I guess you thought I had at last decided to give you some peace. Wrong. I have been working diligently on Rob's and my family tree. It is absolutely amazing the extent of information there is on all our ancestors on the internet. I'm so far out on a couple of tree limbs that the occupants are starting to grow a substantial amount of body hair and there are even signs of an extension of the tail bone to wrap around the branch. It can be a bit pricey to access the information but still it's a lot cheaper than having to travel the world visiting libraries for the purpose.
Speaking about travelling the world, the next stop on our European adventure was Paris.
It seems that Paris is a town that you either love or hate. We had been told by the young Italian family that befriended us on our train journey from Geneva to Rome that it was a dirty place; not very pleasant at all. Fortunately, one of the things we learnt after hitting the road was not to take heed other people's advice about places not to visit. On our first trip to the top end (of Oz) we were advised not to go to Kakadu - Kakadon't as it was described to us - as it was a waste of time. We loved it, just as we ended up loving Paris!!
We left Geoff our new tour guide in the lobby of the Scribe anxiously scanning the entrance for the arrival of his next Scenic arrivals and made our way up to our room. I have already mentioned our surprise and delight at what we found. The whole of the hotel has been renovated in the past few years to five star class. A bit flash for us caravaners I can tell you, but we didn't complain.
As we did in most of the larger places we visited on our trip, the first thing was to hop on an open top hop on, hop off bus for a familiarisation tour. The traffic was hectic but nothing like the entertaining madness of Rome. How excited were we; so much so that we went out in our lightweight summer clothing that seemed entirely appropriate at the mid morning time that we left. However, sitting on the top deck of a double-decker bus, fully open to the elements, in mid October, was a bit of a error of judgement. By the time we got off, we were almost frozen solid; but hey, who cares, we were in gay Paris and loving every moment of it.
As our bus careered around the city we were overawed at the sight of the the places we had heard about all our lives but had never had the opportunity of seeing before; places like Notre-Dame, the Louvre, along the Champs-Elysées to the Arc de Triomphe and of course, the Eiffel Tower. I know a lot of people don't like the regimentation of the sightseeing buses, but we find the information provided by the local tour guides is just as uplifting as the actual viewing.
I know it was important in the plot of the Da Vinci Code, but I found the glass pyramid on the courtyard of the Louvre to be somewhat garish; an ultra modern structure in a classic setting.
I said that we careered around the city, and we did. Our driver seemed to take it as a personal affront if any other motorist dared pass us, especially if the offending person was driving another company's bus. He would do whatever he could to ensure he was first from the lights. However, it was all rather self defeating as there were set departure times from certain stops and he would have to wait at them, once for five minutes, before continuing on.
We didn't quite do the full circuit as we really needed some exercise to unfreeze the blood. Along the way of our walk back to the Scribe we stopped for lunch at one of the many right bank restaurants. We have never had so many pizzas in all our lives. This one was OK but not a patch on the ones we had in the little out of the way place in Milan.
It was mid afternoon by the time we arrived back at the hotel, perfect timing for an OPS before getting ready to meet up with Geoff and the rest of the tour party for welcome drinks, courtesy of our hosts, Scenic Tours.
We often comment on the way the Japanese tour companies truck their own into Oz, whizz them around, then truck them out again. Well, one of the first things we noticed as we entered the room was the predominance of Aussi voices. It was like being in one of the function rooms at the Continental Hotel in Sydney. It was quite a shock to the system. It turned out that about ninety five percent of the tourists were Australian. I can recall there were a couple from England, a most delightful couple from Germany and, of course, a token couple of New Zealanders. (Ha, ha Grant!)
Although, over the course of the tour we tried to spend time with all our fellow travellers, we didn't have much time with the English couple; but we do know that they had found the tour on the internet. We wondered for a few days about the German couple and how they had learned of the tour. It turned out that they, Eberhardt and Helga, were celebrating a special wedding anniversary and they had been shouted the tour by their son who would join us in a few days as our new tour director and who would be celebrating his 40th birthday during the tour. We managed to spend quite a bit of quality time with them.
Of course, the New Zealand couple got the most attention from several of us. It must have been quite daunting for them at first, the ribbing they got from all and sundry. However, they stuck with the fable that Kiwis were better Rugby players than Australians and in spite of it, ended up being very popular fellow travellers.
That night was an early night for us as we recuperated from our late train journey from Milan.
