Europe Report #4 - Coos, Sauerkraut and Roots

Our Cottage in Schwindratzheim, France

We've seen a variety of crops in the fields as we've crossed France in the last few days.  There have been fields of corn left drying on the stalk, lines of cabbages and, very interestingly, piles of potatoes.  The fields look different from those at home.  For one thing, you seldom see a farmhouse standing nearby.  Instead, farmers live together in local villages and go out to work their fields each day or when the fields need attention.  How different from a southern Ontario landscape where you see solitary farmhouses in the midst of the fields.  Another difference we noticed was the way the fields and crops are more defined.  Our fields tend to be outlined by fence lines, straight lines of rocks and stones and towering trees.  Here the crops were more circumscribed by cuttings in the crop between sections.  It made for very neat looking fields.

By Thursday afternoon, we had found the small Alsatian village we were to stay in for the next few days.  Schwindratzheim is about 30 minutes north west of Strasbourg and just off a main highway.  I chose it because it is well connected to the rest of the region and we planned to visit some fairly far-flung locations.

Alsatian villages are very neat and covered with flowers, even at this time of year.  Alsace has a strong Germanic influence, so it looks quite different from most of the rest of France.  In the villages, the houses are largely closed off from the narrow streets.  The ancient farmhouses (remember the farmers live in the villages) tend to be U-shaped -- a house plus a barn and other outbuildings surrounding a small courtyard or barnyard.  The open end of the U faces the street, but is likely closed off by a wooden gate and wall.  The cottage we had rented was just one of these houses.  Bruno, the owner told us it dated from 1800.  We thought this was interesting in light of the fact that Mom's ancestors left the region in 1836 and identified themselves as farmers.  Perhaps they lived in just such a farmhouse.

We asked Bruno many questions of the cottage we had reserved.  In his broken English, he told us it used to have coos.  I was puzzled at first, but thought he was talking about a chicken coop.

"No," he said.  "Coos.  How do you say it in English?"

Then it dawned on us.  Cows.  Our cottage used to be a cow barn.

And a beautiful cow barn it was.  Completely renovated, it was a spacious two-floor, three-bedroom, two-bath home.  The ground floor had a complete kitchen with a dining area, a large foyer, a full bathroom and a very large living room.  The second floor had a bathroom, laundry room/closet, a large open sitting area at the top of the stairs, two very large bedrooms and one smaller bedroom.  The windows showed that the walls were about two feet thick.

Outside the cottage were mounds of late season flowers and grass throughout.  One morning I was in the yard taking photos of the flowers when I saw a creature flitting from blossom to blossom.  My first impression was that it was a very big moth, but then I noted its flying pattern -- it was just like a hummingbird.  About a third the size of one of our ruby throated hummingbirds, I watched it closely and just couldn't decide what kind of creature it was.  I looked it up later on and discovered that it is known here as a hummingbird moth -- a moth that acts very much like a hummingbird.  Fascinating!

Strasbourg & Baden-Baden

Friday morning we headed to Strasbourg, hoping to take a boat tour of the canals.  Unfortunately, the lift operators were on strike.  We opted instead to tour a nearby museum on Alsatian life.  It was very interesting, especially the photos of farmsteads like the one in which we're staying.

After a nice Alsatian lunch, we headed about an hour north to Baden-Baden, Germany.  Our goal was the Caracalla Spa, a pool complex built on the ancient hot springs there.  We had a wonderful, wonderful time!  In fact, we had such an enjoyable time, we came back again the next afternoon!  I highly recommend it.

Chateau Haut-Koenigsbourg

Saturday morning, we headed a little south of Strasbourg to Chateau Haut-Koenigsbourg, a castle build on the top of a looming mountain (a small mountain - we're not in the Alps yet) overlooking the Rhine valley.  Unfortunately, we discovered the castle tour had over 300 steps.  Mom and Krista would not be able to manage those and I really wasn't anxious to try them myself!  However, the castle management had really tried to make alternate arrangements for those with mobility issues.  We were able to see a film about the castle without having to step up a single stair.  And it was free!  Some of us even managed to stay awake during the movie.

Auberge Saint-Alexis

Our next goal was a remote forest inn (As I read this to the others, Mom said definitively, "Now that was a day!") that serves remarkable meals every day to hikers and anyone else who can find them.  I read about Auberge Saint-Alexis online and thought it sounded like just the place Dad and I enjoy looking for.  (Mom and Krista not so much!)

We drove from the mountain-top chateau back down to the vineyard covered valley.  Several picturesque villages later, we came across the road I thought might be the correct route.  Up we went, first between old stone walls and then for about 10 kilometers through deep forests, up hill and down on a narrow, winding, single lane (but two-way) road.

