Marseille - Trading in Humour

Today, we drove the 40 klms from Aix-en-Provence to visit Marseille... the place where southern European history first faced France. From 600 BC, Greece had been trading with the neolithic settlements around Marseille. We wanted more details on why this trade was sufficiently important to Greece for them to build a colony. What was being traded that couldn't be supplied from one of their existing colonies? How developed were the Gaul communities prior to Greek involvement? Was force used to maintain the trading relationship... the usual questions that beg answers when looking at dramatic events in history.

And what about the Romans? Why did Greece ask for their support to quell an uprising from the Gauls? Couldn't the mighty Greek military machine take care of a few Celts? How did the Romans elbow aside the Greeks from their colony? Did armies come to blows? Did Julius Caesar act honourably in his dealings with the Greeks? Marseille was the capital of the TransAlpine region... where were the aqueducts, theatres, public baths, etc.

Lots of questions... but after knocking on the doors of many museums... the answers just didn't surface. It appears that the good citizens of Marseille aren't all that thrilled by preserving their Greeko-Roman antiquity... they are having too much fun living in the present.

We all love visual tricks... where the eyes are telling you things you know can't be right. Marseille has the largest visual trick that I know of. The Maritime Museum takes up one side of a prominent square in downtown Marseille. The building has been covered with a giant cloth showing a print of another famous Marseille boulevard. It was fascinating watching the faces of people entering the square... initially accepting the visual information presented to them... then stopping for a closer look... then bursting into laughter when they identified how they had been tricked. How can you not like a city that goes to such lengths to play tricks on you.

This year Marseille has spent lots of money renovating its port area. The finishing decorations include placing a range of sculptures on the port-side... something like Sydney's 'Sculptures by the Sea'. You know the content... melting watches hanging out to dry... elephants on stilts... camels, hippos, cows in strange patterns.

We did the churches.... no shortage of churches... Notre Dame being very ornate... others lacking care over the last century. We did the main museums... that focussed on entertainment (3-D videos... comic videos recalling world events, etc) rather than displaying their collection of priceless treasures... we formed the view that Marseille had failed to collect and preserve its antiquity.
Marseille's population has Caucasians in the minority... perhaps 'dumbing down' history may have been an attempt to engage citizens whose first language may not be French.

Aix-en-Provence - We're in the Middle of Nowhere

Doesn't have an aqueduct.
Doesn't have a Roman theatre.
Doesn't have a cliff-face panorama.
Doesn't have a major river.
Doesn't have hewn stone buildings.
Doesn't have a dominating cathedral.

All I'm saying is this glass is only half full!

I speak of the town of Aix-en-Provence... it claims Provence in its name... but that is where similarities end. This town has attributes appealing to a much more modern clientele. If you are into painting and yearn to feast your eyes on cubism... surrealism... and any other 'ism' you can think of... Aix-en-Provence is the place for you. This is the home of Cezanne... the city claims he was the giant on whose shoulders Vincent Van Gough stood to reach such perfection. This may well be... but Cezanne's other claim to fame is that he painted a mountain (50 klms out of town) 180 times... with his first attempts, you can definitely see a mountain... by the time he finished, art lovers were pointing to any curved line on his paintings, saying "Look... the mountain... nice... real nice." Picasso loved the place... and arranged to be buried just out of town. Joye and I listened intently to our audio guide... but gave up when we were given a 5-minute lecture about some painter discovering the horizon... a horizontal straight line that this fellow included in all of his subsequent paintings. They could have saved themselves a lot of bother by simply asking Captain Cook or Galileo... those two knew a thing or two about horizons.

We are finding the French nationals very likeable people... extra willing to help... always looking to have fun with translation problems... always showing exquisite manners. You want generalisations??? The Greeks like to make you laugh... the Italians are loveable... the French are mature. But the earnest Austrians still get top billing from me!

Vaucluse - Water Wheels and Truffles

The last two days have been occupied ticking off the tiny stone villages that fan out across the Vaucluse region. Avignon is the capital of Vaucluse and looking at the map... Vaucluse is a tidy region bordered by straight boundaries. But as Lonely Planet says, 'navigating its bucolic rolling hills, golden-hued perched villages and hidden valleys, is a bit like fitting together a jigsaw puzzle'.

The first signs of a change of season have arrived. The grapes have changed colour and now hang weighted near the base of the vine. The breeze is now whipping along the first of the autumn leaves... it is no longer has a warming effect... you step out of the lane ways into door openings to stay warm. The fragrance on the breeze is starting to gather a musty edge... no longer carrying whiffs of smoke and dust. But the light is still over-exposed... the rocks still shimmer in the haze... the walls exude a mellow hue. We have two or three weeks of magical summer remaining before the realities of northern climates takes its toll.

L'Isle-sur-la-Sorgue was nice... Cabrieres d'Avignon was real nice... Lioux was nice, real nice... all offering colour, mood, history and colour (did I mention Lioux's colour). For me, two features of particular interest were evident.

First, I was not aware how common water wheels had been at the start of the industrial revolution. We walked the circuit at L'Isle-sur-la-Sorgue... today showing 14 sites for water wheels... most running off the same channel of water. Most of the uses were simple... lifting water up into tanks... grinding grain... scrubbing linen and silk... and I think later (latter half of the 19th century) sawing timber. All this harnessing of power was done before iron axles and gears. You'd have to assume that moving parts made from timber would need replacement regularly. Anyway, Watt's invention of the steam engine didn't start the industrial revolution... he just gave them a more convenient source of power.

Coming down to Aix-en-Provence (where we are staying for the next few days), we passed through truffle country. Truffles are the fruit of a fungus that grows around the roots of some trees. Pigs are noted for their ability to dig up truffles... but the pig must be a sow (female). The attraction of truffles is that they have an aroma similar to the smell of a hormone of a boar... so boars don't have much incentive to find truffles... it doesn't excite their imagination one bit. We still have yet to taste the local (black) truffle... we'll keep searching for the next few days.

Avignon - Car Nonsense

Just give me a reason
Just a little bit's enough
Just a second we're not broken, just bent
And we can learn to love again.
It's in the stars
It's been written in the scars on our hearts
That we're not broken, just bent
And we can learn to love again.

With the strength of emotion linking Peggy (the Peugeot's SatNav system) to Joye and me... it was inevitable that we would have our ups and downs. Of late, Peggy has been acting strangely... like she didn't get a thrill from sharing our drives. The first signs of strain was when we left the mountains... and Peggy started to refuse to show us altitude readings... why would she do that to us? We may have spoken harshly to her a couple of times when she started giving silly directions... like "turn right" when we were in the middle of a bridge. That was water under the bridge as far as we were concerned.... but she seemed to take it to heart. With the benefit of hindsight, we can now recognise her strange behaviour as symptomatic of much deeper issues. Well, things can to a head in the last couple of days... here we were in Avignon... but Peggy insisted that we were in Arles (50 klms away). We sang her favourite song hoping this would 'snap' her out of her malaise...

Just give me a reason
Just a little bit's enough
Just a second we're not broken, just bent
And we can learn to love again.

