Still Cruisin'

International Eating

 

Some of you may know that when Mrs.T gets focused upon something she can be quite determined.  I would say obsessed.  She grips on like a gila monster and will not let go.  Such was the case on the cruise with the sachretorte.  Everywhere we went she wanted a sacretorte.  Eventually I weaned her from them, but it was tough work.  I expect she will want to make trips to some obscure bakery in another city to try to find one.  But I will agree that sometimes they were quite tasty.

 

 

 

Dan and I have always liked to eat.  I grew up on a farm and was aware of a satisfying connection between growing food and eating it.  It was a connection that held the world together.  Also I liked the taste.  Dan likes eating because he is Italian.  And therefore, as we have taken several cruises in the past, part of their appeal for us has been the food which we always found to be both plenteous and delicious.  Naturally we anticipated great things from our river cruise in this area.  Well we were not at all disappointed but we were surprised because the food was somewhat different.

 

Time, alas, has taken its toll and we are no longer able to stuff vast quantities of food down our gullets 24 hours a day.  (But we can give it a good try.  –dt) This is good because this cruise was more about quality and less about quantity.  We were never hungry but the need for Rolaids occurred a lot less often.  Also many of you are aware that my hands have become pretty shaky recently.  Since I brought several of my best clothes to wear at supper - Dan had told me not to but I seldom take his advice in matters of dress (All the material emphasized informality.  –dt) - I really did not want to start each evening dressed in the soup of the day.  What should I do?

 

I had a PLAN!  The first meal of the first day I sought out the Maître'd, Paul.  I explained my problem.  I asked that if I ordered soup could they bring it to me in a cup instead of a bowl.  Also if the waiters could cut anything that needed cutting then I could eat it with a large spoon. (Mrs.T is not at all good with chopsticks. –dt) Paul was enthusiastically supportive.  He promised to tell the waiters.  "If they have any questions tell them to ask Paul," he said.  "And if there are any other ways I can help just ask.  I am here, dear lady, to help you enjoy your cruise."  Well I will never think of maitre' d's as snooty again.  Paul was as good as his word - and good looking too! (He has a girlfriend back in Budapest.  –dt) When we went to supper I started to explain to our waiter, Miljan, and he immediately said "Oh yes, Paul told us; don't worry Madam, it will be no problem."  And in fact it was not.

 

The first night, and every other night when we sat with different passengers, the other people at our table were a little confused at my special service.  I could see they could not decide if I was decrepit or the Queen of some obscure Baltic country.   I acted extremely blasé' and they were embarrassed to ask.  The waiters were incredibly solicitous and all went well.  Dan and I decided to sit in the same general area so that we would likely have the same waiters and it worked out that usually we had either Miljan or Ned, both of whom were sweet and charming.  In fact as many people sat at the same tables, soon my fellow passengers were offering to butter my bread and so on.  There is really no reason for false pride and almost everyone is really happy to help.  Sometimes I did kind of feel like the queen.  Of course Dan said "Enjoy it while you have it because I'm not waiting on you at home!"  I ask you, is that anyway to treat the queen?  The fact is that Dan does cheerfully help me quite a bit especially with cutting things because he thinks I am dangerous with sharp knives.  (I desire to avoid trips to the ER.  Also, I sweep up a lot after meals.  –dt)

 

The food was delicious and beautifully presented except of course the asparagus.  I loathe asparagus but Chef Axel had made everything else taste so good I decided to try the asparagus soup to see if he could make it taste good too.  No he could not.  For this reason I cannot speak about the taste of the beets or the rhubarb either but everything else was fantastic.  This includes several items I liked even though I was not sure what they were.  There were always about six different choices in each category:  appetizer, entree, and dessert.  And I must mention that one of the dessert options was almost always a chocolate dish. 

 

Occasionally throughout the cruise little special offerings of food or drink would appear.  Nothing loathe, I always tried to participate in these little extras.  For example, one morning when we were on the Rhine it was drizzly and chilly.  Nonetheless many of us were sitting on the upper deck gazing at the castles of the robber barons which Rob, the tour director, described to us as we passed them.  There were tales of feuds and kidnapping maidens - all very thrilling.  But as we shivered between taking pictures, Attilla brought us warm blankets. Then as we began to get chilly again along came Paul and his crew with mulled wine.  I had two little cups and was feeling quite warm and comfortable by the time we came to the last castle.  I liked the castles quite a bit.  Another time when we were watching a glassblowing demonstration they gave us little bottles of Jagermeister which is some funny kind of liqueur I think.  Remembering my experience with brandy I did not drink it. (It is actually a brew of 56 herbs, supposedly with medicinal properties.  –dt)

 

So we had three delicious meals: breakfast, lunch, and supper.  If you felt a trifle peckish there was a place with cookies and baked things for between meals with tea and coffee and water; Dan's favorite was the chocolate muffins.  (But the snacks were not there around the clock.  –dt) Of course you could buy things at the lounge.  We found that the concierge had a nice plate of apples by his desk, so here and there we managed to keep our little fridge stocked with a few snacks and bottled water which we collected before tours.  And bottle water was provided each day.

