Milan, Italy March 23rd

On my final day in Milan, I planned on seeing Da Vinci's last supper - anyway possible. The reservations were sold out weeks in advance but there is a bus tour of Milan, that guarantees a viewing. For 50 euros, I better get in.

I walked to the Duomo early. I had about an hour to kill. I figured out where the bus would pick up and saw a few other tourists waiting. Did I stick out, as a tourist, like they did? Half of the plaza was roped off, while they set up for 'festival weekend.'

The bus pulled in and I made my way across the plaza and attempted to board the bus. The driver explained that I have to buy my tickets in advance. Why the brochure didn't say that, I'll never know. Tickets were sold at the Tourist Office. My heart sank as I envisioned the only view I had of that office - a locked door. It is 'festival weekend' after all, they could be closed.

I made my way back across the plaza as fast as my legs would take me. The whole time, I'm thinking that the bus is going to leave without me. I was surprised to see that the office was open. I bought a ticket, it came with a travel pouch and a cd. I hurried out and saw the bus still waiting. I broke a sweat (both physical and from freaking out) and climbed in the back of the bus door.

The tour guide was talking about the city of Milan - its history, its accomplishments, its (weekly) festivals... Once I got settled in and the sweating subsided, we exited the bus, for our tour of the Duomo. After all my running back and forth and we are getting off the bus?

The Duomo in Milan took hundreds of years to build. It took so long that the architectural style changed over the years. It is massive. I think its the third largest cathedral in Europe. Only Rome and Seville are larger - I think.

Nice view???



The guide pointed out the huge stain glass windows, which told stories from the bible. There were a lot of illiterate people, hundreds of years ago, so the windows told the stories. They start at the bottom and the story continues upward:







There is a reason why this cathedral took hundreds of years to build. Attention to detail:



Marble floor design:



The last row:



The guide told us fact after fact... Largest this and oldest that and how many tons of this rock and ... I thought nothing could top the Dom in Koln Germany, I guess I'll have to go to Rome to top this one.

We exited and stopped in front of the main doors - which are closed. This allows better crowd control, though the other smaller doors. At first all you notice is that the doors are HUGE.




Then you see the intricate metal work on the door:









We headed west into a shopping area. "The most expensive land in Milan..."

Prada to the left and Yves Saint Laurent to the right:



Our group looked around like we've never been out in public before. After strolling past stores that I have no desire to see, nor could I afford, we made our way to the infamous opera house, La Scala. This was Verdi's home stage. Aida debuted here. If you want to see pictures - search the web.

Opulent boxes. Silk worked to feel like velvet. Perfect view from every seat. I really, really wanted to ask where they keep the fat lady - but then that would have identified me as low brow - best to keep that hidden.

After La Scala, we boarded the bus again. This time they drove it around. The guide showed us where Verdi died. The day before, I couldn't find the geocache hidden there. He showed all sorts of things that we quickly drove past on our way to the next thing that I would soon forget about.

Our viewing of The Last Supper was at noon and 1215. Only 15 (???) people at a time were allowed in and you only get 15 minutes to see it. This was originally a dining hall and Da Vinci painted the last supper as something to cover the walls for the monks who ate here. He used incorrect paint for the job. The church was bombed in World War Two and it was left exposed to the elements for a brief period of time. What I'm getting at is that it is a miracle that it survives at all. Only by the grace of God does it exist today.

As we make our way through the various staging areas, (very high security - The door behind us has to close before the door in front of us opens, to allow us to the next waiting area.) the guide starts to tell us that he feels that he is an extremely lucky man. He gets to see this painting many times a week and sometimes multiple viewings a day. He said that as a boy, his school class came here. His life was changed forever. He warned us that it is a very emotional thing for him to see.

The door opens and we enter 'the mess hall.' He starts to talk about the painting at the other end of the hall - no one cares. I didn't. I moved toward what we all came to see. A couple people follow me and in a minute, the guide gives up and joins us. Because of the time constraints, the facts come much faster.

