Musings – On Our One Year Anniversary & US Return

What is it like to live in 19’ with the Love of Your Life and two terriers for a year?  Not as hard as you would imagine, certainly not as hard as I imagined.  The key for me was to surround myself with only items that bring me joy.

What I thought was going to be the biggest sacrifice, a severely limited wardrobe, turned out to be my greatest discovery:  When I open the clothes cupboard (of which there is only one, and it is small, and it is shared) I know that whatever I pull out I will love.  This is a huge change from my walk-in closet back in Laguna where, stocked with every piece of clothing or shoe that even momentarily caught my eye, I would stand for an eternity each morning thinking, “I should wear that, or I should wear this” only to put back on my personally cut ¾ length Levi’s.  Looking back, I now see the wasted time and money involved in what should just be a quick morning activity wielded solely as a pediment to more distinguished accomplishments.  I am just saying, Einstein and Coco stuck to plain black.

Thanks to modern technology and, especially here in Europe, almost constantly available WIFI, I can bring along all the people who bring me joy.  I am not a huge fan of Facebook, but it is difficult to imagine a year away and staying connected to my friends and family without it.  Sometimes it is the seemingly trivial postings that keep the connection most alive.

Of course two of my very favorite possessions are hairy, playful and love to roll around on the bed.  For this I am thankful that SP pushed us to bring along a small vacuum.  Speaking of SP and possessions, when loading up we had many arguments about what should be included, tools, pots, fasteners (“a vacuum?  Are you crazy?!”), I am afraid that SP’s list was much (much, much) longer than mine.  I have to admit, though, that his possessions have come in handy a number of times and undoubtedly have made this year a much smoother ride.

As for Don’t Dare Label Him A Possession SP, not only does he make me laugh in the most trying of times (of which there have been many) he may forever be the only person who understands how difficult Living the Dream can be.

Is it fitting to be lingering on thoughts of returning to the US while writing this?  We are planning on a mid-December return, earlier than originally anticipated.  Part of this is home-sickness (Facebook does not provide the ability to hold my new nephew), part is wanting to garden on land that we can call our own, but most of it is us having grown weary of the almost constant chore of dealing with what needs to come into and out of your body.  Not to mention our new understanding of Schengen (the treaty not the town.) 

As for me, some joyful thoughts on my first days back in the US:

-        The first thing I eat will be a toasted onion bagel dripping with butter;

-        The first thing I drink will be a Manhattan;

-        The first thing I buy will be a NY Times Sunday Edition or, if it is not Sunday, a Wall Street Journal.

With any luck all three items will happen on the same day.

-K

Dobriach, Austria Part 1 – Aug. 21-26, 2012

Busy season pictures here

Written upon arrival, August 21:  Despite being promised that the vacationers would be tailoring off, we are again surrounded by multitudes of people.  But this time we booked ahead and reserved the largest pitch they had; thankfully at the entrance to one of the campground's otherwise dead-end rows.  Rookie mistake:  We were so happy to be in a well-marked comfort pitch (water and drainage on-pitch although you share the drain) that we pulled in and parked Salt without any thought of having to hook her up and get out.  

Later, sitting outside enjoying our cocktails, we watched as the row across from us (and by “across from us” I mean, literally, six feet away) filled up (and up and up) and we slowly realized that not only might we never want to leave (mountains, lake, swimming, fishing, hiking, cool breeze, happy Austrians) but that we may never be able to leave.  As it stands right now, we cannot re-attach Salt and get her out of the pitch without asking someone else to move.  Hello Neighbor, nice to meet you, would you kindly hitch up your caravan and move it out of our way?  And we wonder where Europeans get the idea that Americans are pushy.

Update on August 26:  I have never been so happy to be woken up by the sound of a car!  This is the last Sunday of August and the people are flying out of the campground.  As I said to SP, we might get back to liking this way of living soon; perfect timing as we are about to celebrate one year full time in Salt. 

We continue to treat this stop like a vacation with lots of tennis, swimming and long, easy walks with the Noses around the lake.  The local Pretzel Bread has now replaced Pain au Raisin as my raison d'etre.

