Austria and Prague 2019 - Paying to Pee

I have been abroad several times now and there is still one, seemingly venerated tradition, I will never get used to, paying to use a public restroom. We learned to time our bathroom visits with restaurant visits so we could avoid this, to us, peculiar cultural rite. I did find myself thinking, as I watched an attendant make change for desperate looking people, what does he say when a new acquaintance asks, "So what do you do/" 

Austria and Prague 2019 - 4 Charming Young People and a Palace

The day, like all the others on this trip, was sunny and warm. We were going to trek uphill to the palace district, the highest point of land in the city. We, like dozens of others that day, began our ascent from the ancient, steeply graded streets at the base of the hill. A tall, massively muscled man, wearing tight jean shorts, rolled to just above the knee, a style we saw several times, passed up everyone moving upwards looking not unlike a Clydesdale.

As we got to the palace we saw a group of 4 young college aged kids. Upon hearing them speak English my husband, always the outgoing one, asked them where they were from. They were students at Washington State. We swapped a few travel tales, including the location of Happy Mart, they were really nice kids, and went on our way. We watched the changing of the guard, a quick and efficient affair, and, after going through a security checkpoint at the gates to the palace grounds, once again ran into our newfound young friends from Washington. As we talked one, on her phone, looked up my husband's Facebook profile. A friend request was received that evening. Since then we have become Facebook friends with all 4 of these charming young people following their adventures as they continued to travel through Europe, one was student teaching in Germany. They are the type, well mannered, curious and gracious, that give me hope for my country's future.

The palace grounds are dominated by the imposing St. Vitus cathedral. Construction on the present structure was begun in 1344 but due to fires, wars and other mishaps, was not completed and consecrated until 1929. Some sort of religious building has been located on the site since the early 10th century. As we stood in front of the cathedral the Washington 4 once again approached us asking us if we would take a photo of them. Later, in a  Facebook post, was the photo of them, young and smiling, holding their University flag in front of them, enjoying their visit to Prague on that beautiful afternoon. The flag showed up time and again in the photos they shared as they traveled through Europe.

Although entry to the buildings of the palace compound requires a ticket wandering the grounds is free. Costumed employees engage in mock sword fights, 2 comely young men, dressed as stablemen in leather tunics, chatted off to one side. It almost appeared like a flirtation at a medieval gay bar. As we headed for lunch on the grounds we saw another, in the garb of a more noble servant, pacing back and forth talking on his cell phone. Bells pealed the hour as we strolled across a plaza in the palace complex.

After lunch we left the grounds and began our final walk through the city streets. We stopped and purchased cashmere scarfs, at least they said they were cashmere, for the modest price we paid I have my doubts, and a cat toy. It has since been named the Prague Frog. Several of her toys have names, don't judge us.

Our flight required us to rise at an absurdly early hour the next morning so, after a brief discussion, we changed into pajamas and splurged on room service. We moved the silver domed dishes and desert plates to the table on the balcony of our room and enjoyed our final evening gazing out over the beautiful skyline of the old town of the enchanting city of Prague.

Austria and Prague 2019 - The John Lennon Wall and Boys On Bikes

Okay, marriage is about compromise. The John Lennon Wall was on my husband's must see list. In fact it was mentioned so often prior to the trip that I began to think that if I heard the words John Lennon Wall, or any combination thereof, one more time, I would scream so loud that I would burst a blood vessel in my head.

On a wall on a side street is a large, graffiti style portrait of John Lennon. The graffiti has spread to encompass the entire wall. Visits by some people are noted by names and dates scrawled out with markers over the wall and another wall across the street. A young man with a guitar sang Beatles songs, his guitar case open in front of him, hoping to receive some recompense for his addition to the atmosphere. Tourists, ourselves included, snapped pictures with their phones of the wall and themselves in front of it.

Winding our way back towards our hotel through streets that were, by now, becoming familiar, we decided to walk through a park. There was some sort of festival going on. Ahead I saw 4 young men, almost boys really, on bikes and a 5th with a razor, standing on a platform next to a large U ramp. We hustled over and were treated to a 25 minute show of the bikers and razor rider doing stunts. Music blared as the young men flew off the far side of the ramp, turned their bikes around in mid air and landed, riding to the other side of the ramp to perform a similar reckless move. One, 20 feet off the ground, let go of his handlebars, holding his arms outstretched, grasping them again and flipping his bike around landing on the ramp with perfect precision. We screamed approval watching them perform acts that would only be attempted by the young and foolhardy. We appreciated their skill and camaraderie as they fist bumped and congratulated one another after a particularly good ride.

After the bike show we had lucked into we continued our walk back to the hotel. We stopped in a small convenience store to replenish our supplies of water. The store, along with bottled drinks and snacks, also vended a wide array of marijuana products, i.e. pot infused brownies and gummy bears, as well as the devil's weed itself. We purchased our water, yes, just water, however, my husband did, with the proprietors permission, take a photo of the stores wares, the marijuana buds displayed, by category, in glass containers lined up in a row on the counter by the register. The name of the small store was "Happy Mart".

Austria and Prague 2019 - These Boots Were Made For Walking

In Prague, as in the other 2 cities, in fact all the cities we visit, we walked, and walked and walked. My husband remarked that he was thankful we didn't have fitbits as they wouldn't be able to count that high and would probably have given up and conceded defeat on the 2nd or 3rd day.

Prague is a place of constant surprise and discovery. Architectural marvels appear around every corner. The sense of history is physically felt. The old town square began as a marketplace in the 10th century, the construction of the Charles bridge began in the 14th. Occasionally, very occasionally, a more modern building, most of them faceless, sits next to a venerable neighbor, which made me wonder what had originally occupied the space they now inhabit.

With a multitude of  others we awaited the striking of the hour of the towns clock. Constructed in 1410 it is the 3rd oldest astronomical clock in the world. The spectacle is both grisly and lame. A skeleton on one side of the clock begins to pull a cord causing the bells to chime, 2 small doors high up on the wall open and wooden figures of the Apostles set on, what I assume are rotating wheels, appear one by one in each of the doors. It is underwhelming, a sort of a medieval Disneyland's  "It's a Small World."  It is touted in many guide books as "not to be missed". Take it from me, you can miss it. As the crowds dispersed we appreciated the beauty of the town square filled on that sunny weekend afternoon with street performers and both tourist and locals alike.

We walked up a hill discovering the embassy district. The grand buildings with their country's flags fluttering reminded me of a similar area in Copenhagen. I noticed a more pronounced police presence in this area.

We stopped into one of the scores of small jewelry stores, their windows glittering with garnets, a stone this region is renown for. We purchased an amber ring, a stone also in abundance in the shops. We returned to the tiny antique shop we had visited the day before. My husband was hell bent on bringing home a piece of Czech glass. What we were seeing for sale was prohibitively expensive and only sold in large sets. In this small shop, in a glass case filled with vintage treasures, was a lovely art deco shot glass. As we have shot glasses from many of our travels we decided it would be a perfect compliment to our collection. Mother of pearl cuff links from the 1950's were added to the purchase.

My husband asked directions to the John Lennon Wall, a peculiar tourist attraction in the city. The younger, by several decades, of the two men manning the shop, marked it with an x on the map we had with us and gave us directions on how to get there. It was only a short distance away. We thanked them and headed out to continue our adventure. 

Austria and Prague 2019 - First Morning in Prague

I sit on the balcony of our room in Prague, a fleece jacket over my p.j. shirt provides a little extra warmth. It is mid September. The morning air is cool. The sky is the light gray of early morning. Increasing blue holds the promise of sun later in the day. I look out over the city. The spare, stark lines of the tower at the rivers edge below me contrasts sharply with the richly ornamented buildings across the street from it. Spires rise from the skyline across the river. Blocks of Baroque facades line streets that stretch out from the park below me. The castle stands on a hill high above the city, the home of a king placed where he could survey his realm like a mother hen overlooking her brood. The sight represents hundreds of years of history, thousands upon thousands of lives and their untold stories. Clouds of gray, their edges white streak across the lightening sky. Joggers cross the bridge over the river before following the curve of the sidewalk and continue down it's opposite bank. I deeply breath in the cool morning air, begin to stretch muscles and become awake and aware after a deep restorative sleep. Flocks of birds cross the brightening sky. They are too high and far away to tell if they are large or small, they appear as flickering black spots moving towards unknown destinations.