Many hairpin turns later, we finally reached a tiny sign that indicated the turn-off for the auberge.  At this point the road changed from narrow and paved, to a steep, narrow and rutted, rocky, muddy track.  About 200 meters later, we rolled out of the forest into an open field area.  In the centre was  a small church and an ancient farmhouse covered with vines and surrounded by fabulous flowers.  We'd found it!

We went into what we thought was the right door and were shown into a very small dining room with only four or five tables.  Our table was right against the tile stove that kept us warm throughout the dinner.  We later found out that the main dining room next door was filled with a bus tour group.

In the foreground is a chapel that has been in the location
for centuries; it was closed to visitors.
The Auberge is the smaller building in the background.

We proceeded to have the best meal of our trip so far.  We started out with a large bottle of locally made apple juice, a tureen of wonderful homemade vegetable soup and a basket of bread.  Then we had an omelet with ham and sauerkraut and vegetables and then a farm chicken dinner. This was so much food, we couldn't begin to finish it!  Finally, we had freshly made fruit tart.  All this for less than 18 Euros each.  We could hardly make our way to the car!

Alsace has been a wonderful place to visit and I'd really like to come back here.  We haven't tried to do any serious genealogical research here.  I was primarily interested in having Mom see where her ancestors had come from and I wanted to get a feel for the land and culture myself.

Now that we've had our second visit to the Caracalla Spa, we're all very clean and ready for bed!  Tomorrow we head southeast to the Swiss Alps.

Listen for our yodelling!

More Photos

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Just around the corner from our Schwindratzheim accommodation
 was this street:  Street of the Jews.  From medieval times
there was a considerable Jewish population in Alsace.
I would guess that this particular street held the homes and/or shops
of some Schwindratzheim's Jewish community -- at least until World War II.

Dad is exiting the door of our accommodation.
Two of our bedrooms opened onto the balcony.

Another view of the barn past the windows of our accommodation.
Notice the wagon in the open area.

If you look closely at the board used to close off the end of this wagon or cart,
you'll see that it dates from World War II.  Interesting!

Our cottage, looking toward the wooden wall and gate
that closed off the courtyard from the street.

More shots of the hummingbird moth ...

A square in Strasbourg.  Notice the very old, ornate buildings.
Lots of great souvenir shopping.  Did I buy anything?
No.  Too many options.  I guess I'll have to go back!

The beautiful Strasbourg cathedral.

Inside the cathedral.

A friendly face.

Inside the Alsacian Museum.

In the Alsatian Museum, this bench was part of the exhibit on the Jewish community.
As I recall, it was originally used by a mohel.

One of Strasbourg's famous canals.

Even in autumn, flower boxes were everywhere.

A statue of Gutenberg who worked on his printing press here.

Haut Koenigsbourg is on the top of a small mountain
overlooking the fertile Rhine valley which is sprinkled with
cute-as-a-button villages and vineyards.

The hills are covered with mature forests.
They made me think of the fairy tales that talk about woodcutters
and travellers hounded by wolves.

The castle itself is made of the most beautiful red stone.

Mom, Dad and the Kid rest a bit while I make arrangements
for us to view a film about the castle.

Yes, that's a windmill on top of the buildings making up
a wing of the castle.

The vine-covered Auberge Saint-Alexis.

You can see from this picture how large the leaves on the vines were
-- much bigger than Mom's fist.

The Auberge's main dining room.

The garden outside the Auberge.

Europe Report #3 - No Tea for You!

Paris to Verdun

Early Wednesday morning, we left Paris in our car which had been safely parked during our time in the City of Light. We carefully programmed our on-board GPS for our next destination -- Verdun -- and headed out through the city. We were surprised at how easily we were guided through the rush-hour traffic. On the eastern edge of the city, the GPS unit (or, as we call her, Hazel) took us off the main highways and through the countryside on lesser roads. We later realized we'd mistakenly told her to avoid toll roads.

It was a blustery, sometimes rainy day. At one point we stopped at the side of the road to put some lunch together (cheese & crackers, etc) and were nearly blown off our feet. Eventually, we drove by the last of the wet farm fields and over darkening hills down into the valley that harbours the small town of Verdun.
I had originally thought it might be fun to stay one night in the town of Verdun, France -- because Dad was born and raised in Verdun, Quebec. Then I discovered that Verdun, Quebec was actually named after another town of the same name in the south of France, not the north. Nevertheless, this Verdun was in just the right place for us to break our drive across France. Verdun is also the site of one of the most horrible battles of World War I.

Dinner à la France

Our hotel for this one night was a small, fairly modern (i.e., not more than 50 years old!), although basic, place that seems to cater primarily to French travelling salespeople. We were tired and still adjusting to this time zone so we decided to have dinner in the hotel restaurant. (Almost every hotel in France -- even the smallest -- has an in-house restaurant that at least tries to be elegant.)

