We rented a car on the French side of the Geneva airport. As one of the trip goals was practicing French, we started right away, at the car rental counter. I must say we did quite well, although not as individuals but rather as a couple - I spoke to the agent, and understood what she told me after Lina's translation. This amused the agent quite a bit. What amused her even more was that we returned a few times after checking the car condition and finding some unregistered damages. This time we got Opel Corsa and it was an immediate turn off. In our previous trips any time we got stuck after a slow car in a one-lane road it was always Opel, so now it was our turn to contribute to traffic jams.
The drive to Geneva was short. Much longer took watching for a parking. I underestimated the difficulty of this task and somehow thought I could get away with free parking. It used to work in most crowded places in Europe I've been too, but this time the municipality made a good job, and even remote parking lots behind residence houses were to be paid for. Most of them had a sign with "Except Macaron" written on it. Something told us it was not really relevant to the Italian pasta, and a passerby explained us the macaron was a disc distributed by the municipality which allowed parking. I was obliged to resort to the commercial underground parking.
This was the exact moment I realized the Swiss didn't care for the money. How else could you explain the fact that at the entrance of every underground parking there was no price list. What the hell, I said to myself, it doesn't matter how much I will pay, I'm just loosing time here while I can enjoy the city. In the end I payed 17 Euro for about 5 hours of parking.
Geneva is a beautiful eclectic city. It's mostly populated by people in expensive suits walking around and speaking French or Italian, and bikers, which are given priority on the city roads and which even have their own traffic lights. The lake in the middle of the city, and a huge jet fountain are one of the greatest attractions and are easily seen from the top of the Saint Pierre Cathedral, where you can climb on a very steep and narrow circular staircase (in fact so narrow that in some parts of it there are lights that coordinate visitors movement, allowing either ascend or descent but not both).
A park in the old center is small but tasteful. Scattered on a grass on a sunny day there were students from nearby colleges, some studying the material, some chatting cheerfully in small groups.
Unfortunately we couldn't afford lying lazily in the park, as we had to drive to Annecy the same day. So we jumped to a supermarket to buy some basic stuff for a case we won't find a decent place to have dinner. We were struck by the abundance and variety of the food we saw there. 8 types of tomatoes, persimmons the size of a big apple, pumpkins of all the colors and shapes, cheeses, meats and sea food section, all these made Israeli shops to look bleak and pitiful. The funny thing is many of this produce is Israeli, and it goes for export to Europe, leaving local shops with leftovers. Indeed, the fruits and vegetables we bought were delicious and helped us survive the long distance drives.
We had to leave the city. Regretful of not having more time to spend in this amazing city, we left Geneva for Annecy, according to our plan.
That evening, after arriving to the hotel in Annecy, we asked the woman at the reception for recommendations for restaurants. Having received an ample list of names accompanied with the notes on the city map, and dressed ready for a rendezvous with white bears on the North Pole, we left the hotel and stepped to the closest restaurant we saw, located in the same building just 10 meters from the hotel entrance. This sophisticated strategy never let me down in the past. When I was visiting a customer in Pescara, Italy, I was having dinners in the hotel restaurant for 2 straight weeks and never regretted it, and when I was working in Prague for a whole month, I was a celebrity in the nearby Lokal restaurant.
It was not different this time in the Contre-Sens restaurant, as the food, the wine, the ambiance and the service was just what we needed to get us started on the right foot and feel welcomed in this new city.
Day 2: Local traditions.
On a cold day just before starting to explore the new city, there's nothing like a warm fresh french croissant with almonds with a cup of hot tea. The boulangerie we encountered on our way to the city center served us a temporary refuge from the morning drizzle and gave us enough motivation to survive the long day outdoors.
At some point I had an urge to pee and started looking for public toilets. We entered a church, filled with smooth yet simple sounds of an organ playing. Made a circle inside looking for toilets - none here. The sounds suddenly stopped, a face of a young boy gazed from above, checking if there was audience to appreciate his music, and having spotted us and another visitor returned to the keyboard.
After looking in vain for public toilets, I was urged to take a leak by a tree at the city park. On our way back to the city center, I suddenly witnessed an insolent yet genius in its authenticity act by a drunk man, which unzipped his trousers in the middle of a street, took out the Johnson and shamelessly peed into the city water sink. A woman passing by at that same moment, disgusted by the man's behavior, exclaimed the characteristic french "Ouffff!", which nevertheless didn't make any impression on him. If only I knew the local traditions, though I to myself, maybe I would also follow them! And indeed, why dogs are allowed to pee on the street, while people are prohibited from this basic act of freedom?