... but conditions only got worse. She started saying "zone not mapped" when we were on major highways. It was a terribly hard decision for us... but we decided she needed professional help... and took her to see a specialist.

Peggy pulled a few stunts... when the specialist looked at her in Triage... everything was perfect... no troubles to fix. We felt embarrassed. To be doubly certain, the specialist took her onto the road... and there she broke down... made a spectacle of herself.

Back in the car yard, the specialist decided there was no other course than a full lobotomy... he wiped his hands... pulled open the hood... Joye and I held our breath... as he reached right under the engine... right up to his armpits... and pressed the reset switch. Our specialist had a range of other specialists on his mobile phone as he went through the settings. We wondered what personality change Peggy would display after her ordeal... you could cut the tension with a knife.

The specialist sprang from the car... gave us the big ' thumbs up' and shouted "OK"... that was the extent of his English. We ran to him... called him "Mr Magic"... shook his hand... there may have been a shoulder hug in there as well.

With great tenderness and trepidation... we glided Peggy out onto the road... the first thing we noticed was that she was showing the altitude... next she said...." At the round-about, take the first exit". It was music to our ears... our old Peggy had thrown off her depression and was now part of the team again.

No more would we sing about "not broken; just bent". Today, the only song to pass our lips was Amazing Grace! Dear old Peggy.

Orange - Lessons in Brand Management

Today, we visited villages upstream from Avignon... Orange... and Vaison la Romaine... that showed histories that replicated each other. You know the pattern... Caesar sorts out trouble makers... Caesar conquers opposing tribes and establishes acceptable political solutions... Caesar's soldiers start building colonies... everyone is so happy with the increase in prosperity... local Romans get lazy... maintenance efforts are compromised... climate changes... prosperity reduces... locals become unhappy... locals kick out Romans... locals fail to govern well... pestilence and poverty reign for 100 years. Today, again showed that Romans at their best... were marvellous. But you can tell that story just so many times.

Today's story looks at how one family turned their name into an international brand... still has a reigning monarch family member... a word known the whole world over... not just for one reason but for two... as a fruit... and as a colour... of course, it is the family of Orange. Turning your name into a brand is not easy... just ask Miss Sharapova... her tennis career will suffer because she tried to do a 'deed pole' change of name to 'Sugarpova' to promote her line of the chewing gum... she would have done better to change it to 'Doneova' to reflect the loss suffered when she paid for her marketing advice. However, the story of Orange could not be more different.

Up to1515, the Orange family were well respected bergers of the community around Avignon... moved in the right circles... went to the right parties... but not sufficiently notable to occupy the European stage. One major stroke of luck was when the lovely Claudia married into the Nassau-Breda family... a true 'blue blood' family of European significance. Uncles and aunties started dictating what names could be used for the offspring... resulting in the name Orange getting head billing... just to show a few uncles and aunties that they should pull their heads in. 'Orange-Nassau' became the family name... and one of the boys (William the Silent) turned out quite good at army games... played a leading hand in showing Spain the exit door from the Netherlands. William the Silent became known as William of Orange... because of his family name. The town in Provence... the traditional hold of the Orange family... changed its name from honouring some goddess of water to honour the Orange family.

The next leg in the story is difficult to verify... some historians believe that William of Orange had a crest designed that featured the colour officially called 'yellowy red'. But with William being such a good fellow, the colour gradually became known as Orange. When the citrus fruit made its way from northern Africa to Holland, it had a name that sounded a bit like 'orange' and it had the colour of orange... so the fruit became known as Orange. William had lasting value... the current royal family of the Netherlands belongs to the Orange-Nassau family.

William continued his links with Orange (Provence) by way of investments. One member of the Orange-Nassau family was visiting a dye factory that worked on Indian linen. At the time, Provence had laws prohibiting anyone wearing dyed cloth other than special families... how could you look special if everyone wore this year's colours? The visiting family member found that all the ladies working in the factory wore dyed linen skirts. Alarmed, the visiting family member ran to the manager to report violations of the law. "We have also heard these rumours... but have seen nothing", said the manager. "And I expect you will do likewise." Wilful blindness goes back a long way.

So, what are the takeouts from the story of the Orange family? Those of you planning to make a brand of your family name... to bring lasting celebrity value to you and your family... the process seems quite clear. If your name is Davis, Toser, Crew, etc... don't despair... you can add meaning and resonance to the name as part of this process.

Step 1: Marry your daughter into the richest family in the nation. This step is unavoidable... because the alternatives take too long.

Step 2: Have your grandson save the nation from a foreign enemy... bringing glory and power to the family.

Step 3: Design a new coat of arms and employ a new colour. Something bright... appealing to the young kids... avoid greys and blacks... that's already been done.

Step 4: Find a new fruit that will prove most popular... and associate the new fruit with the new colour.

Step 5: Step back and let history take its course.

You think these steps sound improbable? Well, the Orange family seemed to manage it OK. Come on... don't be negative... get going... now!

Nimes - the Rise and Fall of the Roman Empire

The story of Nimes... how a little village rode the wave of success of the Roman Empire... but couldn't get off the hirdy-girdy when cycles started to change. Nimes  was an early settlement of Rome in its TransAlpine colony. Roman culture became entranced by water... a city's reputation was determined by the way it organised and used its water... citizens portrayed their status by displays involving water. Every spare afternoon was spent in public baths immersed in water... steaming yourself in water vapour... scraping and oiling your skin with the use of water.

Nimes started as a small village... and had a spring more than adequate for its needs. But Nimes aspired to be a Roman city... and for that, it needed water in abundance. Large and reliable springs were discovered in mountains 50 klms away. Rome gave its support... hence started construction of one of the great aqueducts.

Some statistics from the Nimes aqueducts catch the eye... over the 50 klm journey, the drop in water level was only 12.5 metres... not much gradient to play with... the aqueduct traversed 17 bridges... but 90% of its length was underground and in tunnels... it took 24-30 hours for water to travel the 50 klms... and between 200-400 litres reached Nimes each second... that is 35,000 cubic metres of water each day. The aqueduct took 15 years to build... but it gave prestige to Nimes and guaranteed continued investment from Rome.

The city grew... and attracted all the trappings of a powerful centre... the amphitheatre... temples... extensive gardens... city walls... and private dwellings as lavish as the best that Rome could offer. It had 100 years of living the life of luxury.

Then, the Empire started to recede. Cause and effect are difficult to isolate... but speculate on the relationship between the aqueduct and Nimes' prosperity. Carrying such large volumes of water such large distances needed vigilant maintenance. For a variety of reasons, Nimes took its eye off the ball... water reaching the city became less reliable and reduced in volume. Fashions changed and bathing and cleanliness became less of an obsession. The climate became colder... plagues increased in frequency... Rome pulled out of Nimes... Gallic tribes again ruled Nimes.

The aqueduct was abandoned... pillaging of rock began. By the middle ages, one of the prolific pillagers of stone was the church... in their quest to build new cathedrals.

With the passing of years, it is easy to forget just how clever were the engineers, stonemasons and architects that built the aqueducts. They make our modern-day infrastructure builds look unambitious.