We were the first diners to enter when the restaurant opened for dinner at 7:00 pm. We chose our table and began making our way through the French menu. The dinner special we all chose, consisted of Salade Meuse (we guess a salad specialty of the area), pork medallions with vegetables and cooked cherries, a cheese plate and an ice cream dessert with more cooked cherries and chocolate slivers. All this for only 18 Euros each (about $22). It was wonderful. The salad could have been the whole meal -- potatoes, lettuce, dressing and other good things -- all topped with a poached egg! The cheese course consisted of a second basket of wonderful slices of baguette (we'd already devoured a first basket of bread) with a LARGE wedge of Brie on a plate. If I'd bought just one of those wedges in a Toronto store, I would probably have paid $4 or $5.

One thing I found quite interesting was the quietness of the restaurant. I'm always complaining about incessant, unpleasant music and general noise in restaurants at home. This restaurant was entirely the opposite. Not only was there no music, nobody said a word except we four! All the other guests were clearly travelling business men and women. One pair of men dined together, but they never spoke, just texted on their phones. All the others were dining alone. There was no conversation. There was no banter between servers and guests. Nothing. Very peaceful!

The second thing we all enjoyed was our server's reaction when I asked for tea. It was when he was serving the cheese course.

"Nous voulons du thé pour trois," I said. (We'd like three cups of tea.)

"Non," he said to me quite firmly and continued speaking briefly.

I wasn't quite sure he understood what I was requesting, so I said again, "Nous voulons du thé pour trois."

"Non," he said again very firmly. Then I understood the rest of his statement. No tea could be served before the dessert! Apparently, tea before dessert simply is not the done thing here.

Needless to say, we've been informing each other on numerous occasions since, "No tea for you!"

Verdun Battlefield Memorial

This morning, after breakfast at the hotel (also a quiet affair), we drove into the nearby hills to visit the Verdun Battlefield Memorial. Watching an English video presentation really helped us understand the horrible events of those battles. As I recall, about 200,000 French and German men died in a ghastly, months-long battle. It was very saddening. The accompanying museum was very interesting because of Mom's grandfather who fought at Vimy (several hundred kilometers away). We saw the kinds of uniforms and equipment used in those days and came away amazed that anyone survived at all.

Of course, this being France, the museum closed for lunch. They pushed us out into the rain and we turned the car toward Alsace (the far northeast corner of France) from which Mom's grandfather Caple's grandparents (Philippe and Barbary Koebel) left for the New World in 1836.

Thanks for reading.

Europe Report #2 - To the Top of Paris

What is it that makes Europe so fascinating to North Americans?

Is it the personal history many of us recognize?  Those of us who are descendants of Europeans often feel a hunger for the European roots we lost when our ancestors crossed the Atlantic to settle in North America, whether that was 20 years ago or 200 years ago.

Perhaps it is the deeper European history that isn't so noticeable in places like Toronto.  Yes, we may know about Muddy York and even about Carrying Place, but there are no cathedrals there that pre-date John Cabot or Samuel Champlain.

Or, maybe it's that famous je ne sais quoi that Europe has.  Fashion.  Culture.  Architecture.  Cool cars.  Elegant restaurants on every curb.

No, I think I've figured it out.  It's the bakeries!  There's nothing that says Europe to me more than walking into a local bakery and asking for a warm, crusty loaf of bread for my next meal!  And the cheese!  Don't get me started...

-------------------------------

Our apartment was just a couple blocks
from the Eiffel Tower.

Arriving in Paris and Driving into Town

We reached Paris safely on Saturday at about noon.  It took quite a while to make our way through the police check/customs and then longer to wait for our suitcases to finally arrive.  In the meantime, the fact that the Kid had left her Obus Form on the plane caused us a bit of panic.  The very kind baggage service people in the terminal did a wonderful job cajoling the staff in or near the plane to look for it and they returned it to the Kid much sooner than I'd hoped.

We were soon picked up by the Renault people and driven to our car.  It took about five minutes for us to sign for the new van we had reserved through their buy-back program.  We had a quick lesson on the intricacies of our vehicle, we loaded her up and off we went to our apartment in downtown Paris.

Our on-board GPS unit took us there flawlessly.  A very cultured English voice told us when and where to turn, leading us along the highways from the airport to the city, then through the manic Place d'Etoile (the unbelievable traffic circle around the Arc de Triomphe) and down leafy residential streets, across the Seine River just beside the Victory Flame that has become a de facto memorial to Princess Diana, then three blocks south and -- voila! -- there we are.

