Jim & Loraine's Trip To France 2012

A Christmas Story

2012-12-24T12:18:00.000-05:00

Before we go over to my sister’s for the annual Koski family Christmas Eve Celebration of Noise, Loraine and I have a stop we make. And even though there’s a foot of snow on the ground, at least this year, it’s a stop we have to make, because for us, it’s a tradition.

Let me explain a little more--every Christmas Eve, we make a stop at Park Cemetery. Buried there is a young man named Leo Robinson.

Leo was born in Marquette in 1925, and grew up in Sundell, eventually graduating from (what was then) Eben High School. Like many men of that era, he was asked to join the U.S. Army, and in 1944, was assigned to the 705th Tank Destroyer battalion. His unit was in Belgium in December of that year, and when the Germans launched what became to be known as “The Battle of The Bulge”, Leo was in the thick of it. You see, he was in Bastogne, Belgium, ground zero for that famous battle.

Although Army records are sketchy from those few weeks, we’ve been able to determine that Leo received a leg wound a couple of days before Christmas. It wasn’t serious, but he was evacuated to a makeshift hospital in Bastogne for treatment. Now, if you’ve ever watched the TV show “Band of Brothers”, you know what hospital I’m talking about. It was a set up in a church basement, where a Belgian nurse named Renee LeMaire did her best to help treat hundreds of wounded Allied soldiers brought in, soldiers like Leo Robinson. If you’ve watched “Band Of Brothers”, you also know what happened to that makeshift hospital. It was hit by a German bomb, killing the young nurse, other local residents, and 30 Allied soldiers.

Leo Robinson was one of those 30. He survived his leg wound, only to die when the hospital in which he was recovering was destroyed.

When he died on Christmas Eve 1944, Leo Robinson was 19 years old. He was never able to start any holiday traditions of his own. That’s why every December 24th, Loraine and I stop by and bring him a flower or two, before we head over to our traditional family gathering.

As far as traditions go, it’s the least we can do.

We're Back!!

2012-09-09T18:54:00.003-04:00

SUNDAY, 9/9:

The clouds finally broke just as we flew over Lake Superior and just as U2’s “A Sort of Homecoming” popped up on my iPod’s shuffle.

Coincidence or not? You hafta wonder. . .

Greetings from Chicago, where we’re waiting four hours for a flight to Marquette after spending the last 9 hours flying from Paris. I always like the flight back to the U.S., if only because I get the window seat and get to spend most of the time staring out at the window, satisfying my inner geography nerd. Unfortunately, the clouds started as we were over England today and with one exception stayed until, like I said, we flew over Lake Superior.

Bummer. But I do have to marvel at the timing of their departure.

The one time the clouds DID break, though, we were right over Greenland, which means I got to spend 20 minutes studying the topography of glaciers and ice sheets from 35,000 feet. It was actually quite neat; I got to see how glaciers move like rivers (only, of course, at a glacial pace) and I was also able to observe how they create icebergs when they finally start to melt after reaching open water.

See? Geography nerd!

Other than that the day’s been mostly uneventful. We did have one interesting moment when everyone in our terminal was stopped in their tracks at Charles de Gaulle airport. We were told to wait in line, heard an explosion a few minutes later, and then were told to go on our way. As it turns out, whenever they find a piece of luggage just sitting unattended, they blow it up. No, really. They put it in a little bomb box and detonate it, blowing up any potential explosives and, of course, everything else in the luggage.

Oh, and they also fine you 450 Euro if they figure out to whom the bag belonged. So don’t leave your luggage unattended in Paris!

Okay. I said yesterday that I had a few pictures I haven’t posted that I wanted to. You ready?

This is how they deliver mail in cities in France—

Here’s the newest restaurant in Bayeux—

Restaurants all over the place are starting to cater at American and British tourists, in fact. Here’s one right outside of Carentan=--

This is the view from the church at La Pernelle, which sits several hundred meters above everything else, including the coast—

Here’s the car, an Opel, we drove for 2,260 kilometers—

And finally, here are two flower shots, one from Avranches—

and one from Bayeux—

As always, Loraine and I thank you for following along, and hope you enjoyed it. We also hope you’ll join us in a mere 51 weeks as we join the legendary Tony the Tour Guide to ramble around eastern & southern Germany, with a side trip to Poland. Make sure your virtual passport is up to date by then!

(jim@wmqt.com)

Bye Bye, Bayeux

2012-09-08T13:26:00.002-04:00

SATURDAY, 9/8:

I’m glad to see Mr. Attard is still around.

I do not know Bayeux resident Robert Attard. I wouldn’t know him if I saw him in the street, and I certainly could not tell him apart from any other Jean, Francois, or Henri I’d come across. However, every time we go to Bayeux, I look to see if he’s around. You see, Robert Attard lives just a few doors down from our hotel. The first time we were in Bayeux in 2004 we were walking down the street when we came across Mr. Attard’s name, which I noticed because of his address on the Rue St. Patrice—

Yes, I know, I’m a dork. But anyway, every time we’ve come back to Bayeux and take our first walk down the street, I always look at see if Mr. Attard is still living at 107 Rue St. Patrice. I’ve thought of leaving him a business card or sending him a letter explaining why I look at his mailbox every time we visit, but some people think I’m strange enough as it is.

So I’ll leave it at that.

I’m writing this from the Paris suburb of Roissy-en-France. We spent one last Saturday morning in Bayeux, where we went to the market and I picked up breakfast—

Loraine managed to make one last animal friend—

And I managed to take one last beauty shot of the city—

We then left and made the three hour drive through Paris to Charles de Gaulle airport, where we dropped off the rental car without a scratch (well, with nine or ten scratches, but they were all on there—and noted by Avis—before we picked it up). We then hopped on the hotel shuttle bus to Roissy, which is why I am writing from here!!

Roissy-en-France is a unique place. While it’s several hundred years old, the only reason it exists today is because of 5,000-some hotel rooms that ring the city (including, I might add, the one I’m writing this in). Because of the complexity of international travel, a lot of people find themselves needing a place to stay close to the airport in order to catch an early morning flight (we among them). And Roissy, just a few kilometers from the airport, fits that bill to a “T”. They seem to embrace their place in the world, too. They know that most people who visit are just here for a few hours, and so they always have this big photo display in their public gardens, which gives visitors a chance to enjoy (while jets fly overhead) a little fresh air, a lot of plants, and some very interesting photo displays—

That’s one of the works from this year’s exhibitions, celebrating women of the world. They change it up every year; my personal favorite was in 2009, when they had 80 aerial photographs of French landmarks blown up to the billboard size you see above.

That was neat.

Seeing as how it was 90 degrees and sunny today, after we dropped off the rental car we spent quite a while just wandering around Roissy. We even managed to catch the tail end of a wedding!

In France, they decorate the car of the bride & groom up with flowers, and then the newlyweds lead a caravan of family and friends throughout the town, honking their horns as often as possible. The happy couple must’ve been a popular couple, as well, as their caravan was quite long and quite loud!

We also spent some of our time looking for a Renault Twingo. Just because of the name it’s our favorite car in France; add to it the fact that it’s small and very eco-friendly and just makes it even better. Well, after seeing hundreds of them all throughout Normandy, the only one we could find here is being used as a delivery car for the local sushi restaurant—

Anyway, that’s what a Twingo looks like!

We leave Paris tomorrow around noon here, get into Chicago around 2 Central time, and then have to spend four or five hours at O’Hare waiting for our flight back to Marquette, where we should land just before 10. If I did my math correctly—which, as we all know, is always a very iffy proposition—that means we’ll have spend approximately 16 hours from the time we head to the airport from the time we land.

Ah, the things you go through for chocolate fresh from the source. (Speaking of chocolate, be sure to read my P.S.)

Since I have the time and the battery power, I’ll try to write another blog from the plane tomorrow and upload it from Chicago. I have a ton of pictures I haven’t used yet, and many (hopefully) interesting things left to share. But for one final time from France. . .

(jim@wmqt.com)

(p.s.—Okay, here’s the chocolate reference. Because Tony the Tour Guide knows us a little too well, the first question he asked when we ran into him yesterday and he saw we were carrying a bag was, of course, “Is that your chocolate?” No, it wasn’t. But before we checked out today we left Tony a little “gift” at the front desk. We hope it was yummy!)

C'est Le Monde Petit

2012-09-07T14:54:00.000-04:00

FRIDAY, 9/7:

You will never ever ever ever convince me that this is not a small world.

Ever.

Our last full day in Normandy took us once again from one side of the region to the other. We started the day by driving to what’s known as the Suisse Normande; basically, it’s a park-like region of the area that some people say resembles the Swiss Alps. And while the hills are nowhere near as big as the Alps, it was a pretty area, and we did get to drive on a narrow road with rock walls towering 20 or so meters over us.

You don’t get to do that every day.

While there we stopped at a 13^th century church/graveyard in the town of St. Benin because it provided an overlook of the area. The overlook was okay; the headstones in the cemetery, though, were something else—

I don’t know if there was someone in the area who specialized in those types of headstones, but they were everywhere you looked. It was kinda beautiful and kinda creepy at the same time. I kept expecting Tim Burton and/or Johnny Depp to pop out and surprise us.

From there we went to the edge of France. In fact, we went as far as you can go without falling off. Now, that’s not really saying much; there are many areas of France where you can only go so far before you fall off. But Loraine noticed on her roadmap a point of land called Pointe de Brèvands that allowed vehicular access, so we drove up, got out of out car, walked a few feet, and came to the edge of France—

I know; kinda anti-climatic, isn’t it? But if you kept going the next land you’d set foot on is the southern shore of Great Britain, so in a way, we really did go to the edge of France.