Avignon - the French Perspective

The story of the Papal Seat being moved to Avignon is well documented from the side of the church... today, we went across the river to look at the story from the French Perspective.

As you know, following the strife between Boniface VIII and Philip IV of France (Philip the Fair), a deadlocked conclave finally elected Clement V, a Frenchman, as Pope in 1305. Clement declined to move to Rome, remaining in France, and in 1309 moved his court to the papal enclave at Avignon, where it remained for the next 67 years. All of the Avignon Popes were born in France... just going to prove how 'fair' sweet Philip really was. Once the Avignon Popes brought their administration into order... and started the river of gold that came from religious monopoly... the church helped finance some of Philip's wars... you could say, the church and France had a good working relationship.

But Philip the Fair had political problems at home... to keep faith with his electorate, Philip had to be 'Fair but Firm'... a bit like Idi Amin used to say after another of his genocide escapades. As the walls of the Palace of the Popes went up one side of the Rhone... Philip put another layer of bricks on the Fort St Andre. He was helping the Avignon Popes build their Palace... but he had to show his citizens that he was protecting France's southern border. Philip's slogan was 'keep out the Popes'... slightly misinterpreted by Tony as 'keep out the Boats'... understandable mistake, Tony.

The presence of the fort provided a safe environment for a prosperous village to grow at its base... today called 'Villeneuve lez Avignon'. Most interesting was the 14th century church and monastery built by the nephew of Pope John XII... it survives in excellent condition... you can see the way the monks were organised into teams... records even show a management hierarchy. In the days when industry was typically based on a family workforce (cottage industry) this monastery must have been a productivity miracle. There were 21 teams... all accommodated behind closed doors... each with some 3 or 4 monks. Each team was given 3 rooms... one for sleeping... one for praying... and one for working. They were provided with food and equipment/materials necessary to produce their products. I suspect they worked more than the 40 hour week. We could learn what products they produced... undoubtedly, manuscripts would have been one product... probably religious icons would be another... all commanding a generous markup on the cost of production. The monastery grew to be very prosperous... and attracted good artisans into its ranks. The church was remodelled into a very elegant building. Its chapel has frescos of great quality. Pope Innocent VI liked the place so much, he asked to be buried there when he died in 1362. His request shows further evidence of the close relations between France and the Avignon Popes.

Villeneuve lez Avignon is a tourist attraction in its own right. The medieval town was built of high quality stone that absolutely glows in the summer sun. Still, Provence is full of villages with those credentials... each with their own peculiar history to tell. Tomorrow, we'll go out and visit a few more of them.

Avignon - Palace of the Pope

You don't have to agree with the following thoughts... I could be wrong... I'm just saying....

Ok... let's put it out there... the Palace of the Popes in Avignon (locally called Palais des Popes) isn't the leading building of its age... the good citizens of Avignon make this claim... I disagree. My contention is that it was built as a commercial building... not a building to inspire a nation... not a building to show an artist's love of his world. Palace is the wrong title... it should have been called 'Pope's Administrative Centre'.

Let's start with 1334... the year Pope Benedict commenced building the old palace. Around Europe building commenced on a number of other buildings... just skim this list... Exeter Cathedral... Giotto's Bell Tower in Florence, Italy... Gloucester Abbey... St. Vitus Cathedral in Prague... Madrasa Imami, Isfahan, Persia (Iran), is founded... Court of the Lions, Palace of the Lions, Alhambra, Granada, Spain... Hall of the Abencerrajes, Palace of the Lions, Alhambra, Granada, Spain.

Many of these buildings made major advances in architecture, engineering and artistic expression... a claim that the Palace of the Popes can't make on any of these scores.

Let's look at the historical perspective... Pope Clement V got himself elected Pope... but his rivals were bounders... cads... low class scoundrels... who would not accept the result and kicked up a stink. King Phillip of France stepped in with hobnail boots... stopped the riots in the streets... but built lasting resentment against Pope Clement V. Clement made an embarrassing, hasty exit in taking the papal seat to the backblocks of Avignon... middle of nowhere... not a saint's tomb within 100 klms of the place. He took with him only a skeleton of administration staff... just enough to get by... not enough to collect every cent of taxes owed to the church.

A couple of Popes later, Pope Benedict XII tried to put in order the affairs of the Papal State. Fortunately, the lady who owned Avignon at that time, killed her husband... and was hoping the church could be persuaded to grant dispensation for this minor lapse in good manners. Benedict said , "All is forgiven, provided you sell us Avignon for 800 florins." The deal was done... and the good lady got to go to heaven. Benedict had a great site to erect the leading building of its age. France made available its best architects... but two problems remained. First, the Papal State was short of money... only temporarily, mind... just a liquidity problem. Second, Benedict wanted a building quickly. His administration team in Rome was falling apart... time was of the essence.

So, the old palace was designed to provide efficient administration and good security. Within 8 years he was able to centralise his administration in Avignon... at last he could collect the monies owing to the church. For example in the old palace... the flogging room (they had a refined name for the room) was located adjacent to the investigative court room. The money collection room was next to the accounts department... that was next to the treasury... that was next to the Pope's private quarters. Pope Benedict's business systems were copied by all the royal houses of Europe. He pioneered major advances in systems design... he may not have won the 'best builder' award for the 1330's ... but he certainly won 'businessman of the decade' award.

Money poured into the Papal State... and Benedict's successor... Pope Clement VI... found he had spare money to spend. He undertook to add a new place to the old palace. However, the end result was also going to be a building that grew like Topsy... no clean design... no dominating narrative to the total building. Again, his French architects did a good job, given their starting point. However, when it came to decorating... they showed inexperience... the Ottomans would have tarred, drawn and quartered the tilers who laid the floors in the new palace. The frescos were of poor quality... no Leonardos or Michelangelos amongst that lot. Not too many straight lines in the whole building. Nonetheless, it served the Avignon Papalcy for 50 years.

When quieter times returned to Rome, the church didn't take long to find scriptural reasons to move back beside the gravestone of St. John in Rome ... and by coincidence... closer to a better quality of builder and artist.

The poor old Palace of the Popes at Avignon had a downhill trajectory from there. Lesser rulers called it home... for a time it was a prison and an army barracks. However, its historical importance has always been recognised. In the last 100 years various projects have maintained sections of the palace to restore it to its previous glory.

Avignon - Papal Seat for 6 Popes

Avignon is another French town steeped in history. We tend to remember Avignon by association with a 15th century song about dancing on its 12th century bridge...

Sur le pont d'Avignon,
L'on y danse, l'on y danse.
Sur le pont d'Avignon,
L'on y danse tout en rond.

For those of you needing a translation into English to gain the profound wisdom of these words, the song says,

On the bridge of Avignon,
We all dance there, we all dance there.
On the bridge of Avignon,
We all dance there in a ring.

Historians have tried to find significance in a song so popular for the last 500 years... it is supposed to have been a 'pillow song' sung to brides on their wedding night... makes no sense to me.