Getting Settled 

We knew there would be no parking spaces, so Dad pulled up in a pedestrian crossing at the end of the street while I went inside and figured out how to access the apartment.  A few moments later I appeared, triumphantly holding the apartment key, and we began to off load our luggage.  Dad unloaded the car, Mom held the building door, I maneuvered the luggage into the tiny elevator (only big enough to hold two very friendly people) and sent them up to the Kid who took them out of the elevator before sending it down to me for another load, and dragged them into the small, fourth floor apartment.

Once everything had been sent upstairs (including Mom), Dad and I drove the car to the nearby underground garage.  It cost us about 90 Euros to park for five days -- pricey, but we won't have to think about driving through crazy Paris traffic or looking in vain for parking spots.  We don't plan to use the car again until Wednesday morning when we head out of the city.

Dad and I also collected a few groceries from the stores in a nearby shopping street -- cereal, cream, cheese, milk, yoghurt, butter, some fresh veggies, cooked chicken and, believe it or not, a box of matzah (Dad's choice).  We also picked up bread (yeah!) and fruit tarts at a wonderful bakery.  This food will see us through several meals over the next few days.  But for our first meal in Paris, Dad and I ordered crêpes from the crêperie next to our building door.  The charming owner cooked our crêpes to order and we had a fine feast.

Gospel Dream Concert

Then Mom and the Kid rested, but Dad and I headed back across the Seine and up avenue Georges V to the American Cathedral in Paris for a concert. An ensemble called Gospel Dream sang spirituals and black Gospel music (from Africa and North America).  It was wonderful!  The cathedral was surprisingly full -- I heard more French speakers than English.  There were Swedish-speakers standing in line behind us.  The music was amazing!  There was no sound system and the only instrumental accompaniment was a little sax and a little keyboard.  About 12 vocalists and the leader (who also sang) performed with energy and spirit.  Wow, what an evening.  Our sense was that most, if not all, of the performers were believers and sang with conviction.  One of the songs we enjoyed went, "I'm heading for heaven and I'm walking on the King's highway"  They ended with, "Oh happy day, when Jesus washed my sins away."  Even though Dad and I were struggling to overcome our jet lag when we reached the church, we left entirely energized and hummed all the way home.

The Eiffel Tower

The next morning we all slept in, had a lazy breakfast and then headed out to the Eiffel Tower which is only a couple of blocks away.  The breeze off the river was cool enough that we wore our jackets, but the sky was a perfect blue dome.  The Eiffel Tower was truly amazing, even for my second time.  After standing in line nearly an hour, we purchased our tickets and headed for the elevator up to the first view level.  How breathtaking it is to see the city spread out before you.  After admiring the view, we headed up the central elevator to the very top.  Wow!  It's almost too much to take in.  I knew what I was looking at because of my visit here with Megan almost ten years ago, but it was harder for the others.  I was able to point out different buildings and monuments to them, but I know they didn't have the same understanding of what they were viewing.

We had hoped to go to the Louvre after the Eiffel Tower, but we were just too worn out.  We toddled back to our apartment, had a nice chicken supper after a challenging few moments figuring out how to use the combo oven/grill/microwave.  After dinner, Dad and I headed out to another concert at another nearby church, the American Church in Paris.  (The American Cathedral is part of the Anglican tradition; the American Church appears to be Presbyterian.  During much of the year, the ACP provides free Sunday evening concerts.  Contact them to get on their email list.)  This concert was very enjoyable -- an organ recital -- but we both struggled to say awake.  There was no toe tapping here.  No shouting of "Hallelujah!" or "Amen!"

L'Orangerie, the Tuilleries and the Louvre

Monday morning we energetically headed out to try the Paris Metro.  Mom and the Kid thought they could manage a few stairs here and there, so we bought our carnet (about 10 tickets) and passed through the turnstiles.  Our first stop was the Place de la Concorde, a huge square full of speeding cars, statues, ornate lamp stands, fountains and an Egyptian obelisk -- all surrounded by classical buildings.  It was in this square that so many people, including Louis and Marie-Antoinette (the king and queen of France), lost their heads in the guillotine.

Just off this square is a museum I had really wanted to visit - L'Orangerie.  When I was here with Megan some years ago it was closed for renovations.  Today it was open!  Claude Monet's famous water lily paintings hang here in two rooms designed to show off these gigantic canvases.  Dad and I pushed Mom and the Kid in museum wheelchairs into these rooms and we just drank in the extravagant size and colour of these works.  Wonderful!  Downstairs we saw many other works by Renoir, Picasso, Sisley and others.  It's a small museum, but was a wonderful start to the day.

A very bright and beautiful day.