We hurried up to find a place for a lunch. It's common in Europe to have specific hours for lunch and dinner, and outside these periods you're in danger of dying from starvation. But not all places follow these guidelines, and we found a nice semi pub semi restaurant Le Milton, which served us pizza, classic English Ahmad tea and other delicacies characteristic of local cuisine.
Day 3. The bikers paradise.
We got up early with a firm intention to rent bikes and make a circle around the Annecy lake. French croissants with almond filling and coffee somewhat delayed the execution of this plan. It was followed by a traditional visit to a few public toilets and shopping for a bottle of water and a pack of paper napkins (who knows what can happen in the middle of the road!). It wasn't until afternoon that we arrived at the bikes rental shop, deposited my driving license, got a pair of decent sport bikes in excellent condition, and took off. I didn't forget to turn on my Endomondo iPhone app to audit our movements.
Having reached the other end of the lake we discovered that on the other side of it was not accompanied with as convenient a route, so we were forced to drive mostly on the edge of a regular local motorway, which was a bit scary at the beginning because it was quite narrow and didn't have enough room for both us and a car at the same side of the road. But as we learned later, first from the behavior of other bikers and later from road signs that required a minimum distance of 1.5 meters between a driving car and a bike, car drivers patiently followed us waiting for an appropriate moment to bypass us using the opposite lane. Not even once have we heard a car honk behind us. We made in total 37 km that day, and it took us about 4 hours.
Did you know it takes only three times to visit a restaurant in a row in order to be met with an ironic smile by the waiter? Today was not an exception. We can now claim with pride that we didn't leave behind a single delicious looking dish, and we are ready for new unconventional experiences!
Day 4. Never buy a cheap GPS software.
While driving from Annecy to Bourg-en-Bresse, a city which was supposedly famous for its poultry dishes (and indeed, a simple but hearty plate of chicken legs ordered in the first place we encountered proved these rumors to be right), the GPS app for iPhone I deliberately purchased for 5$ a day before departure convinced me that there were no free lunches in the world. It constantly argued with the road signs, which unambiguously pointed to Bourg-en-Bresse, drew us into roads which became ever narrower, and at some point even displayed our location on an empty space while at that exact time I was happily driving on a perfectly decent motorway. And when it used to eventually give a correct advice, such as turning right or left, it was so slow that frequently happened after I had already performed the action. The only useful information I managed to elicit from the damn software was the last few streets before the final stop at the hotel, which would have been hard to master otherwise due to their one-directional nature. That's it - next time we're using only the proved technique - a simple folded paper map!
Day 5. Weather forecasts and cultural cravings.
Dijon is a nice city in which we planned to stay for two nights. When we arrived, we learned from the lady at the hotel reception that there's a nice lake not far from the city center, and decided to go see it by foot the next day. The weather was supposed to be pleasant - around 11 degrees and sunny. It seems that in our era of unbelievable technological advancements the weather still remains a subject completely unconquered by scientists. The lake and the park lying nearby were indeed beautiful, full of swimming and quacking ducks, but if I told a duck that it was a sunny pleasant day, it would spit me in the eye. In fact, it was hardly 5 degrees and the fog pressing upon the city made the visibility quite poor. We didn't wear appropriate clothes for this, and were forced to stroll rather fast along the walking piste that connected the lake to the city center, sometimes almost outrunning surprised bikers. I think opening a weather service site where the forecast would be based on random numbers has better chances to provide more accurate results than the existing ones.
We found a refuge in a cozy creperie, where we ordered some crepes with extravagant fillings, like chestnut creme or Grand Marnie, tea and coffee. While I believe the french cuisine is second to best in Europe (after Italian), these guys definitely don't know how to make a decent coffee. My Nespresso machine produces tastier liquid from a cleaning cycle than a cup of coffee in a french restaurant.