 

Every evening there was a talk telling us about the cities we would visit the next day.  An important part of the briefing was a description of the local industries and the local food.  I felt that it was important that we immerse ourselves in the local culture, and Dan did not disagree.  Besides after walking a lot on those tours we needed a little fortification. 

 

My favorite was in Austria where they made sachertortes.  Sachertorte is an incredibly rich and moist chocolate cake iced with dark chocolate icing.  Between the layers in addition to the icing there is a layer of marmalade. "Would you like cream with that?" the waitress asked.  Well I thought a nice little dollop of whipped cream on top would be just the thing.  Keep in mind we are talking real whipped cream from plump, happy Austrian cows here.  They have never heard of Reddi-wip, thank God.  When my sachertorte arrived I was pleasantly surprised to learn that no dollops were involved.  I got a small dish of whipped cream.  What you did was cut off a bite of sachertorte and dip it into the whipped cream then eat it.  I must say I think I absorbed the Austrian culture rather quickly.  In fact after that whenever we stopped to sample local food I asked for sachertore but Dan made me try a lot of other things.  One day after our tour it was chilly and we decided to stop at a little café to get something to warm us up.  Dan had a espresso and I had a hot chocolate.  "Would you like cream with that?" the waitress asked.  Yes, I thought I would.

 

In Germany one of the specialties was gingerbread.  Now I have eaten gingerbread many times and it is okay but it doesn't thrill me.  Dan, however, although not particularly interested in gingerbread was paying attention to the briefing and made a mental note of the best place to buy gingerbread.  That afternoon when our planned trip to the toy museum fell through and we were wandering around the main square in Nuremberg, Dan noticed that we were passing the recommended gingerbread store.  "Why don't you check it out?" he suggested.  Dan is generally not much of a shopper.  But I was willing to do my bit to support the local economy.  It was a small store devoted almost exclusively to gingerbread, ginger cookies, etc.  They had beautiful tin boxes with nature scenes, pictures of homey people eating gingerbread and that sort of thing.  Or you could just buy the gingerbread or cookies in little plastic bags.  I thought one of the tin boxes would make a nice gift, so it took a while for me to decide.

 

In the background I could hear an obnoxious American tourist demanding a free sample before she bought any.  Sigh! (Americans are invariably the most obnoxious tourists.  –dt) "No we do not do that madam, but I can show you one," the clerk said politely.  What good would that do I wondered?  You can't tell by looking at food.  Little did I know.  The clerk opened a plastic bag and held up a gingerbread cookie.  Immediately there wafted through the store a spicy, mysterious, tangy scent with a touch of unidentified delicious tones.  Everyone in the store began grabbing tins, boxes, and plastic packages and rushing to the cashier.  With a superhuman effort of self-control I ended up with only two plastic bags and one tin box.  Dan found me in a kind of dazed condition as I exited the store.  "What took you so long? Why did you buy so much?" he hit me with the standard compound question. (I need to get my questions in when I can.  –dt) "You'll see tonight," I told him, leaving him a little confused.  Every night Dan takes medicine which must be taken with food.  That night he took it with a large gingerbread cookie.  There were no more questions as to how much I spent.  There was however some discussion as to whether we each got the same number of cookies.

 

So we ate our way across Europe.  In one town Dan had pretzels and said they were very good while I spent that time climbing a ruined castle.  But he did bring back some pastries.  I had one that was like a cream puff only with cheese Danish filling.  I am not sure what it was but it was delicious.  In The Netherlands we had milk chocolate shaped like windmills.  I'm not sure why but the chocolate seems to be more chocolaty in Europe.  Dan tasted a local beer and said it tasted like stout.  All in all I liked everything but the asparagus soup.  But best of all was the sachertorte.

 

Our pictures are a bit organized.  Here are some highlights for this story.