Austria and Prague 2019 - A Tale of Two Restaurants

Although we ate in a few different places in Prague we returned to 2 more than once.

One, Gangster Burgers, was a mere 2 blocks from our hotel. Set slightly below street level, there were steps leading to it, it served excellent light fare. Plus, being from Chicago, we enjoyed it's 1930's gangster themed decor. Returning back to the hotel after dinner there one evening  we paused on the corner and watched a group of bats, silhouetted by a street lamp, gorging themselves on the insects attracted by the light.

The second was the cafe where we procured our sherbet on that first day. We enjoyed breakfast there the following 2 days as well as a double sherbet scoop on our second afternoon. On our way there for Saturday breakfast we passed three young men drinking from a half empty bottle of wine. It was 9:30 in the morning.

Austria and Prague 2019 - A Stroll to the Charles Bridge and then Sherbert

As we left the hotel and walked down  the street toward the Charles Bridge a group of young men with well developed thighs in skin tight bike shorts passed us going the opposite direction. Were they training for a particular sport, perhaps out for a physical fitness run, we decided to disregard these questions and just enjoy the view.

In the plaza below the bridge we watched a leanly muscled lad create objects on an anvil using traditional blacksmith tools. The following day we did purchase an iron ornament for our wall at home from a box of seconds on the pavement at the adjoining stall, imperfect, but perfect for our purposes. 

We joined the throngs walking across the bridge and filling the streets that fanned out from it's twin towers. We browsed in a tiny antique shop located in one of the venerable builds lining the streets, which we also returned to later during our visit, chatting with the woman minding it. We stopped in a church snapping pictures with our phones basically behaving as the tourists that we were. 

Heading back to the hotel we both mentioned how we could go for ice creme on that warm, sunny afternoon. As we were talking about it I saw, across the street, a small cafe with a large picture of an ice creme cone in it's window. We sat outside on the cushioned benches the cafe provided relaxing, people watching and enjoying the sun and a sherbet treat.

Austria and Prague 2019 - A Room With a View

An unkempt and rather sour, overweight younger man checked us in, gave us our card keys and directed us to the elevator. I thought from his demeanor that the chubby man was just having a rough day. This was not the case. His disposition remained stuck in grumpy mode for the entire duration of our stay. He did mention, in a rather haughty manner, several times over the ensuing days, that the establishment we were staying in was a 4 star hotel, just in case we might forget.

We headed to our room. We had paid a small premium for a river view. I imagined myself being able to view the river through a window if I stood on one leg and leaned off to one side. Opening the door we almost squealed with delight. Through glass doors at the far end we saw a balcony. Rushing to it and stepping outside we squealed again. Not only did we have a river view but the entire historic area of Prague was spread out before us. It was a wonderland of domes, spires and in the distance, about 10 minutes walk away, was the venerable Charles bridge, one of Prague's premier attractions. The palace complex sat atop a hill, the steeples of the St. Vitus Cathedral looming like sentinels keeping watch over the centuries old city.

We stowed our bags and got ready to explore. As I was waiting in the corridor for my husband I heard the door of another room on the floor being opened. Out stepped 2 men of the same approximate height and weight, round bellied, commonly referred to as Bears in gayspeak. They were from Ft. Lauderdale, the new gay mecca, although one of them had once lived in Prague. We spoke to them briefly on the elevator ride down. "See you again", they said as we parted ways, although we never did run into them after that.

Austria and Prague 2019 - Taxi!

We entered the historic street level of the Prague train station. It's beauty had faded over time. It seemed tired, careworn and a little dangerous. We could find no sign directing us to a taxi stand. Leaving my husband above, guarding our bags, I descended to the modern lower level and inquired of a young salesgirl in one of the shops where we might be able to procure a cab. She pointed down a passageway and said "Down there and to the left". I went back upstairs, retrieved my husband and our luggage and we headed off down the corridor.

There was, indeed, a taxi symbol where she had directed us but following it took us upstairs to the train platforms. We returned to the lower level. The modern, lower level of the train station was a scene of chaos. Hundreds of people representing a multitude of  ages, stripes, colors and income levels raced by in all directions. We asked person after person in the shops that abounded in the station where we could get a taxi keeping a watchful eye on our bags the entire time. A young man in one of the stores informed me that we were not in a taxi stand but a book store, perhaps thinking that I may have confused the two. Another pointed to glass doors, through them we could only see a rather seedy looking park.

In desperation we stopped in the Alamo Car Rental office as the word Taxi was printed clearly, in large letters, on their windows. The young lady told us she would be able to phone for a cab and the driver would pick us up at the office. We breathed a sigh of relief. The sense of relief, however, would only last a moment. After a couple of phone calls she told us that all the cab companies they worked with were busy.

We were now trying to suppress our panic wondering if we would spend our time in Prague sleeping on top of our bags in the train station. After a couple of more inquiries someone gave us a complete set of "find the cab" instructions. Go through the doors several others had indicated, traverse the seedy looking park and we would see a taxi stand on the left. Following the instructions we did, indeed, see the stand and a lone cab, it's driver engaged in a heated exchange with an Asian man. The Asian man stormed off, the driver turned to us, we must have looked like lost sheep at this point, and asked in accented English, "Do you need a taxi". We asked the fare, although we were in no position to haggle, and he told us the amount in Czech currency. I had no idea of the exchange rate but if he had asked for one of my molars as payment I would probably have not only agreed, figuring that I would still have several more and would not have to sleep in the train station, but also extracted it then and there myself.

I apologized for the weight of our main bag as the young, wiry driver hoisted it into the trunk. "Is okay", he said, "I very strong man".  He pointed out places of interest along the way, a museum, a public square, drove us across the river that runs through the city and we presently found ourselves at our home in Prague,  the lovely, baroque Riverside Hotel.

Austria and Prague 2019 - A Bus Called Leo

Returning to the hotel after our trip to the fortress we felt we as if we had been on a dead run since we landed in Vienna 4 days prior. We had tuna fish and a croissant, enough for a meal, and decided a late afternoon and night spent in the hotel room would be restful and restorative before hitting the road again the next morning. We had to get up early to catch the bus to Prague we had booked.

While researching the trip we had some difficulty finding a way to get from Salzburg to Prague. The train took 7 hours plus, depending on the time of day, and required us to change trains in Linz with only a 30 minute window to do so. Digging on the internet we found a bus line called Leo Express. It was a 5 hour trip, cheaper than the train and would not require a layover or change.

The trip was a delight. We had, for a modest charge, upgraded to business class and upon arriving at the bus were provided with a small bag of snacks and liquid refreshments. As we departed there were shadowy silhouettes of mountains. One came into sharp relief as we neared it. It rose above a lake, it's image mirrored in the still water. We passed small villages dominated by church spires nestled between the mountains. Balconies in the small towns held flower boxes overflowing with colorful blooms.  At one point the road narrowed and wound through one of the villages past the church and guesthouses whose balconies seemed almost as if they would buckle under the weight of the luxurious profusion of blossoms. Small stands of solar panels evidenced how far ahead of the U.S. Europe is in terms of renewable energy. The language as well as the architecture changed as we crossed the border into the Czech Republic showing that, even with the E.U., the separate countries continue to hold their particular histories, cultures and traditions in high regard. We enter Prague and found ourselves traveling down streets lined with Baroque buildings, their beautiful facades wearing a veneer of grit and grime, the only area we found that, the rest of the portions of the city we visited were clean, and were deposited at the train station.

Austria and Prague 2019 - The Alps

My husband had been questioning (read pestering)  me during our time in Salzburg about the Alps. I explained that we were in the foothills, the relatively small mountains one can see from the city, Festungberg included, were the beginnings of the famed mountain range.

Off to the side of one of the squares at the fortress I noticed a small flight of stairs leading down. We descended them to a terrace and there in front of us, spreading out in both directions, filling the horizon, were the glorious peaks of the Alps. Some of the higher elevations held small amounts of snow, it was early fall and snow had not fallen for several months. Clouds would obscure the summits of some, then move off  revealing their full beauty. They rose from the plains below, proud and majestic, self confident in their grandeur. Row after row of peaks stood before us. We were awed, unable to tear ourselves away from the vista. Adding to the atmosphere was the young man with shaggy blonde hair dressed in lederhosen posing for a photo taken by his more conventionally dressed female companion.

"Are you happy now?" I asked my husband. From the smile on his face I could tell that he was.