Afterward, we walked slowly through the Tuileries Gardens that separate L'Orangerie from the Musee du Louvre.  The closer we came to the Louvre, the more crowded it was.  Because we had purchased museum passes in advance, we were able to enter the museum immediately and didn't have to line up for tickets -- a great bonus because half of Paris was here.  We decided to borrow a couple of wheelchairs again and looking for the correct elevators we headed off through clumps of dazed tourists.  The Louvre has been very modernized in the last 20 or 30 years -- the glass pyramid entrance over a beautiful marble lobby is very impressive.  However, the elevators still must contend with a series of buildings that were created for foot traffic and are full of marble stairs with a half-flight here and a demi-flight there.  We spent a lot of our time trying figure out how to maneuver in and out of elevators only big enough for one wheelchair at a time and managing to get separated and entirely lost in our search for the Mona Lisa.  But, we did finally make it!

The Kid admires The Wedding at Cana.

The Mona Lisa, a surprising small picture, is behind glass and a wooden railing.  About five feet beyond that is another wooden railing.  All the tourists and their cameras are pressing against that barrier.  However, wheelchair visitors get to wheel slowly between the two railings, so we got an extra close, though brief, glimpse of Lisa.  We took another hour to view a few other paintings (the wedding at Cana and Napoleon crowning Josephine were our favourites) and then started looking for the exit.  That took at least another 45 minutes. Whew!  In the process, Dad foiled a pickpocket.  (We've had at least four encounters with pickpockets and scam artists.  We've won all our battles!)

After a lunch in one of the museum cafes, we took the Metro home again.  We almost had to carry Mom and the Kid through the last few blocks.  Mom has been counting the stairs she's gone up and down; I think she came up with 139 steps.  Dad said it was pretty good because, not only could she count them, she could still add each section up!

After supper, Dad and I walked down to the bridge over the Seine at the bottom of our street.  From there we watched the Eiffel Tower's lights start flashing as they do on the hour. It was beautiful, but I thought it could have a used a little music.

Notre Dame and Sainte Chapelle

The well-known front view of Notre Dame.

Tuesday morning, the Kid stayed home to rest while Mom, Dad and I took a cab to Notre Dame.  When I was here with Megan, we climbed the towers (painful - no elevator - think Hunchback of Notre Dame), but did not actually go into the church.  This time, we walked slowly around the interior of the cathedral, admiring the architecture and artwork -- such as we could see in the dim light.  It was very crowded with tourists, but they weren't as manic as the ones at the Louvre.  Mom and Dad enjoyed seeing the stained glass, but I was looking forward to showing them  Sainte-Chapelle a few blocks away.

The two houses of worship have fascinating histories.  Notre Dame de Paris (Our Lady of Paris) venerates Mary the Mother of Jesus.  It is spectacular in that dark, solemn Gothic way.  It was started in the 12th century and took almost 200 years to build (1163-1345).  During the French Revolution (1790s), it was looted and desecrated by the people of Paris who were revolting against the king, the aristocracy and the church; I believe it was actually used as a granary for a while, before being restored in the following century.

The interior of Sainte Chapelle.

Sainte Chapelle (the Holy Chapel), on the other hand, was built by Louis IX (a devout man who later was canonized) to act as a giant reliquary for the Crown of Thorns.  The purported actual crown of thorns worn by Jesus during His crucifixion and a few other relics were purchased by Louis from Constantinople in 1239 for 135,000 livres.  Louis then spent another 100,000 livres to commission a special silver chest for the relics.  The chapel he built to hold the relics in the silver chest was a bargain at only 40,000 livres!  AND it was built in less than 10 years!

I had been told of Sainte Chapelle but, when I visited it with Megan, I was simply stunned by the glory of the interior.  Although built in the same period as Notre Dame, Sainte Chapelle has none of the gloomy Gothic atmosphere.  Instead, the walls are made entirely of stained glass.  Even on a cloudy day, the interior is bright and colourful.  The overall effect is one of joy and delight.

I was looking forward to Mom's and Dad's reactions to Sainte Chapelle; I wasn't disappointed.  They were both overwhelmed by the glory of this small building - even though Mom had to climb up 40 stone steps in a narrow staircase winding around a pillar to get there and then another 40 steps down to leave.

Canauxrama, a Cruise along Canal Saint Martin

We returned to our apartment for lunch and, in the afternoon, Dad, the Kid and I headed out again for a boat cruise on the Canal Saint Martin.  We started in the Port d'Arsenal near the Bastille.  This downtown Paris marina is filled with live-aboard barges -- something the Kid and I have been admiring and dreaming about for years.  We had a wonderful half hour drooling over these wonderful, quirky vessels before our cruise began.  The cruise went slowly north (canal speed isn't more than about 6 km/hr).  We went through about four sets of locks and enjoyed watching the people along the canal who were watching us.  The entire cruise took about 2 1/2 hours and headed in only one direction.

