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.
Wednesday, November 23, 2011
Lugano
Venturing into Ticino, the Italian region of Switzerland...
The journey to Lugano put on a show of some of the most spectacular scenery and engineering marvels we have ever seen. Bridges straddling large gulfs and then diving into deep tunnels, then suddenly you're on the other side of the mountain. The mountains again are magnificent and even though these engineering marvels seem to have tamed them by making passage easier: through, over and around them; we are fooling ourselves if we think that these peaks can be conquered. They even defied photography, as G leapt around the carriage trying to get a shot that came close to doing the scene justice. Finally, defeated, we just sat in incredulous silence and marveled at the picturesque views - bugger the blog ;-)
Unloading ourselves off the train we scuttled up to the hotel where Herman Hesse once stayed, even making a cameo appearance in one of his novels.
Rooms were given the Mack seal of approval and once luggage was stashed we went exploring Lugano. After a winding steep descent, we made it to the beautiful lake and strolled beside it in the glorious afternoon sunshine.
We observed with some amusement and a suitable measure of grumpy disapproval, what must serve as Lugano's local hoods - part gangster rappers, part Italian hipster (think immaculate vest and shirt, teamed with low-slung pants). Irritatingly, they were strumming toy guitars, which they progressively smashed and pieces of which they discarded behind them.
As we meandered through the park, we frequently noticed a distinct 'herbal' aroma in the air. As people were none too discreet about lighting up, we made a note to check the finer points of legality...
Dash was very excited about a trip on the funicular, a small train on a steep track that takes you back to Lugano station. Everyone surges forward to catch it, creating quite a crush and making you think that the walk must surely be longer than ten minutes.
On our return to the hotel, a highlight for G & D was watching Cam beside himself with laughter whilst watching a crazy Japanese game show where contestants dressed in outlandish and cumbersome costumes and completed physical challenges, which was dubbed and narrated in Italian. Such is the variety of International travel...
The journey to Lugano put on a show of some of the most spectacular scenery and engineering marvels we have ever seen. Bridges straddling large gulfs and then diving into deep tunnels, then suddenly you're on the other side of the mountain. The mountains again are magnificent and even though these engineering marvels seem to have tamed them by making passage easier: through, over and around them; we are fooling ourselves if we think that these peaks can be conquered. They even defied photography, as G leapt around the carriage trying to get a shot that came close to doing the scene justice. Finally, defeated, we just sat in incredulous silence and marveled at the picturesque views - bugger the blog ;-)
Unloading ourselves off the train we scuttled up to the hotel where Herman Hesse once stayed, even making a cameo appearance in one of his novels.
Rooms were given the Mack seal of approval and once luggage was stashed we went exploring Lugano. After a winding steep descent, we made it to the beautiful lake and strolled beside it in the glorious afternoon sunshine.
We observed with some amusement and a suitable measure of grumpy disapproval, what must serve as Lugano's local hoods - part gangster rappers, part Italian hipster (think immaculate vest and shirt, teamed with low-slung pants). Irritatingly, they were strumming toy guitars, which they progressively smashed and pieces of which they discarded behind them.
As we meandered through the park, we frequently noticed a distinct 'herbal' aroma in the air. As people were none too discreet about lighting up, we made a note to check the finer points of legality...
Dash was very excited about a trip on the funicular, a small train on a steep track that takes you back to Lugano station. Everyone surges forward to catch it, creating quite a crush and making you think that the walk must surely be longer than ten minutes.
On our return to the hotel, a highlight for G & D was watching Cam beside himself with laughter whilst watching a crazy Japanese game show where contestants dressed in outlandish and cumbersome costumes and completed physical challenges, which was dubbed and narrated in Italian. Such is the variety of International travel...
Tuesday, November 22, 2011
Border crossing, but no passport
We decided to sample a little of France and visit the very well preserved town of Colmar in Alsace. Our Swiss neighbours, Sherri and Markus had been there a few days before and brought us back a delicious local cake - we were sold!
Having caught so many trains lately, it had been a while since we had ventured out in the car, but GPS's are a godsend and we were soon on our way to the border, being overtaken at 130kph (love Euro freeways!)
The Macks have something of a knack for taking hours to get out the door and then forgetting one crucial item. Usually MacGyver-like we make do. Unfortunately, as we neared the border crossing, we realized that Cam had forgotten to put on his attractive flesh-colored belt housing our passports. Too late to turn around, we approached with trepidation, wondering if the 'clueless Aussie' ploy would get us through without a hefty fine. As we approached, G almost crashed into a barrier that looked like it completely closed off the road - thankfully she found the opening and drove through trying not to look guilty. We breathed a sigh of relief at the laxity of the European Union when nobody looked remotely like they wanted to stop us and then realized we could still be stopped anywhere outside of our house in Siggenthal and be expected to produce our documents.
