmm...'
No it is not, it is platform four and this train is about to leave for Zurich! No time for recriminations, throw two kids, six pieces of luggage and selves OFF train bound in opposite direction and with Cam in a state of acute stress and caffeine-withdrawal, wonder if Plan D could possibly be viable?
Plan D (the final frontier): The 9:14 train reaches Basel at 9:55, and the Paris train departs at 9:58. This would give us three minutes to change platforms and find our carriage (with two kids and six pieces of luggage, remember) There was no way we were going to make it.
So we waited, feeling defeated, but gradually the family Mack rallied, and decided like in all good backs-against-the-wall moments that we were going get that train!!! Dash mumbled something about mango's (which we took as a sign of "let's do this!!!!" and Jett even looked like she raised a fist in solidarity before passing back into her boob fed stupor).
Like gallant heroes we waited, in a cigarette smoke haze, dreaming of a Paris train that we may never board. Dash mumbled something about more mango. The train arrived and we took up a tense post of readiness by the exit, as it sped towards Basel.
Like most Swiss trains it was strong and true.... and on time. Arriving at Basel, your heroes stumbled bravely in a running kind of way - family of four in full flight - towards the shimmering lights of platform 12.
Picture your heroes triumphantly exiting the platform of our arrival via the ramp (have you ever tried the stairs with a gazillion kilo suitcase??), knowing that they had minutes to spare to board their train and unknowing in their courageous quest that they had charged down an access tunnel for maintenance only!
Faced with a dead end, they turn, only to see a Minotaur (oh dear getting carried away) ahem, a service vehicle, with it's flashing lights and a very confused and baffled driver seeing the family Mack rabbit-like caught in his headlights, laden with children and luggage looking for a way out. He pointed back up the ramp in a stunned and 'not sure what the hell is going on here' kind of way. We again ran, back up the ramp across the platform, up the escalator through the pressing throng of people.
Reaching the top of the escalator at platform twelve, we can see the Paris train. C charges ahead, but G is slowed by oblivious non-Paris-bound commuters and a toddler wary of escalators, screaming, 'No fanks, nooo fanks' (manners! at a time like this!) Down the escalator and glory be, the train is still there, although the whistle is screeching - where the hell is Cam??!! G can't see him on the platform, but It's crowded and long. What to do??!! Only one choice, jump on and hope for the best. The train departs as the door closes behind G, who must look shellshocked as a conductor approaches and gestures her to her empty compartment. Where is Cam? He has no money, no ticket, no passport and no phone. As G thinks through the catastrophic implications, thankfully he comes striding through the train - thank God! With ridiculous toothy grins, we realized that we had made it, with full group intact, luggage and a train to Paris.
EPILOGUE: The family Mack unloaded their luggage and settled into their seats for the three hour journey, eating their lunch and enjoying the countryside flashing by...only to be rudely interrupted by another family claiming ownership of said hard-won seats. We showed them the correct corresponding seat numbers on our tickets, only to realize we had the right seat numbers, but the wrong carriage. Can we not catch a break?
Re-pack lunch (disengaging Jett from hers as well), gather up strewn mass of belongings and decamp, but not before Dash spills his yoghurt drink on one of our usurpers.
When we stumble into the right carriage, with Jett yelling for her interrupted lunch, (the family Mack know how to make an entrance!) there is already a woman sleeping, with her head on the communal table, who continues to sleep for almost the entire journey. She even snores, to the amusement of the passengers opposite, but not Cam who is seated next to her. However, a small price to pay because we still made the Paris train.
When we arrive in Paris we even manage to negotiate two trains on the Paris metro to get to our chic apartment in Marais. Life is good!
N.B. Gratuitous inclusion of photo of beautifully wrapped French pastries.
Sunday, November 27, 2011
Real Swiss fondue with real Swiss friends (& a Canadian)
Our neighbours, Markus and Sherri met in Australia, so I think they have a soft spot for Aussies - lucky for us. Soon after we arrived they promised us an authentic Swiss fondue and a couple of nights ago we cashed in! We started at their place, but Dash was a little under the weather, so preparations were moved to our place.