Austria and Prague 2019 - Hohensalzburg Fortress

High above the city of Salzburg, on a mountain named Festungberg (a mouthful to be sure) sits the Hohensalzburg Fortress (an even bigger mouthful), the largest fully preserved castle in central Europe. Construction began in 1077. Expanded over the centuries, the imposing structure took on it's current appearance in 1500. At one point in the interior of the castle you can see a portion of the original exterior wall and windows, discovered during renovations. During another renovation a cache of gold coins was discovered, which are on display in a room adjacent to the exposed original wall. The reason for their being hidden is unknown. The purpose of the fortress was as a residence and place of safety for both royals and the Archbishop, who, at times, held almost as much, if not more, power than the crowned ruler.

A funicular railway was constructed to ferry tourists from the city below to the fortress but we decided to ascend the old fashioned way, on foot. Stairs, interspersed with packed earth pathways take you to the summit. The path offers beautiful views of the city below as you move upward. Some of the grades on the paths are quite steep and even an experienced hiker such as myself found the climb a little challenging at times. Eventually you enter the Horse Gate, fortified by a heavy wooden red and white striped door. Going through a couple of other gates, you weren't going to get into this place unnoticed, you enter the castle grounds.

The grounds are a mixture of chapels, servants quarters, kitchens, workshops and the rooms which housed the royals and religious leaders. The royals rooms are richly decorated. There are three main ones which adjoin one another. In the banquet hall the ceiling is a marvel of painted and carved woodwork. Shields are depicted on the wooden roof beams. Heavy, wood doors,  also carved and painted, separate the rooms. Colors cover the walls and ceilings of each. There is a receiving room, with an elaborate ceramic radiator, ubiquitous in this area of Europe, and a bedroom. Off of the royal bedroom is the royal latrine, essentially a bench with a hole in it covered by a lid, like a  medieval version of an en suite. There is a display of what would have been found in a 16th century kitchen as well as information on what foods were consumed. Huge stores of food were kept at the fortress to stave off starvation in the event of an extended siege. In the tallest tower of the fortress, which, from it's top, provides expansive views of the surrounding area, one encounters a medieval torture chamber. Chains and manacles dangle from the walls. There is a metal headgear, a rope and pulley and a hole in the floor covered by a grate whose purpose one can only imagine, if one was of a grisly enough mindset to care to.

And, from one particular terrace, there is a spectacular and breathtaking sight.

Austria and Prague 2019 - Beautiful, Charming, Historic Salzburg

A taxi driven by a charming woman in her 60's with tattoos, about 15 piercings in each ear and a gray, post punk haircut deposits us at our hotel. We are 2 blocks from the river and bridges leading to the old town, a UNESCO World Heritage site. We spent the day, as did many others, wandering small winding streets, lined with venerable, beautifully preserved buildings, Salzburg is not a place of broad boulevards. We explore the plazas which dot the city, imagining the history they hold.

One of these plazas is the busiest part of the small city, on one side is the apartment house which is the birthplace of Mozart. In a sign of the times there is a Starbucks off to one side. Through an arch is a view of the river. The tiny lane leading to the apartment house, now a museum, is lined with shops, each with a colorful sign hanging over the street. There are covered arcades, again lined with shops, some of them very expensive and high end, off of some of the plazas. They are so narrow that by spreading your arms you would be able to touch the sides. It sometimes feels as if you are in a beautiful, baroque maze. The view from both sides of the river is architectural eye candy. Skylines of venerable facades punctuated by domes and church spires. Our own hotel, in the "new" part of the city, was constructed in 1507.

We wander, shop and people watch. Both I and my husband notice that the men, both tourists and locals alike, are far more attractive than what we had become accustomed to during our time in Vienna. My husband goes online later that night and discovers that there is one of a chain of once famous, now fading, gay bars in the city, as well as 2 others. Perhaps that explains the male eye candy.

The locals were more friendly and gracious than those we had encountered in Vienna. From the shopkeepers to the hotel staff to the charming waiter to the woman who took our order for wine. We asked the waiter to take our picture at our outside table as we enjoyed the cool night air. He happily complied. As he was doing so the young woman returned with our glasses in hand and playfully sat on my husband's lap. From the smiles in the photo it appears that a good time was had by all.

Austria and Prague 2019 - A Glitch on the Way to Salzburg

The UBER driver drops us off at the train station in Vienna. I get coffee while we wait for the information regarding the platform number for our train to appear on the departure board. We slept better the night before so we are feeling fresher, our minds a littler clearer than the previous 2 mornings. We head to the platform and enjoy the mechanical ballet of trains arriving and departing. Our train pulls up and we board, that is when the trouble begins.

An older,surly ticket taker comes by. It seems from his grumpy manner that he is just killing time till retirement, any pretense of customer service a thing of history. We have with us paper records which contain a travel number, a confirmation number and a  receipt for the amount paid for the tickets. None of this is enough. We do not have the pdf attachment he says he needs to scan and insists that we cough up 185 euros or get kicked off the train in the middle of nowhere, Austria. Reluctantly I hand over the credit card, taking care to make sure it is the same one we used for the original tickets, hoping we can straighten out the mess when we get back to the states. As the trip progresses I search through old emails, we booked the tickets 3 months prior to the trip and eventually locate the attachment needed. It takes some searching to find the constipated, irritable ticket taker. After looking at the attachment, none of which is mentioned as being necessary in any of the documentation associated with the train trip, he says it is what he needed to scan but any refund will have to be handled at the Salzburg station. This information is gleaned through the help of the  young man and woman staffing the food car as the nasty ticket takers English is a little faulty. It appears it is taking an incredible amount of restraint on the part of the 2 younger people to keep from rolling their eyes at him. The young man's eyes are wide, cute and deer-like,  "I hope you get your money back" he says. I resist the urge to kiss him as thanks for his concern.

Upon arriving at Salzburg we are told by the woman behind the counter, rudely, that there is no one there that can help us and that we will have to contact the headquarters in Vienna. She dismissively shoves a form, printed entirely in German, and an envelope across the counter to us, then glares at us as she motions the next person in line to come forward. My husband places a hairdresser hex on her, after her next bleach job her hair will fall out and she will be left completely bald.

We do enjoy the view on the ride. The green countryside is dotted with farms and small villages dominated by churches with onion domed spires. We ignore the areas of industrial warehouses. As we pull into Linz, Austria's 3rd largest city, there is a cemetery next to the tracks. beyond it are modern highrises.  On the opposite side I glimpse a section of older, historic buildings.

We climb into a cab outside the train station in Salzburg and our adventure continues.

Austria and Prague 2019 - Vienna's East Village

We always make hotel choices online. We search for historic charm, economy, people are often amazed at how little we sometimes spend, and proximity to our destinations attractions. We peruse customer reviews, compare prices and make our choices. We do not need to stay at The Ritz, we are not Ritz people.

My husband, early on, mentioned that the area we stayed in in Vienna resembled New York's East Village circa 1990. Sharing the block with our hotel was a group of businesses that might best be described as eclectic. They included a second hand toy store, what seemed to be an upscale men's made to measure suit shop, a new toy store, a shop which dealt in one of a kind women's accessories, a beauty salon and a store which specialized in ballroom dancing shoes and costumes. I did wonder what the size of the market might be for such a place. There was a small produce store, and a tiny bakery manned by a charming woman which we intended to revisit the next day for an afternoon treat. When we returned the charming woman had been replaced by a curt one and we noticed a bee cavorting on one of the baked goods. We went to a different pastry shop around the corner. A trendy coffee and pastry shop, upscale wine bar and a Hugo Boss store on an adjoining street suggested that the quirky nature of the neighborhood might be coming to an end.

Our room looked out over the air shaft that was shared with the apartment house next door. The units, which appeared to be modest in size, had tiny balconies. On some laundry dried on racks. From one hung flower boxes filled with pinwheels which spun in the breeze. The encroaching gentrification of the area made it seem as if these too, might soon be a memory, replaced with pricey stainless steel appliances and expensive furnishings, with rents to match.

Austria and Prague 2019 - A Short Dinner Tale

We returned to the hotel, got ourselves prepared for the train to Salzburg the next morning and headed out to dinner. We chose a restaurant around the corner from our hotel where we had eaten breakfast. Oddly, particularly compared to our trip to Scandinavia 2 years prior, where they are moving towards a virtually cashless society, the establishment only accepted cash. The evening was pleasant and we ate outside.