After a few more stops we headed back to Bayeux one last time and spent a while just wandering around. In fact, that’s where your Bayeux beauty shot of the day comes from—

If you’ve been following along with these trip ramblings over the years you may remember that the cathedral in Bayeux was built starting in 1077 to commemorate William the Conqueror’s conquering of England. It’s a huge building; in fact, you can see the steeples while driving on the coast seven miles away from here. I was just at the right angle to get it all in one shot; there are very few places around here where you can do that.

Oh, we also went to Bayeux’s public gardens, where your flower shot of the day comes from—

There’s also a huge tree in the middle of the gardens that was named “France’s Stately Tree of 2001”. Yes, they give out awards like that over here; no, I don’t know why. Anyway, the tree, a weeping beech, has gotten so large that they actually have to use cables to hold the branches up, lest the tree collapse under its own weight like a deflated meringue. Can you see the cables?

Now, onto the business of how you’ll never convince me it’s not a small world. When we were walking back to our hotel after cruising the streets of Bayeux we noticed a bus parked in the lot. There have been a lot of tour buses here in the week we’ve been around. We’ve seen buses from Holland, buses from Italy, buses from Germany, buses from Great Britain, and even a bus from Sweden. As has become our habit, we walked over to the bus to see from which country it came. That’s when the door opened, and that’s when our friend Tony Cisneros—the gentleman we refer to as “Tony The Tour Guide” in these blogs—stepped out to greet us. You may remember Tony; he was our guide last year in Belgium and Germany, and he’ll guide us again next year when we return to Germany. Tony has a tour group he’s taking around battle areas, and they just happen to be in Normandy the same time we are. In fact, he’s been reading these every day (thanks, Tony!) and wondering if he’d come across us.

Well, he can wonder no more. And just so the whole world knows the planet is indeed a very small place—

From left to right is Loraine, Tony, and some dork who snuck in the shot. Afterwards Loraine and I could not stop marveling—nor stop laughing—at the random coincidence of it all. It’s a small small small small world, people. The more you see of it, the more you’re convinced of that fact. Oh, and don’t forget—Tony’s company is called Alpventures, and you can check it out at www.alpventures.com.

Tomorrow’s both a happy & sad day; happy because we get to go to Market Day again here in Bayeux, and sad because we have to leave Bayeux, drive back to Paris, drop off the rental car, and spend a night in Roissy before flying back to Marquette on Sunday. I can’t believe the time has gone by so quickly; it seems like we just got here yesterday, instead of a week ago. Sigh. . .

That’s it until tomorrow. I now have to go see if all the chocolate and cereal I bought fits into my suitcase. If not, I may be throwing some clothes out. And yes, I’m serious about that. You actually think I wouldn’t be?

8-)

(jim@wmqt.com)

On a Clear Day You Can See Mont St. Michel

2012-09-06T16:03:00.000-04:00

THURSDAY, 9/6:

We bought, ripped apart, and ate a pig for breakfast this morning.

No; we really did, and I have a picture to prove it which I’ll show you in a little bit. But seeing as how it was sunny and 75 today, we took a road trip and visited the town of Avranches, which now rivals Bayeux as our favorite place in Normandy. Yes, I know it’s shocking that we could have a place we like as much as Bayeux, but Avranches is it. In fact, I think it would make a good sister city for Marquette. It has a lot of hills, a hospital, a ton of bike riders, some magnificent churches, and flowers everywhere. In fact if there’s one thing Avranches loves, it’s flowers.

Well, flowers, and George Patton.

They have a HUGE memorial to General Patton right in the center of the city. In fact, it’s called Patton Plaza, and I’ve joked before that the 52-foot monument was based on the size of Patton’s legendary ego. But like I said, they love George Patton in Avranches. Don’t believe me?

That’s a bust of Patton (in the plaza) with the Patton Boulangerie (bakery) right behind it. What you can’t see is that next to the Boulangerie is the Patton Pizzeria, and across the street from it is the Patton Hotel. And no, I’m not making that up. I couldn’t make it up if I wanted to!

Like Bayeux, Avranches has one main street on which most of the businesses sit. Unlike Bayeux, it has the remnants of a 1,000 year old castle (Avranches being founded by some dude named D’Avranches, who helped William the Conqueror conquer England in 1066), as well as an incredible public garden that overlooks the Mont Saint Michel, France’s biggest tourist attraction. From the public garden, in fact, comes today’s flower picture!

See the butterfly on the flower? There are a zillion of them in Avranches, including this one that Loraine coaxed onto her hand—

She had better luck with the butterfly than yesterday’s horses!

Anyway, Avranches is a very cool place, and if it ever does become Marquette’s French sister city, I volunteer right now to become the city’s official ambassador. You don’t even need to twist my arm.

After Avranches we scooted a little south to visit another German war cemetery. This one is the only war cemetery I’ve ever seen that has crypts instead of graves (almost 12,000 of them, in fact), and it has an even better view of Mont Saint Michel than you get from Avranches’ public gardens—

We then made our way back to Bayeux via 100 kilometers of winding roads and up & down hills that were not only fun to drive but offered breathtaking views everywhere you looked. So for those of you who doubted we could actually take a “vacation”, guess what? We’re actually on vacation!

Now, back to the pig. Yes, we did buy, butcher, and eat a pig for breakfast. Would you like to see it?

The bakers here in Bayeux do wonderful things with marzipan, and this pig is no exception. Its body is actually made of a cake topped with a thick chocolate cream, which is then covered with a pink marzipan body, ears and curly little tail. It tasted as good as it looked; so good, in fact, that we went back down to the bakery after we returned from Avranches to purchase another. Sadly, though, they were sold out.

Guess we weren’t the only ones craving le cochon today.

It’s kind of hard to fathom, but tomorrow’s our last full day in Bayeux. I can’t believe we flew out from Marquette a week ago, nor can I believe that we’ve seen almost every single thing we’ve wanted to see (and then some). Tomorrow, we’re revisiting some old haunts, and might check out a river and the forests around it. So until then. . .

(jim@wmqt.com), future ambassador to Avranches, Manche, France.

Swinging Dead Cats

2012-09-05T14:17:00.000-04:00

WEDNESDAY, 9/5:

Loraine and I made a new friend today.

More on that in a bit. Today was the day we were thinking about hanging around Bayeux for part of the day, just to see how the locals live. There is a second market day here on Wednesdays, and we thought we’d head down there, check things out, and see what else there was to see during a typical Wednesday.

Unfortunately, this morning WAS typical for Bayeux, in that fog from the Channel drifted in and covered everything with a steady mist. Not only that, but the Wednesday market wasn’t anything like the big Saturday one we so love. It was filled mostly with second-hand junk dealers smoking non-stop, so we instead high-tailed it to a couple of grocery stores and did what we do best—buy chocolate:

Don’t worry; I didn’t buy this all today, and it’s not all for me. In fact, a big chunk of it is going out as gifts to family and friends. But since we talk about chocolate (and buying it) so much, I figured you might like to see what a typical haul looks like.

By noon the mist finally cleared and the sun came out, so we did one of the things on our “typical day” list. We grabbed a very yummy sliced-tomato and gooey cheese baguette (sandwich) from a local shop and strolled along the Bayeux River Walk—

The Aure River runs through Bayeux (it’s the one that’s been featured in a couple of the beauty shots I’ve posted of the town) and for a couple of kilometers there’s a trail along it that you can follow. And that’s what we did today, all while munching on a delectable sandwich.

Life can be good at times, you know?

After the river walk we decided to head out of town for a little while, lest I get rusty at driving (and it’s a pity sarcasm doesn’t travel well in the written form, isn’t it?) We were trying to make our way to a forest to do a little hiking when we found ourselves taking a wrong turn. Don’t worry; that happens on occasion, and usually when it occurs, so does something kinda cool, like today, when we were breezing down the wrong road, noticed all kinds of very tall trees, and something else, as well.

We often joke that you can’t swing a dead cat in Normandy without running into a World War II monument, and we were proven correct again on that wrong road when we came across a monument we knew nothing about, a monument to an infantry company that lost 33 men (10 killed and 23 wounded) while trying to cross the presently itty, bitty Elle River on June 12^{th, 1944}. The whole affair is new to Loraine, so it’ll give her something to research when we get home. And right next to the monument was our new friend—

There were actually four horses in the field next to the monument; this was the most curious of the quartet, I guess. Being a horse freak since she was a little girl, Loraine knew how to get the horse’s attention—

The funny thing about this? The horse wouldn’t take one blade of grass from Loraine, the life-long horse lover. Yet it would take handfuls from me, who knows nothing at all about horses. Old men in Normandy like Loraine; I guess Norman horses like me.

Speaking of that World War II monument, here’s today’s flower shot—

One of the things we’ve noticed on all of our trips is that each and every memorial, no matter how insignificant or how out of the way, always has fresh flowers on it or growing next to it. It’s a very nice thing, and something the people who live around here take very seriously. And speaking of fresh flowers, the roses Loraine was given by Mr. Renaud yesterday are still in our hotel room, and making it smell a lot less like a hotel room than usual.

Tomorrow, we hope to buy a pig. But until then. . .

(jim@wmqt.com)

A Few of My Favorite Things

2012-09-04T16:08:00.000-04:00

TUESDAY, 9/4:

People who know me (or who’ve been reading my daily blogs for a long time) know that three of my favorite things in the world are eating chocolate, walking on a beach, and hanging out with Loraine.

Guess who got to do all three of those things at the same time today?

Today was a fantastic day, the kind of day you hope for when you’re going on a “vacation” as opposed to a “trip”. After a couple of stops at grocery stores in two different areas, we took some of the chocolate and fulfilled a long sought dream of ours—we walked Omaha Beach—

The tide was out, the sun was (mostly) out, and we hopped out of our car at St. Laurent-sur-Mer for a little stroll down the sand, where we saw people sunbathing, people fishing, a lot of seaweed, a couple of interesting dead things, and this—

Now, it may just seem like a Mylar balloon to you, but it has “It’s a Boy” written on it in English, and since they don’t speak English in France, you have to assume that it actually floated here from England itself, about 20 miles away across the Channel. If it was originally filled with helium I suppose it could’ve gotten away from a new parent, someone who was probably concerned about holding something a little more valuable than a balloon, and then made its way via air and/or tide to France. It just struck me as a little. . .out of the ordinary to find a Mylar balloon—in English—on a French beach.