The drive into Colmar got slightly more stressful when we hit a maze of one-way streets, with signs in completely unfamiliar French. However, once we found a park and started walking it was all worth it. Some of the buildings appear to have random street numbers in the eight hundreds until you realize that is the date they were built! We even passed Voltaire's residence, although possibly a fancy plaque is overkill to mark a stay of only one year.
God bless the Swiss and their two-hour lunch breaks - spot the tourists all gathered around the information bureau, puzzling at the sign. Damn civilized I say (but often quite inconvenient).
On the way home, again navigating the freeway, between the slow trucks and the super-sonic sports cars, G received a thumbs-up from a passing driver. Apparently not a compliment in these parts...
Having caught so many trains lately, it had been a while since we had ventured out in the car, but GPS's are a godsend and we were soon on our way to the border, being overtaken at 130kph (love Euro freeways!)
The Macks have something of a knack for taking hours to get out the door and then forgetting one crucial item. Usually MacGyver-like we make do. Unfortunately, as we neared the border crossing, we realized that Cam had forgotten to put on his attractive flesh-colored belt housing our passports. Too late to turn around, we approached with trepidation, wondering if the 'clueless Aussie' ploy would get us through without a hefty fine. As we approached, G almost crashed into a barrier that looked like it completely closed off the road - thankfully she found the opening and drove through trying not to look guilty. We breathed a sigh of relief at the laxity of the European Union when nobody looked remotely like they wanted to stop us and then realized we could still be stopped anywhere outside of our house in Siggenthal and be expected to produce our documents.
The drive into Colmar got slightly more stressful when we hit a maze of one-way streets, with signs in completely unfamiliar French. However, once we found a park and started walking it was all worth it. Some of the buildings appear to have random street numbers in the eight hundreds until you realize that is the date they were built! We even passed Voltaire's residence, although possibly a fancy plaque is overkill to mark a stay of only one year.
God bless the Swiss and their two-hour lunch breaks - spot the tourists all gathered around the information bureau, puzzling at the sign. Damn civilized I say (but often quite inconvenient).
On the way home, again navigating the freeway, between the slow trucks and the super-sonic sports cars, G received a thumbs-up from a passing driver. Apparently not a compliment in these parts...
Sunday, November 20, 2011
Bern baby Bern
Leaving the wonderful Bellevue...
Bern has a thing for bears. It is their symbol, the word Bern is associated in meaning to bear and they even have a bear pit to taunt the poor things. Actually it had a make-over in 2009 a vast improvement on the old bear pit.
While sadly the old part of Bern burnt down in a disastrous fire in the 15th century, it was rebuilt with stone and the rebuilt old city is a marvel. Strolling down cobbled streets, er actually ricketing down cobbled streets with dash passed out in the stroller (glad we paid full-fare for him to see Europe...) it was once again easy to get lost in time (except for the fancy shops and buses fanging down the narrow streets).
In an embarrassing tourist moment, G was so intent on pointing the iPad (embarrassingly conspicuous in itself) at the clock tower that supposedly inspired Einstein's theory of relativity, that she almost got hit by one of these careening people movers, people watching with amusement as she leapt aside as the horn blared but iPad and pride still intact - stunt clocktower photography at it's best. We often get funny looks taking pictures with the iPad but it's the only way we can get pictures onto the blog -Oh the sacrifice! If apple are reading this blog we are happy to take sponsorship as we are endorsing your products and making them look cool...actually not...more like idiot-proof!
The old city built on a hill had incredible vistas of the outer suburbs on the other side of the river. Stay tuned for our intended return to Bern for the onion festival...
Bern has a thing for bears. It is their symbol, the word Bern is associated in meaning to bear and they even have a bear pit to taunt the poor things. Actually it had a make-over in 2009 a vast improvement on the old bear pit.
While sadly the old part of Bern burnt down in a disastrous fire in the 15th century, it was rebuilt with stone and the rebuilt old city is a marvel. Strolling down cobbled streets, er actually ricketing down cobbled streets with dash passed out in the stroller (glad we paid full-fare for him to see Europe...) it was once again easy to get lost in time (except for the fancy shops and buses fanging down the narrow streets).