Look at the zoomable website:
The Last Supper

He talks about what Da Vinci was trying to tell us. What each of the apostles are doing, how and why they are grouped just so. When he says that this was attempt to capture the moment when Jesus announced that he has been betrayed and that one of them is the betrayer. At that moment I began to weep. I couldn't control myself. Where was this coming from? Tears flowed, I sniffled and I tried to smile at my fellow tourists.

I stared at this deteriorating masterpiece and listened the best I could. The guide was right - it is very emotional. A speaker announced that our time had expired. As we made out way out, the guide quietly said to me that he has felt the same way many times.

As we waited for the other half of our group to view it, I pondered my emotional state. As quickly as it came over me, it was gone. When you understand how many elements Leonardo packed into this work and how lucky we are to still be able to see it - you will shed a tear too.

How it looks now:


As it might have appeared before the deterioration:



The moment.
This was my third painting, of my trip, that attempts to capture this moment. The others were nice - but this is the only one you need to see. The guide had also talked about how Jesus was shown in The Last Supper. He was a man and he was about to become a god. He did not want to die. Who does? Even with the promise of eternal life he was not totally at peace, with what was to occur. He is wearing red and blue. The red symbolizes him as a man and the blue represented him as a god. The hand on his red side is stressed and moves nervously. The hand on the blue side was at peace and calmly rests. I could go on and on about what Leonardo packed into this mural.

By the way - Dan brown is full of crap. Its not Mary next to Jesus. This doesn't stop anyone from using the famous book as a way to get cash from the tourists though. References to the Da Vinci Code, were in most of the 'touristo' shops.

Once the second group joined us outside, we made our way back on to the bus and were returned to Piazza del Duomo. I gave the guide and driver a tip and thanked them both for a wonderful tour.

We had also visited Sforzesco Castle in Milan - well it was used as more of a prison than a castle.










It was around 1300, so I stopped at the autogrill for lunch. If it was good enough for Samantha Brown, travel channel, well it would be damn good to me. Italy's version of fast food. It has a Panani counter, a pizza counter - I stopped here. Half of small pizza, salad and cola for seven dollars.

I went to my hotel and dropped all the booty I accumulated during the morning and headed out to see Leonardo Da Vinci's Museum of Science and Technology. I had visions of recreations of machines that he drew, maybe some of his actual notes or a replica of his workspace. What a disappointment. They did have some replicas of his inventions, small ones. Most of the museum was full of educational displays for children. How to smelt metals, how hydraulics work and similar displays. YAWN!!!


I walked back to the Duomo for sunset. While watching the people and entrepreneurs a man approached me. Anotello was his name. His broken english was so much better than the 4 sentences I knew in italian. I thought he said that he was going to perform on the stage they were building. What he said was that he was going to attend the concert in two days. He asked me about my life in America and I learned about his.

He was from the countryside outside of Florence, Italy. He said that the big city of Milan was not to his liking. In his town, everyone hangs out at the plaza, at the cathedral, to talk. Everyone gets to know each other. In Milan, no one has time to chat - they are too busy going somewhere to do something. He had been in Milan for 2 months and could not find work. He has no college degree so there is no work for him. Tourist Alert - Tourist Alert!!! Here comes the pitch - How much is he going to ask me for? The pitch never comes. He did not ask for anything. After some more chit chat he announced that he had to go meet his roommate for dinner. "Chow" Now that I think about it. I didn't have one person ask me for money, in Milan. How refreshing.

That night I returned to the same restaurant, as the previous night. This time I splurged for dessert.


Next Stop Bern, Switzerland!





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Milan, Italy March 21 / 22

I took the train south from Zurich to Milan. The tracks were on the western edge of the alps.

I arrived in the middle of a Tuesday afternoon. Since Milan surrounds the Duomo, its only natural that the tourist office be there. The Europe by Eurail books information about this city was invaluable. I stored my luggage, hopped on the subway and was at the Duomo as quick as possible.