After absorbing some calories and warmth in the creperie, I suddenly felt a cultural craving. It occurred to me that from the very beginning of this trip the only things we did were eating, walking and seeing natural sights, and it was time to visit a museum. Fortunately we found the city Fine Arts Museum just a few blocks from our hotel. Moreover, at this time of the year, when tourist swarms have already dissipated, they even provided a free entrance, and like every self respected Israeli we couldn't help taking this opportunity. To our surprise, the museum and the temporary exposition of the french romanticism painter Gustave Moreau was quite impressing. While the classical section of the museum made a somewhat depressing impression on us, with its overwhelming religious thematic and canvases depicting scenes of crusifiction, rapes, killings and other merciful human deeds (how only people lived back then?), the section of the modern and contemporary arts was very refreshing, and by the end of the visit I felt that my cultural craving was completely satisfied.
To those that plan to visit Dijon in the future, here's my advice - please find a nice alcohol boutique and buy a bottle of good Creme de Cassis, preferably one that has been awarded with some kind of medal (it's usually written on the bottle). The odor of it is amazing, it's like smashing the fresh cassis (black currant in English) berries on the plate and smelling it. A Dijonois allegedly invented this delicious liquer, together with one of its most popular usages in a simple yet extraordinary aperitif called Kir, in which a glass of champagne is added a shot of Creme de Cassis, which upgrades its color and taste.
Days 6 and 7. How I poured the wrong beer.
Our next stop was Strasbourg. The fast motorway connecting Dijon to Strasbourg, which is about 350 kilometers long, was supposed to take us to the target point in less than 3 hours, as the permitted speed is 130 km/h. However as we entered the Alsace region the road surface quality suddenly deteriorated, and didn't allowed us to advance faster than 90 km/h. We noticed that in places where the road cracked, instead of remaking all the surface the cracks was just surgically filled with some black substance. Also the road signs now and then were blurred and difficult to read, as if washed with water and burned with sun for many times in a row. We concluded that the French deliberately didn't invest in this region, which is being disputed between Germany and France since ever. Surely, the French think, there will come a time when Germany will annex it again, so why bother keeping it nice and clean?
The same day we visited the Strasbourg Modern Arts Museum, strongly recommended by many information sources, which claimed it contained paintings of many famous artists, such as Kandinsky, Picasso, Ernst, etc. It was nice, but either because we already visited a Dijon museum a day before or because we were somewhat tired from the long driving the impression was muted.
The next day we didn't have any specific plans other than wandering across the city center. But something felt wrong. How could it be we didn't make home exercises and din't prepare any specific activity? It took us some time to realize that not only we planned something specific, but it was also one of the few things we researched back at home - the Strasbourg beer festival! It was run in a huge salon near the city center, and involved hundreds of breweries from all around the world, each represented by one or more beer types - pale and dark ales, white unfiltered beers, stouts, trepist beers, simple lagers, etc. A smallest beer tasting was usually proposed for 2 to 3 Euro. Having emptied several glasses we decided to finish with an Indian lager Cobra (it sounded quite exquisite), which Lina immediately liked and savored sip by sip.
As for me, feeling bolder from the decent amount of consumed malt I decided to force an intellectual discussion in french, spotted a brewery which presented two taps of draft beer, each one labeled with a word not known to me, called to the barman and asked what was the difference between the two. It didn't take me long time to realize my question was quite inappropriate, as the guy gazed at me for some time as if I was a lunatic, and then told me that this (here he pronounced the first word without giving it the explanation) and that (again, the second word) were completely different things. I felt like an idiot, as I later learned I asked what was the difference between chestnut and blueberries. But at least, I soothed myself, my pronunciation was good enough.
As the blueberries beer didn't warrant my expectations, Lina told me (in Russian) to pour it out and gave me hers as a consolation. Without second thoughts I approached a sink and poured Lina's beer, effectively finishing our party. Well, I admit I misunderstood her intention. It was at this point that I understood there was no linguistic limit to a drunk man.
Days 8. Vietnamese egg roll, by the Statue of Liberty ... in France.
Colmar is a medium size french city not far from Strasbourg. Although few heard of it outside France, many people might be familiar with the name of August Bartholdi. We learned that this sculptor, that later created the Statue of Liberty in New York, was born and lived as a child in this city. Therefore, on one of the roundabouts (this word has forever imprinted in my mind from constant exposure to GPS voice) located at the entrance to Colmar you can see an exact copy of this statue, however somewhat smaller.