I don't eat out often, but when I do, I sometimes like to observe the other diners and try to figure out their stories and their relation to one another. That evening we watched with amazement and amusement as a table full of locals, 4 men, 3 of which appeared to be gay, 2 of them appeared to be a couple, and 2 women downed shot after shot of what appeared to be Jagermeister, getting progressively drunk and sloppy in the process. There was a part of us that wanted to stay and watch them attempt to stagger away, but we did have a train to catch the next morning. After a small, single glass of wine, we headed back to our bed to get the first decent nights sleep of the trip.

Austria and Prague 2019 - Picnic at the Palace

Schonbrunn Palace is an impressive structure constructed in 18th century. Originally a hunting palace it stands behind a gate and fence which opens on a large open space. Benches line the sides of the space. Fountains surrounded by circles of grass flank the one time royal residence. It is painted Viennese Yellow, the color of a daffodil. It was originally painted pink and blue, why the color was changed and when are details lost to history. Outbuildings dot the grounds in the immediate vicinity of the palace.

We choose a bench and pull out the tuna fish sandwiches made with croissants we had purchased the day before. Cans of tuna are a travel staple of ours, cheap, nourishing and easy to prepare. We snack on a trail mix made by my husband, another travel staple of ours. We offer the trail mix to the gentleman sharing the bench with us. He has us sprinkle it on the salad he is eating. We watch carriages full of  tourists go by then set out to enjoy the extensive gardens of the palace.

Flowerbeds set in lush green lawns surround sculptures. Vines trained over wire create tunnels to gazebos. One of the vines is a medium red wild rose, my husband mentions how beautiful it must be when the rose is in full bloom. There is a hedge maze, in our still somewhat jet lagged state we decided to skip that. The city's zoo is also located here.

A tall hill surmounted by a classically designed overlook building with twin switchback trails to the top rises above the gardens. Taking a deep breath and steeling ourselves we begin to wind our way up. The climb is slightly challenging but not overly arduous and the view from the top proves worth the effort. The city of Vienna is laid out in front of us. My husband becomes Mr. Congeniality offering to take pictures of seemingly dozens of couples as they pose together on the overlook. In a somber moment my husbands relates his imagining, from this vantage point, the bombing of the city during the war. I, too, had been thinking of the horrors that must have been experienced by the population during those dark times.   The walk down is, of course, far easier than the walk up. We re board the the bus to head back into the city. A last bit of information is relayed to us as we pull away. The palace complex was the site of the music competition between Mozart and Salieri. On a less culturally important note it was also used as background in a James Bond movie.

Austria and Prague 2019 - Vienna Day 2

We started our day, as we often do when traveling abroad, locating the BBC as we showered and dressed, sometimes the only English language t.v. option available. We had decided, during our 3 a.m. conversation, on a hop on/hop off bus tour. These are a good way to see a city and you get a treasure trove of information and history about what you are passing by. We thought it would be a relaxing and leisurely way to spend the day after the frenetic pace we had been keeping over the last 2 days.

We learned that 1/3 of the city was destroyed during WW2. Some was rebuilt using the original plans to retain the integrity of important historical areas. Other parts are a juxtaposition of hastily constructed apartment houses, built to alleviate the post war housing shortage, standing side by side with richly ornamented mid 19th century baroque structures. We learned that 50% of the city is green space and the Danube, which runs through the city, has been turned into a canal to control it's annoying habit of flooding, sometimes with devastating results.

There are 3 hop on/hop off bus lines in Vienna. One of these runs to the Schonbrunn Palace located in the outskirts of the city. I had read about it during my research for the trip but due to the limited time originally scheduled for Vienna did not see how we could fit it into our itinerary. We decided to seize the opportunity fate had given us. We took one of the buses which departed near our hotel and then transferred, at the renown Viennese Opera House, to the one that went to the palace. At times the trip to the palace became almost comical as the bus squeezed down narrow streets lined with ornate baroque buildings, still ubiquitous in the city despite the destruction of the war. Moving through more modern areas as we traveled away from the historical center of Vienna we soon found ourselves at the gates to the palace.

Austria and Prague 2019 - Leopold Museum and Insomnia

The Leopold Museum features early 20th century Viennese art, furniture, objects and fashion. The collection includes many works by both Gustav Klimt, an artist whose work I was eager to become better acquainted with, and the dark, harsh vision of Oskar Kokoschka. Balancing out Mr. Kokoschka are the lovely landscapes of the late 19th and early 20th century female artist Olga Wisinger Florian. Some of the furniture is full of the flowing lines and graceful silhouettes of the Art Nouveau movement. The strong, geometric lines of other pieces foreshadow the Art Deco movement soon to come. The ceramics and glassware are sensuous examples of utilitarian objects being elevated to the status of art. The collection is small but strong, well curated and intensely focused.

As we left we were beginning to struggle with the lack of sleep over the previous 24 hours. It is suggested that you stay awake until your normal bedtime hour to mitigate the effects of jet lag. Our brains and bodies were like jelly, staying awake was not possible and we found ourselves passing out at 5 p.m.  Unfortunately this led to both my husband and me lying in bed talking about this and that at 3 a.m. our sleep habits having at that point being thrown completely out of whack. We laid back down but eventually gave up both the hope and pretense of further sleep, got up and began our bonus day in Vienna.

Austria and Prague 2019 - Vienna's Main Cathedral and a Stroll to The Leopold

It sits in one of the many plazas. It is dark and imposing. It is Vienna's main cathedral. The present structure was begun in the 13th century although the site has been a religious one since the 10th century. The hundreds of years of the city's history is evident in the foundations of buildings dating to Roman era occupation left exposed in one of the ubiquitous plazas. The cathedral, like many priceless treasures in Europe, was heavily damaged during WW2. The restoration is seamless. I find myself happy that they could recreate the beauty and detail, although a little dark and Gothic for my taste, apparently the times in which it was built was not particularly happy and carefree,  I feel sorrow that man has rarely found a way to overcome differences that does not include violence, destruction and ruin.

We stepped back into the plaza and began our search for the Leopold Museum. It took several tries, showing the location of the museum on the map to locals, until we found our way to the museum quarter. Large, beautiful twin museum buildings face each other over an expanse of lawn and sidewalks. Across a street runs a long building which also housing museums. We later found out it had originally been the royal stables. Walking through an arch you step into a plaza, another one. 2 modern museum buildings stand on either side, one of them the cube of The Leopold.

We fortified ourselves first with lunch at an outdoor restaurant on the plaza where a bee showed an immense interest in my husband's wiener schnitzel. Eventually we conceded defeat and allowed it to feast on a small portion of it. Sating itself it flew off leaving us to finish our meal in peace. We purchased 2 croissants for the tuna fish sandwich picnic we had planned for the next day and climbed the steps to the entrance to the Leopold.

Austria and Prague 2019 - A Self Guided, Sleep Deprived, Walking Tour

Imagine the outer edge of a spiderweb. Now imagine the inside of that web blown apart by the elements leaving it a maze of bits and pieces. This is something like Vienna's historical city center. Plazas abut one another. there can be as many as 3 names associated with different areas of the same open space. Streets spread out in what seems a random manner. Some come to an end in yet another plaza (or 3), others change their names for no apparent reason. Even with a map it can be difficult to find ones way. Bear in mind we had been flying all night so we were not exactly, well, fresh.

Not to misunderstand, it is worth it. 18th and 19th century buildings abound. They drip with ornamentation. They are wrapped in floral garlands, faces peer out at you from the center of stone and plaster medallions, statues grace rooftops and stand at watch along their eaves, caryatids, both male and female, the male ones paragons of muscular virility, the females soft and slightly overweight, support balconies and doorways or sometimes just stand around as if awaiting orders on what to do. Upscale shops  Lagerfeld, Chanel, Rolex, Tiffany and Versace among scores of other fill the ground floors of many of the buildings.If you want to spend gobs of money, Vienna has you covered.

After a time we felt the need to answer "nature's call". My husband stepped into the Imperial Burial Vault. The man at the desk allowed us to use the men's room there. Essentially we were peeing in a graveyard. A sign advised us "You are entering a graveyard, please be quiet." We peed as quietly as possible. After our muted urination we snuck into a portion of the vaults. Massive, ornate sarcophagi are lined up behind rails. Signs on the rails told us who was interred within. After a few moments my husband noted that we had not paid admission, were only there due to the largess of the desk attendant and perhaps we should leave before our subterfuge was unearthed. We returned to the maze of streets and using the steeple for a guide found the main cathedral.