1602 - oh that's 4:02pm in American. You know most of the world runs on the 24 hour clock. One o'clock occurs only once a day the other is 1300 hours. Anyway I was two minutes too late. PHUCK!!! Closed at 4pm??? W T F!!! The Eurail book was locked up with my luggage. It would have had a list of streets to shop to find a good hotel. All I had was the subway stop and address of the CLOSED tourist office.

I stood there for a few minutes watching other tourists pull and push on the doors before I thought of plan B. I followed the trams direction. The first hotel I saw, had a vacancy and was only 80 euros a night. I asked to see the room. I decided to keep walking.

I saw what looked to be a 4 star hotel and wasn't sure where I was in relation to the Duomo or the train station for that matter. The streets meander and curve and can easily help you get lost. So I asked reception if they have a vacancy for three nights. He called a couple people to see if they were going to use their reservations, he called the owner for permission to put me in. Apparently is was festival weekend and my third night was on a sold out weekend.

He hung up with the owner and said he would call one of their other hotels. I understood Italian for the first time. He was inquiring about getting the correct room for me. He said in Italian that I was a large man and that I needed a large bed. I laughed right on cue and the look in his eyes said that he knew that I spoke Italian. I don't.

He gave a rate of about $150 a night which was more than the average I planned on, but I've had a few below the average and I was in a jam - Sure, I'll take it. He gave me directions, to the sister hotel. As I found myself back along the tram tracks I saw the hotel. Didn't look like anything special but it was better than the first one I saw. The reception area looked like the 1970's but no tackiness to it. The chrome, wood and tile all worked together.

The bellman brought me to my room, which looked very nice. King sized bed, mini bar, lots of closet space. Light switches all around the room. The door key, when stored correctly, activated the room. The lights turned on, the switches all worked. Window blinds controls were active... He left. I entered the bathroom.

(cue dramatic music)

WOW

A truly gorgeous bathroom. The bathroom was nearly as big as the sleeping room. Linens hanging in addition to the towels... Bidet and toilet... Corner shower. This was a nice hotel room - very nice for this budget range.

Ok - got a room. Now I need my stuff. The hotel reception told me what tram to take and how to buy a ticket (Damn tourIST OFFICE!!!). The best part was when he told me that when I see the station, "the big building" as he called it, I should get off. Well... taking the subway to the duomo, I never saw the outside of the train station.

I sat on this quaint trolley car. It was just as timeless as the cable cars in San Francisco. Strange how little english is used on either system. I didn't have a map on me, so I had no idea where the trolley was going. Wouldn't have helped, I didn't know where I was to start with. I hear someone say "...Centrale..." (sen-trall-ay) and at the next stop almost everyone got off the trolley. Piece of cake.

Grabbed my bag and stand at a taxi stand for about 30 minutes. No taxi appears. One by one people leave the line and never come back. I leave one woman in the evaporating line and find the real taxi line.

I'm standing behind a three Italian women. All about 5'10" with heels they are almost as tall as I am. I notice their long luxurious hair, the tight jeans, and the long legs. The line was moving slowly. At first, I was trying to pick up on what they were talking about then I was just gawking. Two women were young 19 - 20 ish and the third and the most beautiful woman was older. Mid to late 50's. One of the young ones caught my roving eyes and smiled at me.

She told the older woman something about me. And they glanced at me and smiled. I smiled back. They were hot and they knew it. No acting on their part. They must get it all the time. A cab for me pulled up and I loaded the bag and handed the address to the driver. I looked over and the young one, who caught me checking them out, was looking over at me as we pulled away.

I realized that there were good looking - fine women, everywhere I looked. I was sure that I would like Milan. There's so much to see.


I saw this at Centrale Station, Milan - It cracked me up:

He was loved by many, tagged by one


I spent March 22nd out walking and geocaching. I found out that viewings of Da Vinci's last supper was booked weeks in advance and there was only one way I was going to see it was to take the bus tour of Milan. I planned for that on the 23rd.

I walked around for a while following where the gps pointed. I found 2 out of 4. A nice sunny day. It felt warm like spring. I had a fun day stopping here and there for something to eat or drink and to watch all the people hurrying somewhere. Doner count is now at 4 - I think.

