Amsterdam, zonder mijn fiets

My first non-German beer of the trip

Heresy. There's no other way to put it. How can somebody who professes a deep connection to all things bicycle show up in Amsterdam without his own fiets? The City of Canals is really ruled by the bike, and being an outsider in all this was a bit out-of-character for me.

Maastricht's city hall

Lunch with Regine and Angela, somewhere in Maastricht

Now, that's what I call a smoked salmon sandwich!!!!

At the end of our time in Schleiden, Angela and I gratefully accepted Tom and Regine's offer to take us to Maastricht, just across the border from Aachen and for us the most direct way to catch a train to Amsterdam. It was a sunny, hot day, and we were almost glad when we sat—after a few hours of sightseeing—in the air-conditioned train to A'dam. It's only a two-and-a-half hour trip, and riding in First Class was, once again, comfortable, uncrowded, and quiet. From the ornate train station, with its thousands of bikes parked in front of it, we faced another 5-minute walk to our hotel, the Doubletree. Dang, good planning!

Bikes, bikes, bikes—everywhere!

To get the best bang for our money we invested in a 48-hour Amsterdam Card, which for 57 euro provides free entry to pretty much all major museums and attractions, plus free ground transportation. (A ride on the tram or bus costs a whopping 2.80 euro, eclipsing even Berlin's steep 2.60 fares.) Even though the central part of Amsterdam can be explored on foot alone, the occasional transfer on the tram helps those aching legs. City cards are helpful in another way: At least I am more inclined to duck into some odd little museum and spend just half an hour learning about something that I might not have visited had I had to fork over another 10 euro in entry fees—and believe me, those fees add up!

Quite a catchy logo, also adopted by the Amsterdam Card

And so we visited for example the interesting Pipe Museum, as well as one covering the history of the handbag. We had a look at the inside of a typical house boat, and we learned everything we could have ever imagined in the Grachten Museum, which covers the canals in a truly innovative format. This was probably one of the best-designed museums I have ever seen.

The garden of the Geelvinck Hinlopen Huis museum ...

... where we received a personalized tour

Conveyances to cover all the seasons

Clay pipes broke all the time and people bought them by the case

Amsterdam house boat with roof-top garden

In the Diamond Museum, which of course could not be missed for numerous reasons, not the least of which is Angela's love for all things a-glitter, I learned about great diamond heists and coronations while also having a chance to see craftsmen polish gems. The gaudy diamond-studded skull looked a bit out of place.... BTW, Angela did not pull out the credit card.

Go away, Diamond Devil! Angela resisted the temptation—barely

Even diamond-enthralled Angela though that this was way over the top!

On Friday evening we landed a real coup when we went to the Van Gogh museum. I had noticed that it was going to stay open until 10 p.m., and when we got there a little after 8 p.m., there were no lines and we zipped right in. (The next day we saw what tour groups can do to museum entrances!) There was a DJ and later live music in the foyer of this still-modern building. I remember going to the "new" Van Gogh museum for the first time with my long-ago Dutch girlfriend, Dées, back in the mid-'70s. And now a new "new" building is being built next door, with some futuristic architecture. The paintings and exhibits continue to be timeless, and I'm really glad that we spent such a delightful evening immersed in "culture."

One of my favorite Van Gogh paintings

Live music in the foyer of the museum—gentle sounds, beautiful sights

Bulbs at the flower market

Schattig meisje kin de kaaswinkel

Apart from visiting museums we strolled around town for hours. Amsterdam is so attractive! The canals were teeming with boats, small and a bit larger, that slowly patrolled the summer scene. Groups of friends, couples, solitary captains—everybody was enjoying the unusually warm weather (up to 90 F, which for Holland is out of the ordinary). The sidewalk cafés were chock-full of people, and bikes and pedestrians jostled for space.

No need for captions under these canal photos

On our first evening we ate what must be the archetypal food in Amsterdam (apart from stroop waffles and cheese, of course): an Indonesian rijstafel. Ours had sixteen different dishes that took us about an hour and a half to eat, right there on the Rembrandt Square. Ah, what a nice evening. And on the way home we somehow managed to walk straight through the Red Light district, with its prostitutes in the showroom-like cabins and live shows advertising fully nude copulation. The aroma of hemp was with us most of the time. Memories welled up—the Paradiso in 1973....

Rijstafel

Throngs of tourists in the Red Light district

Weed everywhere

In the district

Oops, that's Angela after her 10-minute Chinese massage

That's the real thing!

So, in other words, Amsterdam was a real hit. The place is expensive, whether it is accommodations or food. I maximized hotel points and credit card benefits to get us two suite nights in the Doubletree with a freebie thrown in at the Crown Plaza, thanks to a credit card deal. Food is expensive, plain and simple. You can't really expect to pay less than about 20 to 25 euro per person for a meal with just one drink—regardless whether it is something alcoholic or just a club soda. I am glad that the UCI contributes to my my European account....