In an embarrassing tourist moment, G was so intent on pointing the iPad (embarrassingly conspicuous in itself) at the clock tower that supposedly inspired Einstein's theory of relativity, that she almost got hit by one of these careening people movers, people watching with amusement as she leapt aside as the horn blared but iPad and pride still intact - stunt clocktower photography at it's best. We often get funny looks taking pictures with the iPad but it's the only way we can get pictures onto the blog -Oh the sacrifice! If apple are reading this blog we are happy to take sponsorship as we are endorsing your products and making them look cool...actually not...more like idiot-proof!
The old city built on a hill had incredible vistas of the outer suburbs on the other side of the river. Stay tuned for our intended return to Bern for the onion festival...
Friday, November 18, 2011
Lake Thun majestic, G shopoplectic
Today we headed to the lake town of thun. Dash had been begging to take a bus and it turned out to truly be the scenic route. Hugging the side of the cliff, it provided an incredible view of the lake and a few hair raising turns (bless the skilled bus driver, or was that the skill of other drivers avoiding the bus..?) We arrived safe and sound in the middle of town and it was time for the family Mack to get schlossed.
Schlossed: An affectionate term coined to describe the manic process of a family marching up some ridiculously steep hill, with screaming kids, so that they can see a castle or what used to be a castle and is now but an interesting pile of old assembled stone.
Schloss Thun is a 12th century castle that seriously dominates the skyline. Described as a fairy tale castle I thought it looked more like a "don't mess with me I am your lord, and ye who dwell below my lofty pinnacles are nothing but dust and shall do my bidding" type of deal. This was no ruin in fact looking up at this monstrosity of stone assemblage I felt like an ant and that I was about to be attacked by some Swiss knight with a pike. Alas we could not go inside as it is only open on Sunday's between 1 and 4 in winter, so we didn't stick around and wait, though daddy Mack, still schlossed with schloss fever thought about it...not for long. But he did think about it....a little
G chose our lunch spot, and being fond of the occasional indulgence in the finer things in life, she saw hidden potential in a somewhat pretentious sushi bar called Fluss (even undeterred by Switzerland's status as a land-locked country). G - I needed a light antidote to all that bread, cheese and wurst.
Anyway, although not ostensibly family-friendly, we were not put off by the dubious looks garnered by our party, nor the assertion that there was no room for a stroller, pointing out that we would like to sit on the fabulous deck overlooking the river that was probably more accustomed to skimpily attired young and funkies - but at least I pulled out a boob (for Jett) to get in the mood! It was very enjoyable sitting in the sun, munching on raw fish watching the river run by and Dash both ate his food (Japanese being a rare cuisine that he enjoys) and ran amok on the deck and riverside = happy parents!
After lunch G claimed some shopping points earned from intensive schlossing. I found a double row of gorgeous, quirky shops on Obere Hauptgasse, where you could walk on the level above the street level shops - twice as many shopping opportunities! I found a handmade jewelry and homeware shop where I kept bringing new items to the counter as fast as the owner could wrap, which I think she did excruciatingly slowly as a ploy to keep me buying her beautiful wares. In a slightly 'single white female' moment, when we returned to Markus and Peggy's house, I realized that Peggy must have been to the exact same shop, as there are a few (fairly obscure) items in their home that are exactly the same as those that I bought!
Dinner was at our favorite Swiss restaurant the golden anchor. Once again we ate a lovely dinner. Cam had the mountain goat and Greta and Dash had fish from a Swiss mountain stream. The staff are very friendly and just love the kids. One of the staff was all gah-gah over dash and took him to meet the kitchen staff who all gave him high fives and fussed over him. She did not notice Jett who was snoozing in the stroller until we got up to leave and she was quite overcome, topped off when Dash gave her a hug. Traveling with young kids can have its moments of @&/$$/;!:,);>\,£ @@&&@!!!! but interactions like these make it so worth it.
Schlossed: An affectionate term coined to describe the manic process of a family marching up some ridiculously steep hill, with screaming kids, so that they can see a castle or what used to be a castle and is now but an interesting pile of old assembled stone.
Schloss Thun is a 12th century castle that seriously dominates the skyline. Described as a fairy tale castle I thought it looked more like a "don't mess with me I am your lord, and ye who dwell below my lofty pinnacles are nothing but dust and shall do my bidding" type of deal. This was no ruin in fact looking up at this monstrosity of stone assemblage I felt like an ant and that I was about to be attacked by some Swiss knight with a pike. Alas we could not go inside as it is only open on Sunday's between 1 and 4 in winter, so we didn't stick around and wait, though daddy Mack, still schlossed with schloss fever thought about it...not for long. But he did think about it....a little
G chose our lunch spot, and being fond of the occasional indulgence in the finer things in life, she saw hidden potential in a somewhat pretentious sushi bar called Fluss (even undeterred by Switzerland's status as a land-locked country). G - I needed a light antidote to all that bread, cheese and wurst.