Austria and Prague 2019 - The Flight

We were in the second to last row of the plane. Therefore we were among the first of the economy class passengers to board. Since the plane had some seats to spare we ended up with the 4 seat center section to ourselves. We spread out, stowed our bags under the center seats affording ourselves legroom and took turns laying out across the center seats during the night hours of the flight in an attempt to "plane sleep". I have never been successful at sleeping on a plane, I envy those who claim they can. I dozed, played games on the video screen on the back of the seat in front of me, drank white wine and generally whiled away 8 hours of my life. Through the plane's windows as we land   is a view of lush farmland, small, quaint clusters of buildings and scores of wind turbines.

Customs took only seconds, our luggage arrived in near record time and we grabbed a cab into the city. We rode through graffiti scarred areas of the city. In Vienna the romantic Danube river is a canal, it needed to be tamed due to frequent flooding, it's concrete sides have, over the years,been  turned into a colorful citizen's canvas.

We arrived at our hotel at 9:30 in the morning, a full 11 hours earlier than expected, Our room would not be available until 2 that afternoon so we stashed our luggage in the hotel storage room among stacks of sheets, pillows and roll away beds and running on pure adrenaline at that point, grabbed a tourist map from the front desk and set out.

Austria and Prague 2019 - A Tale of a Confusing Beginning and Travel Luck

So this was our plan, in order to make the airfare affordable we were to fly to Lisbon, layover 6 hours then continue to Vienna. There we would spend one day and two nights. We would continue by train to Salzburg, where we would stay for two nights. Then we would end our trip with three nights in Prague, a place we had discussed visiting for the better part of ten years.

The night before our departure we received a rather confusing text message regarding our flight having been delayed. The next morning we checked Air Portugal's website and it reported the flight leaving at its scheduled time. So, luggage in hand, we ordered a UBER and headed towards O'hare.

The driver's GPS had him wind through a number of the neighborhoods on Chicago's north side, scenic but not particularly efficient. En route we received an email telling us our 6 p.m. flight was delayed seven hours. It was now scheduled to depart at 1 a.m. The Air Portugal app still listed the flight leaving as originally scheduled. We continued to O'Hare. Upon arriving at the airport we discovered that our flight to Lisbon was, indeed, delayed for seven hours which would mean we would miss our connecting flight to Vienna. Questions were mounting. Would we have to scrub Vienna from our plans altogether? Would we be paying for a hotel room we wouldn't be using  if we were further delayed?

We got in line at the Air Portugal counter with several other concerned and confused flyers. After waiting an hour Air Portugal employees appeared. A young man in a soiled white dress shirt said "Oh, your connecting flight will be leaving before this one arrives." We dryly informed him that we were aware of this. He pushed a few buttons on his keyboard and proclaimed "There is a non stop to Vienna on Austria Airlines that leaves at 4:30 and arrives in Vienna at 8:30 a.m." After pushing a few more buttons he handed us our passports and directed us to the Air Austria desk where they would issue our boarding passes. It was now 3 p.m.

So, in summary, our flight that was scheduled to leave at 6 p.m. with the 6 hour layover would put us in Vienna at 7 p.m. the next day. We, however, were now booked on a non stop to Vienna, which would be leaving earlier then our original flight, that would deliver us to Vienna at 8:30 a.m. the next day, ten and a half hours before our initially scheduled arrival time. Not only would we not miss Vienna we would pick up an extra day there. We rushed through security to the gate.

Guadalajara 2019 - Talquepeque and A New Friend

We had passed by one another briefly my first morning at the guesthouse. He came into the breakfast room just as I was leaving it. The next morning we got to know another a bit better. We, the owner and a couple of other guests, made sport of my wound from my encounter with the Mexican wrestler the previous night.

The day before my departure it was he, myself and the owner at the table. After one of the now familiar social/political cinema discussions he said it was the one day he had nothing concrete planned. I invited him to join me in my excursion to Talquepeque, a venerable small town that had been swallowed up by the city as it expanded.

It is an area of stone streets, turn of the 20th century mansions and lush courtyards. Many  of the buildings have been transformed into shops, galleries and restaurants. Some of the shops sell the crafts found in other shops around town and the stalls that line plazas in the city center. Some of the galleries sell pricey art in upscale settings. One gallery specialized in massive religious statues. We wondered aloud about what the size of the market for these items could possibly be and how they could be shipped, let alone fit through the old wooden doors of the gallery. Street vendors also offered wares. 2 men sought money from the crowds in exchange for the caged birds they displayed offering a prayer for them. It seemed to me that if one wanted to pray one could do so for free without the assistance of a feathered friend, but who am I to question local customs.

We stopped into what, at first glance, looked like a small silver shop, eventually being led by a saleswoman through several case lined rooms not visible from the street. The pieces were from Tasco, Mexico's "Silver City". After looking at several I settled on a lapel pin, an Art Nouveau inspired figure of a nude woman. We returned to the beautiful sunshine of the afternoon, strolling down the stone street shopping, admiring the sometimes centuries old architecture and sharing personal stories.

We stopped for lunch at a sprawling complex where 18 separate restaurants with separate menus and kitchens share space. Tables spread from the sidewalk street side to an inner courtyard with a gazebo in its center. Folk dancers performed in the gazebo as I sipped a glass of cool white wine and we enjoyed the excellent Mexican fare I had grown accustomed to during my stay.

Later at the guesthouse the two of us sat at a table on the 2nd floor gallery setting up Facebook and text message contacts with one another. It was a bit more complicated than it should have been. I joked about what happens when you have 2 60ish year old men attempting to utilize  I phone technology.

My new friend left for I drink and I went to the massage appointment the guesthouse owner had arranged for me in one of the rooms of the house. The masseuse was well trained and his manipulations left me blissfully wobbly. It was a most pleasant way to end my stay in Guadalajara.

Guadalajara 2019 - Social, Personal and Political Discourse

At the guesthouse is a long banquet style table made up of 3 tables placed end to end. Each morning it is set with 12 place settings of colorful, traditional Mexican pottery, a plate, bowl, coffee mug and tumbler. It is here that the guests have the opportunity to get acquainted with one another. Often the owner, who lives on the premises, breakfasts with his guests. He is well read, politically aware and, like myself, very opinionated. Breakfast discussions and debates ranged from topics such as global warming, politics, including the pros, cons and history of the electoral college,  to local attractions, cinema and personal stories. 

One morning it was just he and I at the table. He told me his journey to guesthouse ownership. I learned of the sometimes radical tactics of the Mexican Teachers Union and his current assessment of  the new president of Mexico. He told me about the Byzantine nature of historical preservation in Guadalajara. He had to wade his way through it while renovating the guesthouse, an old hacienda, which he estimates dates from the 1880's.

One morning he asked a Canadian guest his opinion of the Canadian health care system. The guest, who is in the health care profession, sang it's praises. The U.S, citizens at the table, myself included, grumbled about ours. We discussed what he described as the last stand of the straight, white male in the U.S.

We shared stories about coming out. It is this last subject, in part, that has made him resolve to keep his business, as much as possible, exclusively Gay. Incomes, nationalities, ages and professions may differ among the guests but sexual orientation is the common denominator they all share. It is our common rallying point. It creates community, even if that community is only transient and temporary. A couple from Nice, France happened to come into the restaurant where I was having dinner one evening The language barrier had kept our breakfast conversation limited to Good Morning. But across the tables we waved and warmly smiled, acknowledging one another. We had a common bond. We were, for that brief moment in time, members of the same community.

Guadalajara 2019 - Wandering With No Particular Plan

Originally I had planed to visit the Regional Museum of Guadalajara. I had been there on my previous trip but at that time several of the exhibits, including what I had read was an excellent mineral collection, gems and minerals are a strong interest of mine, were closed. To my dismay, after paying a modest entry fee, I discovered that, on that day, only one gallery was open. The skeleton of the mammoth, the museum's signature piece, was on display of course, The rest of the one open hall seemed to contain artifacts highlighting moments in the Mexican state of Jalisco's history. Everything was in Spanish, I didn't understand a word. On one wall 2 primitive folk art paintings shared space with an abstract, modern piece. Making the best of a bad situation I spend time wandering around the courtyards, staircases and covered walkways of the venerable building that houses the museum, which is recognized as an excellent example of colonial architecture.