Right down the shoreline from Omaha Beach is a town called Arromanches, where right after the D-Day invasions they built a temporary harbor that was supposed to last for nine months. Guess what you can still see out in the water 68 years later?

Of course, we shouldn’t be too surprised that it’s lasted this long. One of its designers all those years ago was a Michigan Tech grad!

After our beach walk, we had to go meet a guy, and it was, simply, amazing. Henri-Jean Renaud was the son of the mayor of Ste. Mere Eglise during the war. He was 10 years old when the Germans invaded, and he shared with Loraine (and her geeky sidekick) all kinds of stories of what it was like living under occupation, as well as what it was like being liberated by the Allies four years later. Because there was a temporary American cemetery in the town during the war, and because of her position as wife of the mayor, his mother found herself the recipient of hundreds of letters from mothers of American boys who had been buried in the town. She took it upon herself to take pictures of their sons’ graves, along with pictures of the towns where they died, to send back to the grieving mothers, and she saved every letter of gratitude sent her way, letters her son still has. Not only that, but an employee of his father’s, who developed film shot by the invading Germans, kept a copy of every one of those pictures for himself, pictures Mr. Renaud ended up with, so we were able to see some really... interesting photos from that collection, as well.

All in all, it was a fascinating way to spend part of the afternoon. And Mr. Renaud must have taken quite a shine to my favorite World War II detective, because as we were leaving, he ran back to one of his rose bushes, and presented Loraine with several freshly-cut blooms, which leads to our flower picture for today—

Old guys dig my wife. . .what can I say?

Other than that, we just enjoyed ourselves today, capping it off with our traditional date night in Europe. The first time we came over here, we went out to dinner at an Italian restaurant, and no matter how busy we’ve been on subsequent trips, we’ve always made time for a dinner at an Italian restaurant. Tonight’s was at Il Bellagio here in Bayeux, where I had an incredibly delicious four cheese pizza. Two of the cheeses on the pizza were especially yummy, the Bleu and the Chevre, which in case you don’t know is goat cheese.

Oh, don’t look at me like that. Have you tried goat cheese on pizza yet? It’s delicious!

I almost feel guilty, because I only took 56 pictures today, but I was kinda busy having fun and didn’t get a chance to shoot a lot, so I hope you’ll forgive me. I did, however, take another Bayeux beauty shot—

This one, believe it or not, is actually the backside of the beauty shot from last night. I really don’t think you can take a bad picture in Bayeux. I really don’t.

Speaking of Bayeux, we’re gonna hang around here for part of the day tomorrow and just enjoy our “home”. More details then!

(jim@wmqt.com)

Why Yes, That WAS a Viking Ship We Saw Today!

2012-09-03T14:53:00.000-04:00

MONDAY, 9/3:

My streak of good fortune is still alive.

Back before we came to Europe in 2008 I bought a little umbrella to stick in my backpack, just in case it ever needed to get used. Luckily, I’ve never had to use it, and it’s been sitting quietly all these years in the plastic case in which I purchased it. This morning, though, we woke up to clouds and a fine mist raining down on everything, and by the time we got to our first stop, I was worried that I’d actually have to use the umbrella. Luckily, though, Mother Nature remembered we had pre-ordered nice weather and got rid of the clouds and the mist, giving us breaks of sun throughout the rest of the day.

Thanks, Mother Nature!

Our journeys in the mist brought us this morning to several beaches of which you may have heard, where we saw some strange things, including this—

Harness racing is huge around here, and the drivers of the sulkies like to train their horses on local beaches, which is what they were doing here. The beach, if you’re curious, is Omaha Beach. In fact, they’re riding their sulkies on the beach at Vierville-sur-Mer, which is the same beach on which the fictional characters in “Saving Private Ryan” were landing. Near there is a place called Pointe du Hoc, where another famous D-Day battle took place. The thing about Pointe du Hoc is that the French government has left it in the exact same shape the Allies did after doing battle—

Those holes you see everywhere? Those are bomb craters from U.S. Navy bombardment of the German gun emplacements that you now see as those big chunks of concrete everywhere. I don’t know about you, but war seems like a mighty fine waste of natural resources to me.

We also headed up the road to Utah Beach, the other American landing beach, where we saw something else that was kinda curious—

In case you can’t quite make it out, that’s a replica Viking ship that sails out of the nearby city of Cherbourg, bringing tourists around to the area where Vikings actually landed and marauded back in the 800s. It was weird; while driving up the coast I saw what I thought was a Viking boat, and stopped to take a picture. Then at the tourist information office in another town, we happened across a pamphlet that told about the tours. I guess you never know what you’re gonna see in France!

You know how we’ve been stopping at a lot of cemeteries around here? Well, today we stopped at a German war cemetery in Orglandes, where over 10,000 people are buried. You see a lot of graves there like this—

That translates to “three unknown German soldiers”, all buried in one mass grave. While we were walking around the cemetery, I was struck by a couple of things. The first was that most of the people buried in the cemetery weren’t your hard-core, evil, genocidal and maniacal Nazis. They were just ordinary German citizens who had either been drafted or coerced (or both) into fighting for their country. What shocked me walking around the cemetery was the number of kids buried there who hadn’t even reached their 18^th birthday. I don’t know if this is true, but someone once told me that half of all German men between the ages or 15 and 40 were killed in World War II, that HALF of an entire generation died for nothing, died for an insane madman with warped dreams of conquering a planet.

When we were in the Normandy American Cemetery yesterday, we overheard a kid no older than eight ask a very perceptive question of one of his parents. He simply said, “Dad, why did the Germans want everything?” I hope his dad explained that it wasn’t all Germans who wanted everything, especially those Germans buried in a place like Orglandes.

Okay, enough with the depressing stuff. Here’s today’s flower to cleanse your palette—

This was on a bush in the pretty little town of Isigny-sur-Mer, a place that makes butter and cream known around France. And that leads us into today’s edition of “Food From France”!

(And Jamie LaFreniere, you may want to look away now).

We often tell people about the breakfasts you get here in Europe. For Europeans, breakfast is the most important meal of the day, and hotels always have a great buffet-type spread out ready & waiting for you. Here’s mine from today—

The butter I put on the crepes, by the way? From Isigny!

One of the reasons we stopped at Vierville-sur-Mer was because today was their market day, but as we quickly found out, their market day is nothing like Bayeux’s. Where Bayeux’s market consists of over 100 people selling everything from fresh produce to live rabbits to “Ahh Bras”, Vierville’s consisted of, uhm, one lady selling peaches and apples.

Not quite the same, if you know what I mean.

We did pick up a lot of produce today, though. That’s another of the cool things about France: because farming is so big, and because the government encourages healthy eating, fresh fruits and vegetables are incredibly cheap. Loraine bought two big, red, juicy tomatoes for 50 cents, while I picked up a huge honkin’ carrot for 15 cents. And that’s not even mentioning the white peaches and white nectarines we also inhaled!

Finally (and Jame, this is where you need to look away), we found another one of our Holy Grails today. Back in 2009 we happened across the best chocolate tarts we’ve ever tried (and trust me, we’ve tried a few). They’re rich, creamy, dark chocolate (made with cream from Isigny!) in a buttery shell with just a hint of anise in it. In all our subsequent trips, we’ve never come across them again. But guess what we found at a Super U?

The ironic thing, of course, is that we also saw them at the next Super U we came across an hour later. Three years without seeing them, and we come across them twice in one day. I guess that means we’ll be trying them again before we leave!

Tomorrow, we have to go see a guy about a thing. Details on that then.

(jim@wmqt.com)

Of Cheese and "Pancakes"

2012-09-02T14:38:00.000-04:00

SUNDAY, 9/2:

Five cemeteries in a day. For the Koskis, that may be a new world record!

Even when we’re home, we seem to spend a little time on an average Sunday walking through a cemetery, even if it’s just to enjoy the beauty of Park Cemetery in Marquette. So I guess this Sunday was no different, except we spent a large chunk of the day driving around Normandy visiting one civilian and four military cemeteries, cemeteries representing four different countries. The civilian cemetery here in Bayeux was actually the final stop. Our first was at a Canadian military cemetery in a town called Cintheaux—

It’s really a pretty place, home to the final resting places of 3,000 of our North American neighbors. It was empty the entire time we were there, although it obviously gets visitors from time to time--

Following that we scooted a couple of kilometers down the road to the town of Urville-Langannerie, where over 600 Polish soldiers were laid to rest following World War II—

The crosses are made out of concrete, if you’re curious (and I know you are). In case you’re wondering why there’s a Polish military cemetery in the middle of France, a large chunk of the Polish Army escaped from their country after the Nazis invaded in 1939. They ended up reforming in Britain, where units of their army joined Allied forces invading Europe. They were particularly effective in closing what was known as the Falaise Gap, where they joined forces with Canadian troops to prevent a German counter-attack back toward the Normandy beaches. And since the cemetery is located not far from Falaise; well, that’s why there’s over 600 Polish soldiers buried there.

That’s your World War II history lesson for the day.

We also made stops at another Canadian cemetery, this one in Beny-sur-Mer/Reviers, where 2,000 Canadians who died right around D-Day were buried. And, of course, we also made a stop at the Normandy American cemetery, where we said “hey” to several soldiers from the Marquette area who are buried there—William Richards of Ishpeming, Harry Smith of Negaunee, and Roy Chipman and Roy Smith of Marquette. The drive between the final two cemeteries was quite picturesque; you’d drive around a corner or up a hill and see something like this—

By the way, I wish you could have smelled what we smelled while taking the picture. What you can’t see is that I’m taking the picture while standing on a dirt road between two freshly tilled farm fields that had just been covered with manure.