When we disembarked, we were in a new part of town and it took us a while to locate a taxi.  (Taxis in Paris are not easy to flag down.  They have taxi stands scattered about the city and, if you're in luck, you'll find a cab there waiting for a customer.  You can telephone for a cab, but they'll start to charge you from THEIR departure point, not yours.)  After walking a few blocks, we finally found a taxi, but not at a taxi stand.  The woman driver seemed to be just starting her evening shift and was saying goodbye to her young son on the street.  It took us a bit to persuade her to drive us home, but she eventually took pity on us.  She spoke French that was very plain to me and we were able to communicate quite a bit.  But she never stopped!  Our ride home was quite lengthy, but she never ran out of something to say.  She told me about her two marriages, her seven children, her oldest single daughters who work and have money and therefore think they need neither husbands nor children.  She was impressed that we had a car and were planning to drive all the way to Rome.  She asked me who was going to drive the car.

"Mon père," I said, nodding toward Dad in the front seat.

"Oh, là," she said, looking him up and down.

When we reached our apartment, she got out of the car and politely shook hands with each of us.  "Bonne chance (Good luck)," she said to the Kid and me.

"Bon courage (Have courage)," she said to Dad.  I'm not sure what she was referring to -- the evil Paris traffic we'd encounter as we left the city, the long drive, or being cooped up in a car with three women!

I've asked the others what they enjoyed or noted most about Paris.  Dad has really enjoyed seeing the ornate doors and gates on the buildings we've walked past.  Mom noted the scary motorcyclists who only take traffic rules as a suggestion; she also said, "Oh, the stained glass windows [at Sainte-Chapelle], they were absolutely beautiful, especially the ones that had been recently cleaned [restoration work was in progress].  The Kid especially enjoyed Monet's water lilies.  "The colours," she said.

So, all in all, we've had a great start to our trip.  Tomorrow we leave for Verdun where we'll stay one night on our way to Alsace.

Thanks for reading!

A Few More Photos

Click a photo for a bigger view, then use the thumbnail photos at the bottom of the page to view all photos from this entry.  Escape button to return.

The Eiffel Tower before the light show.

The Eiffel Tower during the light show.

Enjoying the views from the top of the Eiffel Tower.
We laughingly say this is Fred (my grandfather) but, no, it's just ...

... Dad, looking more and more like his father! 

The views from the top of the Eiffel tower are amazing.
This is looking west along the Seine.

Looking north east.

Looking north.

Looking south.

Looking east.  Notice the red-roofed building in the foreground ...

Our apartment is directly left across the street
of the far end of the red-roofed building.
Very close to the Eiffel Tower!

This very cool office building near the Eiffel Tower
is covered with thick and varied greenery.

Gardens in the Tuilleries.

A tired tourist.

Two tired tourists!

A peaceful allée in the Tuilleries.

Statuary at the Place de la Concorde.

A wing of the Louvre.

The Kid approaches the Louvre.

The rather gloomy interior of Notre Dame de Paris.

A detail of one of Notre Dame's main doors.

Detail of one of the columns of stained glass in Sainte Chapelle.
The bottom half of the image shows Joseph being sold into slavery by his brothers.

Europe Report #1 -- Departure Day

Well, here we go again ... today we head back to Europe for  a three-week drive through France, Switzerland, Italy and a few days in Malta, followed by a Transatlantic cruise back to North America with stops in Spain and Portugal.  On this journey I'm travelling with my parents, Joan and Rick, and my sister -- usually referred to as The Kid or The Other One.  Mom and Dad have just celebrated their 61st wedding anniversary; this trip was originally planned as a celebration of their 60th anniversary, but last year just wasn't a good year for us to travel.

As with past holidays, I've planned our trip from start to finish.  We'll be staying in rental apartments and cottages for the most part.  We've reserved a mini-van through Renault's buy-back plan.  Our first challenge will be to pick up the van at the airport in Paris (CDG) and drive to our accommodation -- a small apartment only two blocks from the Eiffel Tower.  This will require driving through the infamous traffic circle at the Arc de Triomphe.  I know, I know -- driving in Paris is never recommended in the guide books.  I was looking forward to this experience with some trepidation, until I remembered how well we drove in Jerusalem!  Paris should be a piece of cake -- as in "let them eat."

We've been packing for weeks -- it's quite a challenge to pack for three weeks of casual clothing on the road and for two weeks of cruise wear on the ship. I'm so embarrassed. Don't tell Rick Steves, but we're all taking 28-inch suitcases. Arghhhhh...

We so appreciate the many expressions of bon voyage our friends and family have given us.  We are especially blessed by the many promises of prayer support during our travels.  Amen!

We hope to begin reporting on our adventures within a day or two of our arrival.  Until then ... God bless you all!

Israel #12 - A Last Day of Surprises

Shalom from Israel!

Yesterday was our last day with Dov and it was something to write home about!