The staff:

 https://www.flickr.com/photos/9151458@N07/sets/72157655630532408

 

Cruising for castles:  https://www.flickr.com/photos/9151458@N07/sets/72157655624620959

 

BONUS:  Here are a few of our pictures of the Hungarian Cowboys: https://www.flickr.com/photos/9151458@N07/sets/72157656022885352

 

We hope you have enjoyed these recent postings about our European trip.  We have another adventure in the offing, so I don't know when the muse will get to another story. 

 

Stay cool.

Dan and Rebecca

www.casa-de-terrible.blogspot.com

 

 

 

 

Heading up Rivers

Cruisin' on the Rivers

 

Those of you who have followed our offerings for a while know that we travel a bit.  And we winter in Bucerias, Mexico, to avoid the, for us, inhospitable Ohio weather.  In Mexico we have come to know through our many Canadian friends that we are almost amateurs when it comes to traversing the globe.  Last year one of our very favorite couples B&H - best to keep some anonymity in these musings – told us about the wonderful time they had on a European river cruise; they even showed us a darned good PowerPoint show.  Well, that closed the deal and plans were put in motion, especially as this trip was on Mrs.T's 'bucket list'.

Fifteen days from Budapest to Amsterdam aboard the Viking Mimir just making its second cruise, its inaugural sailing being in the opposite direction.  We were excited to see the riverside from Hungary to The Netherlands.  And it was a very nice trip.  But quite exhausting, especially for our two out-of-shape, lethargic torsos.  As you know R is more athletic than I, but we did well.

This was a small ship, only 185 passengers, with people from many countries:  US, Czech Republic, Austria, Germany, Slovakia, Croatia, Serbia, Canada, and probably other places as well.  There were only two children - intelligent, well-behaved teenagers – being treated by their grandparents.  We may have been among the younger passengers.  Virtually everyone spoke English and we met several fine people.

We stopped every day to visit a city or town and take the included tour.  The tours were rated 1 -3 based upon degree of difficulty.  And each tour had a subset for those of us that were not track stars.  We skipped the 3-level tours altogether and several times ventured off on our own.  In Vienna we followed the advice of our good friend JRS and visited a wonderful museum, the Hundertwasser, that no one else would see. The included tours were geared towards history and buildings, not art and museums.  Another time – surprise – we visited a garden not on the tour.  There were optional tours – read: extra charges – as well, and we took a couple of those.  All-in-all it was a great trip.

No surprise that Mrs.T would have several things to report, the first installment being below.  It was easy to jumble up things a bit as we sped through these venues.  So let the editor clarify R's story a bit; you will understand when you read below.  Indeed there were many Bishop Princes scattered about.  However, Melk was in actually a genuine Benedictine Abbey from its beginning unlike Wurzberg – still cannot get those umlauts – where we also visited.  So on to Rebecca's story:

 

 

Dan and I are back from our river cruise through Europe on the Rhine, the Main, and the Danube.  We started in Budapest and finished in Amsterdam.  In Budapest we went on a special tour to see Hungarian 'cowboys', riders who in the past were called Cossacks.  When we arrived we were welcomed with the traditional bread, salt, and brandy.  Many of you know I am not a heavy drinker, however, anything in the name of international understanding.  (Mrs.T is virtually a teetotaler.  –dt) I took a respectable sized gulp.  It did not taste too bad until I swallowed.  Then "ARGG!! AAEEOO!! COUGH!! COUGH!!! SNORT!! SNORT!! MMMM!! Quite delicious!" I said.  Both our hosts and other members of the tour were viewing my performance with interest.  Dan looked completely bored (just nonchalant -dt) but I could tell by his eyes he was laughing inside. 

 

The cowboys did quite a show.  They jumped on and off horses, rode them standing on their backs (the horses' backs, that is.  –dt), drove them from carts and had a Lipizzaner stallion doing special tricks.  It was all quite entertaining. Dan said it was not absolutely necessary that I look at every single animal in their barns.  (Mrs.T wants to pat and talk to every critter she encounters.  –dt)

 

There were a lot of churches and palaces in Budapest but after a short walking tour of the highlights we wandered around taking pictures.   We did stop at a local café and bought some ice cream and lemonade.  In fact we nibbled our way across Europe.  We got three meals a day on the boat and they were delicious, but after our walking tours a little extra snack to absorb local customs - not to mention local food - seemed quite appropriate.  But I had no more unfamiliar drinks.  I had learned a few words of Hungarian, with a little coaching from Attila, the hotel manager on the boat.  Yes, he really was Attila the Hun (He was a very jovial guy.  –dt), but with the name Terrible who am I to talk.  I think the local people appreciated my efforts.

