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SOUNDS LIKE GERMAN TO ME

As we headed back across the Lagoon, we saw several enormous Cruise Ships heading toward Venice; these were those multi-tiered vessels that carry thousands of passengers, and threaten to take-over the entire Vacation/ Tourism industry. The “floating condominiums” bring not only a lot of tourists to Venice’s narrow streets and canals, but also noise and pollution; and it is widely believed that the vibrations they create threaten the marble foundations of the Renaissance palaces and homes along the water. Over the last 300 years, what with floods and erosions, Venice has sunk over 5 feet; and there are worries that the whole beautiful city may one day slip beneath the sea, like the legendary Atlantis.

But now, Venice was only a fond memory, as we retuned to Verona for the evening. It was a bus ride back in late afternoon traffic. We got to the Holiday Inn after 7:30; we were much too tired to go looking for a restaurant, and definitely were not interested in eating in the hotel dining room, at our own expense, not to mention at our own peril. Next door was the familiar blue-and-yellow Agip gas station, with a convenience store attached. So I selected a bunch of European snack food (in America, we’d call it ‘junk food’, but it seems somehow better in a foreign language and almost-artistic packaging) – chips, nuts, cookies, soft drinks; I brought it up to our room, where we watched soccer on television and nibbled away till we fell asleep a little after it turned dark outside.

The buffet breakfast in the morning was passable; we were on the bus by 8 Am and about to head northward for some spectacular scenery and driving conditions – taking the E70 east to the A27 north then west on the SR48 and finally north on E45 over the Donner Pass into Austria. (And from there further north into the Bavarian Alps.)  I referred to it as ‘The Winter Olympics Route’: Cortina (’56, ’02), Innsbruck (’64, ’76), Garmisch (’36).) As beautiful alpine scenery as one could find anywhere; the road following rivers and rails…

The road began to climb as the mountains grew steeper. Soon we reached Cortina d’Ampezzo in the heart of the Dolomites. The Winter Olympics were held in this alpine resort town in 1956, and again in 2002. Here is the ski-jump venue, looking quite peaceful now in the Spring…

In addition to the Winter Games, this area was also the locale for the films, The Pink Panther, For Your Eyes Only, and Cliffhanger. There were many ‘post-card villages’ nestled in the steep valleys of the southern Tirol. Here is one we saw from the tour bus:

True to form, as the day progressed, the sky began to darken, menacing clouds rolling over-head. We were now approaching the famous Donner Pass, the gateway to Austria. Here is an ominous view of the Pass, with the snow-capped Tyrolean Alps looming beyond…

Fortunately, the storm would just be rain this time. It was still raining as we rolled down into Austria, approaching our mid-day destination,Innsbruck. The town is named for the “Bridge over the Inn River”. Here is a picture taken from that bridge (which is a modern replacement for the old stone one, which was destroyed during WWII). As you can see, when the rain stopped, it is a very attractive town…

The bus took us to the center of the Old Town; they let us off at the Maria-Theresa-Platz, and told us to “Go Eat.” It was already 1:30 PM; they didn’t have to tell us twice. As you see here, this is a typical southern German city of 100 thousand, with the verdigris-topped spires of Baroque churches, and its semi-religious cenotaph in the middle of a neat boulevard, and its inevitable red Strassen-bahn…

We had spent two years living in Frankfurt, Germany a long time ago; the sound of the language brought back our old survival skills. We found a gasthaus not far from here, with its ornate picture-sign of a gold horse outside, declaring it to be Das Golde Pferd Gasthaus.The lunch menu was posted by the door in easy-to-read German. Familiar food to us…

Can’t resist an ‘aside’ here about the language…A year ago, one of our famous politicians, known for his alleged brilliance, gave a speech in this country and referred to the ‘Austrian Language’. There is no such language. German, like English, is a pluricentric language (a language with several standard varieties spoken in different places); there is no ‘Austrian Language’, just as there is no ‘Virginian Language’. What is spoken in Austria is a sub-dialect of Hochdeutsch, virtually the same as the German spoken in Bavaria.