Craftsman in the Diamond Museum inspecting his polishing job

Tesla recharging along one of the grachten

The ultimate in picnic baskets—perfectly suited to motoring in a Miata

I could see myself spending a portion of a summer in A'dam. There are so many things to see, so many cultural opportunities. We in West Texas have great weather a lot of the time and we can enjoy stuff that few parts of Europe have to offer, if at all. But the reality is, there is this other world out there, and we happened to visit it during the best of conditions. I like the Dutch language and could not believe how much came back to me in just a few days. And I like the people: self-assured yet friendly and open to the world. Not a bad place, at least in the summer, if it is sunny. Believe me, having spent a lot of time in the Netherlands when I had a Dutch girlfriend for four years showed me how miserable this place can be. I mean it: miserable!

Living room of our Doubletree suite

Nighttime grachten rondvaart

Thank goodness—or, que lastima????

Angela, with friets and frietsaus, but without THC

I doubt that it will be too many years before I am back. Amsterdam is way too exciting to be left alone.

Goodnight, Amsterdam

Jürgen

Alte Heimat

Panoramic view of Schleiden

It's not easy to update the blog when you're traveling, even less so when not traveling alone and especially when staying with old friends. After three nights in Berlin and another two in Cologne, Angela and I were picked up by Uschi, wife of Urban-man, and taken to my old hometown: Schleiden. That's where we stayed until yesterday with Urban's brother, Tom, and his wife, Regine.

Angela and Urban enjoying the beverages

I hadn't been back in Schleiden since shortly after Judy's death when I visited numerous friends in this area of Germany. Tom is like a brother for me, and we've always enjoyed each other's company, be it on long bike rides or while drinking our beloved Gemünder Naturtrüb Landbier.

Our old house, top row toward the left

While in Schleiden, I showed Angela where I grew up—the first house we lived in, where the fair used to stop over, the new house (which my dad sold after my mother's death and before moving back to Berlin). The weather was summery and Schleiden showed itself from its most beautiful side. It was quite funny when Angela asked T&R how often they have to water their exquisite garden and yard—on beautiful days it is so easy to forget how much it rains here and how ugly the weather can be.

Tom preparing the Würstchen

I had a chance to talk to a few of the "old timers." There was Lothar, who used to run everybody's favorite town-pub, the Ratskeller; he now is an antiques dealer. And there was Herr Hardy, who has been working for the same bank for 39 years and who still recognizes me immediately when I enter. But the most heart-warming encounter was that with Frau Wiertz, the 93-year-old mother of my childhood friend Hans-Peter who is a few years older than I am and whom I haven't seen in at least 40 years. We walked by her house, and she happened to peek out and immediately exclaimed, "Das ist doch der Jürgen!" We spent a delightful half hour in her living room, which looked and smelled exactly the same as almost half a century ago. Man, that was worth the entire trip!

Frau Wiertz—still living by herself at 93

On our last evening we all grilled sausages. The three Scheld-brothers (Tom, Urban, and Gregor) and I managed to put away quite a few beers while discussing the world. It doesn't get much better.

Jürgen

World Cup fever in Germany

Chocolate soccer ball in the Schokoladenmuseum Köln

Since our arrival in Germany on Wednesday afternoon I have been seeing more black, red, and gold than I have in a long, long time. Cars feature flags and German-colored hoods and mirror covers, shops offer cheap leis in the colors of the Vaterland, and otherwise normal-looking people have painted their faces. It's either the second coming of Hitler—or the soccer World Cup!!!

Could they be fans?

Tonight is the big game. Germany and Brazil are facing off in less than two hours, and Angela and I are taking a quick break from our exploration of Cologne to rest up for the much-anticipated final. I'm not sure yet where we will watch the game as most of the bars, pubs, and restaurants will probably be mega crowded, but if worst comes to worst we'll hang in the bar of the hotel lobby or even our room here in the Hilton. This afternoon, bands of semi-drunk men already hollered their songs, even if they knew only two words: "So schön, so schön, ..." and then they trailed off.

It will be a massive party night, and if Germany loses, well, it'll still be a party. If they win, no telling when we'll be able to sleep. I am sure fireworks are already stashed by the truckload.

The face belies the fact that Angela does not like Kölsch (or any other beer)

We will blend right in: Two days ago, while visiting the Nivea store in Berlin, Angela was given two free national soccer team shirts since Nivea is an official "partner" of the German team, and we're wearing them today (see above). As they say: If surrounded by the Romans, do as the Romans—or something like that.

I better stop so I can review the national anthem and don't start singing the forbidden one, the one that starts with "Deutschland, Deutschland über alles...."