We rose very early and met Dov at 7:30 am halfway between Jerusalem and Tel Aviv. Krista joined him in his car again and they led us in our car to downtown Tel Aviv where the Israel Air Force Headquarters is located. Our goal … a personal meeting with the Major General of the IAF.

Again going through a series of security gates and doors, we arrived on the floor where the chief officers of the IAF have their offices. Our interview was delayed because the Major General was meeting first with a chief military officer of another government. So we drank the espresso the assistants offered and chatted with Dov and the commander of the 100th Squadron who was joining us.

After a short wait, it was our turn. We were ushered into the modest office and introduced to the Major General. We all sat in a circle and chatted about Uncle George and Israel. It was an informal meeting, but we were very honoured to have this opportunity to express our love for Israel to these men. As the meeting drew to a close, the Major General indicated that he had a gift for us. He pulled out a boxed Hebrew Bible (the Old Testament in Hebrew). It was beautifully bound in leather and impressed with the logo of the Israel Air Force. He had personally inscribed it to the Beurling family. Bibles like this are given to Israel Air Force pilots when they graduate. No one else has access to them. They all felt that, because of our professed love for the Hebrew scriptures, this was an appropriate gift for us.

Then the Major General pulled out a larger blue box. When he opened it we found that it contained a blue pillow with a number of insignias and medals pinned to it. These are the things Uncle George would have worn on his uniform if he had made it to Israel. Whew! We were blown away by this! Dad could hardly speak. Mom and I were moved to tears and Krista burst into tears!

Israel has done nothing but bless us on this trip. Dov’s efforts to make our visit memorable, pleasant and comfortable have gone beyond every expectation. We’ve been entertained and educated. We’ve been warmly greeted by every officer and enlisted soldier (or “warrior” as they call them here). We’ve been made to feel that we are part of the family of Israel and that we belong here.

In something of a daze, we left the Major General’s offices and followed Dov through Tel Aviv and on toward Be’er Sheva in the Northern Negev. Our destination was the Israel Air Force Museum and one last air base. As we headed toward the desert, the countryside became somewhat less lush, but continued to show us full cultivation -- crops of hay/wheat, orchards, groves and many other evidences of fertile agricultural land.

The highway south was, like all main roads in Israel, spectacular. The highways are clean and smooth. The road system is excellent. Yes, in towns the roads tend to be narrow and confusing, but that’s to be expected when modern streets are imposed on ancient cities. All in all, we found the roads to be better than many of our roads in Canada where we struggle with frost and winter weather. We did find that street signs were nonexistent or inconsistent, but most road signs are written in Hebrew, Arabic AND English. We got ourselves quite lost on a number of occasions, but always managed to find a way to our goal.

The Air Force Museum was delightful. Because our interview with the Major General had been delayed, we didn’t have as much time here as originally planned. I’ve never seen so many planes parked in one place! Our guide showed us spitfires such as Uncle George flew in the RAF during WW 2. She also showed us the ruin of a Norseman, the kind of plane he was killed in. But they have examples of every other plane Israel has used in their air force up to, but not including, those currently in use.

After the Museum, we drove a short distance away to another air base. This one was the most secure base we’ve visited; we left all our cameras in the trunk of the car. Our guide at this location was a 26-year-old man who flies F15s. He gave an audio-visual presentation that described the capability of the planes and their weaponry. He showed videotape of actual attacks -- I would not want to be on the receiving end of such an experience. Next, he showed us his plane, complete with bombs and missiles. He described their procedures -- in case of attack, they can be in the air within five minutes!

We commented on the differences between Spitfires and F15s. I was interested to see the envy on his face. He said that he and all his fellow pilots would much rather be flying Spitfires. I guess the smaller, older planes are more personal and responsive in ways that the souped up F15s cannot be.

After another lovely lunch in the officers’ dining room, we headed north again -- Dov to Tel Aviv and we to Jerusalem. We hope to see Dov one more time at the Ben Gurion Airport when we leave Israel.

During our last few days in Jerusalem, we planned to stay pretty close to home, resting up and packing our suitcases. We made a last walk through the Old City, stopping at a sidewalk café for dessert and doing some serious people watching.

We also took an hour to visit Chosen People Ministries’ Jerusalem Messianic Center. Myer, the Assistant to the Director of the work in Israel, showed us around and listened to our stories.

As I write this, our bags are packed and waiting by the door. The noisy street outside our windows is quiet because it’s Shabbat. We continue to feel overwhelmed by the welcome we have received here in Israel -- not just from Dov and the Israel Air Force, but from everyone we’ve met. Whether Jew or Arab, Orthodox or secular, every individual has greeted us with a smile. They’ve tried out their English on us. They’ve gone out of their way to help us. And everyone has said, “Welcome. Welcome to Israel!”