We had a meal of Sauerbraten and Spaetzle, a pilsner beer, coffee, apfel struedel; such a meal for 2 in our Frankfurt days would’ve been about 12 Marks ($3.00); now it was about 22 Euros ($33.00). But the food and service was very good, the German conversation around us quite familiar, and we left the restaurant feeling satisfied. We found a few people from our group wandering around the cobbled streets and joined them. Here is one of the famous sights of Innsbruck: the Goldenes Dachl – the gold-roofed (actually they are gilded copper tiles) balconies of the Medieval town hall, that were built as a ‘luxury box seat’ for the Emperor Maximillian I in the 15th Century; he and his family would sit there to watch the games and pageants held in the town square in front…

As we drew closer, we discovered a crowd of local people in front – a wedding party, about to enter the building itself. Only this was a wedding between two women – the bride, with long dark hair, dressed in traditional white bridal gown, with a lace tiara and a bouquet of white roses, and the “groom” – short-haired, less-feminine, but obviously a woman – in an ill-fitting tuxedo, both smiling for the cameras. We walked away, a bit shocked to see such a 21st Century event in such Old World Medieval surroundings. But, after all, America has no monopoly on ‘alternate life styles’ (or perversions, depending on your value system). Yes,  welcome to the New Europe.

We rendezvoused with our tour bus back at the Maria-Theresa Platz. It had begun to drizzle again, and the air was turning very cold as the late afternoon was coming to a close. We were driven to the outskirts to the Austrotel, a combination ski-chalet and youth hostel. The rooms were Spartan, with single-bunk beds arranged in an L-shape, and a tiny iron balcony over-looking the main entrance. I went for a walk before supper; it was so cold that the rain was turning to snow flurries. In the distance I spied the 1976 Olympic Ski-jump…

Supper was ‘on-the-house’ at the Austrotel. It was dark by the time our group was served; the Hotel had filled-up with people, mostly families, since we had arrived. The dinning room looked like it had been built for about half-the-number of people that were crammed around the tables. We definitely did not eat in a group; we sat wherever we could find a seat. The food was mediocre, but the desert was fine. By the time we finished eating, it was already our bedtime. But obviously not the bedtime for all the kids racing up and down the stairs. It was a noisy night, but we did manage to get some sleep.

The next morning, after the usual breakfast buffet, we drove northwest to the Innsbruck suburb of Wattens, the headquarters of the Sworovski Glass Works. The museum/ workshop/factory was rather unusual. This very odd fountain flanks the entrance to the building, which is located under a large hill, and has no windows…

These “brand-name infomercial excursions” seem to be a universal requirement of packaged group tours. A couple of days ago in Venice, we’d ‘toured’ the Murano workshop/salesroom, a well-known name in fine crystal; George and Mary did buy a nice serving dish (BTW, at a rather inflated price). When we went to Ireland a few years ago, we ‘toured’ the Waterford Crystal Factory (where the workmen were all Czech). In 2004 Melbourne, Australia it was a jewelry shop that showed a film about opal mining underground in the Outback; in Hokitiki, New Zealand, it was a gold-processing factory.that was the most interesting of all of them. In today’s multi-national import-export buy-and-sell culture, such excursions seem extraneous; after all, you can get almost-any big-name product from almost-any country at almost-any upscale mall, and at the same (or sometimes even better) prices.

The glass work at Swarovski’s was impressive and in every color and size and shape imaginable. Phoebe did look for something to buy: a string of black crystal beads. The sales-staff was formally dressed, and was very helpful. But she was unable to find the exact size she wanted. So we did not make a purchase. Still it was an interesting experience.

We left Wattens close to 11 AM, climbing into the Tyrolean Alps toward Bavaria. Looking back from the bus was an incredible view of the town itself, lying in the valley beneath the massive mountain peaks…

(Chapter XI to follow shortly…)

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Tags: Continents, German, RJFensterman, SOUNDS