Austria was not on our original plan, but now we are glad it was thrown our way.  The people seem more outgoing and active than other Germanic countries we have encountered and our little spot in (the wonderful) Camping Brunner am See at the head of Millstatter See (Lake) is perfect:  The camp has its own beach, you can walk to groceries and a bakery, tennis is close at hand, two touristy towns within a short drive and a working town (my phrase for towns that work for the people with hardware stores, auto supplies, veterinarians, doctors, etc.) within a 30 minute, gorgeous drive around the lake.

With the people thinning out we may find ourselves here for quite some time.

-K

PS:  The thinning out has included many pitches in our immediate vicinity so moving, should we ever want to, should no longer be an issue.

Bovec, Slovenia – Aug. 14-20, 2012

More pictures here!

It was simply too hot to enjoy, but we will be back.  Slovenia, as I tweeted before, is the Colorado of Europe:  A rugged and mountainous space with happy, healthy people outside all the time.  Prior to our arrival in England, we had never heard of the country but on three separate occasions, when we asked a European where their favorite place was, they mentioned Slovenia and thus the tiny country made it to our list.  (The Aventura, if I haven’t mentioned it before, is all about visiting towns [and now countries] that we ordinarily wouldn’t have picked out as vacation spots from the comfort of a non-rolling home.)

Fortunately the snow was off the peaks as we drove through the valleys leading from Udine, Italy  through Kobarid and up to Bovec, otherwise we may have driven off the road the beauty was so intense.  If you can peel your eyes from the road, you will glimpse the aqua waters of the Soca River far below, the color of which cannot be believed; even my pictures look unreal to me now. 

However, we quickly learned that it is not a country built for caravanning:  Small, windy roads whose unprotected edges drop precipitously down the mountainside and ne’er a full-service (comfort) pitch to be found.  Indeed, most campgrounds we checked out, including the one that found room for us, Kamping Polovnek, had the smallest pitches imaginable (or, worse, no defined pitches at all) with matching small roads leading into them.  Salt and Pepper could barely fit down the access paths let alone park in most of the spaces. 

The campgrounds are filled with small RV’s (motorhomes) and tent-campers.  Multi-colored tents popped up side by side across the fields in Kamping Polovnek transforming the fields into psychedelic mushroom farms, no pun intended.  Being one of the largest outfits around, we crammed Salt between two trees and tried our best to enjoy the four feet directly in front of our door; the only “private” space we could garner.

In an effort to escape the stifling heat at camp we sought out higher elevation (yet another gondola ride although at half the price of Switzerland) and hiked to a point where, clinging to the sides of rock, you area able to gaze through a giant hole into Italy.  It was definitely cooler up there but still hot and the gondola ride back down was almost more than we could bear; with the sunshine streaming into the glass-enclosed bucket and only a small window to be opened it quickly became an oven. 

Despite three competitive tennis matches (SP is consistently winning now, but not without a fight) by far our best experience was the day we did the Bryant Soca River Tour and stopped at two of the pull-out spots on the (ahem) highway, walking down to the river.  It was deathly cold in the water, but it felt so good we all jumped in multiple times.

Between the heat and the lack of an in-pitch dumping site, we simply had to leave.  We couldn’t leave our tanks with anything in them for more than three days without Salt starting to smell (it was over 90 every day) and pulling in and out of the pitch to access the dump area was a nightmare.  As a friend of ours wrote we “need[ed] a vacation from our vacation.”  (Incidentally, we could have used the clean and functional facilities at the campground—and I did most of the time—but with the campground full to over-loading, that was not a pleasant experience either.)

SP had the great idea to go directly to the closest full-service pitch available but try as we might, we could not locate one in Slovenia.  The closest we found was in Austria, a short 100 KM drive, and thus Austria made it onto the Aventura list (although, unlike Slovenia, prior to this we may have been able to place Austria on a map.)  We landed at Camping Brunner in Dobriach, a small town on a gorgeous lake with temperatures in the low 80’s and a nice fresh breeze.  It was time to find some tonic, open the Mt. Gay Rum and start pouring those T&C’s! 

Nothing says vacation like a full-service pitch.

Cheers!