Stepping back into the afternoon sun I decided to revisit the silver vendors I had been to earlier in the week, located a short walk away from the museum. I ambled along the stone streets and strolled across plazas enjoying the historic centers architecture and the sights and sounds surrounding me.

A group of musicians played the country bluegrass classic "Old Cotton Fields Back Home" on traditional Mexican instruments. I indulged in people watching, particularly the ubiquitous cute Mexican boys that abound in Guadalajara. I found myself pondering where they found jeans that displayed their assets so well.

I stopped for lunch at an awing covered outdoor restaurant. The breeze caused the plants hanging overhead to sway gently. One of the waiters was a bulked up lad that reminded me of the Luchadors I had watched, and come into such close contact with, earlier in the week.

Next to the restaurant  is a large building containing row after row jewelry cases. There are scores of vendors spread out over the buildings 3 floors. I attempted to take a photo but a member of a small army of security personnel made me delete it from my phone, watching me to ensure that I did so.

A rainbow of semiprecious stones were on display. Turquoise, carnelian, abalone and amber, among others, set in gleaming sterling silver. One problem I encountered that afternoon was that all the men's rings I looked at were too large for my fingers. Since Mexican men are not, in general, large people I had to assume that the pieces were designed with the heftier, U.S. male in mind. Persistence paid off. As I looked in one case the charming young woman attending it said "You can speak  English". As I have discovered on several of my trips to Mexico with my blonde, now white and balding, pate and Midwestern winter white skin, I do not blend. In her case was a ring that fit, albeit on my index finger. It is a simple design of alternating strips of silver and marcasite, a stone I , remarkably, didn't own. I have a lot of jewelry.

I slowly made my way back to the guesthouse. Along the way I chanced upon a trio of costumed musicians playing reed flutes on a small street which is flanked by century plus old arcaded walkways. The plumes in their extravagant headpieces moved with them as they swayed with the music. I bought a CD of the traditional music from a fourth member of the troupe so I wouldn't feel like a heel for taking their picture. The music is actually kind of soothing.

The Friday afternoon crowd was out in full force. There are often hordes of people in many of Guadalajara's streets. A cast of thousands of all genders, ages, shapes and sizes fill the pedestrian only streets shopping, eating, laughing or enjoying one of those moments when the world is just the two of you, or you and your family, even though you are among a sea of humanity.

Guadalajara 2019 - UBER Misadventure Part 2

The challenge of UBERing to the aquarium was equaled by the challenge of UBERing back. Apparently, the designated UBER pick up spot is not, as one might assume, in front of the aquarium where I had been dropped off, but in the parking lot to it's side. While looking for my ride a call came through on my phone. I could tell from the are code that it was local. I answered and a voice began speaking to me in rapid fire Spanish. It was the UBER driver. It soon became apparent that we were not communicating with one another effectively. A young woman smoking a cigarette strolled by. Anxiously I looked at her and said "English, Spanish?" She said "Yes", in English. I handed her my phone explaining that it was an UBER driver I was supposed to meet. She spoke with him for a few seconds and motioned for me to follow her. She led me to the parking lot and shortly I was ensconced in the back seat of the car returning, through the maze of streets that is Guadalajara, to the guest house. 

Thank you you bilingual woman, whoever you were.

Guadalajara 2019 - The Aquarium - Fish, Amphibians, Otters and Parakeets

The aquarium is small but has a nice collection and several rather innovative exhibits. First up is a Pearse's Mudskipper, an odd little creature that can breath on land because it has gills that can store water. Some tiny amphibians in this area can be difficult to spot due to the heavy vegetation in the cases. They are, after all, camouflaged in nature to keep them from becoming someones lunch. And while on the subject of lunch, there is the Red Striped Eartheater, which absorbs soil and sediment in it's mouth in search of small crustaceans and invertebrates.

I marveled at the extraordinary colors of some of the fish on display and the way schools of them assume almost sculptural forms. I stop to offer, using hand gestures, to photograph a young couple together in front of a large boa constrictor as it twisted it's body around a branch in it's enclosure.

There are interactive exhibits where visitors can reach into pools and feel fish. I choose not to do so. In an outdoor area where a small park is separated from the aquarium grounds by a fence sits off to one side, scores of small children in their school uniforms watched with glee as otters swam playfully in a large 4 sided exhibit which allowed them to view the animals on land and in the water. In this area is also an aviary where a flock of colorful parakeets land on the visitors heads and shoulders. I attracted a particularly tenacious one. The little yellow creature seemed as if it would be perfectly content to stay on my shoulder all afternoon. After taking a selfie with it I had to negotiate a number of awkward twists and turns in an effort to get it to leave its perch.

Back inside a tank spans one wall and curves above the visitor's head creating a tunnel of fish. The bottom of a shark was visible as it rested on the ceiling, or, from it's perspective, floor, of the exhibit. From on upper gallery I watched Manta Rays as they swirled gracefully, occasionally rising to the surface and flapping their winglike fins, splashing the giggling children that surrounded the pool before heading back outside and summoning an UBER.

Guadalajara 2019 - A Trip to the Aquarium, an UBER Attack

At the suggestion of the guesthouse owner I set out one morning to the aquarium, a rather new addition to Guadalajara's attractions.

Although the brochure for the aquarium, oddly, didn't contain an address for the institution, I thought "over the last few days I have overcome both being stranded in an unfamiliar city and being smacked down by a Mexican wrestler, it's going to take more than a missing address to defeat me!" I looked up the aquarium on Google and ordered an UBER using the online address for my destination. The car arrived and began to drive through the maze that is Guadalajara and came to a stop in the middle of a nondescript block. I could sense immediately that something had gone awry. I used my phone to show him where I wanted to go. He used his phone, in translate mode, to tell me I had entered the wrong address. He told me, via his phone, that he would have to close out my current ride and then used my phone to order a different driver to take me to the aquarium. I stepped out of the car in a a part of the city I believe is referred to  as "God knows where" and waited for the replacement driver. He arrived within moments and I was soon deposited at the entranced to the aquarium.

A line of huge, brightly painted Coca Cola bottles stand outside the building. The company is a major sponsor of the venue, you come across their iconic images over and over again among the exhibits. In a rather unsettling manner the ticket window is mirror glass. I suspect this is so that the bright sun does not make life uncomfortable for the people working inside. A disembodied voice addresses me in Spanish. I don't understand a word. I take out my credit card and place in the slot hoping my intentions were obvious to the unseen person inside. The tips of fingers, all I ever saw of the woman in the booth, takes the card then returns it, along with a ticket, receipt and credit slip for me to sign. As with much of Guadalajara this action takes place with me standing outside in the Mexican sunshine. It was frighteningly cold at this time in Chicago, the sun was fine with me. I have a band with a bar code on it by another attendant, this one I can see, and am scanned through the turnstile.

Guadalajara 2019 - Mexican Food

I promised myself I would eat better than I had on my previous visit. Breakfast, fresh fruit,a variety of cereals, yogurt and toast, was provided with the room. The communal dining table allows an opportunity for the guests to meet one another. Our morning conversations cover a vast array of topics, ranging from personal tales to global issues. 

I soon discover that chicken can be difficult to come by. That being said  after viewing the murals and jewelry shopping I find a restaurant near the guesthouse that serves an excellent enchilada verde, just the right amount of spicy, and a waiter that has some command of English, this quality can sometimes be in short supply. In fact the language barrier is one of the biggest challenges I have encountered during my visits to Guadalajara.

That evening I walk back to the area of the Cathedral. There is a restaurant located there I remembered from my first trip. It is on the second floor above the Cathedral Plaza. It's main draw for me, a snifter of Chivas Regal costs the equivalent of $5. A scotch of this quality is usually too rich for my pocket book. As I walk to the plaza I pass a string trio playing under a centuries old arcade. The view from my table through the french doors is the classical facade of the municipal building which fills one side of the square. Music from the singer in the restaurant below wafts through the doors, open to the cool, refreshing night air. The food is excellent, the Chivas a rare treat. I leave and return to the guesthouse stuffed and happy.

Then there was the lunch of Cesar salad with tender strips of chicken and generous wedges of garlic bread. The dinner of breaded shrimp so amazing I had to restrain myself to from moaning out loud at the table....if I had stayed any longer I would have returned weighing over 200 pounds.