The front desk clerk recommended a good restaurant and I headed over. It was around 7pm. They weren't open yet. Finally, a city that runs on my time. Breakfast at 9 lunch at 3 and dinner at nine. I walked around for a while and found a snack store - actually it was a market that had everything. I stocked up on water, soda, beer and munchies. "Screw you mini-bar!"

The waitstaff, of the restaunt, spoke english (and german and french and greek...) and could help a deaf mute order a meal in which he knew exactly what he was ordering. I ordered the house wine and was satisfied from that moment forward. This was a wonderful meal. Vino, salad, fresh bread, olive oil, pasta, veal and it was all very simple - or so they made it appear. I felt warm and full as I took a roundabout way back to the hotel. I was in Milan for just over 24 hours and was extremely satisified.

Flamingos along my path:



Improvise:








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Zurich Switzerland March 20-21

Zurich is a small city set in an area where apparently, money does grow on trees. Not anywhere that the general population or I could harvest it, though. Just because there is a lot of money in swiss bank accounts doesn't mean that it leaks out. This is a very expensive city. I don't understand why. It has a thriving economy and is a picturesque stop for tourism (it must be gorgeous in winter). Then why did a basic dinner for one (one entree and two beers) cost nearly 50 dollars. I can't imagine what a fancy dinner would cost here, but it wouldn't be worth the money.

Zurich was a one night stop for me. I am so glad that I did not plan on a longer stay. The hotel I slept in was in the old city and it was fun hauling my luggage around trying to find the sliver of a building. Once I did, I was welcomed to the oldest hotel in Zurich. The woman at the desk, told me the complete history of the hotel. The daily log since the late 1800's including its history of debauchery (wink - yes she winked). I wasn't impressed, she had no idea I was just in Amsterdam.

Once she recounted the complete renovation of the hotel, brick by brick, I was then allowed to go to my room. I rested a bit before heading back out. I needed to buy Zurich trinkets ASAP.

By the time I went back out, the city was dark. I used my gps to find a cache in the olde city - not to be confused with the old city. I then tried to find a another which had multiple stops. As I crossed the river, in a light rain. I finally saw the starting point of the multi cache. Not near the point where the webpage said it was. Not only do they have no idea of what money is worth, they have no idea where they are. It was getting late and I only found an Asian restaurant was open. This is where I spent $50 on a basic chinese meal.

After strolling the cobblestone (slippery) streets for a while, I returned to my hotel. The same woman was behind the counter, lecturing the people checking in on the complete history that they were about to pay extra for. I guess the history of the hotel is included in the price of the room. I smiled and moved quickly to the elevator. I did say completely renovated, right?

In the morning, after having breakfast, overlooking the quaint street, I checked out and made my way to the train station. I searched a park near the train station for another cache, with no luck. It was cloudy with light passing showers for both days. I nice city but, I doubt I'll stop here to pay extra again.

Next stop Milan, Italy.











Looks like something from the computer game, Myst.



I saw this ad on the street:



How long would this ad last on the streets in America?



Me likey:

She looks like the female firefighter on 'Rescue Me'


Price of Gas:



Nano Cars:






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Salzburg Austria - March 19th

The previous night was another scary one. I had my second low blood sugar episode, on this trip. I woke up covered in sweat and reality felt like a dream. I knew instantly what was going on. I dug into my suitcase and pulled out a tube of emergency carbs. It tasted like fruit jelly. I toweled off and fell back into bed, exhausted. When I woke, I felt fine. 109 for a test reading.

Up early and out to get on the train I reserved. Just a quick breakfast. Its 7 am and there is no one eating. The hotel owner has a funny interpretation for a 'very busy weekend.' I was on the train by 8 am for my day in Salzburg.

The city has a castle on a hill overlooking the city:





On the other side of the river (west or north side?) is another walled area:





It was another sunny day - a little cold when you were in the shade, but the sun felt warm and I was walking around trying to find caches. It was a Sunday, so most of the shops were closed. Fine by me, I only wanted souvenirs anyway.