-K

Musings – On the Transformational Properties of Camping

The Before:

It is dangerous to ponder the transformational effects of camping in Europe in the middle of August:  With temperatures above 30/90 and neighbors so close that, if you both just leaned a little out your front door you could shake hands, the danger is that it might become a gripe-fest.  But I have found living this way has made me more tolerant, the best indication of this metamorphous can be found in how many times a day I say, “Really, who cares?”

Watching the European men walk to the bathroom in less than what we would call underwear, I now simply say, “Really, who cares?” 

Wondering if I should change out of my sleeping shorts before heading there myself, I also say, “Really, who cares?”

There is no doubt that living like this has changed my opinion of where the lines of  social etiquette should be drawn:  At first I am aggravated at having to listen to some Italian musical blaring out of my neighbor’s van—until I can no longer hear their bodily functions at which point aggravation quickly turns to appreciation.  Perhaps there should be a Maslow’s Pyramid of Social Etiquette; the bottom layer, “The need to insulate your neighbors from your bodily functions.”

Last month, I commenced to bleach my hair while in a campground.  I considered how ridiculous I would look walking to the showers with a bag on my head but that didn’t stop me.  On the way over, I pictured a lady lying comfortably on her deathbed saying, “I had a perfect life—except for that time  I saw a woman walk to the shower with a bag on her head.”

I mean, really, who cares?

-K

Switzerland (Fiesch & Poschiavo) & into Slovenia – Aug. 13-16, 2012

More photos here!

We knew Europe would be crowded in August which is why we planned on being in the Alps, assuming most people would prefer the beaches of the Mediterranean for their vacation.  None the less, it started to get crowded at our lovely spot in Poschiavo (Camping Boomerang) to the point where I thought they were about to ask us to share our pitch (crowded has since taken on a new meaning.)   So we decided it was time to go even further afield and try out the Julian Alps in Slovenia via a quick drive through northern Italy. 

But first to describe our remaining time in Switzerland:  We accomplished two more hikes, a long one starting at the Alp Grum train station and winding through a valley to the base of a glacier and a much shorter one that started at the top of the Bernina Diavolo gondola, where after only a very short hike, we were above 10,000’ and doing our best to breath. 

If we needed any further impetus to leave Switzerland we received it with the cost of those two hikes:  Over $300 (eight round-trip train tickets and four gondola tickets) this, for something that we are used to enjoying for free. 

Eager to get to a less-expensive country, we drove out of Switzerland and into Italy where we almost fainted pulling Salt over Abrica Pass.  Every mountain road we have been on in Italy has been under construction and this was no different.  Add August traffic to the construction and you have quite a mess and definitely more than we would try to deal with again.  We vowed to stick to the multi-lane highways and save the mountain roads for Pepper alone.  Big words for two people who have no experience driving in most of these countries.

After the slow, harrowing drive through the pass, we knew we wouldn’t make it to Slovenia in one day so we opted to leave the highway and head to Caorole, a small town on the Adriatic sea, which had at least three tent signs on our map indicating camping.  Unfortunately, we did not notice the map also included an umbrella sign; the universal symbol for “beach”. 

The temperature had reached above 30/90 as we pulled into town and proceeded to get turned away from every campground.  They were full, and I mean full; even if they had found a spot for us, I wouldn’t have stayed.  You simply would not believe how crammed together everyone was (unless, of course, you have camped on the Italian coast during August).  You could barely walk between the rigs. 

So we had a quick dinner (pizza!) along the sea before hitting the road.  As it was late, we decided to forgo a campground and just stop at a motel off the highway.  Ha!  This is not the US, you don’t see many glowing Holiday Inn signs as you cruise down the road.  So Simon (GPS) directed us to a hotel outside of Udine where we grabbed a small room for €70 and slept like two logs (the separate beds helped!)

Still not having any reservations (do not attempt to camp in Europe in August without reservations!) we headed early to Slovenia, starting our pitch search in Kobarid and garnering our first rejection before noon.  Luckily, by that time, a campground further north had written that they had room for us so we headed to Bovic.

And just like that we were back on mountain roads.

Not having any options for a highway (or, worse, maybe Route 203 from Kobarid to Bovec is considered a highway in Slovenia) we had another white-knuckle and close to Salt-scraping experience getting to Kamp Polovnik.  However, true to their word, they did have a place for us. 

