Barcelona

The sun is shining, the coffee is good, the people are friendly (okay I'm chatting with a charming man of London - he's far too pleasant to be called a Londoner, as I was yesterday(!)) and the city looks very fine indeed. I just need to work out where the devil I am and all will be well. But no rush.

The trenhotel (hotel train, whatever) from Zurich to Barcelona was fine. I slept well, albeit shallowly, and am refreshed in this fine city. It's a good atmosphere. Better than the Venezuelan transvestite who was in the next compartment - I think it was his 'husband' in the same room. It was odd. I suppose it might have been a woman, but if so, she was damn masculine.

...

Well, since no-one has read this, I'll add a bit here, rather than making a new post. Barelona has done very well for me. Admittedly, improving on the weather of Munich and Zurich is not the greatest challenge a Mediterranean city has ever faced, but even so...

The Guell Park is a Gaudi theme park and it has more tourists on display than anywhere else I've been, all of them wanting to be in my photo. Or so it seemed. And there were too many English ones for my tastes (although I kept somehow getting swept into a Japanese tour group - not like that, Lunk). But still, it is a rare place and the weather just enhanced that
Peculiar bridge structures:

Beautiful houses:

West Ham fan maybe? That's a joke by the way, I was just really pleased with how the bubbles looked in the photo

Some remarkable scening ornamentation:

And a giant lizard scultpure. I finally found a moment when there were fewer people stood in front of it. Gits.

And this is where I am going tomorrow. At least, that's my intention...

Regensburg

As intimated yesterday, I was in Regensburg. As may also have been intimated, although a little more subtly, is that the weissbier brewery in the town makes good and strong beer. Ah, hey, I didn't offend or cause any trouble so where's the harm? It was a fine place though and well-suited to the pedestrian traveller. It is full of little streets, unusual platzes, interesting shops and friendly people. Apparently the current Pope comes from there as well. It is a pretty religious town: but then, southern Germany is a very Catholic place. In my ignorance, I did not realise quite how much, thinking Germany was the home of Protestantism. I am getting much more knowledgable in my travels, although I fully expect to have forgotten the good stuff by the time I get back, and will fall back to my position of stereotype and guesswork.

I think I have now tried most of the Bavarian specialties and am now looking forward to a meal without sauerkraut. The pickled cabbage can be very good (although there is some variety), but my palate is unsuited to this much vinegar! Thankfully my digestive system is coping admirably for now, and if you want more details, I am sure I can provide them (although I don't intend to maintain an internal as well as external diary for the long term).

The beer is good, the food is good and the people are friendly. It's a welcoming region, but I am ready for the next bit of the trip: a few days in Barcelona (during which I may be active Blogwise) and then France to relax, see friends and do some study (during which time I would expect the blog to be quiet). Then back to Spain for a quick tour and off to Moscow, where it was apparently -5° yesterday. Brrrrrrr.

Didn't get lost

But it was cold and wet, so I hid in an art gallery and admired the marvellous Manets, Monets, Van Goghs and the like. That's a nice way to spend a day. And the overindulged in various gorgeous foods, beers and wines for the evening. Again. Can't fault the Bayerische generosity. No sir.

Now, how to get to Barcelona? It's a long way, and I might need to spend 3 hours in Zurich. There are places I'd rather be, but Barcelona is where I'm a-going.

Those Brig pictures:



Regensburg is marvellous by the way. A smashing place.

Small Mercies

Sometimes you get a little comfort and it goes a long way. I don't mean fluffy cushions, weissbier and sausage, although all these things are terribly welcome. I am more referring to the mental comforts. For example, being back in Munich is very comfortable - I like the city a lot and after a few days wandering last time, I know my way round a little tiny bit. So for the first time since... Brighton I think, I don't need a map. That feels good. Saying that, my next post will probably be "I got lost in Munich today" but I'm sure you get my meaning.
Next week I catch up with actual British people who are friends, so I'll be talking normally again. I suppose "normally" might not be the right word though.
The trouble is that that I am having trouble moving my backside today. I was up late last night and early this morning so decision-making is a little beyond me. Might join a walking tour and let someone else do my thinking for me.

Long Train Running

Munich, apparently.
Anyway, yesteday started off in (the) Brig and advanced with more train changes than at which a stick can be shaken. Brig to Montreux and then onto the Golden Pass train. From there, Zweisimmen to Interlaken Ost, on to Bern, then Zurich and finally the long run to Innsbruck. Phew. This morning I'm back in Munich!

