David Kellam

I am currently writing this entry overlooking Lake Como. We are sardined into makeshift accomodation in the council offices (I think) in Blevio, across the lake from Como itself.

Evidently there has been a lack of blog posts lately for which I can only offer excuses From Luebeck, we and our second concert in Travemeunde Strand, we travelled to Lauingen for two days. Lauingen is only 20kms or so from Wertingen, where we stayed pre-Berlin.

Loclan and I were once again billeted with Rosi u. Johannes in Hochstaedt (near Lauingen). Both of us spent the next two days in absolute bliss. According to Leonie, I had an aura. I won’t deny it; the two days in Lauingen have been the best all tour.

The experience was somewhat surreal. Meeting us at Hochstaedt station were (inter alia of course) my billets from both 2 and 4 years ago. I was hoping to stay with the last billets again, as we had such an enjoyable and social time two years ago. Rosi came up and grabbed Loclan and I, paused briefly to enquire as to where Tim was (we stayed with him last time too) and whisked us away to their house 5 minutes away. We were informed we would once again be hosting a BBQ, and that Meg, Bel and Leonie would be joining us with their billets. I was apprehensive: not for any personal reasons, but for the fact I knew there would be a million sausages and I was already full from chocolate and idleness on the train! (Sorry, food mention again!)

Well I was right. Johannes cooked up a storm of Wuerste: my favourite being the Weiswurst. We spent many hours talking - thankfully mostly in English - and sitting back enjoying the serenity of the place. The cafe-style outdoor heater was turned on and we basked in its radiant glow drinking fruit cocktails and eating Tiramisu-like cream until about 1130, when the girls all looked like they were about to fall asleep. To be fair, so did Loclan and I, but at least we both managed to get up the next morning whilst it was still breakfast time. The girls slept until 1230 or so! Slovenly!

I had suggested a bike ride the previous night and all decided it was a good idea. The girls’ billet accompanied us and we rode (drove, as the Germans insist on saying) to Dillingen (about 10ks there) over rough potentially tyre-popping terrain to a well-earned ice cream creation at the Eiscafe.

We consumed a variety of Eisbecher; mine a Waldbecher consisting of many fresh berries with strawberry and vanilla ice cream and lots of cream and sauce. Hmmmm… Delicious The next best thing after pure gelati!

We rode home and prepared for our concert at the Hoechstaedt Scloss with the local choir Calypso. They managed to pack the room to standing room only, at which point we began with some madrigals. Calypso followed with their 3 pieces on the program, plus 2 unannounced mid-concert encores. Calypso sang a different Wade in the Water piece which seemed much cooler than ours. They also sang a Les Mis medley, so negative points for that. (Do you hear zee people sing?)

After the concert we returned home to a lovely small dinner of fresh Norweigian salmon, which Johannes had caught himself. It was definitely the most tasty salmon I have ever had.

During the meal, I received a message from Martin requesting our presence at the After Party at Marianne (the Calypso conductor)’s place, along with instructions (jokingly) to bring ‘the hot daughter’. So with little persuasion required, we set off with Ania to a night of bad singing, plentiful booze and much fun. Claire was loud as usual at the piano trying to convince everybody she’s not just an alto but a soprano too. Hindzy was trying something similar. Not convinced by either effort.

I spoke with Karin (my billet from 4 years ago) at some length, which was nice, and eased the slight discomfort at being stuck in between contentious billeting arrangements!

After much folk singing, ‘Goodnight Sweetheart’ made a pointed appearance and the party wrapped up pretty quickly. I went home and slept well.

The next morning we had a typically huge breakfast available for us, at which Johannes produced the most delightful jam jelly, containing ‘Quitten’ - whatever that is. I now have two large jars of it in my ever-expanding suitcase!

We left Hoechstaedt longing to return. Once again our billeting experience had been divine. Loclan is in the fortunate position of being able to return more readily with his base in Heidelberg for the next year. Still, unlike MacArthur, I shall return!

We took a private bus to Wangen, where for the first time in recorded history the choir neither stayed in the cramped youth hostel nor had a massive bitchfight in the soprano section. There were, however, some similar elements.

We stayed in some kind of Monkery (deliberate diminuitisation) with incredibly short and unstable beds and a complete lack of hot water. I managed to find the hot water system but did not find the fuse box necessary to fix it. Showers in the morning were not looking pleasant.

We wandered around town for a few hours, including a pit stop at a cafe where I enjoyed Weiswust and Apple Strudel. I rested for a while before heading out to the concert in what had just become semi-torrential downpour. Determined to make it by the agreed time of 7pm, we set off with umbrellas in a thunderstorm (so smart that) before taking refuge at the first corner. We wouldn’t have bothered if the message to turn up later had actually been disseminated. And seriously, sticking a metal rod into the air in the middle of a lightning strike would probably be preferable to pissing Douglas off in Wangen, where for the last 3 trips he has gone apeshit. That didn’t happen either. Things certainly are changing.

After our concert, which was sung quite well, we headed to dinner at an Italian restaurant around the corner. Our table got in early with the orders and filled our starving stomachs with delicious pasta.

We had fun interpreting the unfamiliar and unfortunately short wine list, before deciding on the cab sav. Note to self: ‘Cabernet Sauvignon’ pronounced in French is comprehensible to a German waitress: ‘The cab sav thanks’ is not.

The meal turned into a pleasant evening of sipping red wine and talking about uni, work, life, the universe and everything. We ran up a rather large bill despite our meals being paid for. I still have to sort that one out with Adit. Well worth it though.