This is where you can find us now:  Crammed into a pitch (one of the few that are even slightly defined by trees—most of the camp is just open fields and therefore a free for all for space) and hoping for enough Aventura spirit to get through the heat and crowds of August. 

-K

Pepper's Lament by Deborah Nittel

Aug 14, 2012 - My Owners have had me back Her into yet another campsite in yet another country.  It wouldn't be so bad if she wasn't so contrary - when I turn left, she turns right.  I've learned to just go with it as I know it's an argument I can't win.  I expect that since we are STILL in a place where I can't read the signs, pretty soon every French, Italian and Swiss in the area will be oogling and awing over  HER.  Sure... she's  shiny, aero-dynamic and maybe even "cute", but what am I.....scrap metal?  Shouldn't I get some kudos for hauling her lazy *** around  two continents?

Oh, I tried to get My Owners' attention by shaking them up when they accelerated.  I tried to tell them that She's just too much trailer for me by wearing out my break pads - I even blew a tire.  We just ended up in yet another Porsche dealership in yet another country - me getting probed and prodded while They sipped lattes.  I thought the life of a Porsche Cayenne would be better than this...more civilized.  Soccer moms driving their kids a few blocks to practice a couple times a week,  perhaps a drive along the Oregon coast...and most CERTAINLY, a parking garage. I must have been one mean driving machine in my past life to inherit these two "adventurers".

 

Life was so much easier before I got hitched to Her....sure there was the odd logging road in Canada, but nothing I couldn't handle...oh but wait a minute, I blew a tire there as well.  Don't They know that I'd feel much more secure if I had my spare?  Every SUV needs its spare.. but  apparently They care more about Music than my well being. 

 

Oh well, at least She's unhitched from me for a few days and I'll get Them all to myself if we go into a nearby village.  But even that stresses me out - my mirrors, my mirrors!   In the meantime I'll dream about being in the dark hull of USA bound-ship.

 

...and oh...did I tell you my biggest peeve?

She gets top billing on the blog.

 

----------Thanks to my talented Aunt for our first guest piece!

Chateau D’Oex – July 31-Aug 3, 2012

(Featuring The Day of the Effusive French-Swiss)

  

More pictures here!

Switzerland is a great hiking spot for people traveling without their own transportation:  The trains, although expensive, run frequently and on schedule to even the most remote locations, often dropping you within walking distance of a gondola.  The gondolas make it easy to enjoy the mountain peaks without a lot of effort and are, therefore, quite crowded this time of year.  This is not our idea of hiking.

Having our own transportation and knowing that we enjoy our hikes more when we are in the less populated areas, we have spent numerous hours pouring over hiking maps trying to find destinations that you can only reach by foot—not gondola or car.  Ideally, we would drive Pepper to the jumping off point with no bus or train station in sight as we often did in France.

We thought we had discovered one, a hike to Lac Liosin via a short drive up from Les Mosses.  We parked and began the hike with optimism, only seeing one other car in the area.   After an hour of uphill climbing, we came to the bright, clear lake so crowded with fish they swam by in groups, alas the same could be said about the people.  It turns out there was a road right up to the lake, obviously not depicted on our map.  We stayed for a brief lunch and I tried some fishing before we headed up the other side to continue our roundabout hike.

Having climbed over the pass and down the steep, rocky terrain to the valley on the other side, we were ready to stop for a coke at the tiny snack shack.  Run by a small man with an abundance of energy and eyes that sparkled with a knowing answer to the mystery of life, we were first greeted with a hand shake and then promptly served.  I glanced into the shack then did a quick double-take as I was sure I saw a baby grand piano inside.  I asked if he played and he replied, “Bien sur!” and, assuming we were British, offered to play the British National Anthem; I quickly requested something American which promptly garnered us the ability to see everyone else’s faces, albeit with mouths open.

He invited us all into the shack for the performance and expertly launched into some ragtime.  Ragtime at 6500’, on a baby-grand piano in a wooden shack, smack in the middle of the Swiss Alps; it was incredible and, I thought at the time, would be seared into my mind as my favorite Swiss memory. 