Mozart lived here. Nice city to live in. How he died poor, I'll never understand.











Even though most everything was closed, I did find an Asian restaurant that made a killer chicken curry dish and had large beers too. My train brought me back to Munich for my last night. Not much to say. After one week on the road, I was starting to feel at home. I was getting used to the rhythm and my tasks were getting easier to accomplish. Good thing, 'cause I was off to Zurich in the morning.









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Munich March 18th

I enjoyed my continental breakfast in a mostly empty breakfast room, around 9am. There were 5 women replenishing the buffet, a couple couples on vacation. Where were the craft people, that supposedly filled the hotel?

The wait staff were also 20 something females, like the front desk staff. I wondered if they were 'models' too? I wondered why the youngest one wore such little fabric. I wondered why the two older gentlemen, kept asking her to pour their coffee. I wondered why the yogurt tasted so good. I wonder why?

First stop, die Glockenspiel, a 'must see' according to the books.









It is a cute little show. A must see, sure it is. Teenagers might pshaw it, but it is cute. Remember to wait for the cuckoo. In between the two chimes, I hunted for geocaches. Once again the easy one was hard and the hard ones were easy. After the second botched filming of the show, I did some window shopping. I found myself at Dallmayr, a delicatessen.

You don't buy heros or subs or hoagies here. Cheeses, meats and fine delectables. I had been enjoying the breakfasts on my vacation, especially the croissants with fruit preserves. I found the correct area and figured out which of Dallmayrs preserves were (looked to be ???) the best and I looked for a unique fruit. I knew that I was almost out of Nagoonberry jam, from my Alaska stop, last summer and a new jar of something different was needed. All I found were the normal berrys, no black forest berry or a limited rhineland variety. If you want a certain cheese or coffee bean or caviar this is where you should find it.

This is a window shoppers paradise. Shop after shop after shop... I wanted to get to Hofbrauhaus before it got crazy. Too late it was already open. Beer, glorious beer. I squeezed in at the end of a table - just about the only open seat I saw. I ordered a dunkle - it was browner than the regular. To make ordering easy there is no size choices, just how many do you want. Start by ordering only one. They come in liter size only. I grab a pretzel as she came by. It helped get that mug down. I was thirsty, but I didn't want to be drunkenly stumbling the streets of olde Munich at noon.

I was there for about a half hour. This place must be out of control at midnite. There were a lot of tourists. I wonder if many Japanese pictures of them holding preztels make it on the internet? Yes, they do!

Once the oompah band started their shenanigans, I guzzled down the rest and made my way out, via the gift shop. That's right, The German version of a Hard Rock is a Hofbrauhaus. I remember buying a t-shirt and a couple trinkets. I mailed home a bunch of stuff from Munich about three weeks ago and if this was the fastest way, I think I just discovered that the Germans aren't really that efficient after all.

Back to drunk in Munich, at high noon:
After a few minutes my head cleared - a second mug and I would have been stuck there all afternoon. I wandered in an out of various beerhalls, seeing what everyone was eating. I stopped at a couple more beer halls, Ayinger and an Augustiner. A fun day in sunny Munich. Full of wursts and brau.

Road Trip to Salzburg is next.











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Munich March 17th

As the train stopped at Munich's Hauptbahnhof, I couldn't get off soon enough. The previous night was the most uncomfortable sleep I've had in a long time. Pinned in one position, no room to toss and turn or stretch. Only slightly more room than an airplane. Didn't they know that people would try to sleep on this journey? I learned a lesson from this night, book overnight train travel accommodations early to get the type what you want.

I had some time to kill, so I stored my bag and did some geocaching. There were two right outside of the train station - I found one. The other was too obscure to understand what I was looking for. It was a cool and sunny day outside and after the short hunt, I went back in to set up my hotel, seat reservations for a Salzburg day trip and sleeping arrangements for the Lisbon to Madrid and Madrid to Paris train rides.