The obvious thing to mention is the Golden Pass (apart from that it was a moderately mundane day). The Centovalli was steep and twisty, the Bernina Express was raw and magnificent and the Golden Pass is beautiful and genteel. The gently rolling 'Heidi' hills have these monstrous rock formations towering above them and the grey-brown cows really do have those big bells round their necks like the Vache Qui Rit of legend, or the Milka chocolate bars. These were the classic images of Switzerland, that I didn't know weren't just the fevered imaginings of the tourist board. There were still crazy bridges and steep climbs, but I really wasn't in a position to take pictures. Use your imagination to paint these green fields, green as a computer test colour, but completely right and natural, with a dazzling sun lighting one wall and the floor of the valley, while shark-fin mountaintops cast deep shadows as the light gathers almost solid form, picking up on the slight miasma to make halos across the ridge. Something like that.

I should also mention how pleasant Brig was. The Schloss (palace) was impressive. I'll put some piccies on later.

Rough with the smooth: thrown in the Brig

Today was less good. Still very fine, just less spectacular. It started early (far too early, but whatever), and then after some procrastination I finally got on with the job: I had a pretty fine timeline and was clear in my objectives. Nothing went wrong and I didn't miss any trains (although I did think I'd boarded the wrong one at one point) so I shouldn't really complain. And yet...

Apart from minor annoyances all went well getting to Domodossola at the west end of the Centrovalli rail journey. I even spotted that the trains did not go from the normal platforms and so was well pleased with myself, even finding myself a quiet place on the train - it's nice and early so it probably won't be that busy. Pride, fall etc. People fill the train and all still looks well, and then, just before departure along comes the odd family. I'll presume Swiss: they were talking German, but I like the Germans I've met. Heh. The adult male was a ringer for M Night Shyamalangadingdong the film director. The adult female was presumably a former weightlifter of indeterminate gender (maybe the drugs hadn't done so well). The young male was some kind of teen parody with the bandana and baseball cap, along with trousers round waist and the various disaffected youth paraphernalia, no doubt demonstrating to his 'massive' how unique he was by dressing identically to everyone else. He also smoked before coming in, reeking of the stuff. She decided that opposite me was the place to be, and stretched her feet onto my own. They were loudly chatty and, much to my distaste, very touchy-feely with each other. Not where I wanted to be. However the crowning glory was the smell. I'd have to guess it was some kind of anthrax aftershave developed as military deterrent. Certainly, my every cramped breath was laced with this poison, turning my brain into fiery lances and my gut into volcanic tapioca.

One hour and 45 long minutes later the train evacuates and I find it rather difficult to leave feeling rather rough. I step out of the station into Locarno and the stench of fumes and smoke seemed little better outside. To add a certain piquancy, some fat burger was puffing on the most disgusting cigar (presumably made of dried cat) and the fug seemed to follow me around, trying to tease my stomach into further action. It thankfully resisted. I bought myself a sandwish to try to put a relaxing layer on the unstable ferment but couldn't find anywhere that didn't reek, except the non-smoking underground platform of the station, so I went down there and sulked, catching the first train back to Domodossola (which was always my plan, just not simmering in the basement in the meantime).

So I got back to the west side and boarded the next train (helpfully marked Milano-Geneva-Milano, so there was no way or time to know for sure which direction it was going). Then I realised what was sharing the carriage with me. A posse of pre-teen Americans. No volume control, no worldliness, no empathy. Oh no. I then didn't care what the next stop was, I was simply getting off. Thankfully it was the right train, and the next stop was Brig (my chosen destination). The only other annoyances were again pretty cosmetic.

I am now hoping that tomorrow offers something a bit more comfortable. This is to take nothing away from the Centovalli: the sights were remarkable with some ridiculous bridges (high and narrow), waterfalls, gorges, lakes and tunnels. I just didn't appreciate it as I should. I would recommend though that if you take that trip, sit on the south side (right on the way to Locarno, or left on the way to Domodossola). The views were, in my opinion, better.

Tomorrow the Golden Pass. Hopefully.

Serendipity

:the faculty or phenomenon of finding valuable or agreeable things not sought for

It's a lot easier if one is ignorant. If I had read about Stresa, I'd probably have sneered and claimed it was full of a certain kind of person, which, really, it is. And I don't think I would have come. But, in ignorance I came and liked it a lot. It's expensive and snobby, loud and vain, boorish and rude, but beautiful and warm, magnificent and breathtaking, aged and proven.

Stresa

Oh my.