I was a little disappointed to discover that the fondue was made in the pot on the stove, before being transferred to the little burner on the table. However, Markus's fondue did not disappoint. We dipped bread into an enormous pot of cheese and we ate so much, a trip had to be made to get more bread.
Swiss tradition dictates that the first to lose their bread in the pot buys a bottle of wine and it wasn't until we neared the bottom that G faltered. She has since made good with a bottle of South Australian red.
Dessert was three flavors of divine Moevenpick ice-cream and 'kaki' fruit.A lovely night with lovely people.
I was a little disappointed to discover that the fondue was made in the pot on the stove, before being transferred to the little burner on the table. However, Markus's fondue did not disappoint. We dipped bread into an enormous pot of cheese and we ate so much, a trip had to be made to get more bread.
Swiss tradition dictates that the first to lose their bread in the pot buys a bottle of wine and it wasn't until we neared the bottom that G faltered. She has since made good with a bottle of South Australian red.
Dessert was three flavors of divine Moevenpick ice-cream and 'kaki' fruit.A lovely night with lovely people.
Saturday, November 26, 2011
Locarno
Our last night in lugarno we had a pleasant evening at a restaurant across the road from the train station and our hotel. The main centre is a short walk or Funicular ride into the valley below, with houses nestled into the mountain opposite, so the view of the lake and the evening lights was magnificent!
We had hitherto avoided this particular restaurant because it looked too fancy for our crew, but not only was it reasonably priced, but they were surprisingly accommodating of the kids, producing pencils, paper and a domino set that kept Dash amused for a couple of hours! Of course the handmade 'nu-nus' were also right up his alley.
The following morning we left our hotel and headed to Locarno - little sister of the larger Lugano. Dash was very excited about taking a funicular ride into the hills above and luckily it had come back into service that very day after being on hiatus for maintenance. We alighted at Orselina and were rewarded with spectacular views of Locarno, the lake and the Santurio Della Madonna Della Sasso that overlooks the town.
We then returned below and randomly chose a trattoria for lunch in the main square Piazza Grande. Dash amused himself on a nearby 'wild west' carriage and horses ride, but was somewhat put out when another child jumped on too and their less miserly parents put money in and started the ride, so he demanded to get down, being unfamiliar with the concept that rides move if you aren't too cheap to put the money in!
Reluctantly we made the four hour journey home (note exhausted, fast-asleep family), knowing that it was the end of our cross country mini-jaunts in Switzerland, which have been enormously fun (note gratuitous inclusion of photo demonstrating sad state of Mack humor).
We had hitherto avoided this particular restaurant because it looked too fancy for our crew, but not only was it reasonably priced, but they were surprisingly accommodating of the kids, producing pencils, paper and a domino set that kept Dash amused for a couple of hours! Of course the handmade 'nu-nus' were also right up his alley.
The following morning we left our hotel and headed to Locarno - little sister of the larger Lugano. Dash was very excited about taking a funicular ride into the hills above and luckily it had come back into service that very day after being on hiatus for maintenance. We alighted at Orselina and were rewarded with spectacular views of Locarno, the lake and the Santurio Della Madonna Della Sasso that overlooks the town.
We then returned below and randomly chose a trattoria for lunch in the main square Piazza Grande. Dash amused himself on a nearby 'wild west' carriage and horses ride, but was somewhat put out when another child jumped on too and their less miserly parents put money in and started the ride, so he demanded to get down, being unfamiliar with the concept that rides move if you aren't too cheap to put the money in!
Reluctantly we made the four hour journey home (note exhausted, fast-asleep family), knowing that it was the end of our cross country mini-jaunts in Switzerland, which have been enormously fun (note gratuitous inclusion of photo demonstrating sad state of Mack humor).