Typical German efficiency. I don't think it took 45 minutes to do all this. The hotel was tucked away a few blocks away and it was only 11am. I grabbed cash from a bank machine - I needed to start buying stuff in Germany, right away. I ate a bratwurst from the 'original bratwurst stand' and then had another, with a bavarian ale at the stand up counter behind the original. Both tasted great. I went to the hotel, to see if they could let me in my room now.

The room they gave me was small - I mean tiny. It did have a small balcony, but really - too small. I went back down and the sweetheart behind the counter knew what was on my mind. She asked, before I could say one word, "Is it too small?" "Yes" I replied. She asked me to wait one moment and disappeared into the breakfast room. A minute later she returned with a woman about my age and two other Rosy cheeked 20 something women.

After a short discussion, the older woman barked something at the first girl and the three younger ones giggled and looked at me. The woman said that she was the owner and that this weekend they were having a crafts fair at the hotel. "A very busy weekend." She said in near perfect english that since I had booked three nights, she was moving me to a more spacious room for my stay. I asked what was so funny. One of the younger women giggled again. The owner said that she had joked that one of the girls could stay with me to make better use of the big room. Something got lost in the translation. Nonetheless, all four watched me make my way back on the elevator, with big bright smiles.

The new room was much bigger and it had a huge terrace to relax on - if it wasn't winter. I unpacked and as I went through my stuff, I realized that I left a pair of pants in Amsterdam. Back downstairs I went. Just the original woman was there. She smiled at me as I approached the desk. "Is something wrong with the room?" I said, "Yes, its still too small." She looked shocked. I smiled and laughed and told her I was joking. I said that I needed to make a phone call to Amsterdam and needed to know what I have to dial make this call.

She was helpful and I was once again on my way back up the elevator. She watched me depart, smiling the whole time. I made my call to the Tulip Inn and they said they would look and if found they would hold my pants for my return at the end of the month. I knew I left them hanging in the closet.

I just remembered (as I write this) that I saw something weird in the streets of Amsterdam. While resting on the damrak, another large man passed me with a rolling bag. He was tall and wide with blond hair. He glanced at me and I saw his face. He looked like John Candy. I don't mean sort of or similar. It was him, or his doppelganger, or maybe a clone, possibly it was his son. I just looked it up and he does have a son. If it was his son, he looks just like John.

Anyway - back to Munich

I laid down to get a little real sleep before exploring the city. A knock at the door woke me around 5pm. It was the young woman from the front desk. She was holding my baseball cap. It was found in the small room as someone else got squeezed in.

We talked briefly and she showed me how the windows and door to terrace worked. They open regularly and you can open just the top, lean it in, for ventilation. I explained that the train ride had been terrible and this nap had helped a lot. After a few awkward moments, of me staring at her rosy cheeks, flowing brown hair and full lips, she excused herself. I wondered if the girls were hired for more than hotel help, if you know what I mean.

I took a shower, got dressed and headed out. One of the maps I brought along was a beer hall map. I got it from:
http://www.xs4all.nl/~patto1ro/munipubs.htm



The white 'H' is where my hotel was and as you can see #4 was the closest. Spaten Hof. Once again, I was surprised how easy it was to span the differences in languages. You would be amazed how easy it is to order a beer in Germany.

Since I've been to a great German restaurant in Springfield, the Student Prince, many times, I was a little familiar with the menu. Jaeger Schnitzel with a few large beers and I felt welcome in Munich. In fact I felt warm all over. Although they didn't advertise it, they had Spaten Optimator on tap, which I enjoyed as a desert.

I headed back out to the crisp air and a light snow was falling. I wandered into the old city and walked around admiring the shops and listening for fellow American tourists. This was one of those times I wish I had a girlfriend / wife to enjoy this moment together. I eventually made my way back to the hotel and stopped along the way at a snack store and for my third Donor KeBAP of my trip. That makes teh count three/

On my way in the hotel, yet another group of three gorgeous 20 something women, working the front desk. As I closed the elevator door I thought, "Where were all the craft show people?" I see lots of staff working but shouldn't I hear voices at some point?




.

