Tonight We Sleep in a Castle

This morning the kids got to experience their first hearty German breakfast - slices of meat, cheese, buns, granola, cereal, milk, yogurt, sunflower seeds, raisins, nutella, jam, flax seeds, and, of course, to drink - delicious and healthy Multivitaminsaft!
We left Rothenburg early to make our 10 AM appointment to tour the inside of the famous Heidelberg Castle - a ruin that has been partly restored to its former glory. Most people had a good sleep and are adjusting to Europe time nicely - the bus rides are eerily quiet though, as many nod off any time they get a chance to sit down (very different atmosphere than the ski trip bus!). We had our driver drop us off a few feet from the entrance to the Heidelberg Caste (something that might irk some of last year's travellers who didn't enjoy the walk up the hillside from the river last year, right DB? Don't worry though, I'll find some stairs for them yet!)
Above: Heidelberg Castle
Bacharach, a small town on the Rhine River, is a new stop for the LFMS Europe trip, and I chose it kind of by default - our usual stop at a castle hostel is in Ortenberg (a small village just outside of Strasbourg), but when I tried to book the Ortenberg Hostel way back in MAY 2006 it was already full! So I searched the internet and guide books for another possibility, and found this amazing picture of a castle on a hillside surrounded by vinyards just above a quaint German village on the Rhine. It is as beautiful as it looked in the pictures, and the inside has been renovated very nicely (so even though we're in a castle that is over 1000 years old, we have running water and electricity, and we're not sleeping on straw - well I'm not anyway).
I lost the attendance sheet for the trip, and can't recall from memory everyone who is supposed to be on the trip - if possible, could you check this picture out and tell me if your son or daughter (or husband or wife) is missing? I think we might have left a couple people in Rothenberg this morning...
Actually, I'm joking. this is us (minus me) in front of the oldest house in Bacharach (see the date 1368 near the top? Man, I thought my pre WW II house in Mission was old!
Here's the hostel director explaining to us how to get to our rooms in the castle:
It's very complicated.

And here's a REAL picture of the castle we're actually staying in:
The building at the top of the hill is Burg Stahleck, a youth hostel since 1924.
In the town of Bacharach, the main highlight for the kids was seeing two goats and having to walk through a chicken coop to get to a public washroom. The adults liked the half timber houses, the chapel ruin, and the view of our castle up on the hill (probably some of the kids did too, but they were just so excited to see two goats and some chickens - isn't Langley a rural area?)


We just finished final lights out check, and I'm heading to bed. Later,
Craig

ITALIA

Italy is a place of stunning natural (Cinque Terre) and manmade (Pisa, Verona, Venice) beauty. It can also be a frustrating place for a tour director where even though you have made reservations and pre paid for something well in advance, you must stand in a huge crowd of people holding up your reservation confirmation and yelling and pushing in order to get your group into the attraction you are going to see. If you are naturally polite and reserved, like me (well, most of the time), it is a bit stressful. Comparing, for example, the Louvre in Paris, where the group is welcomed into the building calmly and efficiently before the scheduled tour, given a free bag and coat check, shown where the clean and adequately sized washroom facilities are, and invited to relax in a waiting area before the tour begins to the Accademia, an art museum in Florence, where you are admonished to arrive 15 minutes before your scheduled time, and when you do it takes 15 minutes just to get someone to look at your reservation sheet (after much yelling and pushing), and then they let other groups in before you in error, and then tell you that you must wait another 45 minutes because there are too many people in the museum, all the while your group is standing in the crowded, chaotic rainy street, no washrooms anywhere in sight, and you understand what I mean. But it is all part of the adventure. Apologies for the run on sentence.