The things we go through to get a good picture for you guys!!

I notice I haven’t posted any pictures of flowers yet, and since I know a few of you really enjoy those, here’s something from the Beny-sur-Mer Canadian cemetery—

Those of you who’ve been following along on these trips for the past few years may remember that when we were in Bayeux in 2009 we tried to go out to eat at an Indian restaurant, only to find out that it had been closed due to a gas explosion. You may also remember that a year later, in 2010, nothing had really been done to the building. Well, you may be happy to know that another two years have passed, and I’m able to report that in 2012, not much has changed--

I notice they have made a little progress, though, in that the bottom floor of the building has been boarded up, with a building permit posted on it. If that’s taken three years, I’m guessing they just don’t want to rush into anything. And if anyone wants to start a pool on which year the building is finally repaired, put me down for 2021, please!

Finally, here’s your Bayeux beauty shot for the day—

That’s all for tonight. While you guys are enjoying your Labor Day tomorrow, we’ll be hard at “work”. We’ll probably visit another town’s farmer’s market, plus we may make an attempt to climb up a really, really, really big hill. We’ll let you know how that goes.

(jim@wmqt.com)

(p.s.--if you're curious as to what the title of this blog means, there were two other American couples at breakfast in our hotel this morning, one of whom complained the French eat too much cheese, and the other of whom kept calling crepes "pancakes". Sigh... Speaking of our breakfasts, I'll share the details tomorrow!)

Deux Rochers et Le Chat

2012-09-01T14:37:00.000-04:00

SATURDAY, 9/1:

It’s nice to know the town does exist. It’s even nicer to know that we actually found it three years ago without realizing it.

First things first, though. Saturday here in Bayeux is Market Day, a day so cool that we arranged our trip so we could spend not one but two Saturdays heading down the Rue St. Patrice to look at the food, the animals, the various “stuff” you can buy, and, of course, the people. Market Day here is kind of like a combination of the Saturday farmer’s market in Marquette mixed with the biggest rummage sale in the world. They take a whole city square, fill it with almost 100 stalls manned by both farmers and junk dealers, and then add hundreds of live chickens, ducklings, and rabbits, all for sale and all (humans included) making as much noise as they possibly can.

It’s paradise in Bayeux. It really is!

I have a tradition when we go to market days anywhere in Europe. Since we’re always here at the end of the summer, I traditionally buy either a half-pint of raspberries or a half-pint of blackberries and immediately scarf them down. Today’s choice?

I couldn’t help myself. Loraine said they were calling to me, and I couldn’t let those calls go unheeded, could I?

Of course, the raspberries weren’t the best thing we ate today. That would have to go to something we saw in one of the local bakeries—

That is a Rocher Grand Marnier. I don’t quite know how to describe it, but the inside is kind of like a soft sea foam candy sitting on top of a meringue base, covered with a mix of chocolate, crushed hazelnuts, and Grand Marnier liqueur. Both Loraine and I fell in love on first sight. But then I guess we’re kind of easy that way.

What else did we do today? Well, we took a little road trip west of here, visiting a couple of (cough cough) grocery stores to pick up the (cough cough) first chocolate of the trip. Among the bars I picked up to try was a dark chocolate bar filled with macadamia nuts and a praline nougat. I haven’t tried it yet, but I’m thinking it’ll be good. Among the bars Loraine picked up was one of her all time favorites, a dark chocolate bar with caramelized pecans. And don’t worry; I don’t think these won’t be the last chocolate bars we buy. I have a feeling we’ll be picking up one or two more.

We visited a couple of cemeteries today, as well, one military and a couple civilian. I don’t know if you’re ever seen a local European cemetery, but they’re not the grassy fields we’re used to—

These are more like crypts that sit in the ground, all set in a field of stone. And they’re not just like that here; cemeteries in Belgium and the Netherlands look pretty much the same, as well.

We also went on a little expedition to find the mythical town of La Surellerie an hour or so west of here. It was a town in which Waino Laitinen of Ishpeming was killed in 1944, but a town that doesn’t seem to exist any more. Or so we thought. You see, it’s on our roadmaps, but we’ve never seen a sign that says “La Surellerie” or any official indication at all that the town exists. As it turns out, there actually ISN’T a sign for it, as it’s a collection of 4 or 5 houses on the road to somewhere else. I actually took this picture of it three years ago, while shooting a hill that’s off in the distance.

At the time, I didn’t know the houses in the foreground make up what’s considered the “town” of La Surellerie. Guess you learn something new every day, huh?

Two more things to leave you with—we ate lunch in the municipal parking lot in the very sleepy little town of Le Hommet d’Arthenay, and we made a new friend while doing so—

She just kind of rambled over to see who we were and what we were doing, and decided to stay while we ate. I guess she was just intrigued by the new people in town. Or, in the case of Le Hommet d’Arthenay, the ONLY people in town!

Finally, here’s something very cool about the French. Did you know that in France, if you put something like this on your mailbox—

La Poste, the French postal service, can’t deliver junk mail to your house? If that were the case in the U.S., I have a feeling that I’d never again get any snail mail, and that the U.S. Postal Service would soon be out of business. But just think...no junk mail ever.

Once again, it’s paradise in Bayeux. Speaking of which, here’s another picture of what you can purchase at Market Day—

More cemeteries tomorrow; this time, Canadian and Polish in nature. Plus we scope out more grocery stores. See? For us it really IS a vacation!

(jim@wmqt.com), who noticed that a tour bus from Sweden just pulled up in our hotel parking lot. It replaces the German one that was here last night!

Bienvenue to you

2012-08-31T15:28:00.001-04:00

FRIDAY, 8/31:

I’ve discovered that I can now drive from Charles de Gaulle airport in Paris all the way to Bayeux without ever once looking at a map or using GPS. I guess everyone needs a skill in their life, right? And now I have mine.

Needless to say, we made it here okay. As with any international trip it wasn’t without its hassles and lack of sleep (8 hours total since I woke up Wednesday morning in Marquette, I believe), but aside from spending half an hour in a seemingly endless line to get through passport control in Paris (and then not even getting our passports stamped!) and waiting almost an hour in the world’s slowest ever car rental line, things went disaster free. Well, there was the German truck driver who tried to cut across three lanes of traffic without looking and almost caused four other cars—ours included—to end up pretzeled together, but other than that it was disaster free.

Speaking of Germans, not only is there a German tour group staying at out hotel tonight, but when we spent the day yesterday playing in the sun in downtown Chicago, trying to kill 8 hours between flights, we were in a Treasure Island grocery store and were talking about German chocolates when a man came by. He didn’t say anything, but when we ran into him a few minutes later he asked us—in German--if we were from Germany. Now while both Loraine and I have German blood in us—in her case, almost 100%--we had to disappoint him. Guess we must just have that air about us, or something.

Anyway, we made it to Bayeux mid-afternoon today, and after checking in at our home away from home—the Bayeux Novotel—we beelined down the Rue St, Patrice—

And made a stop at the A la Reine Mathilde Patisserie for a Feuilletine Noir, something we’ve been dreaming about for the 22 months since we were last here—

I don’t know how to describe these, except to maybe say that if dark chocolate, crunchy bits, a creamy filling, and one of the best tastes ever to grace the planet had a love child, it would be a Feuillitine. And I’m thinking it’s a good thing we don’t live in Bayeux; if we did, we’d be eating these every day and weighing about a hundred pounds more than each of us do now. Of course, for a Feuillitine, it might be worth it!

We were also shocked to learn that our favorite Bayeux grocery store has undergone a massive change. They tore down the old and somewhat rustic Super U, and replaced it on the same spot with a new modern U Express—

The best part about it? They’ve expanded their chocolate section. It’s like they knew we were coming over this month, and worked hard to make sure we’d be happy. And I think we are!

Because we didn’t do too much other stuff today, I didn’t get a chance to take pictures of any animals, flowers, strange artwork, or even stranger people. I will leave you with two images, though, the first of which is how each and every pizza place in Bayeux delivers—

And the second of which is the one place other than a grocery store we visited today. That’s the Memorial Des Reporters, which is a memorial that’s been put up to honor reporters and photographers killed in war zones—

Why is Bayeux home to the memorial, you ask? Well, I answer, every year they hold an international conference on the subject of war reporting, so I guess it’s just natural. Every year that add to the list of names, and 2011’s had way too many on them, including Tim Hetherington and Chris Honoros, a reporter and photographer team who worked for everyone from the A.P. and Vanity Fair, and who were killed together last year covering the civil war in Libya.

That’s today; tomorrow, the “vacation” continues with a drive to the west of here, a visit to a cemetery, a climb up a hill, and our third search for a town that doesn’t exist. Except it does, at least according to both maps and legend. More on that tomorrow.

(jim@wmqt.com)

One of the Reasons We Keep Going Back

2012-08-14T15:03:00.000-04:00

Had he lived, he would’ve been 92 years old.

Arthur W. Lemieux was born in Marquette on April 20^th, 1920, to Arthur E. and Jessie Lemieux. He was the second of five children; his dad worked at and later owned the old Marquette Steam Laundry, which sat where the parking lot next to where the former Delft Theater is now located. He went to (but didn’t graduate from) Graveraet High School, and worked as (among other things) a taxi driver until World War II, when he joined the 82^nd Airborne. As part of the 505^th Parachute Infantry Regiment, he made the jump into France the night before the D-Day landings, helping to secure the town of Ste. Mere Eglise. Three days later, June 9^th, he was trying to cross a field near that town when he was shot & killed by a German machine gunner. He was temporarily buried in Ste. Mere Eglise, and his body was brought back to the U.S. in 1949, where he was laid to rest in Park Cemetery.

And that’s where his story ended, at least for the next half century.