I think the most interesting period of Avignon was the papal period. In 1300, King Phillip of France was throwing tantrums with military action inside Rome. When Pope Clement V became Pope, he organised with Phillip to move the Papal seat to Avignon... where conditions were more settled. He built a papal palace... but didn't rely solely on heavenly intervention to keep him safe... his palace had walls that were 12-foot thick... best to be on the safe side. He also built a splendid wall with parapets around the city. (This wall has been maintained... today, a great tourist attraction.)

In 1348, ships carrying the Black Death plague turned up in Genoa... and sensibly were refused entry. The ship continued to Marseilles... before being given the heave-ho... from whence they sailed to Spain. Each of these ports thought they were doing the right thing... but the plague spread freely in each of them... their populations suffered terribly... but by moving the ship on, the plague spread to another port. In a matter of weeks, the Black Death spread upstream from Marseilles to Avignon. Pope Clement VI watched with growing alarm as he saw two-thirds of Avignon's population succumb to the plague. He holed up within his palace... and decided his best action was to let God's will sort out the fate of the people... but to protect himself from evil vapours he sat between two roaring fires for the winter... rats and lice didn't like the heat... and with God's good grace... he survived the terrible winter.

In total, 6 Popes reigned from the Avignon papal seat.

In closing, let's go to another period of Avignon history in 875...the events were not so unusual... frequent occurrences of parricide... betrayal... torture... the usual thing for the medieval period. What seems delightful (in an otherwise despondent period) was the names of the lead characters. These names have not been made up.

In 787, Boso (not the clown) was proclaimed Burgundian King of Provence,  at the death of Louis the Stammerer (879)... but the Stammerer family regained the crown when Louis' young Charles the Simple stepped up to the plate. Pope Innocent had influence on Avignon developments... there have been 13 popes who have used 'Innocent' in their name .. but, interestingly, none has used the name of 'Pope Guilty'.

Lyon's Earliest Aqueducts

The Romans liked water. Public baths... continuous running drinking fountains... many private homes having running water... public toilets. Bath houses were centres for social engagement... where commercial agreements were settled... family matters like weddings and celebrations were discussed... community health and grooming all occurred in the bathhouses... and, of course, political posturing all took place. Typically, every citizen was given equal access to the bathhouses. Seeing their political leaders in the 'nuddy' on a regular basis would dispell any 'halo effect' that we sometimes now bestow on our politicians. Lyon was a greenfield site for a Roman city... so water supplies and aqueducts were part of of the planning... part of the criteria in selecting the location.

To get the required volume of water into Lyon the Romans built an aqueduct from springs in mountains some 48 klms away (as the crow flighs)... it followed a sinuous path...   at 85 klms...  around all the bends... it was the longest known of the Roman aqueducts. Its route has been retraced in detail, following the numerous remains. 

Wikipedia says the Lyon aqueduct "draws upon the whole repertory of Roman techniques of aqueduct building, taking a slope that averages 0.1%, or a meter every kilometer. There are 73 km of covered ditches laid with a concrete culvert 3 m high and 1.5 m wide, which is sunk as deep as 4 m beneath the land surface. The aqueduct passes through 11 tunnels, one of which, near Mornant, is 825 m in extent. Access for cleaning and repairs was through manholes at 77 m (253 ft) distances. There are some thirty stretches in the open air. There are ten stretches raised on walls and arches, which provide the most spectacular visible remains of the aqueduct."

The Romans used piping to solve some of the geographic challenges of the aqueduct... and used lead... their favourite plumbing material. No doubt the aqueduct saved countless thousands from gastrointestinal illnesses... that more than made up for the proportion that suffered from lead poisoning. 

We had to have a look... and made it a stop on our drive from Lyon to Avignon. The engineering achievement was remarkable... but more remarkable still..., was the style and dressing placed on the aqueduct. The dressing must have added materially to the construction effort. It seems that the aqueduct had two purposes... bringing water to Lyon... and showcasing the technical-engineering excellence of the empirical power.

Lyon - WWII damage was so Senseless

Lyon has a top quality war museum... featuring its courageous resistance fighters... and the suffering Lyon citizens experienced at the hands of the Gestapo. The museum is easily accessible from the town centre... located in the building first erected as a military hospital... but used during the war as a prison for resistance fighters... with all accessories needed to inflict torture... and so Jews were transported in when the Gestapo wanted to have a chat with them.

The museum properly focuses on the stories of the victims... and the stories from Lyon's victims had chilling similarities to Gestapo victims from other town and other camps. Lyon was the location of the first trial for 'crimes against humanity' in 1987... where the head of Gestapo, Mr Barbie, was prosecuted. The trial provided a platform for many victims to formally/publicly tell of their personal experiences for the first time. Television recordings of the testimonies made compelling viewing. The victims were recounting events that happened 43 years previously... yet could could see their emotions were as raw as if the events happened yesterday.

What seemed to make acceptance of events more difficult for some people was the acquiescence of government at all levels within France to the evils perpetrated by the Gestapo. The Vinchy government  (under president Petain) collaborated with invading German troops... who swept through France and reached the outskirts of Lyon... Lyon was readying themselves to fight. Upon seeing the magnitude of the German forces on their doorstep, local government along with Paris and the Germans agreed that no fighting should take place... but rather, Lyon should be made an 'open city'. The local government was replaced by people that the Vinchy government appointed... and act as puppets for the Germans. Refugees from neighbouring countries flooded into Lyon. For the first few years of the war, appeasement seemed to have served the interests of Lyon's citizens... the Jews were segmented and disadvantaged... but the atrocities were few and kept quiet. The resistance movement started to organise itself... but the local police were able to keep damage in check... and there weren't large numbers of German troops to attack. Captured resistance fighters were imprisoned... but news of atrocities were not common.

In 1944, everything went haywire... the goals were full... camps were opened... once the idea of the camp became accepted, they built more and started rounding up the Jewish citizens. Barbie showed his true colours and started doing atrocious things to prisoners... personally delivered torture. The local community was agasp... and started giving the resistance fighters much more support. When the camps filled up... they booked the cattle wagons and started moving large numbers of people to the concentration camps in Germany. News of Russian troop advances further catalysed the escalation of evil. It seemed that the fear of defeat encouraged Gestapo officers to become more evil.

Lyon was bombed near the end of the war. The target was the rail network... but the civilian population took a lot of the damage.

War is a cacophony of stupid judgements... but it seems particularly sad that Lyon suffered most of its damage with no particular military objective... just wonton violence... so much suffering for so little purpose. Lyon is prepared to display its war history... with warts and all... and such exposure may make a repetition of mistakes less likely.

Lyon - 700 years of Roman Government

One of Lyon's most interesting features is its importance in Roman history. In Neolithic times, the land of Gaul was prosperous and advanced technologically. It suited the Romans to call them 'Barbarians'... but Neolithic history shows Gaulic communities were as advanced as Italians. The Gauls invented chariots before the Romans... although only used them for ceremonial occasions. They had sorted out a lunar calendar before the Romans. They had scripts for writing... but didn't see much need for all that bother... just remember what was said/promised... that's all that was needed.