We arrived in Pisa on time for our prepaid appointment to go up the tower, but I had to stand in the ticket office for so long to trade my reservation sheet for tickets that our first group ( I had to divide us into three groups when making the appointments because they will only release 15 tickets to one group for one 20 minute block of time) missed our appointment. But after much complaining, they agreed to split our first group into 3 groups of five and send us up with other groups. The tower is, after all, leaning, and they don’t want too many people up there at one time. The weird crooked feeling you get walking up the 294 worn marble steps stays with you standing on the crooked top looking down and realizing that you are 200 feet up, and leaning over 15 feet from the base. There is a guardrail, thankfully. Looking down on the Campo dei Miracoli (the field of miracles) at the cathedral and baptistery and the crowds of tourists and vendors you are amazed by the vastness of humanity and the accomplishments and errors we have made throughout history. I would categorize the leaning tower as both an accomplishment and an error.


After descending the leaning tower, we were off to Levanto, a village on the Mediterranean coast with easy train access to the Cinque Terre. I was really looking forward to this evening as we were eating at Ristaurante Moresco – an Italian (obviously!) restaurant very popular with locals. Roberto, the owner and waiter, has an excellent way of serving large groups – he comes to each table and explains the three choices (Linguine witha clama sawz, ravioli witha bolognayz sawz, or gnocchi witha payzto sawz {my favourite}), and then takes orders by a show of hands for each choice. Last year, I forgot to tell the group that the first huge, heaping plate is only, well, the first plate. After we leisurely finish the pasta course, Roberto gives us the three choices for the main course (squida and shrimp plate, chicken, or tomato mozzarella (which is exactly that – juicy tomato slices with delicious fresh mozzarella slices – nothing like regular mozzarella used on pizza – just add some extra virgin olive oil and balsamic vinegar and you have a real Italian treat). Then he puts some vegetables on the table for everyone to share – some fresh salad greens, some roasted potatoes, and of course there is the bread, and the water frizzante (with gas) or naturale (without gas). Oh yeah, and then there is dessert (chocolata cake, fresha strawberries, panna cotta) OK, how many people are salivating now? I am. This is why the anti-fast food movement, aptly named the "slow food" movement, began in Italy. Rens says that when he goes to Moresco for lunch on his day off while we are hiking, it is filled with workers from the village – road crews, construction workers, etc. They don’t wolf down a burger and a coke in 15 minutes in Italy for lunch, at least not in little Levanto.
After the huge meal we go back to the convent we are staying at – Ospitalia Del Mar, the hostel, is housed in an old convent in Levanto.
Hiking the Cinque Terre (literally the "five lands" – it refers to five little fishing villages that date back to the Roman empire) is very different from hiking in BC. This part of the Mediterranean coastline has very unique plant life – so unique that Italian biology classes often come here for field trips to study it. There are huge succulent cacti, and a whole bunch of other plants my wife would probably be able to identify as something more than a bush or a flower, but that’s the best I can do. But walking through the olive groves and lemon orchards definitely lets you know this isn’t the Stanley Park seawall.
Hey Europe 2006ers – guess what – I didn’t get anyone lost this year! Probably because it was a gorgeous day – clouds with sunny breaks, just the right temperature for hiking, and absolutely NO FOG OR RAIN! That one section between Manorola and Corniglia is still closed, but 17 of us walked the whole thing from Riomaggiore to Monterosso (minus that one section) and still got back to Levanto in time for a cool dip in the Mediterranean. Vernazza, the place where the singing pizzeria owner welcomed us in last year despite the fact we were all soaking wet and muddy, was full of open shops and restaurants this year – I guess when it rains nobody except crazy Canadian west-coasters actually hike, so most people don’t bother opening their businesses. We got pizza from a little take out place, and when I paid the bill, the guy who served us told me "no charja for you (typical when a tour guide brings a group to a place) or the blonda girls".
We went for our first group gelato in Vernazza, and just like last year, the kids who had won either the Mont. St. Michel or Rothenberg scavenger hunt had kept their "1 Extra Scoop" tickets I gave them, and cashed them in for a triple rather than a double scoop of the best ice cream on the planet. Last year we went to the same place, and enjoyed our gelato even though we were all cold and soaking wet.
Back in Levanto, a well deserved second dinner at Moresco.
To the 17 who did the whole hike – I know I know I promised you something, especially Tony, who is a superhuman and in much better shape than me. I didn’t deliver in Italy – I’ll think of something back in Canada. Maybe an extra scoop of gelato ticket? You could see if any of the local gelato places will take it.

