I managed to sleep all the way 'till 6:45am this morning. Must be getting old. Pulled out for my ancestral homeland about 8:15am. Needing some over-the-counter meds I went looking for a pharmacy. As is usually the case, when you don't want one you can't swing a dead cat and not hit one. But want one? Just see if you can find it. The girl at the checkout desk told me just to head toward downtown and I'd see one. I didn't, so I tried the old braincells. Where to find a pharmacy? Obvious answer, next to a hospital. So I searched on the Garmin for the nearest hospital and headed toward it. Isn't it great when you noodle something out and it works? Sure enough, about a block from the hospital I found the needed pharmacy. If it would have been open it would have been a triumph. As it was, it was just another French retail disappointment. Drug store not open for business at 8:30am on a Monday morning. American friends, how many 24/7 pharmacies are located near your house? Vowing not to worry about it, and burning daylight, I pulled out for the road.
As I stated, when you don't really need something it's magically there. I stopped for my morning coffee and, lo and behold, just around the corner was a pharmacy...and it was open. Be still my heart! I still haven't found the WD-40 I need, but one can't expect all prayers to be answered, can one?
Pulling out of the hotel this morning I ran into this rather pleasant surprise.
I had one of those fortuitous little bits of serendipity work for me this morning. Last night, remembering the fiasco over the Spanish/Portuguese maps on my last trip I decided to reload for the anticipated areas I would be needing over the next several days. I did and thinking I would be routed through Zurich, I queried for that city on the gps. It wasn't found! Ouch, again? Don't know, but, when I asked to be routed to the waypoint I'd set up for my "home place," I was surprised to see it route me through Germany, instead of down through Zurich. Pleasantly surprised. It was a great route. The country is just like that of the mountains of the American west. Sharp switchbacks, big sweeping turns along old river courses. Beautiful scenery. Great ride!
I know it's only farm fields. But they beat parking lots and shopping malls all to hell and gone.
Some of those 'on the bike,' one-handing the camera, while trying to focus on one or the other (I forget which).
Nearing my destination, I passed this gorgeous lake with a small town adjacent. Just had to get some pictures of this place so I pulled into this neat little square. The entire place had this Hansel and Grettel feel. And then I saw the little fountain. Picture complete.
Neat little square downtown with parking adjacent. the gentlemen in the picture were talking up a storm. Though I couldn't understand them, I'm pretty sure it was politics.
This was the smaller of the two lakes I passed this morning.
And, yes, it was a Hansel and Gretel theme.
Realizing there's nothing but a town there for me, and having no intention of looking for genealogical records in the courthouse or such, I'd promised myself I'd have lunch where the family "seat" probably once sat. There's a nice little restaurant next to the river upon crossing into the town, and, figuring my great X 5 grandfather probably, at one time or another, had lunch along the river, I decided that would at least do for me. You didn't think I was going to break a pick over this thing, did you?
The entrance way to Diepoldsau, Switzerland, ancestral home of the Geiger's in the U.S. Just to the right of this picture is a neat little restaurant where I had my "celebratory" lunch.
I've always thought it kind of neat to know that you have shared a view, or some significant landmark with some historical personage, or, in this case, a long ago relative. How many times did a relative of mine look up and see that distinctive notch in the mountain? For that matter, I wonder if I have any seeing it today?
So...a nice lunch later, Betsy and I booked it down the highway heading for the first of what will be the first of several deviations to the original trip outline. Sprechen sie Deutch? Hallo Munchen. A fellow guitar-picker/motorcycle rider at work asked how could I come that close and not visit Munich. Nicholas, you were right, so I didn't?
Coming out of Diepoldsau, I entered the St. Gotthard Tunnel, the 3rd longest in the world at 16 kilometers. That's almost 10 miles for you U.S. folks. It was certainly the longest tunnel I've ever been through. By the time I got out of there I was giddy with carbon-monoxide, and ready to see sunlight. But it was a neat engineering feat.
My new toy worked this time. Stopping at a McDonald's about fifteen kilometers out of Munich, I fired up the iPad and went hotel shopping. Of course, you know me, I always screw something up, and this was no exception. I forgot to update my credit card information with Orbitz after it was stolen in Rome. So, I tried to book the room with the old card number and was, thankfully declined. Unfortunately, I fat-fingered the new card data on entry and was again, declined. When I finally got it right Orbitz gave me a message saying the bank refused to make a transaction on that card right now, and I was to call them. Giving my U.S. card, I managed to book the room.
After checking in and a "road" shower it was already. 8:00pm, but, undeterred, I headed into downtown Munich, only 1.8 miles away via tram. The lady at the desk had recommended The Augustiner restaurant at Karlsplatz near the center of town. She also recommended their Helles Bier. Both hit the spot perfectly.
Managing to find the place in the middle of the madness that is Karlsplatz, I found myself in what was obviously one of the best places in Munich to eat. It was absolutely packed. A waiter pointed me toward this single table crammed between two sets of diners. Figuring it would be impossibly uncomfortable to sit between two groups like that, I looked around and saw a guy, like myself, alone, sitting at a table. Further, he looked like an American businessman. (Don't ask me how I knew that...you just know; and "they" do too.)
He was exactly what he appeared to be and, upon my asking if I could join him at his table, he cordially said "Yes."
Frank P. is a business consultant with Price, Waterhouse and was in town for a single meeting on a proposal. Commiserating with him because of all the like situations I've experienced, we struck up what turned out to be a very pleasant conversation, and enjoyed a great meal and good company together. Frank is from, and lives today, in Philadelphia with wife and three kids. They appear to be living the American dream: family, good job, home, the standard things that make that so good. Good on him. He has quite a lot of experience living overseas, having spent several years in Europe with PWC. Our experiences as ex-pats are quite similar. Like me he found the French kind and helpful, and we agreed that it is one of the prettiest places on the planet. He speaks very highly of Brussels, having lived there for three years and, while it has some history, nice buildings, the usual attractions, it sounds like Nantes, just a great place to live and raise a family
In any event, it was an extremely pleasant evening, spent with a very nice guy, with great food and several of those excellent beers. I could do that, you know, I was on the tram. I'm really starting to like this public transportation thingy.
Busy night at Karlsplatz
Frank P., a hell of a nice guy
The roast pork with dumpling and "white cabbage salad" was remarkable.
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