It didn't take us long to realize that this was going to be the best urban experience we had during this trip. The combination of the easily located information office, a huge free public parking just next to it and a unique picturesque architecture charmed us, and armed with a step-by-step guide for visitors and good weather we commenced our exploration.
What's even more exciting about Colmar for a certain audience is that it's a wine capital of Alsace, and it means exactly what it sounds like. Leaving this place without tasting local booze would be considered a crime on our part, and we hurried to a few degustation places. The locals indeed produce excellent affordable wine, mostly white, from such grapes as Muscat, Gewurztraminer, Pinot Gris and Pinot Noir. We wanted to spread the word and thus bought some bottles for souvenirs.
An interesting attraction is the covered market. We found there such unconventional stuff as 4 types of different black pepper and vinegar from fruits pulp. We also encountered a booth of a sweet elderly Vietnamese woman, who seemed very excited that we decided to buy a daily lunch from her as if it was the most unnatural thing to do, and elaborately explained the difference between the 3 dish choices, saying: "Dis is chicken", "Dis is tofu", "Dis is beef, yes", and so several times in a row until we mastered the difference. The egg roll that came as an appetizer was so tasty that as soon as Lina pointed at me with her camera in order to immortalize my enthusiasm, I stole her plate and was not even sorry.
Day 9. Meditation in motion.
It doesn't matter how much do you like the city, as soon as you reach the nature you understand it's much better. Somehow the moments that stick to your memory forever are not of visiting boutiques and sipping beer in a pub, but of pedaling around a lake or hiking in a forest. This was one of the days that had to be associated with the nature. We took off from the hotel and drove towards the German border, to the famous Schwarzwald.
We were told that it's called Schwarzwald (black forest) because when you drive along it so that the sun is at the same side, it looks very black. While I'm pretty sure every forest would look black in these conditions, I believe Germans have their reason to call it this way.
We parked our car in a resort village with a raunchy name Titisee, located besides a nice lake, and started hiking. While I know what a forest is, I've never been in such an magnificent one. The trees were so high and dense that very little light have penetrated through them. It would be very difficult to advance in this forest without proper infrastructure, which was undoubtedly build by the locals. The path was wide enough to fit two people side by side, and the directions displayed either on trees or columns were impeccable in their clarity.
As we reached the other side of the lake rather quick we decided not to do the circular hike but rather continue further till twilight. We knew there were other villages ahead and the railroad that passed along the hiking route could've taken us back to our car without a problem. A few times we met people walking into the opposite direction. All the people were nice, smiled at us and saluted us in German. When it was already around 5, we met a pair of elderly fellows and asked them whether we're correctly going to Schluchsee. The answer was positive, but they said it was still far. We knew however from the signs that it was about 5km ahead, reachable in one hour. Well I guess there was no chance of taking us as hikers and not stray shoppers, as Lina was holding a supermarket plastic bag in her hand.
Meadows that occasionally revealed themselves, sometimes with a small cottage on them and a garden besides which would fit a golf field easily, conveyed a feeling of serenity. In a few places squirrels crossed our path and immediately disappeared between branches. We entered a semi-meditative state and carried forward.
This didn't finish without a small adventure. When we reached the target and found a small railway station, I bought two tickets from a machine. But we were told by a woman that the railway was being repaired and the train doesn't work during this period. Fortunately a bus operated between the two villages. I asked the women if the tickets I bought for the train were good for the bus too. She took a suspicious look at the tickets, turned them around a few times, and then handed them back to me and said: "Ah, never mind, they don't check the tickets anyway". Indeed, a thought that somebody can use the bus without a ticket couldn't cross a German mind.
We made 17 km by foot this day, and we highly recommend this very pleasant Titisee-to-Schluchsee hike that can be done in about 4 hours.
Day 10. Germany rules!
Our next stop was Karlsruhe. It's a German city not far from the French border, which attracts many German tourists at summer due to its mild weather and good quality water sources. Translated to English it is "The calmness of Karl".
Most of you know how stressful is driving in Israel. People constantly beeping and cutting, driving on the left lane like it was ones private property, changing lanes without signaling (it's probably one of defense mechanisms, because once you signal an intention to change a lane a car from behind will usually accelerate and prevent you from doing so), not giving priority to bike riders and pedestrians, all this is a miniature representation of life in Israel in general, a kind of struggle for existence. On German roads, however, driving is a real pleasure. Even in places where the road has been under construction, and as a result temporary lanes colored in orange stripes were only slightly wider than a car, the order and obedience to the rules prevailed. The only problem was that with our Opel Corsa we had the inferiority complex, as Mercedes-es, BMW-s and Audi-s, for some indescribable reason mostly black, swept past us barely touching the ground.