Since the remaining people were all Swiss, he continued into the Swiss National Anthem (it also happened to be Swiss National Day – celebrating the signing of the Federal Charter in 1291 bringing together three cantons to form the country) and the small crowd proudly belted out the words. That little shack was rocking!  I wish I had Bloggie going at that point.  I didn’t want to interrupt the singing by taking their picture, but I did snap one of a baby being held up for a view through the window, whose joy-filled face mirrored those of the people around her.

Back at Salt we had just settled in for some TV when the fireworks started so we rushed outside.  The campground had a bonfire going (open pyre just flaming away like we saw in Ax Les Thermes) and the small village of Chateau D’Oex was putting on quite a show!  Rarely have we seen such varied fireworks back home, they were gorgeous.  Two French (or French Swiss) children adopted us, a boy of about 5 who sat as close to us as he dared and a girl of about 7 who stood next to me, wrapping her long arms completely around my middle, hugging me tight with every burst.  They made the night complete with an awe-inspired whispered, “Ooo La La!” from the boy and, on another rally a, “Mon Dieu!” from the girl.  Now tied at first for my favorite Swiss memory.

Then Mother Nature stepped up the show with amazing lightening and the longest peals of thunder I have ever heard.  When the rain started coming down, we headed in.  (Incidentally, this was the second time a young French-speaking person has tried to talk to me and, when I eventually run out of my meager phrases, replies with, “Ce n’est pas grave” in a voice very much grave indeed.)

This post was written while at our next stop, Fiesch in the famous Wallis Valley.  We have managed to play tennis twice in-between tumultuous rain storms but haven’t seen any of the peaks.   Trying to outrun the crowds at the gondolas, one day we attempted to drive up to a lake for some hiking and fishing, but between the incredibly windy, one-lane two-way traffic roads and the low fog we gave up on touring ourselves around.  The next hiking attempt will start at a gondola station.  

-K

PS:  The link to Lac Lioson information indicates that the lake is only accessible via foot or bike.  But we saw numerous cars at the restaurant and could see the road when we were hiking out.

Switzerland, Part One (Geneva and Kanderstag) – July 23-31, 2012

More pictures here, but they do not do the area justice .. .

“What time is it?”, asked SP.

“About 12:15--no wait, that was in French Swiss, it is 12:13 and 40 seconds in German Swiss”, I replied.

SP retorted, holding his hand out, palm up, “That will be ten francs!”

That exchange pretty much sums up our first week in Switzerland.  We have discovered that there is a French part and a German part and never the twain shall meet, except, of course, when charging you an exorbitant amount of money for, well, everything.  A tall Americano at Starbucks was $5.40; I kid you not.  And since the Swiss Franc is almost on par with the US Dollar, there is no savings to be had upon conversion.

So we decided to put the cost of Switzerland behind us in order to enjoy the beauty around us. 

With Pepper locked away at the Geneva Porsche repair shop for longer than anticipated (new brake pads [Salt is heavy!], three new tires to match the one purchased in Spain after our blow-out, oil change and about 300 other little things that were bothering us, including fixing our steering issue at high speeds—it wasn’t just us, there was a problem) we decided to leave the city for the Alps and head to Kanderstag via bus and train for two nights at the Alfa Soleil Hotel.

But first a note on Geneva:  We have been there before so it was nice to feel a little at home.  Our campground fee came with free bus passes (including two for The Noses!) and getting to downtown from the campground was a breeze.  SP took a day alone and visited CERN and I took the next one and headed downtown for some shopping.  (Finally!  A new town outfit!)  We spent one day bussing to a gondola and then up the mountainside for a delightful lunch overlooking the city.  We were surprised at the value of the Plat du Jour until we realized that we had crossed back into France.

I cannot rave about Geneva, it is not very picturesque (hence no photos in the link above) and we happened to be there when it was over 30/90 every day.  One or two days is plenty, which is why, when Day 4 arrived and we knew that we couldn’t free the Pepper, we decided to head to the mountains.

Upon arriving at the train station, we realized that SP had only priced our train tickets with one-way options--and we had thought that was expensive!  So our train budget immediately had to double.  Actually, we would have saved a lot of money had we forfeited the non-refundable hotel room and just returned to Salt, but that was unappealing after anticipating the fresh mountain air and healthy hikes.  So we pulled out the Amex and jumped on board.