We returned to our accomodation and partied on. (Well, I drank water) The evening was going well until an insensitive comment had Meg in tears. It is a shame to see ordinarily nice people upset someone thus. I guess it is also an example of generally fragile moods at this stage of the trip. It is, however, pleasing to see the rallying of friendship in such times, which is after all the most important thing.

I went to bed earlier than the rest of the late night crowd in a vain effort to get a better night’s sleep. We needed to rise early for a 930 train (with a bit of a hike across cobblestones to get there), so the lack of sleep and hot water took its toll. Many of us were extremely tired on the train to Blevio (Como); so much so that I didn’t even feel like playing 500!!!

The train to Como was comfortable. Loclan, Tom, Kass, Meg and I had a cabin to ourselves. I scored with a free opposing seat and the fully reclined seat option, so was able to spend some of the trip catching up on some much-needed sleep.

We arrived in Como to find we were still in Switzerland. We had assumed from the scenery and immersion in Italian architecture and culture that we were well inside Italy. Europe is wonderful like that.

We walked across the border with little interest by the officials in either us or our passports, despite being required to walk through the customs house.

We had a private and typically Italian bus waiting for us, into which 27 people squeezed with luggage. We took the ’scenic route’ to Blevio on the other side of the lake to our accomodation, which was set in the side of a hill with beautiful views. The sleeping arrangements were bad mattresses on the floor, so I guess you have to take the good with the bad.

We spent an hour or so wandering around the hillside, finding a small jetty and swimming opportunities ourside the church. I decided against a dip, but Tom A-Y was in there without any hesitation.

We wandered around looking for a cafe or ice-cream, before I decided I didn’t want either and just headed back for a shower. The Europeans don’t know how to do showers. If they insist on using those stupid hand-held shower heads, at least provide somewhere to attach it.

We sang a light music concert to a fairly packed church. My Soul’s been Anchored had me in absolue stiches, as we struggled to sing it at a much lower pitch given by an incorrect starting note. I just couldn’t help but cack up. I guess you had to be there.

After the concert, we headed back to a supper of cake and some wine. One sip of the wine was not enough to prevent me from pouring myself a full glass of white; two, however, was enough to stop me drinking it.

A random we met at the concert turned up with 3 bottles of wine which he offered to us. We gratefully accepted and he proceeded to open the first bottle of sparkling burgundy. Well, the European penchant for unchilled beverages was finally punished, as the bottle basically exploded all over him and our table. I jumped out of the way, saving my white shirt in the process. The random Italian was not so lucky, ending up completely drenched. It is fairly unfortunate to end up covered in purple juice and having to clean it up when you were trying to be generous. Still, I call it a victory for chilled beverages worldwide.

I retired early, deciding not to partake in skinny dipping at the pontoon. Thankfully, I was not awoken by anybody returning and enjoyed a comfortable night’s sleep despite the paperthin single sheet bedding and 20 other bodies in the same room.

This morning began with Simon’s inappropriately early alarm, set a full 150 minutes before we were required to present at the bus stop 25 metres away. Oh well, I guess there wasn’t much hope of a sleep-in in such an environment anyway.

As we waited at the bus stop, we were amused by Italian construction processes. I wish I had footage of the perfectly executed reverse 15-point turn by a cement mixer up a steep mountain road.

The bus arrived in typical Italian fashion: late, and not what was promised. We were expecting two busses to accomodate 24 bodies and suitcases. Naturally, only one arrived. As for the lateness, that can be accounted for by the fact that Italy has its own timezone: GMT+1+x.

We spent an hour in Como at a delightful cafe, soaking up the atmosphere. Here, for the first time, I felt like I had actually hit Italy. I decided that if dinner tonight was another el-cheapo fest, I would head off to find decent Italian cuisine on my own. Despite not having much money, there is a time and a place for stinginess. During only two days in Italy is not it.

I was extremely glad for ordering so much: una pizza proscuitto e funghi, uno cappucino, uno cafe del freddo e 3 gusti gelati. (Please don’t correct my articles; I don’t know Italian). Lunch was supermarket folly at the train station in Milan. Despite it being provided by central funds, I was extremely glad for having eaten earlier. I was again somewhat disappointed at the now habitual lack of efficient time and people management issues which meant we were unable to venture into Milano centrale, but I was content in the memory of my last trip; particularly the wonderful lunch wherein two glasses of wine set Jim off and prompted a rather amusing drunken horde e-mail.

I was unable to use my phonecard in the payphones, even after inserting coins. The same thing happened in Germany, so I suspect their website lists the wrong numbers. I guess that will teach me for buying something from a website full of spelling errors.

We are currently on board the train to Bologna. Unfortunately today is not a Eurail day, so we are stuck in the stinky, hot second class wagon. When you spend 4-6 weeks travelling wuth concerts at the end of each day, things like this make a big difference. You notice every minute on most second class trains and arrive tired and sweaty. Ones without restaurant cars over lunch periods increase the pain, but not nearly as much as 3 hour train trips without a toilet. Daft.

I am still undecided as to what to do in Rome. I recall during my 3 days in Florence 4 years ago not queuing up for a single attraction. Instead, I wandered around the city, rwfuelling on gelati as necessary. I think a similar prescription is in order. Cafe-hopping certainly is a memorable way to enjoy a city. I know there is so much I want to see I can’t possibly fit it in if I try, so I’d rather take a different approach and just come back. Besides, I still need to see Pompeii and Mt Vesuvius.

Caecilius in stinkytrain sedet.

This entry was posted on Friday, July 22nd, 2005 at 4:26 am and is filed under Europe 2005. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.