The Geman is of course famous for their obedience to rules. We were surprised, for example, that while in France pedestrians mostly disregarded red light if there was no car in sight, in Germany the picture drastically changed. I guess the few guys that I registered passing on red were color blind. However, this rules obedience sometimes leads to rules obsession. For example, as we were told by Lina's relatives that were hosting us in Karlsruhe, in order to fish in Germany you have to sign up to a fishing club, buy a license and always have tools which comply certain specifications, one of which is a special hummer using which the caught fish must be put to death quickly in order to prevent its suffering. As a result, many people, Lina's relatives including, prefer to cross the border to France and indulge in this activity there. My take on this is that soon enough countries bordering Germany will become fish-less, because fish will eventually find out the best country to live in and migrate to Germany.
There's nothing really to see in Karsruhe downtown, however the Karl castle and an enormous park behind it are easy to reach on foot and really worth the visit. There's a botanical garden just next to this park, with many weird beautiful trees and bushes.
Day 11 and 12. Apple wine.
After seeing some Karlesruhe we started off to our last destination - Frankfurt. It took us quite a while to get there, as traffic jams slowed us down. Upon arrival, Lina's colleague Alex, who lived in a student city Darmstadt near Frankfurt, picked us up and immersed us up to our necks into the cultural peculiarities of this megalopolis.
We started from tasting the local specialty, apple wine, in a pub called Schreyber Heyne. It was so crowded that no free table was available, but we joined a middle age couple (it's quite usual in Europe to share the table, if there are free chairs) which from time to time helped Alex translate local dish names to English (although most of the time the translation resulted in saying that it's so intrinsically German that it's not possible to express in another language) and were in general very nice and friendly. The apple wine, ubiquitously consumed by every self respected Frankfurt resident, is a yellowish mildly sour liquid with an alcohol percentage similar to that of beer, and is served in a beautiful hand made clay jars colored in blue. It's consumed by adding about 1 parts of water to 4 parts of the wine, and makes excellent company to the local fat-rich food such as sausages and smoked pork.The final wine is very tasty, but so are also intermediate stage products of the fermentation, which are more or less sweet depending on the percentage of alcohol which has been produced. The locals have names to several such stages, although I don't remember them. The wine is a pride of the region and is known only in Frankfurt itself and some of the nearby cities, while unfamiliar in other Germany parts.
After finishing 3 liters of the booze and a hearty dinner in the pub, Alex drove us to Darmstadt. We were somewhat surprised as a police car following us from behind ordered Alex to stop the car. They claimed our car was going in a funny way, swinging from side to side. Alex was taken for an alcohol test and we waited for him in suspense. However he returned with a winning and proud smile, as the apparatus showed 0.0% alcohol in his blood.
We continued our pubs visiting streak the same evening in Darmstadt. Apparently Alex decided to introduce us to all the places that were open till late, and we had a beer in every one. Luckily the city was rather small. Also, at some point Alex's eyes started to look dreamy and his speech slowed down considerably, so we decided to go home and have some sleep. It was almost in the morning.
Next day the plan was to visit all the mandatory Frankfurt sights. We started from the famous Stock Exchange, next to which a sculpture of a bull and a bear was on display. I was lucky to be photographed near the bull alone, as generally it is covered by hordes of children and adolescents, having fun on its back and other, more intimate, body parts.
Later we visited a small covered market, which, as Alex explained, had any possible food a gourmand could think of, and in very good quality. He introduced us to the most famous sausage in Frankfurt, which could be spotted from a great distance as it was the only place with a line. It was worth waiting.
Frankfurt is a huge crowded city, which is not as beautiful from outside as most of French cities we've been too, because it was completely destroyed during the WWII and has been restored since. Sometimes it's hard to believe that even the cathedral in the roman part of the city was completely rebuilt after the war. We could easily go astray in this place, missing the best part of it, but thanks to Alex guidance it didn't happen.
Leaving behind this magnificent journey, we took off to the Frankfurt airport. I hope this blog summarizes it in an informative yet entertaining way.