There is evidence of substantial trade between Gaul and Italy in Neolithic times. When Rome started to build its empire, Gaul was left in the 'too hard basket' for hundreds of years. A few generals/consuls eventually launched raiding parties collecting gold and slaves... without leaving infrastructure for a continuing dominating presence... bringing Gaul into the empire. That job was left to big Juli... and it took him the best part of a decade to complete. He established military dominance in Gaul... and left sufficient troops to maintain that dominance. His plans to build administrative infrastructure to support empirical rule was interrupted by the Roman civil war... which directed Caesar's attention to the south... and as you know, he met his 'sticky' end shortly thereafter.

But the generals he left in Gaul were under no illusions regarding what had to be done. They immediately started a gigantic project to build a city that could be the centre of Roman rule in Gaul. They chose a 'greenfield' site at Lyon... and used the extensive river systems around Lyon to bring huge quantities of building materials to the planned city site. Thus started 500 years of (relatively) peaceful occupation... followed by another 200 years of self government using Roman political structures. Within the Roman empire, Lyon was given early recognition of its importance. Claudius bestowed Roman citizenship on Lyon's barbarians in 50 AD. A bronze plate inscribed with the full text of the speech was displayed prominently in Lyon for 700 years and now sits in Lyon's museum.

When we now think of the major city in France, we think of Paris. Up until 1312, Lyon was independent of Paris... and in some respects more important in commerce and international politics. Begrudgingly, Lyon has had to gradually acknowledge the leadership of Paris in the government of France. But don't count Lyon out just yet. It has leadership in the business of computer games and cinema... two mediums that could easily lead to world domination.

Lyon - the Essence of France

Tonight, we are in Lyon.

Incredible facts... France (in 2011) produced 38 million metric tons of wheat... more than Australia... who produced 27 million metric tons. Today, we drove through corn fields and sunflower fields... using very fertile soil and yielding high tonnage per hectare. I guess, France would only have to have a small fraction of the area growing wheat... compared to Australian acreage... but it just doesn't sound right. The only saving grace is that while Australia exports most of its wheat crop... France eats theirs... and has to import some as well.

We have been in France for only 3 days... and already acknowledge the superiority of French bread. I don't know what they do that is different from (say) Italy or Croatia or Greece... but they do something different that gives extra flavour... perhaps they have secret varieties of wheat that not only crop with better tonnage per acre... but also tastes better.

Walking around Lyon tonight, it seemed that the French have taken many aspects of food production and turned it into an art form. Drinking wine is a spiritual experience... patisseries have to look like living objects and priced to match... fruit needs to be displayed individually... under spotlight... next will be the inclusion of surround sound. Most of this arty-farty affectation leaves me bewildered... except when it comes to bread... where the French actually do deliver the magic.

Lyon has this competitive thing going with Paris. It seems like the Gauls and the Franks haven't quite settled the pecking order. In Roman times (45 AD) Lyon had the upper hand... Agrippa and Caesar liked the cut of Lyon and used the area as their administration centre. When the Romans withdrew, Paris and Lyon were parts of different countries. It was only in the 14th century that Lyon was captured by the Franks. Lyon seems to be proud of its WWII history... where it was a centre for the occupying German forces... but also as a stronghold of resistance. The resistant fighters organised traboules (secret passages) through houses which enabled the local people to escape Gestapo raids. The city is now home to a resistance museum.

We are in Lyon for a few days where we hope to see more closely a city so rich in history.

Annecy - Truth in Labelling

Today we cycled 7 klms into the lovely lake village of Annecy... bicycle track all the way around one of the prettiest lakes we've seen. Today is nearing the end of the school holidays in the peak holiday month... families were at the lakeside in large numbers... sunning themselves... swimming... and canoeing. The traffic on the bike track was heavy... most of the cyclists having the latest version of bike with minimum speed limits of 100 kph... the bikes were so light and so highly geared that they overtook us without putting a foot on the pedal... or so it seemed. Even pre-teens had the latest gear... being overtaken by a 5-year-old doesn't do the ego much good. Also, lots of post-60's seniors were out setting their own PB times... we kept tightly to the right of the track... making sure our presence on the track didn't stand in the way of a PB. We were regularly overtaken by in-line roller skaters... they achieved speeds of 20 kph on the flat... most impressive. We showed our lack of biking experience... Joye said that at one point, she was overtaken by a jogger!

We couldn't hire chains to secure the bikes... so had to stay with them while exploring the town. We found a charming restaurant on a canal off the lake... for some lunch. One item on the menu stood out... the plate labelled "Fat Bastard"... checking its engredients, you could see it had been accurately labelled... Double beef and Bacon... Green Salad... Hash brown potatoes... Two toasts with Replachon  Cheese... Topped with fried egg. Beyond doubt, regular consumption of that volume of carbs would turn you into a Fat Bastard. People ordered the plate in spite of the hazard warning... the green salad component was neatly separated so that eaters could conveniently push it aside to focus on the carbs and the fats.

A health-conscious government could learn a lot from this restaurant. How about compulsory labelling 'Fat Bastard' on every supermarket or restaurant item that contained an unhealthy amount of carbohydrates... 'Obese Bastard' on each product containing an unhealthy serving of sugar... 'Stupid Bastard' on every packet of cigarettes. Imagine going into McDonald's and ordering a Fat Bastard Quarter Pounder and one Obese Bastard Smoothy Shake. That should fix our population's growing obesity problem. Save a lot of small print labelling requirements.

(I should have consulted with my daughter and son-in-law before expressing uneducated opinions on food. They have done considerable research and are helping a large number of relatives and friends find smart dietary solutions.)

France - Observations on the Road

Weekends in the height of the Holiday Season make for congested traffic... even in the most remote parts of the country. We wanted to escape the mountains... move on from La Clusaz in the French Alps down to Annecy on a lovely lake. This is a short drive... only 100 kilometres or so... which was about as much weekend traffic you can handle and come out smiling.

The short distance allowed us to take things slowly... so, instead of me tailgating slowcoaches trying to find a place to pass... I was the inconsiderate driver at the head of the queue. The relaxed 1.5 hours of driving provided time to contemplate road dynamics.

Cyclists
The most frustrating feature of mountain driving are cyclists. Drivers make concessions to the cyclists each time one is overtaken... you slow down... wait for oncoming traffic to clear... then swerve into the oncoming lane to allow the biggest margin of error possible. "What is wrong with that?" I hear you ask. Nothing... not a problem... if there is one bike per kilometre. But the alpine regions attract bike riders from all over the world. They are like cockroaches... hiding in dark valleys only to scatter when your car comes round the corner... you deal with one lot... and think the problem has been solved... only to discover another infestation around the next corner. Does a cyclist ever acknowledge the inconvenience you have suffered to execute a safe takeover? Never... he continues to keep his hands on the handlebars... focussed on maintaining his speed and his line of approach into the next corner. Does a cyclist ever inconvenience himself to allow a long queue of traffic to pass? Never... he has his PB time to beat... and that is more important than your reaching your destination on time. Does a cyclist make any contribution towards road maintenance and improvement? Never. We were surprised at the high proportion of female cyclists... in particular, females riding alone through the high mountains... there are no ill-feelings towards female cyclists. Nor are there ill-feelings towards the best of the cyclists on their downhill runs. They clock up speeds over 60 kph... race around hairpin curves faster than a Maserati...one false judgement and he is minced meat. (I have friends who are endemic cyclists... we need to have a quiet conversation to resolve our differences.)