Anyway, although not ostensibly family-friendly, we were not put off by the dubious looks garnered by our party, nor the assertion that there was no room for a stroller, pointing out that we would like to sit on the fabulous deck overlooking the river that was probably more accustomed to skimpily attired young and funkies - but at least I pulled out a boob (for Jett) to get in the mood! It was very enjoyable sitting in the sun, munching on raw fish watching the river run by and Dash both ate his food (Japanese being a rare cuisine that he enjoys) and ran amok on the deck and riverside = happy parents!
After lunch G claimed some shopping points earned from intensive schlossing. I found a double row of gorgeous, quirky shops on Obere Hauptgasse, where you could walk on the level above the street level shops - twice as many shopping opportunities! I found a handmade jewelry and homeware shop where I kept bringing new items to the counter as fast as the owner could wrap, which I think she did excruciatingly slowly as a ploy to keep me buying her beautiful wares. In a slightly 'single white female' moment, when we returned to Markus and Peggy's house, I realized that Peggy must have been to the exact same shop, as there are a few (fairly obscure) items in their home that are exactly the same as those that I bought!
Dinner was at our favorite Swiss restaurant the golden anchor. Once again we ate a lovely dinner. Cam had the mountain goat and Greta and Dash had fish from a Swiss mountain stream. The staff are very friendly and just love the kids. One of the staff was all gah-gah over dash and took him to meet the kitchen staff who all gave him high fives and fussed over him. She did not notice Jett who was snoozing in the stroller until we got up to leave and she was quite overcome, topped off when Dash gave her a hug. Traveling with young kids can have its moments of @&/$$/;!:,);>\,£ @@&&@!!!! but interactions like these make it so worth it.
Thursday, November 17, 2011
Jungfraujoch
We were first in the door for our hotel's delicious buffet breakfast (The Macks love a buffet!) We feasted on bircher muesli, cold meats and an impressive selection of Swiss cheeses. Dash seemed to be overwhelmed by the choice, taking about a bite of each offering, before surrendering it to his Dad to finish off.
Entirely sated, we headed off to inverlaken Ost to catch the first of seven(!) trains. We arrived 20 mins later at our first stop, Grindelwald and with Kenny Rogers crooning don't fall in love with a dreamer,the Macks dreamt of snow covered mountains while we sat down for a hot choc, before beginning our ascent in truly magnificent weather. [G- trust Cam to pick up on the background music - he also noted Metallica at breakfast!]
A couple more train changes and we were on the Jungfrau railway (Europe's highest). It is a true engineering marvel and something of a testament to human folly, with sadly many lives lost. Construction began in 1896, with thousands of men toiling for sixteen years and finally halting just short of their intended destination.
At over 3500m, the views are spectacular as you walk out into more ice than snow as Cam soon discovered when he 'got air' and landed spectacularly on his arse! We didn't stay too long as we were concerned about the possible effect of the altitude on the kids. They were little troopers however and it was Greta who wound up with altitude sickness - totally worth it though!
We were all thoroughly exhausted on the return journey, but Dash perked up no end when a lovely Japanese lady enticed him over with chocolate - even returning for seconds!
Jett gave us some big smiles and last night she slept through - the perfect ending to a wonderful day.
Entirely sated, we headed off to inverlaken Ost to catch the first of seven(!) trains. We arrived 20 mins later at our first stop, Grindelwald and with Kenny Rogers crooning don't fall in love with a dreamer,the Macks dreamt of snow covered mountains while we sat down for a hot choc, before beginning our ascent in truly magnificent weather. [G- trust Cam to pick up on the background music - he also noted Metallica at breakfast!]
A couple more train changes and we were on the Jungfrau railway (Europe's highest). It is a true engineering marvel and something of a testament to human folly, with sadly many lives lost. Construction began in 1896, with thousands of men toiling for sixteen years and finally halting just short of their intended destination.
At over 3500m, the views are spectacular as you walk out into more ice than snow as Cam soon discovered when he 'got air' and landed spectacularly on his arse! We didn't stay too long as we were concerned about the possible effect of the altitude on the kids. They were little troopers however and it was Greta who wound up with altitude sickness - totally worth it though!
We were all thoroughly exhausted on the return journey, but Dash perked up no end when a lovely Japanese lady enticed him over with chocolate - even returning for seconds!
Jett gave us some big smiles and last night she slept through - the perfect ending to a wonderful day.
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