Europe - Part 1

I guess I finally realised that I was leaving Canada for good when I boarded the plane to Munich in Toronto. I mean, leaving Fort Mac was one thing, but it wasn’t really until I was on that plane to Munich and settled that I really stopped to think about the fact that it was the last time that I be flying out of Canadia, barring some return ski trip in the future (though one should never say never!).

I didn’t really spend that much time thinking about it though because the bloke next to me managed to distract me. Not through stimulating conversation, because I established very quickly when I asked where he was from that he was Polish, but didn’t speak English. I also very quickly established that there were going to be boundary issues on the arm-rest given he was bigger than me and exceeding his spatial allotment. That and the fact that he smelt. Not only did he smell of having spent some pre-flight time in the bar, but also from having spent more than the allotted time either in the same clothes, or since last bathing.

If he sat still it wasn’t too bad, but it seemed that every time he moved the disturbance in the air became a disturbance of my olfactory senses. And of course, because his english was so poor, he couldn’t operate the in flight entertainment system, so he’d look at what I had on my screen and then indicate that he’d like to watch the same thing. I thought I’d left operating two systems behind the last time that I flew with Emily.

He did sleep that helped a little, but in the morning, he seemed curious to see what was outside of the plane all the time and would reach across me to lift the blind. This had a lovely dual effect. Firstly I was blinded by the bright daylight from outside due to having been watching movies in the near dark for the prior 6 hours or so and secondly, my olfactory senses were slammed with a sledge hammer as the less than fresh air about him was distributed across the plane.

I landed safely in Munich and apparently still have some sense of smell remaining.

During the transfer process in Munich I had to go back through the whole x-ray process with my hand luggage. Given that I was transporting two laptops, this was a painful process that I was glad to have only been through at the first flight in Fort McMurray. Munich managed to take things to a whole new level for me.

“Is that a doll in your luggage?” I was asked. Well, now that it’s been mentioned, yes, I was traveling with a doll in my hand luggage. It was Emily’s American Girl, Julie, that had been inadvertently left behind when they’d left the two weeks previously. Turns out that Julie had to go through the x-ray process all on her own.

I very briefly considered protesting that to put the poor doll through that might be considered an invasion of her privacy. However, upon consideration of the sorts of return invasions of MY privacy (not to mention my anatomy) that such protests might invoke, I decided to let the doll suffer through the affair. She appeared unconcerned at the prospect anyway and certainly made no complaint afterward.

The doll wasn’t the end of it though, they also insisted that I pull the cameras that were in my luggage out and have then go through the scanner again not to mention that I then had to turn the camera on and show them a picture as well! That’s one of those points in time when you start to wonder what the last photo you took was. In my case, it was a picture of Emily and Breagh, nothing to worry about at all.

For the final flight to Zurich, I actually managed to score an exit row seat which was nice, though somewhat wasted fortune considering it was such a minor hop of a flight. One shouldn’t complain though.

Upon arrival I was more than happy to pile into the van with an excited family and head off to Brennan where we were kindly being accommodated with Rita and Armin.

We spent a little time in Switzerland not doing a lot before our first excursion to Venice.

There were mixed reactions to the announcement that we were going to go to Venice, ranging from jealousy and people telling us that we’d love it to those that asked, “Why would you want to go there, its a crowded stinky place.”

Other than that, I had no real pre-conceptions about the place other than to expect lots of canals, over-priced gondolas and given that it was Summer, some delightful aromas that my Polish companion may have unwittingly prepared my nose for.

We drove the van across Italy, enjoying the changing scenery, counting the tunnels (something like 37 between Brunnen and Venice). Upon arrival, we parked the car, using one of the multi-storey carparks, which was an interesting exercise given we were in a large, 10 seater (that’s 4 rows of seats) Volkswagen van and we were assigned a park on the very top (8th) level of the car park. Things were a little nerve-wracking navigating the steep, circular spiraled ramps in the manual van. There was very little room for error and I was rather relieved to find that I managed to get to the top without any scratches or dents. There was plenty of evidence that those who had gone before had not all been able to say the same thing!