Jürgen

Mid-year update

By the time I get done with the finishing touches on this entry, it'll be about midnight—midnight on June 30, or, if you want, early July 1. Why is this not summer solstice? It's right in the middle of the year, ain't it? OK, I don't need a lecture on pagan rites.

Half the year is already gone, again. This time last year, I was getting ready to return from Germany, after that damn sailing accident. I still have all those plates and screws. Still, it has been a fine year, and I hope things will continue on a similar trajectory. If you have followed my perambulations over the past 12 months you know that I have led an interesting and exciting life. Whether it is enviable remains the question. For some people it is, but they may just see a small part of it all. What is dear to you may not hold much importance for me, and vice versa. But I think we all agree that family, friends, and home are important to some degree.

Freshly Thompson-Water-Sealed fence and Adirondack chair; please note sun tea

I still grapple with the loss of my dad. In 10 days or so, I will sign the final documents in Berlin so that things are settled, at least from a legal standpoint. Next: Relationships are not always easy, but if I were to complain, I'd be a hypocrite. And my home? Oh man, am I glad to be home for a few days and enjoy la casa to her fullest.

Do you have one of these ....

... or those?

So here we are: The beginning of July. It is hot and windy in Lubbock, but I have re-stained my cedar fence; the weeds are mowed; I get an opportunity to entertain friends once in a while, dishing up eatable foods; my wine cellar still cradles 300+ decent bottles; and next week I'll be on a plane for another European adventure. And lest I forget: I'll serve as Chief Referee for the inaugural Vuelta del Llano after the July 4 fireworks have been launched.

The fruits of our labors

Life, indeed, is good, notwithstanding 101 F degrees and 25 mph sustained winds out there. Beats the hell out of playing an accordion in hell with ol' Satan looking on and making you replay Mozart's fugue K21 if you happen to trip somewhere along the way because of dehydration...

Jürgen

A week in Tuscany

Quintessential Tuscany—we descended this perfect serpentine, which is loved by Ferrari drivers

This was the trip that was supposed to have taken place one year ago but was thwarted when I broke my leg the weekend before and instead spent a sizable amount of time in hospitals and rehab. Sabine and I had rented a house in southern Tuscany, and we could not get a refund. However, the landlady offered us to use the house sometime in the future, should it happen to be unoccupied. So, before our change in relationship earlier this year we had nailed down a second attempt to go to Tuscany, and we were not going to let this opportunity slip by again.

Climbing toward the Brenner, the main gateway from Austria to Italy

And so we headed, with two bikes in the trunk, from Freising via Innsbruck to the tiny town of Castelmuzio about an hour south of Siena. We left about 10 days ago, on the Friday of the Pentecost weekend, meaning that thousands and thousands of Germans had exactly the same idea: Head to Italy and spend a week of vacation time. Between Bolzano and the exit toward Lake Garda we experienced the worst of the traffic; things later eased up.

Hundreds of thousands of Germans on their way to Italy

From Innsbruck, where we had spent the night, it's about a six-hour drive to southern Tuscany, and apart from some of the early congestion it was a pleasant drive. Taking the autostrada cost about $50, and gas in Italy is about 1.70 euro per liter, or just shy of ten bucks a gallon—ouch. But then, what is cheap in Europe?

Might as well enjoy the drive ...

We arrived at our domicile for the week late in the afternoon, after (wisely) stocking up on foodstuffs in the next supermarket, 15 kilometers away. Our landlady was awaiting us and showed us around: We had an entire house located in the middle of a well-kept olive grove, with outdoor grill and a wonderful seating area that looked out upon the monastery that was used to film the movie The English Patient. It slowly dawned upon us that with the amazing view that we enjoyed—upon the medieval towns of Montalcino and Pienza—we had to be on top of a hill. And what a hill it was!

Abaddia Sant'Anna in Camprena—just across the valley

Our house for the week, in the middle of an olive grove

Pienza, two steep valleys removed

We spent the week riding our bikes, going on one long hike in the neighborhood to enjoy the amazing views from the very top of one of the close-by hills, and driving to Siena when it became clear that a slight sound in the transmission of Sabine Skoda was becoming worse and needed attention. (Thanks to internet and GPS, we found the Skoda dealership where a young man listened to the transmission for 30 seconds and then told us, in that marvelous Italian-tainted accent that only an Italian can produce, that a repair was imply impossible, at least for a week; that if it were his car, he would not move it; that driving it could result in all kind of catastrophe. And then, ciao. With not too many option open for us, we decided to visit Siena and then drive back to Castelmuzio and not touch the car again until we started the 700+ kilometers back home. The sound became worse, but the car didn't explode, and today Sabine will take it to her local repair guy here in Freising.)

Houses and estates are generally located on top of hilltops ...