Note: After Simon got sick, which was the day after I wrote this entry, I stopped writing - the journal ends here for now. I wasn't even going to post this one, but, sitting here at my desk in Langley, re-reading it, I thought I should.

Craig

CHF

CHF - that's swiss francs.
Switzerland is the only non-EU country we visit on the trip, and therefore has guarded border stations where you actually have to stop. Crossing the border from Belgium to France, for example, involves driving past a sign that says FRANCE on it. Luckily we all had our passports when we crossed the Swiss border, and we didn’t have to leave anyone like last year when we had to leave Elliot behind. Hopefully his new life in Europe is going well for him.
First stop in Luzern was the Swiss Lion watch and knife store, just around the corner from the famous dying lion monument. After Mr. Johnson had collected all the weapons from the kids exiting the store, he got a chance to lead the group up to the lion and tell them about it. He is an excellent guide, by all accounts. It’s hard not to listen to someone carrying a bag of knives.
Tyrel does his best imitation of the lion, sans arrow.

Our tour of Luzern, though it was cloudy and Mt. Pilatus was not visible, was nonetheless beautiful with the Rheus River and Lake Luzern as the backdrop. I told the kids the interesting (though probably not true) story of William Tell – how he came to shoot an apple off his son’s head and eventually inspire a rebellion against Austrian rule that would see the formation of the Swiss Federation, the oldest surviving democracy in Europe (since 1291). We ventured over the chapel bridge, and it was easy to see why some wealthy Japanese couples fly their entire wedding party to Luzern to have their wedding photos taken near the chapel bridge.
[Image:chapel bridge blog.jpg]

A nice steep but short hike up to the old city wall was a bit of a preview for the Cinque Terre – I hope everyone followed Mr. Johnson’s suggested walking fitness program! On the way down, I tried to take a photo of the hotel that was built way up on the hill for Queen Victoria to stay in when she visited Luzern. These girls insisted they were more interesting than the hotel, so it is just a small blip in the distance.
[Image:girls and gutsch.jpg]


From almost the beginning of my tour of Luzern, a man who saw me guiding our group casually joined us, videotaping me and listening as I explained the sites. Hopefully he enjoyed the tour. The kids suggested I ask him to pay a fee, but he thought 50 euros was too steep and left us after that.
Our new friend tries to look disinterested as I snap a photo of him.


Switzerland has interesting driving laws – you basically don’t need a license to drive, and you only have to be 14. Aazam took advantage of this and drove our bus from the town centre to the hostel (only about 10 km). Here are some photos:
[Image:driving lesson.jpg]
Aazam sits up front in the tour guide seat so Rens can give him the basics of operating the bus as we approach the Swiss border.

[Image:aazam takes the wheel.jpg]
Aazam takes the wheel with confidence.


[Image:success.jpg]
Rens gives Aazam some pointers after a minor fender bender.

And here’s the hostel we are staying in. Not the nicest place, but it did have running water (cold only though).
[Image:hostel blog.jpg]











Note: none of the text accompanying the last four pictures was true.


Sorry worried moms. Your kids are all fine.

Craig

Alsace

Alsace
We entered Strasbourg and left the rains of Verdun behind. A few of our kids and parents are mildly to moderately sick – a cold is making the rounds on the bus. We are doing what we can to stop the spread – basically we leave the people with the most persistent cough behind, telling them we’ll come back for them, and then we don’t. So now we are traveling with only 27 rather than 37.
Of course I’m joking. Sorry to all the worry-prone moms reading this. The parents are doing a great job helping to quarantine the sick into the same rooms, but we can’t do much about the bus – it’s basically one big germ tube now. The illness hasn’t really slowed us down, and the kids are still enthusiastic and enjoying themselves.
Strasbourg is the main city in the French province of Alsace, and represents a meeting of cultures and languages between the French and the German. It is also an international political and economic hub, containing one of the main offices of the European Union. We stayed in a new hostel this year called Ciarus. It is a very clean, spacious, organized place – it has an air of German efficiency. Working at the front desk was an African man who spoke perfect French with his British accent, and a guy from California. Very international.
Fun in the Ciarus hostel:
Aazam is quite the pool player.
The Strasbourg cathedral, with its towering spire and its dirty pink sandstone lace-like façade was made even more powerful when, on Sunday morning, as we stood directly in front of the cathedral, the massive, deep bells started ringing. We all just stood there enthralled by the sights and sounds surrounding us. The bells are so loud you can hardly hear the person next to you; luckily I had given some history of Strasbourg and the cathedral the evening before.
Again, we are so puny.
Fun with the wide angle lens.