Amsterdam - March 16th

I packed everything up - I had to check out of the hotel. I planned to take the overnight train to Munich and needed to vacate the room. I had all my valuables on me and the duffel had all my clothes. First stop - Centraal Station - I needed to make sure I could reserve the overnight train. The night before on my walk, I stopped by the office, but they were closed.

Enter, take a ticket, have a seat. Here on the German side of eurail network, I expected this to take a half hour. Well it took 10 minutes. Just tell them where and when you want to go. I can only imagine how fast the matrix code rolled down the screen, to help her process me efficiently as possible. She told me that the only bed available was in a 4 bed chamber. They did have couchettes available. "Sure sounds good."

I was free until 8pm. Next stop Van Gogh Museum. I took the bus to die museumplein and walked around the museum while waiting for it to open. They had a special exhibition of Rembrandt v. Caravaggio. Similar subjects painted by both. Caravaggio paintings look like snapshots. Rembrandts are recreations from memory. (deep huh?) Its impossible for me to describe the nuances of these two masters. Caravaggio's subject jump off the canvas, and look as if they are there with you. Rembrandts are on the wall and you are looking in to the scene he created.

Needless to say, but I was overwhelmed by their choices when creating these historical events. I moved slowly from one pair to another, while the narration played in my ears. English, yes my favorite language.

After this, I moved on to the namesake of the museum.
FACT: Most of his work was produced in a 10 year period.
FACT: He was crazy and he knew it.
FACT: He attempted suicide twice - the second time worked.
FACT: His brother was so devastated about Vincent's death, that he passes 6 months later.
FACT: Vincent Van Gogh proves that sometimes you have to die to become famous.
FACT: He only sold one painting while he was alive.

He was a burden on his brother most of his life. A troubled man that most likely suffered from a form of epilepsy. On this trip, I tried to learn about the artists lifes. More FACTS later.

His most famous works are on the road to other museums, but I did see four others from the Sunflower painting sessions though - which was neat - I guess. He used a lot of paint. I wondered if he just squeezed it out onto the canvas them took his lunch spoon and added texture to the paint. Some of the pieces, look like he ripped it out in 20 minutes and moved on to the next. With the facts about his mental illness bouncing around in my head, I couldn't appreciate what was on display.

Luckily, I had a combo ticket to the Rijksmuseum to see all the dutch masters and The Dutch Masters.



By the way, these are the back door. The front door is below.



Last time I was here, Rembrandt's The Night Watch held me captive for over 45 minutes. I slowly made my way around admiring all the wonderful paintings. Portraits, landscapes, still life... I turned the corner and its own room it attempted to hypnotize me again. There was a group of kids sitting on the floor, in from of it. These were second or third graders. I'm thinking that there is no way that even one of those kids is enthralled by this. The teacher keeps talking to them in Dutch. Which means I have no idea what is said.

I ASSUME:
Gerthrud (cute little blonde child) asks the teacher, if this is a movie theater.
No Gert, he replies, this is a painting.
Bertolh's hand is up in a flash and waving frantically.
Yes Bert, what is your question, the teacher asks cautiously
Is dat oil paint - could my father use it in his car.
The teacher rolls his eyes.
The museum guide asks the teacher to gather up the munchkins and make room for the other patrons. So cute - ah children - they are like sponges at that age - now get out of the way.

I think I was museumed out for the day. I stop for dinner before going to the train station, via the hotel, for my bag.

At the train station, I grab some munchies for the overnight ride. and make my way to the platform. I learn about car numbers and where the bar/food cars are. Almost time to depart, better get on board.

What a shock. I thought I took pictures of these 'couchettes.' Its a seat that reclines. Well it rotates more than it reclines. It looked like something out of a science fiction movie. I thought I was in the movie "Total Recall" on my way to Mars. Images of "Abbott and Costello go to Mars" came to mind also.

And - lucky for me, I was in the last car before the bar car, so everyone who needed food or drink walked past me. I was very tired and slept through most of it. I'm so glad that there weren't many people on board. It could have been miserable.


Actually, it was.
Next stop Munich





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