I cannot say enough about the Hotel Alfa Soleil (you can see our review here on Trip Advisor), the service was exceptional and the food in Nico’s  Restaurant (run by the son) was a delight; often fresh from the garden and Lake Thun.  They pride themselves on using local ingredients so don’t be surprised to learn that the chicken you are enjoying grew up next door.

As for hiking, well, the weather was as poor as expected but we did take the gondola up to Oeschinensee Lake for a quick four mile hike the day we arrived, returning to the hotel drenched from a thunder storm.  The next day we set off for Gemmipass which started with a bus ride ($30 round trip) to a gondola ($60 round trip) and then a nice long hike, strenuous in a few areas, reaching the pass after six miles. 

Over coffee in the restaurant at the pass, SP asked, “What time does the gondola stop running?”  With my stomach dropping, I looked it up on the map and the last run was at 6:00 p.m.  It was 4:30 and we were six miles from the gondola.  This was not good.  So we brainstormed some options:

1)      Take a different gondola down the other side of the pass, drop into the town, search for a bus and then a train back to Kanderstag (not to mention searching for a credit card with some limit still on it), hoping that the trains will run that late on a Sunday night; or

2)      Walk back the way we came, obviously forgoing the gondola as we would never make it back by 6:00, adding another two miles straight down the mountain to our already sore feet; making our total hike over 14 miles, or 23 KM.  Not to mention it was likely to end in the dark.

So . . . after seeing the look on the nice French people at the table next to us when I asked about a bus and train combination back to Kanderstag from the opposite side of the mountain (deep breath in, slow blowing out of air through billowing cheeks, a slight rolling of the eyes which terminated in looks of pity; universal meaning:  “You are up #*%! creek”) we opted for going back the way we came.

It was a long, long hike. The fog rolled in and for most of the way back we could only see about five feet in front of us.  With aching knees and two very tired Noses, we dragged ourselves to the bus stop only to find that we had missed the last bus.  It was 9:00 p.m.  Desperate, we opted to ask for a taxi at the closed, but still occupied, restaurant next door. 

The workers were having a drink at the end of their day when I knocked on the window.  They spoke no French and no English and I spoke no German but we managed “taxi”, “Hotel Alfa Soleil” and “ten minutes.”  Apparently a nice lady would give us a ride on her way home.  But while we waited outside, I noticed her peak out the window and take notice of The Noses.  The curtain sharply closed and I feared our ride was over.  At this point, tired and aching, I had no choice but to pimp out SP.

That’s right, I asked him to stand up and limp around making sure they could see his brace in the glare from the street lamp.  He rolled up his shorts a bit to completely expose the brace; we had no shame. 

Out came a gentleman, who, after laying a blanket in the back of his car, invited the dogs inside.  We climbed in the back seat and he then proceeded to follow the nice lady’s car back to Kanderstag to our hotel.  We were eternally grateful and, just like the French families’ looks of “!*(# creek”, I am sure he could read ours of, “You saved us.”

Upon entering the hotel we were warmly greeted and invited to enjoy dinner even allowing time for a quick shower.  Incredible service, like I said.  We kept the kitchen crew up later than normal but were just as enthralled with dinner and the service as the night before.  I opted for the home-made pesto pasta—yes, fresh basil was actually ground into the pasta dough—delicious! And we thoroughly enjoyed a local wine recommendation from the host.

You can imagine how difficult the next day was; not only did we have to get up (ouch), pack (sweaty, stinky hiking clothes), and leave our gorgeous room but we then had to put our packs back on, walk to the train station, take two trains and a bus to get back to Geneva—all in time to pick up Pepper.  But hey, if you have to arrive somewhere exhausted, why not a Porsche showroom?  Leather couches, fresh coffee, juice and a small rug for a little Crazy Dog.  Oh yes he did.

By 5:30 Pepper was ready and wow, is he running like a dream!  We have landed in Chateau D’Oex, a lovely village nestled at the base of the Alps.  We have two hikes planned but unless they completely knock our socks off, we are likely to head to the Italian Dolomites where we might just be able to afford a latte.  Maybe even a Grande this time.

-K