Mobile Homes
What is to be made of Mobile Home drivers. They don't fit on alpine roads. They don't fit into parking spots in alpine villages. They don't have engines strong enough to keep up with traffic on steep mountain passes. If there is a long queue of cars on a mountain pass... and no cyclists are in sight... you can bet the lead car in the queue is a Mobile Home. They make a minimal contribution to the tourist economy... doing their grocery shopping in the large towns... where the prices are lower... but crowd out the scenic spots along the road and parking spots in the villages.

Hang Gliders
The number of hang gliders in the skies today is phenomenal... and the displays of flying are remarkable. It seems that every valley has dozens of them... some hugging the cliff edges... looking for the best updrafts... some thousands of metres in the sky... probably gasping for oxygen... some doing aerial gymnastics. Many flights have two passengers in the hang gliders... one being a paid instructor. We saw lots of fighting and landings... all without mishap. I wish I was 40 years younger to start developing those skills.

As you can see... the trip was not long enough to solve all the world's problems... but we made a start.

Mt Blanc - Europe's Tallest

The white mountain is the tallest... but it sits on top of other tall mountains... so you need to look carefully to see it. The main worry is that it keeps shifting. We need a little bit of history to understand the importance of moving mountains.

Before Napoleon taught Italy a thing or two about fighting, Mt. Blanc was located in a region that would (today) be considered as being part of Italy. Napoleon, having won the war, thought it only fair that France own the tallest mountain in Europe... but on reflection... thought he could show his generosity by splitting it in two... one half for the victorious French... one half to those lovable Italians. He had a specific treaty drawn up so that there could be no argument. The border between France and Italy would go right through the peak of Mt. Blanc. All went well for a couple of centuries until people started measuring the mountain.

Unfortunately, the people measuring the mountain couldn't agree on the height... some parties claimed others were incompetent... others said the tectonic plates were pushing the peak up and down... the climate alarmists said that global warming was melting the ice at the top. After much scientific study, a consensus formed around the theory that the wind changed direction every few years... and blew the peak higher (some years) and lower (some years). But in the process, the location of the peak was observed to move. Generally, over the period since the Napoleon agreement, the peak has moved towards Italy. Now the lawyers stepped in... does the border set by the peak in Napoleon's time remain unchanged... in which case Italy can now have sole sovereign rights to the peak... or, does the border shift... in which case Italy has to shrink. Right now, the peak is 2.5 metres higher than it was 5 years ago. This fits into climate change modelling... which predicts that any global warming has little (or no) effect above 4,000 metres.

Tonight, we are in La Clusaz (at 1,650 metres altitude)... its appeal being that it often is included in the Tour de France bike race. There are dramatic mountains around... and chairlifts aplenty... but we are still recovering from yesterday's walk... and chose to stroll around the town instead of conquering the heights.

Jungfrau supplies most of the ice for the Grosser Aletsch Glacier

Aletsch is the largest glacier in the Alps... covering 120 square kilometres. In the last 120 years, it has lost one half of its area... and two-thirds its volume. We wanted to see it before it disappears. It's just down the road from here... has a UNESCO rating... it was a sunny morning... so we jumped in the car and headed for Betten. Our first chairlift (gondola style) took us to the lovely alpine village of Bettmeralp... and the second chairlift took us to the top of the range at Bettmerhorn (2647 metres). The air was cleaner than usual... and looking 30 klms up the valley... there was the Matterhorn... on her best behaviour giving all visitors a clear view.

We walked over the ridge to view the Aletsch Glacier... it made a wonderful sight... sitting 1,000 metres below in a narrow valley. We had heard that ice from the Jungfrau fed into the Aletsch Glacier... so we asked some knowledgeable looking people if you could see the Jungfrau from here. We had travelled 136 road kilometres to get from Grindlewald to Brig... so we were expecting a speck on the horizon. "Yes", said our knowledgeable looking man. "It's that great big mountain poking its head around the corner. Walk half a kilometre down the track and you will get a much better view." The track ran across the face of a scree... but in good condition. We had a great view after half a kilometre... and were amazed at how close it was... it looked to be only 10 kilometres away. We changed our walking plans and decided to continue down the trail to the bottom of the valley... get as close to the glacial ice... from the top of the mountain, we could see the bottom trail... it looked quite close to the ice... and make our way back to the alpine town to rejoin the gondola chairlift. We ended taking 4 hours of rugged walking... but provided a day we will remember for a long time.

Our first challenge arose when the good track petered out and became a trail of red stripes of paint on the big boulders on the scree... probably our most difficult walking conditions so far. There were numerous signs telling walkers to be aware of rolling rocks. At one point the path provided a concrete roof for protection against landslides. We descended 600 metres to the bottom trail but were not near the ice... another 400 metres below. We walked along Europe's biggest glacier... on an almost deserted track... in a challenging environment... it was a great walk. This glacier moves at a speed of one metre per year. We learned that 10 years are needed to compact a snowflake into solid glacial ice. The structure of the ice changes dramatically... 10 cubic metres of packed snow is concentrated into one cubic centimetre of glacial ice.

Tomorrow, we depart Switzerland and focus on France. In our valley, the locals have been French speakers... good practice for tomorrow and the next few weeks. 

Queen Matterhorn - a Terrible Tease

The Matterhorn teased us all day... and left us feeling frustrated. We have been remarkably lucky with the weather. On numerous occasions, Mr. Google has said, "Don't bother going out... it's going to rain all day"... but we have ignored his advice... and ended up enjoying a day of full sunshine. Today, Mr. Google said," You won't get a photo showing a clear shot of the Matterhorn "... we said," We'll take our chances." So we commenced driving to Tasch... where we had to take a train to the next village of Zermatt... to connect with the mountain train that lifts you up 1,500 metres to Gornergrat... the most popular viewing platform for Queen Matterhorn.

Gornergrat sits at 3,100 meters... not so high as to inflict altitude sickness on anyone other than the most vulnerable. We noticed on our trip last week to the Jungfrau that nearly all the returning passengers in the train, were asleep... probably a result of encountering a mild dose of altitude sickness... today, returning passengers were awake... indicating that the slightly lower altitude of Gornergrat better suited the human condition. But the Gornergrat is spectacular in its own right... it is surrounded by 29 mountains with heights exceeding 4,000 metres. There would not be many places on earth where you can see such an assortment of high mountains. But ask any of the 500 travellers to name some of the 29... and they could name only one... the Matterhorn... the towering queen of the range.

But the Matterhorn did not have the decorum of a queen... her behaviour today was more akin to a harlot... a temptress... a tease. She was well aware of her importance... she knew that the 500 travellers were there for one reason only... to pay homage to her by the ritual of taking a snapshot of the mighty mountain... tick the box... and move on. So the 500 waited and watched. The queen indulged in a dance with the cloud covering... flicking her skirt periodically to reveal her feet then her knees... the 500 would rise up from their chairs... get their cameras at the ready... only to have the skirt lowered once more. I'm sorry to report that it indulged in a variation of the 'dance of the seven veils'... lightening the cloud cover until you thought you could see through the cloud... the 500 would become quite perky... expecting all to be revealed... only to have their imaginations dashed with heavy cloud descending once more.