Guadalajara 2019 - Jewelry Shopping, A Favorite Pastime

Outside of the Instituto Cultural Cabanas there is a long block filled with jewelry vendors. Case after case are packed glittering metal and stones of every imaginable color.

I LOVE JEWELRY! Our modest condo is packed with art, antiques and artifacts, some pieces I can trace back 3 generations. There is little room left for anything additional. Jewelry is small. I use it literally every day. With this in mind when I travel I can collect and purchase it guilt free. Of course I have the typical tee shirts as travel mementos. I did buy one of these at the Lucha Libre show emblazoned with a wrestling mask, but I cannot remember a trip when I did not return with some piece of non essential adornment fabricated from metal and stone.

Like a magpie I am drawn to the cases, asking to see this item and that. At one case an adorable, young, hulking vendor shows me several bracelet choices. In the back of my mind I warn myself not to be distracted by his physical charms. Managing to keep my wits about me I get a great deal on a bracelet from the Latin Adonis. Upon a return trip 2 days later his cases are covered, his wares presumably locked up in the safe at the back of his stall. Consoling myself I think, "Maybe he wasn't that cute".

Guadalajara 2019 - Orozco Murals

The morning after my up close and personal encounter with the Luchador I had something more sedate planed. A visit to the Instituto Cultural Cabanas, which houses murals by Mexican artist Jose Orozco, something I had missed on my first visit 3 years prior. The Hispicio Cabanas, originally named the House of Charity and Mercy, or whatever that translates to in Spanish, is considered one of the most important examples of neo-classical architecture in Mexico. It, and the murals it contains, are so valued that they were declared a UNESCO World Heritage site in 1997. The building opened its doors in 1810 to provide care and shelter to the poor. It had to close several months later when it was converted to military barracks, a sad irony. After 17 years it was reopened to continue it's original mission. Eventually it was turned over to the state. In 1937 the state of Jalisco invited the artist to paint the inside of the main chapel.

Marimba music fills the air as I stroll across the long plaza in front of the building. Stalls vending local crafts sit side by side along the plaza's edges. After paying a modest entrance fee I cross an inner courtyard to the main chapel. The murals are an assault to the senses. They are brutal in both tone and narrative, dark and disturbing, yet breathtakingly beautiful. His style is simultaneously primitive and complex.

Despite the dark visions the chapel is quiet and peaceful. Diffused sun streams in from the windows which surround the dome. A cool breeze flowed through the open doors as I sat on a bench, astounded by the angry message of the murals juxtaposed against the beautiful, deceptively simple looking lines of the early 19th century architecture.

Beyond the chapel the rooms surrounding the many courtyards of this architectural masterwork have been converted to galleries devoted to the work of Mexican artists. Their is a small collection of abstract works by a painter named Mathias Goeritz. His creates pieces with a 3 dimensional quality by applying layer upon layer of paint. Later I discover, in another of the galleries, the same works on paper, presumably studies for the first canvases I encountered. Several courtyards feature the work of Francisco Gazitua. He recreates mechanical tools, a compass, a scale, a calibrator, in large scale metal works which are set among the palms and citrus trees which dot the courtyards.

Gallery after gallery of beautiful works enrich and renew my soul as I work my way through the building. There is a passion exhibited by the works that seem, somehow, distinctly Mexican, both a tribute and mirror to the long history and rich culture of their country. I make a final, return stop at the chapel before heading out into the afternoon.

Guadalajara 2019 - Luche Libre, Up Close and Personal

Around the perimeter of the arena is a section of seats separated from the rest of the arena by chain link fencing. Behind this barrier the crowd jumps up and down, chanting and banging cow bells and drums. What these seats lack, other than even a shred of civility or reserve, is the up close and personal relationship the attendees in the front of the barriers have with the Luchadors. These big boys know how to work a crowd. At one point one of the "bad guys" ran up the aisle I was seated next to and threw himself into the lap of a spectator. A good guy, dressed in shiny red and blue ring attire followed him. It appeared the lap sitter was taunting the blue and red one, perhaps suggesting that he could not touch him as he was intertwined with a paying customer. I had to assume this as it was all in Spanish and I couldn't understand a word. The red and blue one returned to the ring followed by the bad guy who, as he passed me, grabbed my shoulder and shouted something in Spanish. I have no idea what it was, I couldn't understand a word. It was all in good fun, the cute security guy that had been crouched on the floor by the aisle through the entire proceeding looked at me grinned and we both laughed.On another occasion a wrestler was sent careening across the floor outside the ring. He brushed by my legs. The guy sitting on the other side of the aisle had just enough time to jump out of his chair before the tights wearing behemoth made contact with his now unoccupied seat. The group of men seated next to me seemed to be acquainted with both the staff and several of the wrestlers judging from the familiar looks exchanged between them. 

On a trip to the restroom prior to the event I saw a man standing outside a door off to the left. He was wearing a melon colored mask, melon colored tights and a matching tee shirt. Little did I know that he would play a part in my slightly early departure from the arena that evening. It was the final match. He entered the ring sans tee shirt, with the "bad guy" contingent. This group also included the hunky "jungle boy" mentioned in my previous post. The match began and quickly became chaotic, Bodies were flying both in and out of the ring. I have a photo on my phone of Melon Man attempting to demask one of the other wrestlers, the ultimate in humiliation in the Luche Libre world. I am not entirely certain of what happened but Melon Man somehow propelled the wrestler he had attempted to demask backward, directly into me. I had no time to react as I saw a huge back headed in my direction. These men are trained performers, they are not out to hurt each other, the contact itself wasn't the problem but somehow he hit me in such a that my glasses flew up and off to the side of my head. The wrestlers continued to wrestle. I looked at my glasses. They were badly askew. The cute security guy looked over at me. His face dropped. He motioned over a woman wearing an apron with pockets in it. I thought perhaps she had tools in the pocket and was going to fix my glasses. I brought my hand to my head and when I brought it down there was blood on my fingers. Apparently the metal nose bridge of my glasses had cut me in the middle of my forehead as they were knocked off me. She enlisted one of the men sitting next to me to communicate, through limited English and gestures, that she needed me to close my eyes as she spritzed me with antiseptic and applied a butterfly bandage. As I went to the restroom to survey the damage to my face I passed by what I assume, from his extremely well developed physique, was one of the Luchadors from a previous match, now out of his trunks and wearing his street clothes. Of course I couldn't be sure, the masks provide quite a bit of anonymity.

I decided, bent glasses in hand, that I had had enough of the spectacle and that it was time to leave. I wouldn't have been able to see clearly anyway. My departure was slightly delayed as I had to wait for one of the Luchadors, prone on the floor directly in my path, to get up and reenter the fray in the ring. I Ubered back to the guesthouse and bed.

All turned out well. The wound was minor, a kindly optician in a tiny storefront shop bent my glasses back into shape the next morning for free and I got a great story.

Did I ever tell you about the time I got smacked down by a Mexican wrestler in Guadalajara?

Guadalajara 2019 - Luche Libre

Mexican wrestling, known as Luche or Luche Libre in the local tongue, whenever I have researched a trip to Mexico it is listed by many as a "must see". I had, on previous visits, never been able to work it into my plans. On this trip I was determined not to miss it. 

In Guadalajara the shows are scheduled every Tuesday and Sunday. I Uber to the rather sketchy area where the arena is located. The driver asks me a question, in Spanish, which ends with the word Coliseo, the name of the arena. I conclude, due to the final word, he is asking me if I am headed to the arena. "Si" I reply. "Ah Luche", he says with a grin.

There is a festival atmosphere in the open air entrance to the arena. Trademark Luchador masks are being sold by entrepreneurs carrying tall wooden poles with row after row of the colorful masks hanging from crossbars. People are laughing and joking, intent on having a good time. I purchase my ticket, cash only, front row, it costs the equivalent of about $17. I, as everyone else entering the arena, am patted down by security as I go through the turnstiles, enter the indoor portion of the arena and find my seat. 

Due to the erratic nature of my travel over the last 2 days I had not had an opportunity to eat correctly and am also somewhat dehydrated. I purchased a very full cup of very tart melon, one of a number of offerings of food and drink carried by vendors working the growing crowd.