Breakfast was just as one would expect from a five star establishment and gave us the opportunity of mingling a little more with our own. I must say however, that we got something of a shock when a woman (not on our tour) walked into the hotel restaurant for breakfast with a little lap dog under her arm. It gave a couple of yelps but was generally well behaved. The woman looked very well to do and had the aura of authority about her. It was not the sort of look that would permit any questioning of her entertaining her pet pooch in an eating area. It was not the first time we had struck a dog in an hotel. At Milan, what appeared to be the manager's dog, had full run of the place; it's just something we're not used to.
After breakfast we all gathered onto a bus that was waiting outside for us for another tour of the city with Geoff and a local tour guide, James. James has one of those very, very posh English voices, usually reserved for royalty and the upper crust of society; but what a guide was he. He too exuded an aura of authority and even the bus driver would not dare to question his commands. It was quite early on Saturday morning so we were able to meander along at a pace that would not have been possible on a week day and were even able to pause from time to time as James gave us a history lesson about the places we were seeing.
As the tour progressed, we learned that James, a man in his mid forties, had lived in Paris for several years and had at one time been a history lecturer in one of the more significant schools in the city. He now was a very much sought after tour guide.
It was not until late in the tour that James asked us if we were interested in how a snotty nosed Pom came to be living and working in Paris. There seemed universal interest so he told us he lived there because he loved the place. That was fine but the shock came when he told us he was not actually a Pom but an Australian with an Australian passport. He was the product of his father's second marriage, arriving rather late in the father's breeding cycle. Father joined the Royal Air Force, rising to the rank of Wing Commander, and his family had, of course, relocated to England when he moved there. James had most of his secondary school and university education in that country and when his father retired and moved back to Australia, he stayed on, eventually moving to France.
I must say that the entire tour party was extremely impressed with James and his knowledge of French history. His story about the goings on in the Place de La Concorde when there was so much blood, pooling from the operation of La Guillotine, that even the oxen pulling the carts with new arrivals and beheaded departees refused to enter the area, sent a chill through most of our bones. You could feel the terror as he told us that the victims did not die immediately after they were decapitated, but lived until the blood had drained from their heads.
The tour finished at the foot of Mont-martre where James left us and we were left to our own devices to climb the hill to Sacré Cœur. Here we had our first Parisian experience of the Sudanese vendors who are not the nicest of people to deal with. We were warned to be particularly careful of our valuables as they had a tendency to disappear in that area. We didn't have any trouble however and the walk up the hill to the cathedral was very much worth while. We had a bite to eat at one of the little restaurants atop the hill and had time to wander around and view some of the works of the artists working the crowds and the homes of famous artists of yore. At the appointed time we all met up again at the bus to go back, past the Moulin Rouge, to the hotel.
After reaching the Scribe, Rob and I decided to do a bit of window shopping so we walked around the corner, past Place de l'Opéra, to Lafayette department store. What a massive place is it! We could only wonder at just what the value of their stock holding might have been. Everything is top shelf and there is plenty of it. With the AUD being half the value of the Euro at the time, in our terms, the prices were pretty steep.
We only had time for a short OPS after we arrived back at the Scribe before it was time to dress for dinner on level one of the Eiffel Tower. The whole tour group was bussed to the tower, through the tunnel where Princess Di died. The grounds of the tower were absolutely packed but because we were a booked group we had an allocated lift time. At the appointed hour, we all bypassed the huge line-up of people, into the lift, to be whisked up to the lookout on level two. I must say the whole experience was pretty amazing. The views of Paris and surrounds, first in the sunlight and later in the dying rays of the day, are very special memories. How our friends from the train could say that Paris was not a clean city escapes us. Compared with the fare we received from Tempo Tours, the dinner on the level one restaurant was spectacular. All in all, an unforgettable experience.
Before we left for Europe we told nephew Peter Rae, who now lives in London, that we would be in Paris so he walked down the road from his home, caught a train under the Channel and ended up on our doorstep. It really was great to see him. He has been to Paris on a few occasions and knew well the places we would like to see. We decided on a walking tour and walk we did.
Our first stop was the Louvre and because most of the tourist season was over we didn't have to stand in line to see any of the great attractions. It was crowded but it was straight into the Mona Lisa room. We walked through a maze of corridors with the countless, wondrous, works of art, to Venus de Milo. Works by Michelangelo, Rembrandt, etc. abounded. One could spend days in the Louvre but we were on a limited time schedule so we had to hurry on. As we always say as we travel around Oz, we have to leave something for the next time, else there is no point in going back.