 

Perhaps the most spectacular part about Budapest was leaving it. At night the lights of all the castles, palaces, and churches along the Danube were magnificent as we slowly drifted away.

 

Every day we went on tours.  The bad thing was sometimes we had to walk a long way to get on the bus to take us where we were going.  Then we when we got to the bus drop-off we had to walk some more to get to what we were supposed to see.  This made me pretty tired and Dan both tired and grumpy.  Dan is not too walkable anymore.  (Walkable?  Sounds like I am on a leash.  –dt) We were supposed to be in a group that was the leisurely tour, i.e., very slow.  There were only a couple of people who were slower than we and one of them was Earl who was 97.  Earl was attended by three ladies in their 60's who were always misplacing him.  They would wander around frantically trying to find out who saw him last and where.  Eventually Earl would always show up cheerful but slightly confused.  The four of them are all members of a computer club at a senior's complex in Arizona.  Dan hopes that when he is 97 he will have 3 ladies looking out for him. Evidently Earl has a girlfriend back at the complex but she refused to come.  (I do plan to be like Earl when I grow up.  –dt)

 

One day we went on a tour of the Abbey of Melk.  It seems that back in the good old days in 13^th to 15^th centuries, Southern Germany and Austria were ruled by Bishop Princes.  These guys had the best of both worlds.  As Bishops they ran the churches and collected tithes and told everybody how to act.  As princes they collected taxes ran the states and told everybody what to do.  Nice work if you can get it.  Since these guys were - in theory at least – celibate, their jobs were usually inherited by their nephews.  The Abbey at Melk belonged to a Bishop Prince.  It was a Benedictine monastery with anywhere from 50 to 100 monks doing prayerful stuff.  The Abbey also owned a lot of farms and businesses in the area.  This was a Romanesque monastery.  It had lots of golden statues, beautiful tapestries, frescos on the ceilings and seven courtyards with gardens, statues, and fountains separating one part of the abbey from another.  The Bishop Prince and his family and court lived there along with the monks.  Do not forget the courtyards!

 

The Abbey of Melk was one of those places that took a lot of walking to get to.  When we arrived at the first courtyard Dan rebelled.  This particular courtyard had four gates one on each wall and a large fountain in the middle.  In the corners were some shaded benches.  Dan and Elise, another slow walker, sat down.  They were not going to go another step.  After coming all that way I was not going to miss the Abbey.  "Go ahead," Dan said.  "I will wait right here."  So I did.

 

The other slow walkers and I were given a tour by an ex-monk who lived there.  As I had never been in an Abbey before I have nothing to compare it to but this Abbey was huge and had a lot of great art and some weird religious stuff: a splinter of the true cross, various bones  and teeth of saints, all kept in gold boxes etc.  Now I'm not really buying that-- but they did have it.  We went through bedrooms with gorgeous tapestries on the wall.  We went through court rooms with frescos and paintings.  Everywhere we went there were religious statues covered with gold.  They were not really gold; the guide said they were wood or stone covered with gold but still we are talking a lot of gold.  Every so often we would come to a courtyard, don't forget them.  One of the most impressive parts was the library.  This was two large rooms packed from floor to ceiling with thousands of books and incunabula (books printed before 1501  -dt).  I guess it came in handy to have all those monks.  The books were mostly in Latin.  We crossed another courtyard, don't forget about them, and went through one of its four doors and came into the chapel.  It was positively dripping with gold, jeweled crucifixes, marble, and stuff like that. 

 

By this time I was totally overwhelmed, but I thought, well a church, so I slipped into a pew to say a little prayer.  When I opened my eyes a couple of minutes later all of the slow walkers had slowly walked on.  I was alone in the chapel with God and one old German lady who was dusting the pews.  "Can you tell me the way out?" I asked.  "Please do not take any flash photos," she replied.  This I imagined was the extent of her English.  I slowly wandered around the chapel peeking out each of the six doors.  I found one that had a clear plastic box with a slit in the top for donations.  Aha!!  I put some money in the box and went through the door into a courtyard.  There were no slow walkers in sight.  Would they really leave me?  Rob, our program director, had said they would leave if we did not get back to the boat on time.