Joye and I are much too mature to be taken in by such titillation... we decided to walk back down the track for half an hour or so... and catch the train at a lower station. This part of the track was above the tree line... above the grass line... the only ground coverings were lichens and mosses. But the behaviour of Queen Matterhorn still worried us. Each corner of the track that gave a view of the queen, we would compare her state of undress with what we had seen previously... speculating if the continued swirling of the cloud would reveal some midriff... or shoulder... and always hoping for the miracle of seeing the face. On our recent run of good fortune with the weather... we assumed that the dancer would loose her grip of the garment... and in an unplanned calamity... reveal all.

But good luck deserted us today... we put away our cameras climbed on board the train... and tried to think of other things. As you would expect with a miserable tease... Queen Matterhorn waited until our train was back in the village... just before we lost sight of it behind houses... it showed half of its face...what a terrible tease!

Ice Melt off Jungfrau, Monch and Eiger - Where does it Go?

Our time in Grindelwald has come to a close... unfortunately! We're off to do the Matterhorn... the highest mountain in Switzerland... and surrounded by some beautiful valleys. The place where we are staying is located high on a mountain ridge above the town of Brig... we are sitting on the front porch of our apartment gazing at the line of Swiss Alps running down the other side of the valley.

On our way, we took a detour up the valley next to Grindelwald... to see the Trummelbach Falls... a series of ten glacier-waterfalls inside the mountain made accessible by tunnel-lift and illuminated. (The tunnel lift is for geriatrics... we were made to climb through tunnel staircase cut into the rock. The Trummelbach drains the mighty glacier defiles of Eiger (3970 m), Mönch (4099 m) and Jungfrau (4158 m) and carries 20,200 tons of boulder debris down through subterranean waterfall each year. We couldn't see the weighing scales needed to verify such a claim... but if Wikipedia says so... it must be right. Wikipedia also claims that its drainage area is 24 km²... half of it covered by snow and glaciers. The falls carry up to 20,000 litres of water per second. I hope you are impressed by these facts and figures... we were certainly impressed by the power of large volume of water racing down inside a mountain. The noise was as impressive as the view of water out of control.

It's 43 years since our previous visit to Grindelwald.. with our next visit (43 years in the future)... we think we will stay in the Lauterbrunnen valley (where the Trummelbach Falls are located)... it is as pretty as Grindelwald... without the commercialisation.

Grindelwald - a Day Reflected in Lakes

In a day that gives adrenalin a rest and seeks some artistic niceties... we scoured Grindelwald for lakes that give money shots, where mountains are 'doubled dosed' ... with direct view and reflected view. The tourist information office showed us where the lakes were located... on the northern side of the valley... take the 'First' chairlift to the end of the line... take a left for two kilometres... and there you will find them nestled up against the Berghaus Manndlenen range... you can't miss it. The weekend visitors have departed... and on Monday, Grindelwald looks more like the sleepy village that charmed us 43 years ago.

The chairlift was a great ride... lifting us over 1,000 metres... and carrying us 5-6 klms away from the valley floor. The sun lit up the alpine colours... so much for the weather forecast of 3 days rain! We had our coffee at the top of the chairlift... then strolled along a gentle path towards the lake. It's easy to identify the drama and grandeur felt when standing on the glacier under the peak of the Jungfrau... no 6th sense needed there. But the enjoyment from strolling through alpine meadows... dodging between the cows... looking at the wild flowers... jumping over the babbling brooks... the strength of enjoyment is no less than looking down 2,000 metres from the mountain peaks.

The path to the lake was well used. We found a cow appreciative of a scratch behind the ears... that started a queue of trekkers wanting to scratch the same cow's ear. Upon reaching the lakes, the wind was rippling the water... diffusing any reflection... Oh well... them's the breaks.

The next phase of the walk was magic. We followed the path called the 'flower walk'... the track was rough... very few people chose this path... it follows the valley down 600 metres of altitude to join our chairlift at the last stop before the township. Only one mishap occurred on the flower walk... a young guy walking with the group ahead of us was showing off to his mates... he had climbed 50 metres above the track right under the cliff face. He picked up a big rock and rolled it down the hill in the direction of his friends... but random chance being what it is... it deflected off another rock and headed straight towards us. Fortunately, we saw it early... watch it bouncing along... taking no prisoners... then it slowed... and ended its run at our feet... the impetuosity of youth!

There were many streams joining the stream at the bottom of the valley. The stream had rapids and small waterfalls decorating its descent. We found wild flowers of types we had not seen before. Walking downhill... in the sunshine... with beautiful scenery... it was easy to maintain a sense of well being. There was one section of difficult descent... that tested the ankles and the knees... but otherwise, we didn't want this walk to end.

Jungfrau - The Top of Europe

We had weather forecasts working against us... rain for the next three days... although today started with brilliant sunshine. An emergency meeting of the Program Committee was called.. and the call went out.. Jungfrau or Bust... before the forecasted weather arrives. We pulled out our cold weather gear... mountains are notoriously unreliable... and off we went to the train station. I had to send Joye into the ticket office... the thought of paying the $220 for each ticket to complete a 15 klm (guess) train journey still upset me. The train was packed... we had to change trains halfway up the mountain and couldn't get on the first available train. The train track was steep... the cog breaking system slowed the train... it took over 2 hours to complete the 15 klms trip.

Our concerns about the weather evaporated immediately upon reaching the top. At a height of 3,500 metres we were above the cloud level... perhaps our view down the valleys may be interrupted... but we were guaranteed sunshine for the day. We had not anticipated altitude malaise... but after the first flight of stairs we remembered to pace our rate of exertion.

Not only were we above the cloud level... we were also above the 'haze' level... looking down the glaciers, vision and colours were perfect for miles... the whites were pure... the blues were pristine... the rock face offered fine detail

No physical effort was required of visitors... so we had all shapes and sizes and ages and nationalities. Something about high altitudes makes people more outgoing. Couples were asking strangers to take their photo... we had three young Chinese girls ask for us to pose with them while their friends took photos... most peculiar... Joye and I checked our wallets after the encounter... although we did enjoy the celebrity treatment. We talked with a group of climbers who had reached the summit of Monch yesterday and Jungfrau today... and they looked fit enough to do the Eiger tomorrow. To keep tourists amused, a range of sporting activities are played up on the glacier. Even a cricket match is played up there... I don't know what Switzerland is doing organising cricket matches... if they learned their techniques from the English, I bet the glacier wicket surface had been doctored. 

We thoroughly enjoyed our day. Once back in the valley, we were under cloud cover... but we have escaped rain so far. Today's altitude is the highest we have reached in Europe. Next week we will go around and check out the Matterhorn... which is the tallest mountain in Switzerland. That could be interesting. 