Now flash forward to the summer of 2000. A young couple decides to spend a nice afternoon walking through Park Cemetery, and having seen “Saving Private Ryan” several times, the female half of the couple looks around to see if she can find the headstones of anyone who died in World War II. The first grave she finds is that of Arthur W. Lemieux. She does a little research into his story, which has been lying untold for those 50 years, and that starts her on an epic project that, 12 years later, is still an ongoing effort.

You can guess who the young couple was, right?

Arthur W. Lemieux will always have a soft spot in Loraine’s heart; after all, you don’t easily forget someone who changed your life like that. Because of him, she’s spent the last decade (and change) researching not only his story but those of 243 other men & women from Marquette and Alger County who died during the conflict. And because of him, we’ve spent a lot of time in France, traipsing around dirt roads and farm fields, retracing the steps of his final days. Thanks to some very helpful people (especially his squad leader, the very knowledgeable Spencer Wurst), we know what happened to him on his final day. We know the squad left Ste. Mere Eglise with orders to take the Montebourg railway station. They walked past the village of Fresville, and down this dirt road--

Once down the road, they rounded a corner, came upon a stone quarry, and then attempted to cross this farm field--

What they didn’t know was that there was a German machine gun nest nearby with a perfect view of the field. Spencer Wurst tried to cross the field first, and was pinned down by gunfire. Lemieux and a Massachusetts native named Eli Potty tried to attack the machine gun nest, but died in the attempt.

And you know the rest of the story.

I can’t fathom what the past decade and change would’ve been like had we not come across Lemieux’s grave that summer day. We’ve met so many wonderful people, and have gone so many wonderful places, that we felt this pre-trip blog was the least we could do for him. But we also have an ulterior motive for doing it, as well. Lemieux’s parents and siblings are all dead; his parents and brother died in the 1950s, in fact. So while Loraine knows a lot about his final three days on this planet, she doesn’t know a lot about the 23 years that preceded it. She’s been able to gather a few facts from newspapers, but has never been able to get any first-hand accounts of his life before the war.

That’s where this blog comes in.

Almost every single time I’ve written about one of her “guys”, we’ve received an e-mail, often months later, from someone doing a Google search on a long-lost relative or old family friend. Their search turned up that long-lost relative or old family friend’s name in the blog that I wrote, which resulted in them e-mailing me, me forwarding the e-mail to Loraine, and Loraine then making new friends for life. It’s happened many times before, and we’re hoping that, sometime in the future, it happens again for Arthur W. Lemieux.

After all, for someone who’s changed our lives so much in the past decade, it’s the least we can do.

What Goes Through Your Mind The Day After You Get Back

2011-09-06T17:07:00.000-04:00

TUESDAY, 9/6:

Various thoughts from someone who’s still a little dazed and confused (okay, a little more dazed & confused than usual) and trying to adjust back to reality--

1. Thanks for all the kind messages we received upon our return. Many of those messages joked that we brought the cold weather with us, and if we did, please accept my sincerest apologies. It was 90 degrees the last day we were in Europe; I’m thinking the warmth just missed one of the connecting flights to Marquette, probably the one in London, where it was raining. So I hope the cold’s not our fault!

2. When I woke up yesterday morning I went running, and it freaked me out that the first song that popped up on my iPod (which was set on “shuffle”) was a new tune by Simple Plan and Natasha Bedingfield called “Jet Lag”. The reason it freaked me out was that it was stuck in my head the entire time we were flying back home Sunday. I’m thinking the song popping up was a coincidence; if not, I’d like to know how my iPod can read my mind. Is there something Steve Jobs forgot to tell us before he left Apple?

3. We didn’t get a chance to listen to much radio over there, but when we did it was mostly the same old stuff you hear over here—Lady Gaga, Katy Perry, and Pink. There is one thing I hafta mention, though. On the drive from Salzburg to Munich Saturday we were listening to Antenne Bayern, a station that sounds very much like the one at which I work. Announcing that afternoon was a woman who, when reading off song titles, did so in a perfect American accident. Normally, when you hear Europeans speaking fluent English, it’s with a British accent, but not so this particular announcer. It was just one of those moments that makes you sit up in the back seat of a car and do a double take, I guess.

4. The chocolate made it home okay. Want proof?

Sure, I know it looks like a lot, but consider two things. The first is that it’s not all for me; some is for family and friends. The other?

It’s chocolate from Europe! Why wouldn’t I buy a lot????

8-)

5. Finally, here’s a picture that, according to Loraine, is just too good to pass up--

It’s me and Tony the Tour Guide at the Albert Einstein plaque in his home town of Ulm, Germany. In case you wonder WHY we’re doing this, there’s a very famous picture of Dr. Einstein with his tounge hanging out of his mouth. Apparently, it’s a tradition for people to have their picture taken at the plaque with their tongues hanging out, and who are we to flaunt tradition, right?

(jim@wmqt.com)

A Few Final Matters

2011-09-04T18:25:00.001-04:00

SUNDAY, 9/4:

4:15 in the morning comes WAAAAAY too soon, especially when you stop to consider that you won’t get home for another 22 hours.

I guess that’s the downside of international travel; it’s not like this is “Star Trek” and you can beam yourself a quarter of the way around the globe. Nope, you actually have to do some physical travel to get there, and that means getting up early, sitting in several different airports waiting for a few hours to connect flights, and then starting it all over again. By the time we get back home, we’ll have been in three different countries, gone through security screening three different times, and have traveled through 7 different time zones.

Fun, huh? But that’s the price you pay for chocolate fresh from the source, I guess.

As I’m typing this, I’m sitting at Heathrow Airport in London. Or, as I lovingly refer to it, the seething cacophony of humanity. This place is PACKED with all different kinds of people; whoever said the U.S. is a melting pot has obviously never spent any time at Heathrow. But that’s one of the great things about traveling outside of your own country—you get to see how other people from around the planet live their lives and go on about their daily business. I truly think it’s something everyone should do. If nothing else, it opens your eyes and lets you see the planet you live on from many different perspectives.

And it also allows you to eat their chocolate.

Speaking of which, you should feel how heavy my backpack is right now. And for as heavy as it is, it’s quite scary that I have only about half of my chocolate in there; the rest of it is packed in a hard plastic container in my luggage. I have all the soft and valuable stuff with me; I’m taking a chance with the hard bars and the rest of it.

Okay...let’s get away from food and onto a few last things regarding our journey this year. The first of which is this—

I have a problem. And I’ll pause here for a moment while those of you who know me say to yourself “Only ONE problem?” Go ahead...I know you want to!

There. Feels better, doesn’t it?

Anyway, my problem is this—the last five days of our trip was in German speaking territory. I don’t speak any German. So whenever anyone asked me anything in German, and I could kind of figure out what they were asking, I would answer them in my rudimentary French. I don’t know why; I just did it. They would then smile, and perhaps chuckle a bit under their breath, before asking me again in English, because if there’s one thing the German people like to do, it’s test out their English on someone who speaks French with an American accent. Luckily, most of them are quite good at it. But it’s a problem I must really address next time I’m in Germany—

Don’t answer a German question in French, you idiot!

We also need to send out a big round of thanks to the gentleman we’ve referred to throughout these blogs as Tony the Tour Guide. Seriously, if you are EVER looking for someone to show you around Western Europe, WWII history or not, Tony is as good as they get. His real name, by the way is Tony Cisneros, and you get check him out at www.alpventures.com. We can’t recommend him enough.

Okay...I promised a few final pictures, and here they are. One last animal picture—

(And as an aside, it’s a good thing I took this picture in Belgium. If it was France, that snail may have been someone’s dinner!)

One last sign advertising an oom-pah band--

One last bizarre statue--

And one last Alpine beauty shot—

Now if you’re reading this, it means we’ve landed in Chicago okay and are just waiting for our flight back to Marquette. That pretty much does it for this year; hope you’ll be with us next year if our plans work out and we head back to Normandy!

(jim@wmqt.com)

A Backpack Full Of "Danke"s

2011-09-04T18:20:00.000-04:00

SATURDAY, 9/3:

You know your life is taking a surreal turn when you find yourself walking down a dark Austrian alley, trying to find a hole in a wall where an American tank knocked out some bricks while its driver was trying to find a brothel.

In other words, it was a typical day in Europe!

Most of our day today was spent in Salzburg, Austria, where we wanted to visit Market Day (which we did) and find a brothel that Loraine had read about a couple of years ago. There is indeed a story, perhaps apocryphal, about an American tank driver knocking out a wall in search of some female companionship. And while we didn’t find a sign of the hole, we did find the brothel—

Don’t worry, Mom; this isn’t something we NORMALLY do on these trips. What we normally do it see sights like this—

This is the pedestrian street of Old Salzburg, crawling with throngs of people on a typical 90 degree Saturday morning. Because of the warmth, the market seemed even more hectic than usual, but we were still able to eat a fine and healthy lunch—

That’s Loraine with a cinnamon roll pretzel covered in chocolate. And yes, it tasted as good as it sounds.

One of the reasons we like to go to Market Day in Salzburg is because you never know what you’re gonna see. Here’s proof positive about that—

We checked out a wedding—

Searched for the Holy Grail (at least, search for the Holy Grail ala Monty Python)—

Listened to an oom-pah band—

And saw what we believe was a group of Scottish tourists on what appeared to be an early-morning “bier” tour—

At least, that’s the only way we could explain it.

After leaving Salzburg, we headed up here to the outskirts of Munich, where we currently are, but not before making one last stop, the site of the Dachau Concentration Camp—

It’s a pretty powerful place...let’s just leave it at that.

We’re now in the midst of packing to leave VERY early tomorrow. We have to wake up at 10 Saturday night Marquette time; we’ll (hopefully) arrive back home around 8 Sunday night. On the plane tomorrow, I’ll write one more blog, and put up a bunch of pictures we didn’t get around to posting yet. And while I have the chance, I want to thank everyone for all the nice e-mails and comments we’ve received. We’re glad you enjoyed heading around Europe with us!