The lights dim and  a row of women in skimpy attire and ludicrously high platform shoes form a line on one side of a ramp leading from backstage to the ring in the center of the room. A chubby announcer in a too small suit enters the ring, grabs a mike and the fun begins. As the wrestlers are announced they run down the ramp, jump into the ring, leap onto the ropes by the turnbuckles and raise their arms in the air to the cheers, and occasionally jeers, of the audience. It is a spectacle of bright, colored, flashing lights, bright, sometimes ridiculous costumes and admirable athleticism. The performers, really, this is as carefully choreographed as a ballet, range from paragons of rippling, muscled masculinity to slightly overweight types one might expect to see drinking too much beer in a neighborhood bar. The "good guys", whose corner I was seated behind, trended toward the aforementioned muscled types. They displayed their gym built bodies and bodacious backsides in colorful tights or trunks, eschewing unnecessary clothing items such as shirts. The "bad guys" tended to be more full figured, their darker and more modest attire a sharp counterpoint to the flashy, more revealing fashion choices of their counterparts.

They flip, flop and chop each other. Even though the matches are choreographed, there are loud bangs as large backs make contact with the floor of the ring and occasional thwacks as solid pecs are struck by meaty forearms. Much of the action takes place outside of the ring. As the Luchadors, as the wrestlers are refereed to, "throw" each other through the ropes of the ring, they follow them and continue to do battle within a foot of the attendees in the front row or chase each other up the aisles. The matches are fast paced and occasionally chaotic. They follow one after another at almost breakneck speed. They are silly, entertaining and a surprising amount of fun. The costumes are a kaleidoscope of capes, some looking as if they were made from drapes, metallic warm up jackets with the name of the wrestler emblazoned on its back, worn with matching tights and boots, ass hugging trunks and of course the ubiquitous masks. One, billed as a sort of jungle man, appeared in leopard print trunks and horns in his long, curly mass of hair. He did remove the horns before the match began.

A great time was being had by all until.......

Guadalajara 2019 - Guadalajara Bound, Finally

I wake up in the Super 8, shower, dress, pack my carry on and head downstairs to the usual "breakfast included" breakfast. The eggs are cold, the rolls are frozen, the yogurt is o.k., it's kind of hard to screw that up. I am instantly convinced that the other diners voted for Trump, they also talk funny. Southerners sometimes have a graceful drawl, Texans twang like an out of tune guitar. As we ride together in the airport shuttle I discover, to my horror, that this loud, twangy group are on my flight. Fortunately the flight is only half full so I only need to deal with the obese, unkempt men, one wearing the worst, most unconvincing toupee I think I have ever seen and women with hard hat hard hair in the shuttle.

The flight is uneventful, 2 hours pass quickly, due in large part to the games you can play on the screen mounted on the seat in front of you. Immigration and customs are a fairly rapid affair and at around 4 I am dropped off at the guesthouse, a mere 20 hours after my initial, expected arrival time.

The owner of the establishment provides me with volumes of information in a record amount of time. The guesthouse is a hacienda, built around 1880, the rooms situated around a courtyard. A lovely fountain, water jets out of ceramic faces set in the wall into a pool below, graces the ground floor. Mexican tile trim, traditional Mexican furnishings and painted ceilings give the building a historic, which it is, charming, south of the border feel. Large terra cotta jars grace the public areas. Glass plates with swirls of color, produced locally, decorate the walls. Plants in colorful pots line the second floor railing and sit on shelves set in among the faces of the fountain. In my room the ceiling is painted to look like a blue sky full of wispy, white clouds. A large set of french doors with multi colored panes, which look out on the courtyard below, takes up much of one wall. Reproduction light fixtures provide illumination. The colorful sink and accessories are also traditional, superb examples of Mexican craftsmanship and locally sourced. The attention to detail is impressive. I unpack and begin to plan my activities during my visit.

Guadalajara 2019 - Rambling Thoughts While Air Borne

There are thoughts and experiences that are common and reoccurring to me during plane travel. Inside the cramped confines of today's "airbus" concept you taxi away from the gate at a speed approaching the crawl of a car trapped in a rush hour commute. Then the giant metal tube you sit within gains speed and somehow, although it has been explained to me I still do not fully understand it, leaves the ground and flies. Clouds take on the appearance of soft snowdrifts. Sunsets, which when viewed from the ground fill the sky, are seen as thin bright ribbons of color. When flying at night you see clusters of light, varying in sizes, which are cities and town. The illuminated grids become fainter and fainter as they ripple out to suburbs, exburbs and then dark rural blackness. Air pressure changes, your ears "pop'.

Of course the class system still exists. There is the upper crust, first class, with their more commodious seats and pampered service. Not to mention the drawn curtain that exists to separate "us" from "them". Us, the great unwashed, families, budget minded tourists and business travelers not yet high enough on the food chain to sit in front of the curtain with the titans. They dream of the day when they will be able to travel two abreast instead of three.

And me, holding my left elbow close to my body as I write in my southpaw script, trying, often in vain, to not bump the person seated next to me as I set rambling thoughts to paper.

Guadalajara 2019 - A Night in a Dallas Airport Super 8 Hotel or I'm Trying to Get to Mexico and This is as Far as I Got

I struggled with my bags through 3 inches of fresh snow to get to the airport. I checked the flight when I woke up, I checked the flight before I left the house, despite the weather the flight was still scheduled to leave on time. I received an email during the bus ride to the airport, the flight was delayed by 50 minutes threatening my chances of making my connecting flight in Dallas. I conferred with the helpful woman at the desk when I arrived at O'hare. After looking at alternatives we realized due to the brutal weather conditions that had settled over Chicago my best bet was to get to Dallas, hope I could connect and if not figure it out from there. While we were talking the flight was delayed another 20 minutes making the connection virtually impossible.  By the time I got to the gate the plane, originally scheduled to depart at 1:10 was now leaving at 2:45. I received an email at the gate informing me that the airline had rebooked me on a flight out of Dallas the following morning. A helpful gate agent printed the new boarding pass for me. I phoned the guesthouse in Guadalajara letting them know that instead of checking in that evening I would not be getting there till the following afternoon. Back to the gate, the flight was now delayed till 4. I got on my phone and perused hotels in the Dallas airport area. I settled on a Super 8 with an affordable price and a shuttle to and from the airport.

I read, my husband had picked up a promotional copy of a novel I had tossed in my bag at the last minute, it is not bad sci fi. I write, I eat half of one of the sandwiches my husband had thoughtfully prepared for me. I discretely check out the short, muscular guy sitting across from me wondering how he got his large thighs into the skin tight jeans he is wearing. I wonder how he is managing to sit down in them. Later I discover he is a rather affable sort, we exchange light conversation as we are both in the predicament of having to check our carry ons at the gate rather than carry them on.

They announced that the plane is en route to O'hare. It arrives, we board and we sit another 45 minutes. The captain comes over the intercom system explaining that the extreme cold is making the deicing of the plane problematic. Around 5 we are finally  in the air. 

I look at my fellow passengers. I notice that a majority of them appear to be one time defensive football linemen gone to seed. I notice that 2 of the largest ones are seated next to me making the already cramped conditions of the plane even worse.

Finally we arrive in Dallas. I check on my bag which is spending the night at the airport to be put on the plane in the morning. The baggage agent refers to it as "the bag that is going to Mexico". My bag has a title. The van picks me up and I am deposited at the door of a faceless concrete structure, my home for the night. I check in, assist a tiny woman on to the elevator who is attempting to maneuver a bag as large as herself and take a look around my no frills room. I check the bed for bedbugs, a ritual I have become accustomed to in our post DDT world. There was a nice body creme in the room which I used after my shower in the morning. My toiletries, except for my toothbrush and toothpaste, were spending the night at the airport with my bag.

The room is a bit chilly. The view is of the almost identical motel which sits across the parking lot. The breakfast, included with the room, is mediocre but edible. The water pressure in the shower is not great and the mineral laden Texas water has been softened giving it that unsettling silk like feel. All that being said it was cheap and beat the alternative of sleeping propped up in a chair at the airport.

I felt a certain sense of pride in my resourcefulness and resiliency. Keeping my cool and utilizing only my phone I managed to stitch together a plan to keep a roof over my head and eventually make it to my destination despite the obstacles thrown in my path. My younger self might have crumpled and had a meltdown during the arduous process, but, I kept a steely reserve and made it though. With my age comes a realization that life sometimes creates hills which, once ascended, leave you stronger as you go down the other side of them.