After the cathedral, we were off to Le Petit France, the sound of the bells following us through the city. I asked the kids not to touch anything, since this was the little island they sent the plague victims of the middle ages to. Hopefully a new illness doesn’t start making the rounds on the bus; I hear the plague is quite nasty.
Passing the medieval house of the tanners.
For some kids, the most fun is to be had chasing innocent pigeons around.


Last year, on our drive from Strasbourg to Lucerne, Switzerland, Rens pointed out a castle on a hill to me. After doing a bit of research on it, I booked a guided tour of Chateau de Haut-Koenigsbourg, an Alsatian castle restored under the instructions of Emperor Wilhelm II (the German Kaiser), who wished for it to be a museum of the Middle Ages and a symbol of German power in the region. Alsace was part of the Germanic Holy Roman Empire until 1681, was French until the Franco-Prussian war of 1870-71, German until the end of the First World War, French from the signing of the Treaty of Versailles to the Second World War, German during the Second World War, and French since the end of the Second World War. Confusing!

IN the castle's courtyard.
Looking down on Alsace from the castle stronghold.
The castle was a great find, and we all thanked Rens for mentioning it to me last year. The girls (and the moms?) liked our guide a lot – he was very…. knowledgeable. Luc told us straight off that "Thees ees my feerst time to guide een eenglish" but he did a great job of explaining medieval castle life as we explored the castle’s living areas, which have been restored to mimic conditions in the 15th century. I liked the connections he made to many of the things I taught these kids in Social Studies 8 last year – for example, how a castle would be self-sufficient and why this was necessary. After a well deserved "merci beaucoup" to Luc, we are now on the bus heading to Switzerland, and hoping to find a functioning bathroom for the girls soon.
Luc
"Thees ees where thee nobels would enteer"

"Thees were used to keel"
Craig

Verdund

Verdun

We have just left the Verdun battleground memorial area. The weather is gray and rainy, and it suits the mood of the place. We visited the museum at Fleury first. This museum flies both the French and German flags, symbolizing that this is not a monument to the French only, but to all those who perished in the battle of Verdun, 300 days and nights of horror. The students have not learned about the world wars in the social studies curriculum yet, so the museum’s short film about the battle of Verdun was a perfect way to start our visit to this solemn, somber place.
The site of the destroyed village of Fleury.

We next visited the village of Fleury, one of the 9 rural French villages caught in the middle of the battle. I could tell this memorial had a powerful effect on the kids who braved the rain and came down to view the cratered landscape and single building, the small Fleury chapel. The chapel was the only thing rebuilt; no one else wanted to return to this terrible place. They have erected small plaques to show where the different buildings of the village once stood – identifying them as the residence of a certain person, or the bakery, wine maker, etc. once run by someone now long gone.
The French flag in the distance surrounded by the graves of 15 000 of the more than 150 000 French soldiers who died here.
The ossuary is an amazing site to behold, with the graves of 15,000 soldiers of the French army laid out before it. The crosses, row on row, and the Islamic headstones of the North African colonial soldiers turned conspicuously towards Mecca, forcing you to contemplate the enormity of the tragedy that took place here. The students wandered among the graves with the ossuary, containing the bones of 130 000 more unidentified, looming above them.
Leaving the base of the Ossuary.
The Ossuary - the last resting place of 130 000 unidentified soldiers.