(jim@wmqt.com)

Strange Souvenirs

2011-09-02T15:38:00.000-04:00

FRIDAY, 9/2:

Last year, Loraine came home from France with airplane parts. This year, she’s going home with parts of Adolph Hitler’s driveway.

We spent the day around the Berchtesgaden, Germany area, an area that Tony the Tour Guide knows like the back of his hand because he spent most of the 90s working here. As a result, we were able to see all kinds of things off the beaten path, things most people aren’t even aware of, including the location of what basically amounted to Hitler’s second home.

That’s all that’s left of the place, which was bombed by the Allies during the last days of the war and then destroyed—except for this wall—by the German government in the early 1950s. Because Tony’s spent so much time around here, he knew that the final blast blew brick and concrete down the hill on which the house sat, so we spent a few minutes walking around and looking for souvenirs, where Loraine found not only brick from the driveway but pieces of camouflage netting that had been placed over the house.

Now we just need someone to perform some kind of ceremony to remove whatever residual evil spirits may reside in the brick!

Otherwise, it was just a day of “ooh”-ing and “aah”-ing over some incredible scenery. You know, scenery like this—

Here’s a picture that just, I‘m sure, does not do justice to the way it looked in real life—

It’s a meadow that sits between three sheer cliffs of rock, each reaching at least 2,000 feet in the air. When we turned the corner to come in to the meadow, my jaw dropped and my camera came out. Like I said, no picture could ever do it justice. I’m just glad I got to see it in person

Here’s what we looked at while we ate lunch—

It’s a lake called Konigssee, which like the meadow also sits between sheer cliff walls. It’s part of the German national park around Berchtesgaden, and it’s a lake ringed with hiking trails. The place was packed, but with views like this, you can see why!

And speaking of Berchtesgaden, we got to see the city from an entirely different angle than most people—

Tony almost killed the rental car getting up the hill to see this view, but I’d say it’s worth a few stripped gears and some burning transmission fluid, right?

Okay...now onto today’s animal news. First of all, they found the cow that had been missing down here for almost a month. If you don’t know what I’m talking about, read the blog I wrote a couple of weeks ago (you'll find it under "August" on the right hand side of the page) called “Beware the Cow”. As it turns out, Yvonne the Cow was found safe a hundred or so kilometers from here in a little town called Muehldorf. It appears Germany’s long national nightmare is over.

Here’s a German dog (although not a German Shepard) who wants to say “hey” to everyone reading this—

And here are the rules German dog owners have to follow when they’re out with their pets!

On the whole, though, it seems the dogs over here are a lot mellower than American dogs. They don’t bark as much, and they actually obey their masters when told to do something.

So...nice doggie!

Finally, I SO wish I had space in my suitcase for this—

It’s a 5 kilo container (over 10 pounds) of Nutella. Or as I would call it, a good dinner.

Tomorrow, back to Austria for one last day of fun.

(jim@wmqt.com)

Das Ist Das Paradies, Ja?

2011-09-01T15:46:00.000-04:00

THURSDAY, 9/1 (September already??):

This is the view out of our hotel balcony as I write this—

Welcome to Berchtesgaden, Germany, gateway to the Berchtesgaden National Park, and a place where a weather forecast of sunny & 80 actually means thunderstorms and 55.

Oh well, nothing’s perfect, right?

8-)

We actually just arrived in Berchtesgaden a little bit ago; we spent most of the day in the fifth country on our trip so far, Austria. We’ll actually be going back there Saturday to visit Market Day in Salzburg (and to find that brothel I wrote about a couple of weeks ago) but today we visited the resort area of Zell am See—

It’s a picturesque town located on a picturesque lake in the middle of the picturesque Alps, so you’d better believe it’s crawling with tourists, even on a less than ideal weather day like today. We were actually able to sneak in our visit just before the rains began, and therefore could see cute little things like these—

And eat cute little things like these—

That’s an apple strudel smothered in a vanilla cream sauce. I believe that by eating it, my cholesterol shot up 30 points, and just by looking at the picture of the strudel, it shot up another 10. But boy, was it GOOD!

We also crashed an Austrian funeral, as well. We didn’t actually plan on crashing an Austrian funeral, but we were in a church taking this picture—

When all of a sudden four guys carrying alpine horns and dressed in lederhosen walked into the church. We were kind of curious as to why they were there, but didn’t find out until we slowly backed out of the church, heard the horns start to play, and noticed a funeral procession wheeling a casket up the walk to the church entrance. We kind of stood there, heads bowed, until the line of mourners (quite a long one, or so it seemed) wrapped up, and then we high-tailed it out of there.

Guess we can cross THAT experience off of our bucket list.

Finally, we’ll wrap up today’s blog with three pictures you won’t see everywhere. The first is of a poster for an Alpine hoedown coming up soon—

The second is of a box of store brand of cereal from the Rewe chain here in Germany—

It’s funnier, I guess, if you know that “Ja!” is the German word for “yes”. So Loraine’s holding up a box of “Yes”! brand cereal.

Finally, it’s been noted that I haven’t posted a picture of me yet this trip, which is understandable because I’m the one taking most of the pictures that we’re posting. So Loraine took this one as we were walking back up a VERY long hill from the Rewe store to our hotel.

Berchtesgaden. It’s hard to take a bad picture here, even with a dork in it!

(jim@wmqt.com)

Why You Should Always Admire A White Rose

2011-08-31T16:08:00.000-04:00

WEDNESDAY, 8/31:

And the fish in our aquarium say “hi”!

Now, admittedly the fish are just floating by on the TV screen in our hotel room in Munich, Germany, but they’re nonetheless nice and polite fish and merely wanted to send a little German hospitality your way.

So now they have.

Today was what’s known in the travel biz as a “transfer day”. We ended up driving almost 500 kilometers down the German autobahn from Strasbourg, where we stayed last night, to Munich. You know all those stories you may have heard about crazy German drivers on said autobahn? Well, they might be true. Tony the Tour Guide wanted to see how well the rental car handled, so he got it up to about 160 kilometers an hour (about 100 mph). And you know what?

People were flying passed him!

We did make a couple of stops today, one in the city of Ulm, which claims to have the tallest cathedral in the world--

You know, I guess it IS pretty big. Ulm’s also the birthplace of this guy—

That’s Albert Einstein, by the way, in case you couldn’t tell. Ulm can also claim this remarkable young woman as one its own—

Sophie Scholl, along with her brother Hans and their friends Alexander Schmorell and Christophe Probost, were part of the White Rose resistance movement during World War II. Students at the Ludwig Maximilians University here in Munich, they defied numerous laws by printing up and distributing anti-Nazi leaflets throughout a big chunk of the country in 1942. Although they were careful to cover their tracks, the Gestapo tracked them down, convicted them in a sham trial, and beheaded them, all in a vain attempt to show German citizens the error of trying to resist the government. In the years since, the Scholls, Sophie in particular, have become symbols of freedom and the best that the German people have to offer.

They’ve become such symbols, in fact, that the University has all kinds of things set up to honor them, including this, which is on a sidewalk outside of a classroom building—

This display symbolizes one of their most famous acts, which involved standing in this hall—

And pushing hundreds of their leaflets over the railings onto the floor, where students could read the anti-Nazi literature. Sophie’s also honored with a bust inside the hall—

There’s also a whole room in the same building devoted to their life story. We need to thank the lady who runs it right now as she was getting ready to close it up for the day, and was persuaded by some glum looking faces to keep it open a bit longer. So as our way of thanks, if you’re on Facebook, why don’t you “Like” the White Rose Room by clicking the little thumbs-up thingee at www.facebook.com/WeisseRoseStiftung. Sure, it’ll be in German, but everyone needs a little German on their newsfeed, right?

Finally, we made our way out to the cemetery next to the prison where Sophie and Hans were beheaded and paid our respects at their joint grave—

If you wanna know more about the story, I highly recommend the movie “Sophie Scholl: The Final Days”, which deals with everything I just mentioned and was Oscar nominated for Best Foreign Language Film to boot!

That was pretty much our day; we head into Austria tomorrow before returning to Germany to hang out in the Alps. Here’s one final picture to wrap things up—

Until tomorrow!

(jim@wmqt.com)

The Floor Show Is No Extra Charge!

2011-08-30T15:01:00.000-04:00

TUESDAY, 8/30:

There is a drunken guy standing underneath our hotel room window, singing quite loudly and dancing quite poorly.

This guy, in fact—

And on that note, greetings from Strasbourg, France, where every street corner has its own entertainment!

Strasbourg is an okay place, although after the little piece of heaven last night known as Colmar, almost any place would suffer in comparison, especially a place with more than its fair share of street drunks and smokers. It is another pretty old city, though—

With, I must admit, one of the most impressive pieces of sandstone architecture I’ve ever laid eyes upon. You know how we think the sandstone churches in Marquette are impressive? Well, how ‘bout this one—

Believe it or not, the cathedral here is almost 400 feet tall (I couldn’t even get it all in the picture) with an exterior constructed of nothing but sandstone. The detail and the artistry in some of the sculptures on the walls are amazing; the inside of the building ain’t too shabby, either.

It almost makes up for the drunken guy (who, by the way, was just told to leave by the cops after trying to get a little too friendly with some young women walking past).

Today was the last day we were scheduled to follow in the footsteps of some of Loraine’s guys. The first was this young man—

Republic’s George Ritola, who was with the 290th Engineer Combat Battalion, came into France on New Year’s Eve 1944, and then endured three weeks of driving snowstorms and brutally cold temperatures in the Vosges Mountains before being killed on January 23rd, 1945. We found the mountain where we died, and I’m guessing it looked a little better this morning than it did on that wicked January day—

In all the trips we’ve made over here, I find it ironic that many places where massive destruction and brutality occurred are now some of the most peaceful and beautiful locations in Europe.

Ironic, indeed.