The rest of the the morning we spent wandering around the west bank until, at lunch time, we arrived at Jardin Du Luxembourg. As we had done on most of our tour of Europe, we brought the sun with us and this day was no exception. It was lovely and warm and many Parisiennes were out and about soaking up the sun whilst we soaked up the atmosphere. We had lunch in a little open air cafe right in the centre of the park.
After lunch, Rob and I took the Metro back to the hotel while Pete continued his walking tour. We arranged to meet early evening which we did before heading out for dinner at a little restaurant just down from the hotel. It was a lovely night capped off by a stroll through the streets of Paris and finally a nightcap in the lounge of the Scribe. We said our farewells to Pete, who was staying at another hotel some distance away, and went up to pack and make ready for the morning's next adventure, a bus trip to Amsterdam.
The journey, although long, was very comfortable and informative with Geoff acting as our local guide. We drove through the battle fields of France where so many Australian soldiers lost their lives in WW2. That was, of course, quite moving.
At Brussels we stopped for lunch but not before another couple, Trev and Raelene (Ray) and us had to have a drink. I ordered a beer and, as usual, when asked what size I would like, asked for a large one. I should have known better when I saw the slight indication of a grin on the face of the waiter. He soon returned and to Rob's horror, but my delight, he handed me my litre stein of the local brew. Unusually, I only had the one pre lunch drink!!
We had been told by Geoff that we should not miss a couple of the local attractions and that it was imperative that we have the local speciality for lunch, mussels cooked in a white wine sauce. By the time we found a restaurant where we could have this very special meal and actually eat it, we only had time to buy a few of the famous local chocolates before we had to head back to the bus. Once again, we left something for next time.
As we continued our way to Amsterdam, Geoff interspersed his commentary with a bit of information on his own background. He is an Australian in his early 30's. He started his working career as a teacher at Knox Grammar in Sydney. He then joined the pro tennis circuit but, as he described himself, he is a good player but not a great one. He stuck it out for a couple of years before taking a job as a tour guide in Europe. It was only to be a short term thing until he met, fell in love with and married, as he described her, the lovely and beautiful, Ivana who was also working as a tour guide. From memory, she is a Czech and they have made their home in that country. They now own their own tour guide company and he was very excited that some of us who would be travelling to Prague at the end of our tour would get the opportunity of meeting her.
It was quite obvious that Geoff and Ivana had only been married for twelve months. He was just so much in love.
The last leg of the bus trip was, like the rest of it, very enjoyable. Driving through the Netherlands, beside the dykes, and with several Dutch windmills to captivate us, was a delightful experience.
At about 4.45 pm we finally reached our destination, a wharf on the banks of the Rhine River in the heart of Amsterdam at which stood our beautiful home for the next fifteen nights, the very new Sapphire Princess, the latest addition to the growing fleet of Scenic Cruise's river boats. It really was something to behold, a low profile job, 142 metres long and wide enough to just fit into the narrowest lock along the Rhine, Main and Danube rivers as they flow to Budapest, our next destination.
The crew that all came out to greet our arrival were equally impressive. By the time we got to our cabin our cheeks were sore from smiling. “Hi, welcome aboard. I'm Harold.” “Hi, I'm Katrina. Welcome aboard.” and on it went. We who did the Paris extension numbered only about 35. The remaining 130 people taking the cruise were already settled so it didn't take us long to to check in. Our cabin was on the middle deck about half way along the rows of cabins, just an ideal position. The beauty of the Scenic boats is that most cabins; i.e. the top and middle levels all have their own private sit out balconies. Most of the other boats only have Juliet balconies; a sliding door with a railing outside it. Pretty useless really.
Anyway, after unpacking it was time for welcome drinks in the lounge followed by a beautiful dinner. After dinner, Harold, the “Hotel Manager” and another crew member took a large contingent of us (at least half women) for a walk through town, specifically through the red light area. It was a bit of an eye-opener for most of us. There were street after street of buildings with little glass fronted rooms, each occupied by young women in various stages of dress – or undress whatever way you want to look at it.
It was a bit hard to go to bed that night such was our excitement. However, when we did we slept soundly. Next morning we were all picked up by a convoy of buses and taken to a small river wharf for a canal tour through the City. We didn't know much about the place before then so it was really a surprise to find that Amsterdam was more like Venice than Venice. After the cruise we toured the city with a local guide before heading back to the Sapphire Princess for lunch. Just after sitting down to yet another grand repast there was a slight bump and we realised we had moved away from the wharf and we were on our way.
Budapest, here we come – First Class...