We had reduced our luggage for this trip which was a lovely little idea of Caroline’s that probably saved all sorts of hell as we made our way to the water ‘bus’ that was to take us around to where we were staying. The first sights of Venice were indeed inspirational as we cruised along the Grand Canal around to the San Marco stop where we would disembark.

With Venice being such and old and storied city, it seems almost pointless for me to try and capture what it is in a few words, so I won’t try. Suffice to say that I adored the architecture and uniqueness of the city. We dined out on PIzza and pasta and traipsed our way through the alleys and streets. With only two nights, we barely scratched the surface of the city, but then with 4 kids in tow, exploring museums and operas and the like was never really going to be an option anyway.

It was of course easy with the kids along to tell which of the shops were displaying the outrageously priced real Murano glass simply from the look on the face of the vendor when one entered the store. Those with the real glass on display were also those that stood with looks of impending doom upon their face and didn’t draw breath from the moment we entered until the moment we left their store. One of them must have been really over the top because as the kids went to go inside, he quite simply shooed them back out the door and denied them entry!

It was something of a relief when we finally left the last store to realise that we’d navigated so many shops with so much glass and managed to avoid destroying anything at all!

We stayed just in behind the Piazza San Marco, which given the amount of walking that the stay entailed and the fact that we dragged four kids along with us for the entire time, was a fabulous place to stay.

As with all visits, we had to leave and managed to do so intact, with everything that we’d taken there in the first place, which is always a nice way to do it (and never guaranteed). And so we drove back through the Italian countryside, admiring the churches and castles that adorned the higher elevations and cliffs and the terra cotta tiled houses in the villages that we passed. Around lunch time we decided that it would be nice to visit one of these small places and find some lunch at a nice bakery.

Such a simple plan. it only took an hour or so for us to get off the highway, drive into a village and wonder if it had been abandoned as we drove around looking for somewhere that might actually be open. Michael was most indignant when we finally found a supermarket to discover that they closed from 1 until 3:30. Or in other terms ... whilst we were there hungry.

Eventually after some frayed nerves and terse words, we did manage to find somewhere to eat and then returned to the highway, guided by Homer (Simpson, not the classic philosopher and my choice for the GPS voice) and on our way again back to Switzerland, with me declaring that we would never again leave the highway to search for a meal.

As famous last words go, I ate my own on that one. We drove along the highway past what we were later to discover was Como and in a fit of madness (or penance) I suggested that we drive in and find somewhere to eat. It was about the right time of day and the town appeared to be a village perched on a cliff over-looking a lake. I thought eating with such a view would prepare us well for the remainder of the journey.

It turned out that we couldn’t find anywhere to eat at the top of the cliff over looking the lake, that real-estate seemed to have been taken up by people who liked to live there and save that view for their own personal enjoyment. We did however make it down to the lake and again, after some somewhat random searching, locate a nice restaurant by the lake with a view only marginally defiled by the landscaping construction works between us and the body of water.

As we’d limited our parking time and then had to walk a fair way to get to where we ended up eating, I opted to go fetch the car whilst Caroline and the kids had gelato. Again it’s the simply ideas that seem to end up being the most poorly executed and I found myself discovering the walled portion of old Como, mostly as a result of discovering a series of one way streets and a couple of poor turning choices. I did however managed to make my way back and locate the family and after a very short driving tour of the old city, we were on our way again.

Our drive out of Switzerland had taken us via San Gotthardo which is scenic, though somewhat longer than the more modern option of traveling via the engineering marvel that is the Gotthard tunnel. A 17km journey under the mountains.

Our return journey didn’t take us through the tunnel either, but over an alternate pass through the mountains. That was fine, because there’s been a lot of work on the pass over the years and there’s lots of tunnels and bridges and its quite a nice drive. Right up to the point where some of that work was still going on and they sent us on a merry detour up the old pass. That of course would be the really really windy one, with second gear switch backs every 150 metres or so and steep drops down the side of the mountain as reward for any driving incompetence one might show. In the dark.

Suffice to say we made it, but it did mean that we were somewhat delayed in our arrival in Glarus where Mirriam was kind enough to actually greet us when we pulled in close to midnight!