Following that, we zipped through more mountain passes to end up at this crossroads—

The crossroads themselves are nothing to write home (or a blog) about, but the crossroads in the picture are where this man—

Marquette’s Donald Young, died while trying to move into a nearby river valley on October 22nd, 1944. What’s really sad about Young’s story is that his brother-in-law, Nels Hume, had been killed a few months earlier in Italy, while his brother, John, died on Okinawa a few months later. There were a couple of Marquette and Alger County families that lost two members during World War II; the Young family was the only one who lost three.

Now, here’s today’s moment to make you go “Hmmmm”. Our next stop was the Epinal American WWII Cemetery, where Loraine had arranged to have the graves of three local men sanded, so we could take pictures of them. They were, and we did, and received quite a shock when we got to the grave of Negaunee’s Joseph Thomas and saw this--

In a cemetery of over 5,000 graves, his was the only that had flowers placed on it. We checked, and they had been placed on the grave by special order a week ago from someone in the United States, At this point, we don’t know who that person was; as far as Loraine knows, Thomas doesn’t have any immediate family still around. So this is a mystery that deserves a little investigation, an investigation that the cemetery staff is helping Loraine carry out.

Updates as they become available!

Finally, we did a lot of driving today, and as always, I noticed a few strange things. The first, which I didn’t get a picture of, was a Wild West theme park out in the middle of Nowhere, France, complete with a cowboy-themed roller coaster. Yes, a wild west theme park in the middle of France, where you’d expect, I dunno, a Camembert and Champagne theme park, instead.

(Actually...do you even serve Camembert and Champagne together, or is that a gross violation of one of the natural laws of cuisine? Let me know!)

Finally, here’s something I DID get a picture of—

It was an ad on the back door of a trailer truck. I don’t know if the truck was hauling a bunch of Vegas showgirls, or if someone was merely renting out some available space, but it goes to show...you never know what you’ll see in France!

Sadly, we’re leaving the country tomorrow, to spend the rest of our stay in Germany and Austria. Au revoir, France. We’ll see you soon.

Hopefully, though, without the loud drunk people underneath our window!

(jim@wmqt.com), who must make note of the fact that as I’m uploading this blog, an Oompah band has replaced the loud drunks. In fact, they're currently playing a Russian-themed version of the theme from "The Godfather". Once again, only in France!

Of Men & Mice

2011-08-29T16:17:00.000-04:00

MONDAY, 8/29:

If for some reason I don’t end up returning to Marquette next Sunday, look for me in Colmar, France.

I’ve probably refused to leave.

We’re in Colmar as I write this, an enchanting city with an incredible old city section that I’ll fully dive into in just a moment. We started out the day by following in the tank treads of this young man—

Private Robert Trottier of Marquette, who was an assistant driver in a tank of the 10th Armored Division and died near the German town of St. Wendel on March 18th, 1945. And when I say follow in the footsteps, er, tank treads I do mean follow in the tank treads, as Loraine has gotten her hands on a report that showed what Trottier’s tank division did the final two days of his life. So we followed the exact same route of Trottier’s tank, ending up at this roundabout on the western edge of St. Wendel—

It was at this roundabout—a road checkpoint back then—that Trottier’s tank was destroyed by German anti-tank fire. Tony the Tour Guide then noticed WHY Trottier’s tank group came under fire--no more than 200 meters from the roundabout sat a German military camp—a big one--from World War II. The buildings are still there, still in use (although now as an office park) and still have carvings on them like this—

It may just be me, but I don’t know if I’d like to work in a building that has something like THAT carved into it.

(And by the way, I have closer-up pictures of the statue that show much more of the detail carved into it. Unfortunately, they show TOO much detail, if you know what I mean!)

The rest of the day was spent driving through the Vosges Mountains to get to our current base in Colmar. Remember how we saw a guy carrying a trombone Saturday morning and I couldn’t get a picture of it? Well, I was ready this time!!

No, I have no idea why this oompah/marching band was on the side of the road on a German town. It’s just one of things you have to see to believe, I guess.

Okay, now Colmar. You know how I LOVE Bayeux, France, which is why we make it our home base every time we’re in Normandy? Well, Colmar is kind of like that, but on steroids.

It has this HUGE old town, filled with things like soaring cathedrals, centuries-old half-timbered houses, and a statue of hometown boy Frederic-Auguste Bartholdi. If his pose looks a little familiar, it may help to know this Bartholdi is the guy who designed the Statue of Liberty!

Like Trier yesterday, Colmar also has beautiful sandstone buildings, and some rather interesting cars, as well—

If you’re curious, this is a delivery car for a Chinese noodle restaurant. I think if you put four containers of noodles in it the car’s filled to capacity.

Finally, here’s our dessert for the night—

Sure, it may LOOK like a mouse, but it’s actually two pieces of very yummy yellow cake with a layer of custard crème between them. I’ve said it before, and I’m sure I’ll say it again. . .

French pastry chefs rock!!

8-)

Tomorrow, one more day in France, with a trip back into the Vosges Mountains, this time with a particular purpose in mind. More on that then!

(jim@wmqt.com), who apologizes for not getting yesterday’s blog up sooner. I didn’t have internet access until tonight!

Attack of the (Bellowing) Zombie Cows

2011-08-29T14:40:00.000-04:00

SUNDAY, 8/28:

You know you’re in for an interesting day when the first thing that happens is a Belgian guy recognizing your wife in a hotel lobby.

That’s what happened to Loraine today as we were coming down to breakfast. One moment we’re innocently getting ready to eat; the next, a very friendly man comes running over shouting “Loraine...is that really you”? As it turns out, the guy was a Facebook friend of hers named Ivan Steenkiste, with whom she’s corresponded many times about a tank battle that occurred near Bastogne, one in which Republic’s Elden Gjers died. Ivan was leading a group of war buffs from Georgia (the state, not the country) on a tour, just happened to be staying in the same hotel, and recognized Loraine from pictures she had posted.

Small world, isn’t it?

Anyway, here are the friends after meeting in person the first time—

Then, believe it or not, just as I get done taking the above picture, ANOTHER Belgian guy walks up to me and says “Hi, Jim”. Fortunately, we knew who THAT guy was, even if we had never met him in person before. His name’s Pascal Hainaut, and he was showing us a few sites on our way out of town this morning.

He’s the one responsible for the zombie cows.

Let me explain. He took us up to see a monument to the 35th Infantry Division, one of which the uncle of a friend of Loraine’s served in and was killed during the Bulge. The monument—a very nice one, by the way—is located on top of a hill next to a farm, a farm that contains a large number of cows, all of which were on the far side of the field. Because I know several of you are amused when I take pictures of cows, I decided to see if I could get the attention of one of them, and get it to come over and pose for me.

As it turns out, I got the attention of ALL of them, who immediately began bellowing quite loudly and moving toward me in the lifeless, herky-jerky manner made popular in “Night Of The Living Dead”.

Hence, the zombie cows—

They finally all made it over to where I was standing, where they all looked at me like they were either annoyed or disappointed that I wasn’t there to feed them—

All I wanted was a picture, cows. Nothing more, nothing less. Sorry I didn’t bring any grub!

The next part of the day involved us getting lost in Germany. Well, not lost so much as us wandering around without knowing where exactly we were. We were trying to follow in the footsteps of this young man—

That’s John Zbacnik of Traunik, who died during the push into Germany in March of 1945. We were trying to find the town in which he died, a little German hamlet named Schartzberg. Tony The Tour Guide’s GPS system couldn’t find it, and none of the locals we asked knew where it was. So as we’re driving around the middle of a huge German forest I pull out my phone and search Google maps. Believe it or not, the town was on there, we found we were actually just a few kilometers from it, and three minutes later we found out why the village of Schartzberg is basically unknown to the world.

That’s right—it’s not really a village. It’s five houses masquerading as a village. Anyway, we found it, and were able to honor PFC Zbacnik’s memory. And as an aside, if Kristi from AT&T is reading this, you were right—my phone CAN do amazing things in Europe. Thanks for setting it up for me!

Lest you think we’re only over here for Loraine’s war stuff, we did take some time to play tourist today. Our last stop of the day was the old (and I mean old, as in the first real city in Europe, or so the locals claim) town of Trier. The town is built on a series of sandstone cliffs, which means that this town has something Marquette has—a TON of sandstone buildings. Some were entirely constructed of the material; others just used it as trim, such as in this hotel—

By the by...recognize the restaurant that occupies the bottom floor?

Finally, we stopped by the 2,000-year old ruins of a Roman amphitheater, a UNESCO World Heritage site. This was a COOL place, still in pretty good shape—

It’s amazing how modern-day arenas take much in their design from the Romans, although all the newer arenas are missing one feature that this 2,000-year old model had. To prove my point, here’s Loraine and Tony the Tour Guide walking down the path to the amphitheater’s Vomitorium—

See? We do more than just war stuff and chocolate when we’re over here. We throw in Vomitoriums at no extra charge!

Okay, that’s a little TOO sick of a note on which to end this. I’ll do it by sharing the view from our hotel window—

Tomorrow, we go to France. Not our usual part of France, but one that’s been part of Germany on many an occasion.

(jim@wmqt.com)

What Did YOU Do With Your Saturday??

2011-08-27T15:50:00.001-04:00

SATURDAY, 8/27:

I'm still wondering why the guy was walking down the main street of Oudler, Belgium, wearing a black suit and carrying a trombone.

It’s thoughts like that that pop into your mind as you’re driving through three different countries in one day, much like we did today. The three countries in question are Belgium, Luxembourg, and Germany, but before you think this was a big feat on our part, realize that driving through those three different countries was like driving from Marquette to Munising with a side-trip through Eben. They’re that close to each other.

Speaking of Eben, that was, in a way, one of the two reasons we did what we did today. On our way to meet someone, we stopped in Beiler, Luxembourg, where this man—

Carl Swanson of Ishpeming, died somewhere in these hills—

On December 20^th, 1944. Swanson was in an infantry company trying to stop the Germans from advancing during their Ardennes offensive, the Battle of the Bulge. This, by the way, was just as Swanson returned to his unit after being wounded in France several months earlier. After we paid our respects in Beiler, we met up with an amazing young man.