 

The courtyard was designed like the others had been.   There were four doors, almost like gates, one in the center of each wall.  If I excluded the one I had just come through I had three choices left.  A man exited the door on my right.  I would try that one; there must be something in there.  I rushed through the door and found I was in the gift shop. Well I am probably headed in the right direction, I reasoned.  I quickly circled the room and saw that there were no other public entrances or exits.  Should I?  Of course not.  But I can resist anything but temptation.  (She must have said the wrong prayer.  –dt)  I quickly perused the wares.  I bought a small overpriced book with lots of pictures of the Abbey.  Exiting the gift shop I looked at the two remaining doors.  I saw a small group of people heading for one of them.  Well I thought why not.  At this point perhaps I should mention that these courtyards were not small.  They were perhaps 50 yards long and 30 yards wide, although they did seem to get larger as my time within them expanded.

 

I crossed the courtyard diagonally but by the time I entered yet another courtyard the people were out of sight.  At this point I realized that I should have asked the old lady at the gift shop the way out but I was not quite sure I could find my way back and had no idea if she spoke English.  I ventured on.  I crossed over and peered through the gate on my left and saw a small parking lot.  This was definitely not the way we had come in.  Sigh!  Time to try another door.  I was beginning to feel like Alice in Wonderland. 

 

I went across to the next door.  It opened into another courtyard.  But wait, was it possible?  This courtyard looked familiar.  It was the court where I had left Dan.  There were the benches in the corners.  But no Dan.  He had abandoned me! (Rob had told me to get to the bus.  –dt) I looked at all four corners.  He was not there!  I rushed across to the opposite door.  There was the long hill.  And there, almost at the top, was Dan walking slowly up.  "I'M COMING!" I shouted as loud as I could.  But it was a long ways and Dan's hearing is not the best. (R's voice does not carry well.  –dt) He trudged on. He was almost at the top.  I trotted as fast as my short legs would go but soon he was out of sight.  In despair I slowed to a walk.  I never really imagined he would leave me.  Then I began to trudge upward once more.  As I looked up I saw Rob striding determinedly down the long hill.  Hurrah!!  I sped up once more.  I could tell when he sighted me as he made a dash for me.

 

"Where have you been?" he demanded.  "Well I stopped to say a little prayer in the chapel and when I finished everyone was gone," I explained.  Rob stood looking at me in amazement waiting for the rest of the story.  But I was out of breath and that was all I had to say.  "Well we've found you; let's go," Rob said.  And he turned and bounded up the long hill at a great pace.   Perhaps this would be the time to mention that Rob is young, athletic, well over 6 feet tall with great long legs.  (Women probably swoon; he had a striking blond on his shoulder most of the trip. – dt) He soon reached the top of the hill and vanished out of sight.  I trotted determinedly behind.  Well they know I am coming, I mused; I don't think they will leave me now.    When I got to the top of the hill I saw a great mass of buses but eventually found ours - 42E - and crawled into my seat beside a very grumpy Dan.  (Bewildered is a better word.  –dt)

 

"I only stopped to say a little prayer and they left me," I explained.  Well we got back to the boat and all was well.  But the next morning as we left to go on our next tour Rob looked me in the eye and said very sternly, "NO praying!"

 

Did we take any pictures?  Probably a couple of thousand which we are still sorting through.  But sometimes really we do not know why we bother – websites and Google have better photos.  So this time we will link you to photos that are not ours.

The place outside Budapest where we saw the horses is actually an all-purpose activity center; its specialty is weddings, one of which was being set up while we were there.  The website is:  www.tanyacsarda.hu   Sure it is Hungarian, but you can click away.

Mrs.T did not take so many pictures at Melk, but Google has thousands.  Outside:  https://www.google.com/search?hl=en&site=imghp&tbm=isch&source=hp&biw=1600&bih=799&q=melk+abbey+austria&oq=Melk+Abbey&gs_l=img.1.2.0l10.1643.5388.0.9331.10.10.0.0.0.0.934.1747.6-2.2.0....0...1ac.1.64.img..8.2.1745.I-asLaY8Y_k   and inside:  https://www.google.com/search?hl=en&site=imghp&tbm=isch&source=hp&biw=1600&bih=799&q=melk+abbey+interior&oq=melk+abbey+interior&gs_l=img.3..0.1528.6222.0.7097.19.14.0.0.0.0.1013.1856.6-1j1.2.0....0...1ac.1.64.img..17.2.1854.-NO4zXB-7rg     The Abbey's website is:  www.stiftmelk.at   

 

 

 

Mrs. T has promised another installment in the near future.  Hopefully she will complete it before our next trip at the end of July.  It is a very full summer this year.

 

We give a special thank you to GG for the very, very touching letter.  Our trip might bring memories to you.  Oh yes, we have two GGs among our followers, but the correct one will know.

 

Hope you enjoyed the 4^th.  Stay cool.

Dan and Rebecca

www.casa-de-terrible.blogspot.com