... as are many towns and cities (Montalcino here)

Sabine at the end of a sustained 10-K climb

Back to the bike riding. Somehow I had always thought of Tuscany as a gently rolling part of the world, with quaint villages, small roads, cypress trees, and easy riding. Check all that, except the "gently" and "easy" part. It should have set us off that half of the towns' names start with Mont...! Montepulciano, Montalcino, Montefolonico, Monticchiello—you get the drift. And where there are monts, there are valleys, and steep ones to boot. No, riding here was not easy at all (unless one chose a route in one of the wide valleys). Our first tour (which we started in San Giovanni d'Asso, to avoid having to climb for another 8 kilometers at the end of the day) was 47 miles long, and it included a murderous 10-K climb up to Montalcino that damn near gave us heatstroke and worse. On our last day, we climbed about 4,500 feet in what was supposed to be an easy 33-miler. So, don't complain that I didn't warn you, should you go to Tuscany.

On the route of L'Eroica—nope, baby, this ain't the way to Ropesville

View from Montalcino

Near-perfect pavement, cypress, and blue skies—what more could one ask for?

If I had a million bucks...

Two happy Ritcheys in Tuscany

Otherwise, Tuscany is even better than what you might have heard. Wow, those vistas are amazing. We totally lucked out with the most gorgeous weather for most of the week (it became increasingly humid in the afternoons, cutting down a bit on the views). The nights were cool, the days were hot (in the low 90s) and sunny. There are hundreds of small roads with smooth pavement, winding up and down the countryside, through golden fields and stands of cypress and oak. One sees quite a few cyclists, some solitary locals on road machines, others tour gaggles on mountain or trekking bikes. If you're somewhat fit and not too fat, you'll love it. Just don't think it is flat.

Graniti

Gelato d'amarena

Nirvana di gelati

Talking about fat: Don't expect to lose weight on a trip down here. Every little town has a few restaurants and trattorias, wine and cheese shops abound, and I finally had to give in to the lure of gelati and graniti. We cooked at the house on that fabulous outdoor grill every night with fresh ingredients from the supermarket. One night it was fresh seafood pasta, the next a dynamite steak, then chicken amped on fresh herbs from our garden—and always preceded by mouthwatering appetizers and accompanied by a fresh bruschetta salad. And don't ask how much wine we downed or how that bottle of grappa evaporated. La dolce vita!

Part of our "pantry"

Pre-meal culinary preparation on our outdoor dining table

Seafood (fresh) pasta (fresh) with fresh pesto

Happiness sometimes comes in the form of an appetizer chair

As mentioned beforehand, we spent a day in Siena. Just like all the small towns that we had visited beforehand on the bikes, Siena is located on top of a hill. The streets are narrow, and the church (in this case the duomo) is located at the very top. All these towns and cities have organically grown outward from this nucleus, forming a tight inner sanctum of tiny streets and clustered houses that seem to be just a few moments away from collapsing. No wonder the original Fiat 500 was so tiny—how otherwise could one drive through these streets? Around every corner awaits another sight, be it laundry that is drying or plants that have been lovingly placed outside of an entryway.

Beating the tourist crowds in Montepulciano

The mailman cometh in Lucignano

Laundry in Castelmuzio

Vespa patrol in Siena

The front yard in the street

Siena's architecture is amazing, and seeing the campo—the main "square" where every July and august one of the wildest horse races in the world takes place, the palio—and the surrounding buildings that have not changed since medieval times is simply breathtaking. Here are a few shots from Siena:

 

 

 

 

To round things out, I should mention one other fabulous excursion that we took one evening, before the car really started to worry us. It was on the day when we had taken our long hike in our neck of the olive groves and oak forests, with all its vistas and scenery. That evening we drove the few miles to Abazzia di Monte Oliveto Maggiore, a monastery dating back to 1313. The frescoes depicting St. Benedict are stunning in their detail and life-likeness. Ol' Benedict certainly wasn't much loved by some of his compadres, as was attested by the three frescoes chronicling three separate attempts at killing him. The third one was especially heinous: Florentius sends not just one but seven lovely damsels to the cloister to tempt Benedict who sees his only way out by getting on a donkey and leaving the place. What a guy!

Get on that donkey, dude!

Luvely, aren't they? They would have surely killed him!

The monastery is still home to about 50 Benedictine monks, and we stayed late to listen to their nightly Gregorian chants during the evening services. We were the only non-monks, and it was quite a moving and spiritual affair.

The modern-day monks dine here

I could go on and on about this trip to Tuscany, but by now I have probably lost every reader anyhow, so I better stop, too. We rode about 165 miles on four separate excursions, saw wonderful towns and even more impressive countryside, ate well, enjoyed a comfortable house and garden, and finally got to see a place that had been on our individual bucket lists for quite a while. Overall, this was a 10-star trip, and I can only highly recommend a visit to the region, with or without bike.

Jürgen