Friday, November 25, 2011
Desperately seeking George
George, George where are you ???!!!!! Don't you remember you invited the family Mack for brunch? Actually we were so busy rattling around Como (just over the border in Italy) and taking a cruise around the lake that we had to skip brunch with Mr Clooney. We hope that he didn't stock too many Nespresso options in preparation for our visit. Awwwwwww well, we'll send him an Aussie souvenir when we get home.
For those not in the know, George Clooney is currently a lake Como resident and he wasn't the reason we were there. While it would have been quite nice to have brunch with george, we did have a very pleasant day. It was quite beautiful and it was nice strolling the streets - the incredible ornate church was mind boggling in its fabulous 'overdoneness'.
We found a nice park for dash to play in that was dedicated to the Brazilian environmentalist and social activist Chico Mendes. Dash was underawed by the political significance of the sight, but he made a couple of little friends, seemingly unhindered by the language barrier - he still managed to get them to board his 'train' (yes, he is a little obsessed: note pic with Mum roped into one of many vaiations - 'armchair train).
The return journey was a study in starkly contrasting public transport priorities. Our hearts sank as the Italian train (circa 1950s?) approached, or should we say wheezed and rattled into the station. No lit-up buttons activating silent, sliding doors, just a rather rude note saying the carriage was fully booked. We boarded anyway, unable to heave our luggage further along. En route we entered a tunnel where the lights failed. When we reached the border to change trains, we had to be rescued from our carriage by a rail employee, as the door had failed as well. Looking to the other side of the platform we saw with considerable relief, our Swiss train awaiting us, all sleek, aerodynamic curves and we sank into it's plush seats gratefully. Italy may have George, but he evidently isn't paying enough tax!
For those not in the know, George Clooney is currently a lake Como resident and he wasn't the reason we were there. While it would have been quite nice to have brunch with george, we did have a very pleasant day. It was quite beautiful and it was nice strolling the streets - the incredible ornate church was mind boggling in its fabulous 'overdoneness'.
We found a nice park for dash to play in that was dedicated to the Brazilian environmentalist and social activist Chico Mendes. Dash was underawed by the political significance of the sight, but he made a couple of little friends, seemingly unhindered by the language barrier - he still managed to get them to board his 'train' (yes, he is a little obsessed: note pic with Mum roped into one of many vaiations - 'armchair train).
The return journey was a study in starkly contrasting public transport priorities. Our hearts sank as the Italian train (circa 1950s?) approached, or should we say wheezed and rattled into the station. No lit-up buttons activating silent, sliding doors, just a rather rude note saying the carriage was fully booked. We boarded anyway, unable to heave our luggage further along. En route we entered a tunnel where the lights failed. When we reached the border to change trains, we had to be rescued from our carriage by a rail employee, as the door had failed as well. Looking to the other side of the platform we saw with considerable relief, our Swiss train awaiting us, all sleek, aerodynamic curves and we sank into it's plush seats gratefully. Italy may have George, but he evidently isn't paying enough tax!
Thursday, November 24, 2011
Bellinzona
Three castles, most of what we see today was built in the 15th century by the duchy of milan. The walls of which once enclosed the town. The schloss meter was running high, or in these parts it's castello, schloss sounds more fun though. The main schloss was the Castelgrande, one can either enter it walking up steep cobbled paths or via the extraordinary bunker elevator with a shaft and entrance carved out of the rock benneath the schloss, which was cool. ( check out pic ) . The view from the top was extraordinary. While Cam lived out his knighted fantasies, Dash, Jett and Greta had brunch in the glorious sunshine, in the thoughtfully provided courtyard, with magnificent views of the castle across the valley.
For lunch Dash gave his stamp of approval to the local cuisine (pizza of course!) and that was pretty much our day. Getting schlossed sure takes it out of you even when aided by a bunker elevator.
For lunch Dash gave his stamp of approval to the local cuisine (pizza of course!) and that was pretty much our day. Getting schlossed sure takes it out of you even when aided by a bunker elevator.
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