We made a brief stop at the Trench of the Bayonettes, where some French soldiers who had been awaiting the command to "go over the top" (leave the trench and advance on the Germans) were buried alive by artillery fire, their bayonets pointing up at the ready.
Leaving the Trench of the Bayonets.
The Social Studies 11 and History 12 curriculum will definitely take on a deeper meaning to these students who have visited Juno Beach, Caen, Verdun, Dachau…
We are driving to Strasbourg now, hoping we leave this weather system behind us!
Craig

These Boots Were Made For Walking

These boots were made for walking

Paris. Just the name conjures up fear in the people who went on the Europe trip last year. Not because of the pickpockets. Not because of the CRAZY drivers. Not even because of the eerie catacombs (well, except LB, who didn’t really see the catacombs with her eyes closed the whole way – hey, by the way, LB, I spent your 5 euros, and then I ate what I spent it on – thanks!). No. Because of the walking. Paris is a busy day for the feet. But not as busy this year as last year, even though we saw all the same things this year Sorry 2006ers – I know you wanted the newbies to have the same thigh burning, foot blistering workout, but I learned from my map reading error last year, and Rens comfortably transported us the long distance from the Latin Quarter to the catacombs entrance, and was waiting for us where we emerged back to the land of the living 1.5 km away. I’m getting ahead of myself now.
We began the day at Sacre Coeur, one of my favourite cathedrals for its beautiful Byzantine mosaics. The weather looked promising over top of Montmartre, the hill where Sacre Coeur is located, but looking down across Paris it was starting to cloud over. The students have, throughout the trip, been so well behaved and respectful in the holy sites we visit. They are good ambassadors for the young people of Canada!
A handsome group, as ever.
I like my new wide angle lens.
Rens did some commentary about the buildings we passed, in his deep Dutch accent, as we drove through Paris, down the Champs Elysees, to Napoleon’s Arc de Triomphe. We climbed to the top of the Arc, and once again Paris was laid out before us, but now some serious clouds were moving in, and we got our first sprinkles of rain. This didn’t dampen the kids’ spirits at all – they’re an enthusiastic bunch.
[Image:arc craig.jpg]
From the top of the Arc.
We are so puny under the mighty arc.

Off to the Catacombs were we, not walking but riding as I said before. Last year the walk to 1 Rue Denfort-Rochereau (the address of the Catacomb’s entrance) was a serious error on my part, and I apologize to those of you who had to endure it! The catacombs are a huge series of underground tunnels in Paris which were limestone quarries started by the Romans. These particular catacombs house the bones of 6 million Parisians whose remains were exhumed from the cemeteries of Paris in the late 18th century to make room for more buildings and roads. They decided these ancient quarries would be an appropriate final resting spot for the bones of the dead, and neatly (and sometimes artistically) stacked the bones up along the edge of the tunnels, noting which cemetery each of the groups of bones came from. It is a very unusual experience to walk through this place (just above the entrance, there is an old engraving in French which says "Stop – This is the Empire of the Dead". A group of girls, who were with a mom quite far ahead of all the boys commented that they were glad the boys weren’t there to try to scare them. Some man who was in the catacombs with his son overheard them and took the opportunity to hide and jump out at them himself. The girls have recovered, but I think Tyrel was disappointed it wasn’t he who got to scare them.
[Image:catacombs 3.jpg]
We are warned not to enter. Don't look down the page any further, LB.

[Image:catacombs 1.jpg]
ouch.
[Image:catacombs 2.jpg]
A work of art?

[Image:catacombs jialin.jpg]
Jialin makes friends so easily - with Belgian students, with French skeletons...