World, meet Carl Wouters—

Carl lives near Antwerp, and is a (and I’m saying this with only slight exaggeration) world-reknowned expert on the 106^th Infantry Division, in which Eben’s Toivo Alto served before he died on December 28^th, 1944.

That’s Alto on the left, by the way, standing next to his brother Charles.

Carl led us to many places where Alto served during the final two weeks of his life, beginning with the woods where his unit had dug foxholes to guard a road. How much of an expert on the 106^th is Carl?

Well, he found the foxholes Alto’s unit had dug; I’m sure that if we’d asked him to look into it, Carl probably could’ve found out which foxhole was actually Alto’s! He then showed us around a little more, ending the tour on the hill on which Alto died that fateful day, while trying to capture the town of Manhay, Belgium. You can see both the field and the town in the picture—

By the way, I erred yesterday when I said Carl’s 26 and a law school student. He’s actually 23 and a law school graduate. Oh, and he speaks 8 languages. Quite the amazing guy: we’re glad we had the chance to spend some time with him!

The weather today was weird; it would be sunny & 75, and then 3 minutes later the temperature would drop 15 degrees and the rain would just come pouring down. So if the following pictures aren’t as bright and cheery as they usually are. . .well, Belgium, Luxembourg, and Germany weren’t as bright and sunny as they usually are.

But nonetheless, we did see nice towns—

Nice churches—

Nice rivers—

And a poster for a town festival, a festival in which the main musical act is a band named Stagefright. I’m hoping the Germans who form the group named it out of irony, and not because of some misguided translation!

Finally, speaking of music, we never figured out why the man in the black suit was walking down the street of Oudler carrying a trombone this morning. He just was, and we zipped by too quickly for me to get a picture. It’s just one of those things where, when you see it, you think to yourself—

“Only in Belgium”.

Tomorrow, we head back to Germany, this time to stay for the night.

(jim@wmqt.com)

The Roads Less Taken

2011-08-26T15:37:00.000-04:00

FRIDAY, 8/26:

And greetings from a quarter of the way around the world!

We made it to Belgium just fine today, albeit an hour and a half behind schedule, thanks to a departure delay in Chicago and a weather delay in Brussels. Never mind that, though...despite the loss of time and the complete lack of sleep, we achieved everything Loraine had on our jammed packed schedule.

We’re good, aren’t we?

Today was basically devoted to following in the footsteps of these two guys—

They are Eugene St. Onge of Marquette and Eino Kinnunen of Munising, both of whom died around this area in the Battle of the Bulge, St. Onge was killed trying while trying to re-liberate the town of St. Vith, while Kinnunen died of wounds received during fighting between the towns of Heid-de-Heirlot and Odrimont. We traveled around quite a bit of Ardennes countryside so Loraine could get a better idea of what those two did during their final days, and so I could gawk at scenery like this—

It was cloudy and occasionally rainy today, so the weather didn’t allow for the greatest pictures, but I think you get the idea of what it was like. I think I may have mentioned this before, but this part of Belgium reminds me of the Copper Country, for some reason, with a dash of the area right below the Mackinaw Bridge thrown in for good measure. So many of the war-related sites we visited today looked very much like that—lots of farm fields, rolling hills, and trees. Lots and lots of trees.

However, not everything we did today was war-related. I wanted to take a picture of something I saw in the town of Stavelot three years ago but never had the chance—

That’s right; it’s a statue of a giant puppet, which we affectionately refer to as (what else) “Pinocchio”. Until a few weeks ago, we had no idea WHY the statue was there. As it turns out, Stavelot actually holds a big puppet festival every year, and the statue commemorates that.

Next comes one of the things you guys say you look forward to the most, today’s animal picture—

We actually had to stop the car and let these three roosters cross the street in front of us outside the town of Abrefontaine. Trust me; they took their sweet time, and acted like they owned the place, which I’m sure they do, much to the chagrin of their owner. So if you ever wondered why the chicken (or rooster) crossed the road, now you know--it was to make us slow down for a minute!

Since it’s Belgium and we’re only in the country for two days, we had to make Tony the Tour Guide stop at a few grocery stores so we could buy chocolate and Lotus Bimbos. I picked up a brand-new kind to try out—

It’s a dark chocolate bar with a blueberry filling. Yummy.

Finally, there was the aforementioned Tony the Tour Guide’s near brush with the Belgian police. But we won’t go into that now...

8-)

Time now for a little sleep. Tomorrow, we meet up with a 26-year old law student (and his fiancée). Details then!

(jim@wmqt.com)

Beware the Cow!!

2011-08-22T11:09:00.002-04:00

Three days before we go to Europe, and we seem to have picked the perfect time to visit—there’s a cow on the loose in Germany.

No, there really is. And if New York City went gaga over a missing python, Germany’s going bonkers over the cow.

In case you haven’t heard the story (www.azcentral.com/offbeat/articles/2011/08/19/20110819berlin-loose-cow.html), a cow in the southern part of Germany—where we’ll be in a week and a half—escaped from wherever it had been and made its way down a highway, where a police car almost ran into it. The cow wasn’t hurt; the pride of the police, not so much. While the German authorities were trying to figure out what happened, the cow escaped into a wooded area, where every attempt to apprehend it has so far been unsuccessful. I don’t know if that speaks to the intelligence of German cows or the lack of the same in German police officials, but the story of the cow on the lam has captivated Germany.

Cows are something special in Germany; with (I believe) the exception of the Autobahn, they have the right-of-way on roads. In certain portions of southern Germany, including Bavaria, where we’ll be spending a few days, you actually can’t put up fences to stop cows from either coming into or leaving your land. Cows are free to roam where they want. . .

Even, it appears, into the path of police cars.

I have no idea why the story of the wandering cow has so captivated Germans. If it were France or Belgium, I could see that. After all, the French and Belgians are quintessentially “European’, with the quirky sense of humor that goes along with being European. They would make that cow a national hero; in France, they’d probably even vote for it for president. But the German people, despite their size and location, aren’t always “European”; in many ways (except for their love of public nudity) they’re very “American”-like in their attitudes and their actions. They’re very business and profit-minded, and the only place I’ve ever seen Europeans wear baseball hats was in Germany, where I actually saw a German man wearing a Green Bay Packers hat.

I tell ya; those cheeseheads are everywhere.

Of course, maybe that explains why the Germans have gone gaga over the cow. Like I mentioned before, Americans went ape over the python missing from New York’s Central Park Zoo earlier this year; there were even websites and Facebook pages devoted to it. And while I’ve not yet found a German website devoted to the wandering cow, it wouldn’t surprise me if, assuming the wandering bovine stays wandering, that they soon start to appear.

I would hope, at least for the sake of the reputation of the German police, that the cow is captured by the time we get into southern Germany, which would be a week from Wednesday. If not..well, you may be getting live reports from the scene of the crime.

Look...another year, and another trip!!

2011-08-04T17:39:00.001-04:00

THURSDAY, 8/4:

Three weeks from today we leave for Europe!

Yes, time flies when you’re having fun, or when you’re so amazingly busy that you can’t keep track of things like the day of the week. But in the interest of keeping everyone informed, here’s some of what we’re doing, and when we’re doing it. Of course, those of you who’ve followed along on trips past know that we can often change things at the spur of the moment; hopefully, Tony the Tour Guide can keep up with us!

Three weeks from today we fly over, and get into Brussels Friday morning. We then spend the next couple of days camped in Bastogne—

We hope to accomplish several things during the first weekend, including exploring the countryside, heading into little towns and cities where U.P. natives like Marquette’s Eugene St. Onge, Ishpeming’s Carl Swanson, Munising’s Eino Kinnunen, and Eben’s Toivo Alto fought and died--

We’ll also be meeting up with old friends, making some new ones, and, perhaps most importantly, at least for me, stealing a few precious moments in Chocolate Heaven—

The Super GB store in Bastogne is calling out my name. Really, it is. You CAN hear it, right? It’s not just me??

Once we leave Belgium we spend a day in Western Germany, following in the footsteps of Marquette’s Robert Trottier and Traunik’s John Zbacnik. Then, we head into France for a few days...not the part of France we usually visit, but this one, instead—

This is Alsace, the region of the country that borders Germany (in fact, it’s changed hands between France and Germany several times thanks to several different wars). There we’ll (hopefully) be learning more about the exploits of Marquette’s Donald Young and Republic’s George Ritola. Donald Young, by the way, wasn’t the only member of his family killed in the war. His brother John died on Okinawa, while his brother-in-law Nels Hume was killed during the attempted crossing of the Rapido River in Italy.

Oh, by visiting Alsace it’ll also give us a chance to buy French chocolate!

From there, we spend the last four or five days in southern Germany, spending a night in Munich—

Where we’ll buy German chocolate and a box or 3 of Kolln’s Shoko-Kirsch Musli, which is basically a granola with cherries and shaved dark chocolate piled onto it (see why I wanna buy a few boxes)? We then wrap up our trip with a return visit to the Bavarian Alps—

Taking a couple of side trips into Austria, including one to Salzburg—

Where, believe it or not, we’re gonna look for a brothel.

No, really, we are. But you’ll have to wait for the whole story about that until September 3rd. We then leave to come home September 4th, when we wake up at 5 a.m. Munich time (11 p.m. Saturday night back here), go from Munich to London, then London to Chicago, then Chicago to Marquette, making it back home (we hope) a mere 22 hours after we wake up. (Assuming, of course, everything goes to plan, and we (as always) hope it does.) We will have one slight change from trips past, though, in that we get home the day before Labor Day, which means we have a whole day to reorient ourselves and TRY to come back to reality before reality so rudely forces its way back into our lives.

That’s what we’re doing beginning three weeks from today...wish us luck!

(jim@wmqt.com)