Grindelwald - One Big Casino

We are at Grindelwald... that forms the headwaters of the money flow coded under the name of 'tourism'. You are aware of the history of Switzerland and how it has retained its position as Europe's highest earning people. First, they set up arrangements so that their friends in high-taxed countries could avoid (or at least minimise) tax liabilities by holding their wealth in Swiss corporations. After tax avoidance got a bad name, Switzerland learned the skills of money laundering. That worked fine when customers consisted of upper class blue bloods from European elite. Unfortunately, the Swiss skills in hiding money trails became known to the Mafia and drug lords... who wanted the benefit of such services. The respectability of money laundering went down the drain. Also, other national countries became better at tracing money and made all sorts of embarrassing accusations against some Swiss citizens. Time to find the next money pot to keep the Swiss living in the luxury to which they have become accustomed. 

I think their next scheme is to fleece us tourists. We had been warned that Switzerland was expensive. But no one mentioned being extortionately expensive. Grindelwald, 43 years ago, was a delightful mountain village offering fantastic views of three huge mountains. Our return visit was arranged in the hope of finding as little change as possible in the lovely town of Grindelwald. What did we find? Well, it was like walking into a giant casino... glass and brass everywhere... flashing lights urging you to sign-up for the experience of a lifetime... hang gliding... water rafting... sauna massages... helicopter flights. No... I just came here to look at the mountains and do a little walking. All the glitter and hype of the town has allowed hoteliers and apartment landlords to charge ridiculous rents. We chose to be here on the last weekend of the Swiss school holidays... so the place is full. (It's hard to get traction with a rant about extortionate pricing when the merchant has to beat off prospective customers with a stick.) 

So, with much pain and grinding of teeth, I am going to pay €177 for a ticket on a train to take us up to the saddle between the two highest mountains around here (Monch - 4107m... and Jungfrau - 4158m). I could tell you about the cost of meals... of accommodation... of coffee... but it's just too upsetting. 

Let's focus on the remnants of human kindness that remains even within this 'Sodom and Gomorrah'. Joye had purchased a cheap watch in a market in Italy... paid €16. Unfortunately, it didn't keep time all that well... we finally concluded it needed a new battery. In Interlaken... just down the road from Grindlewald... there were lots of shops selling Swiss watches. We went into one shop and asked if a new battery could be installed. The shop owner took the watch out the back... after a few minutes we heard some cursing... the shop owner had broken the glass of the watch... he was upset. He asked how much Joye had paid for the watch... Joye told him. "I'll give you a choice", said the shopkeeper. "I'll give you cash for what you paid for the watch... or you can select one of my Swiss watches of a similar size." We thanked the shopkeeper and shook his hand... and walked from the shop with a watch with a window price of €99 Swiss watch... with a new battery. We were taken with the charm and generosity of the shopkeeper during the ordeal. 

Zurich - Hidden Treasures

Our day in Zurich was wet... draining the colour from the cityscape and draining enthusiasm from our attitude. The highlight that kept us going was that we were going to spend the afternoon with Sheila... sister of Johnny... who had stayed with us in Sydney in 2006... and we were also meeting Joleen (Sheila's daughter) who stayed with us for a month or so in that same year. They were great company when in Sydney... and we were sure they could add colour and vitality into the Zurich landscape. They did not disappoint.

In the morning, Joye and I had wandered aimlessly... in the rain... noticing that every glass was half empty. We did the art gallery... which proved the highlight of the morning... giving you an indication how much fun the rest of the morning had been.

After meeting Sheila under the 'big cube' at Zurich central railway station, we walked down to the lake's edge for a coffee and to see if the weather would support a cruise on the lake. Immediately, the city became interesting.

"Did you know that under that grey building lies the world's largest deposits of gold"..." Steady on Sheila... I want a picture of that".

"Did you know that this shop refused to show Oprah Winfrey a handbag in its window display because the shop assistant thought that Oprah couldn't afford it... Oprah was in town to attend the wedding of Tina Turner who lives just down the lake a few kilometres"... "Steady on Sheila... I want a picture of that."

"Did you know the crossbow belonging to William Tell, hangs on the wall of that restaurant? We'll have dinner there tonight"... "Steady on Sheila... I want a picture of that".

With every turn, Sheila was able to turn a pile of grey old bricks into history... adventure and intrigue. At dinner that evening, Joleen (an extensive traveller) bought us up to date on her latest endeavours. Joye and I were given a travel guide to the best of Switzerland's best tourist spots. We thought we had had our fill of mountains... but after Sheila's and Joleen's descriptions of the Swiss Alps, we realise we have just scratched the surface.

We thoroughly enjoyed our short stay in Zurich... only because of the catalytic information provided by Sheila and Joleen.

Roseville - A Separate National State

I know that residents of Roseville are already tired of the forthcoming election. Running the excitement metre up and down Roseville's streets did not tax the battery supply at all. What would create some excitement? Run an election on the basis of Roseville being an independent national state. Put up Louise for President... Charmaine for Prime Minister... Graeme for Immigration Minister... Harley for Climate Control... Barbara for Planning and Development... with Pam and Philomena being Party Whips. Perfect... everyone would be happy... no need for an opposition.

Now, come on, don't be cynical. I can hear you saying that Roseville is too small an area to form a national state. Today, we visited Liechtenstein... the fourth smallest nation on earth... and they are having no problems running their affairs. We were lucky in finding a parking spot right next to the national government office... right in the centre of town. We stepped out from the curb and were nearly run over by a 14 year old boy driving a tractor pulling a load of corn... we'd seen the field... just round the corner from the Government Office. You shouldn't assume that Liechtenstein is hicksville... a one tractor town. In fact, all the locals walked around in suits... hair slicked down... looking like they were all going for job interviews... with the Mormon Church. We looked around the civic square... for a national monument that encapsulated the purpose in having the nation of Lichtenstein... did they have historic battles that bound the nation... or peculiar religious beliefs... or treasured resources that bought untold wealth? We finally found the national monument... just off the civic square... of a nude lady... lying down in a sunny spot... having a snooze. We looked around the shops to see what merchandise hinted at the special industries driving the Liechtenstein economy. We did not have to look far... every second merchant was selling second hand stamps... we looked more closely at the surface of the civic square and saw etched between the bricks, tiles commemorating the famous stamps issued in yesteryear. We gazed at wonder at the 1973 issue that featured the mountain that sits within Liechtenstein ... amazing. We are not certain... but we think the national sport may indeed be stamp collecting... they are probably world champions. On a mall adjoining the civic square we found the Liechtenstein championships in beach volleyball in progress. Two teams (both from Austria) were fighting out a closely contended match. Plenty of sand was imported so that diving girls did not injure themselves... the girls looked neat in their brief bikinis... and the crowd support from the audience was exceptional... particularly from the men who made up 80% of the audience.

You wonder why Liechtenstein bothers with all the extra jobs that comes with running your own national state. They are so busy issuing stamps and holding national sporting events... they haven't had time to organise their own railway station. To reach Vaduz by rail involves stopping at a small village on the Switzerland side of the border and catching a bus back to the national capital. They don't seem to be trying to do anything different from the way Switzerland runs their country... they don't seem to be protecting any special privileges... they seem to run their own country simply because they can.

So, come on Roseville... if Liechtenstein can do it... so can you!