I can’t think of a better thing to do after walking through piles of bones and skulls than to go for lunch, which is what we did down in the Latin Quarter (the old university district). After lunch we visited THE Notre Dame Cathedral (of course, there are Notre Dame Cathedrals all over France, but this is the big one). After discussing the finer aspects of flying buttresses and guys who are beheaded, pick up their heads, and walk to a more appropriate resting spot (St. Denis, the patron saint of Paris), we left Notre Dame behind and went shopping, finally. I totally couldn’t wait! ha ha ha. It had started raining in earnest now too, but no one seemed to care – we are from the West Coast after all.
[Image:notre dame group.jpg]
These guys are always a little off balance.
While they shopped, I searched for American Express to cash the remaining traveler’s cheques. They are very inconvenient – almost no place takes them, or their rate is ludicrous – one place quoted me 8% (and 8% of what I was cashing is a LOT of Euros!). I had a long walk ahead of me to the actual amex office in Paris, near the Opera. After assisting two motor scooter riders who collided with each other right in front of me while I waited for a crosswalk signal, I got my directions mixed up and ended up walking several km in the absolute wrong direction. I knew when I arrived at what was supposed to be the Place D’Opera, and instead saw Place du Republic I had made an error. So I took a suggestion Kelly (Ashley’s mom) had given me earlier and hailed a taxi. That was worth it – I got there quickly and got to experience driving in Paris the way it should be experienced, not in a large and safe bus, but in a tiny fiberglass Peugot.

We ended our day with an early evening at the Louvre. I gave the tired and hungry kids a pep talk before we split into two groups to join our professional guides. They rallied and seemed to get a lot out of the tour, despite their weakened state. The underwhelming (my opinion) Mona Lisa is always a favourite – hype wins out for this one! The kids were excited to see it, but I was more enthralled with the guide’s description of some of the grand paintings we saw, such as the Wreck of the Medusa.
Introducing the Louvre - by Tyrel.
Chris can't believe this is the courtyard of the place King Louis gave up to build a fancier residence in Versailles.
[Image:louvre pyramid.jpg]
Interesting perspective.
[Image:louvre becky.jpg]
See any resemblance?
One of our capable guides at the Louvre.


After a quick meal at Cafeteria Rivoli across from the Louvre (these guys have tour groups down to a science – with a choice of 9 entrees, everyone in our group of 37 has their food in under 15 minutes. Amazing) we were back at the Etap, tired but happy, ready for a nice relaxing day on the bus on Saturday!
Craig

THE Palace and THE Tower

THE palace and THE tower

One of the kids asked me when we were having lunch in Rouen, "Are we going to that big place today?, to which I replied, "Which one?". "You know, that palace place, THE palace!" A pretty good way to describe Versailles, I thought. The self guided (with the help of well done audio guides in English and Chinese {sorry Mrs. Torgerson!}) tour took us to some of the places that were previously only available in a guided tour (which could not be booked for our extra large group this year) – like the opera house. Sorry for all the brackets. The palace is constantly undergoing renovations, but this year the entire hall of mirrors was open (though there was some scaffolding in the centre of the hall). The place is over the top ridiculous (real gold in the wallpaper!). Some of the kids had watched a film about Marie Antoinette they showed on the airplane, and it was interesting to see the actual rooms where the events depicted in that film took place. I recommend a visit to Versailles; I don’t recommend the film…
A new group of revolutionaries from Langley prepares to storm the palace.


After Versailles it was off to the Eiffel tower. After waiting in a long line up while the kids had fun taking pictures and not getting into trouble with the French military who patrol the base of the tower, machine guns in hand, I discovered that I could have taken a different entrance to the ticket booth and purchased tickets ahead of everyone because I was leading a school group. The last time I was here, there was no line. Finally we were on our way up to the cold, windy top of Paris. Our group basically filled the elevator to the first level, so we didn’t have to worry about the pickpockets that signs all around us warned us about. Then we were herded to the smaller elevators that shoot up to the top. A few issues with fear of heights became non-issues when we got up to the top and saw the city of lights laid out before us. The tower was doing its light show for some of the time we were up there, and the effect on the top platform is sort of like a strobe-light – very disorienting. They’ve got to put a railing around the top platform soon; someone could get hurt! Luckily, none of us were blown over the side.
The tower. It is big.

Christeen is considering a career in the French military. Just needs to brush up on the French.


We went to bed anticipating the busy day in Paris that lay ahead, and anticipating the lame breakfast that the Etap hotels are famous for (white bread, another kind of white bread, melba toast, corn flakes and lait chaud, various jams for token fruit-based "nutrition").


Craig