We’ve also been delighted by the many opportunities we’ve had to share our faith in Yeshua with a variety of people.

Before we left Canada, some people said, “Are you SURE you want to go to Israel now? Isn’t it dangerous?”

It’s true that Israel lives every day precariously because of her enemies. At Passover, I chatted with a Jewish acquaintance (who doesn’t yet know Yeshua) about this. In broken English and using her hands to demonstrate how Israel is surrounded, she said, “Hamas, Hezbollah, Syria, Iran, Egypt, Jordan.” Then I brought my hand down over hers and said, “And God!” She smiled and nodded, “And God.”

We have felt completely safe during our trip. We’ve not felt at serious risk from pickpockets or other forms of robbery. Although the driving in Jerusalem, as we’ve described, is chaotic at best, our cars survived without any new scrapes or dents. And we’ve said from the beginning, if God calls us Home during this trip, what better place to leave from that the Land of Israel?

Shalom in Messiah Yeshua!

Israel #11 - The Memorial Service

Shalom from Israel!

Our first task yesterday was to return our defective rental car and request a replacement. The rental company was very cooperative and, without batting an eyelash, turned over the keys to a nicer, slightly larger car. Wonderful!

Krista and I left Dad with the new car and we began walking across the Old City from the Jaffa Gate to the Zion Gate. One of Krista’s goals was to visit the grave of Oskar Schindler (of Schindler’s List). He lies in a Catholic cemetery a short walk from the Zion Gate. We found it without too much trouble, paying our respects to this hero of Israel.

We soon returned to the Old City and hung around the Jewish Quarter for a while, watching the tourists and locals and enjoying the warm sunshine on this cool day. All in all, a quiet day.

However … today has been a whirlwind! We can hardly take in all that has happened.

Early this morning, we drove in our lovely new rental car to a spot halfway between Jerusalem and Tel Aviv where we met Dov. Krista joined him in his car and we followed closely behind, driving north about 1½ hours to an airbase in the Jezreel Valley.

Before entering the base itself, Dov stopped at a small hillside cemetery to show us Moshe Dayan’s grave. It is also where the Israeli astronaut, Ilan Ramon, is buried. This beautiful spot looks out over the Jezreel Valley.

Soon we headed to the nearby airbase and went through security gates. We were met by some young female soldiers assigned to guide us and keep us from taking photos of any classified items. We’ve been shown many classified things during our visit to the airbases, so we really haven’t taken many photos at these places.

After giving us a chance to relax for a few minutes with a cold drink and pastries, we headed into the briefing room and a young airman told us about the activities of this air base, the closest one to Israel‘s northern borders.

He also showed us an amazing film about an event in Poland a few years ago. The Polish people were celebrating the anniversary of the creation of their air force and invited representatives of air forces from around the world, including the Israel Air Force. The IAF took this opportunity to fly in formation over Auschwitz and proclaim that from the ashes of the concentration camps a strong nation has arisen. It was a remarkable and moving film.

Next we had the incredible opportunity to go outside and watch many F16s take off and land. The staff even took us up into the control tower. This was just amazing. Those manning the air traffic control on this base all looked about 19 years old -- and most of them were. But they were managing all the flights in and out of this base. They were sitting and standing like 19-year-olds around the world -- quite casually, entirely laid back. There was nothing military about them except their expertise and their uniforms. Actually, their supervisor was just a handful of years older than they were and he was dressed for the beach in a pink t-shirt, orange shorts, track shoes and sunglasses (he’d been called in last minute). It was the strangest thing to see! This young man asked one of the F16s to do a special take off for us. So, the pilot began down the runway, in a moment hit his speed, took off nearly vertically, banked and practically disappeared! Wow!

After a great lunch on the base in the officers’ dining room, Dov led our small convoy from the base to the Haifa Military Cemetery where Uncle George is buried.

I hardly know how to describe what followed.

When Dov originally corresponded with Dad in Canada regarding our visit to Israel, he offered to arrange a memorial service at Uncle George’s grave. He gave Dad the choice of having either a Christian or a Jewish service. Dad selected a Jewish service for two reasons. First, he wanted any Jewish person who attended to be able to identify with the service. Second, he wanted to bring glory to God through the Old Testament scriptures we’d have an opportunity to read and hear. Whether Christian or Jewish didn’t matter to us, because the God we worship is the God of Israel. In addition, this service was not a time of great sadness for us because we know that George was a believer in Messiah Yeshua, is present with Him now and his body will be resurrected to eternal life one day.

When we arrived at the cemetery we were amazed at the lush landscaping. Although we’ve visited the grave before, the first time was in the 1970’s when the landscaping was minimal and the second time was two years ago in August, the hottest and harshest time of year. Today, every grave was covered with small purple flowers and the fragrance met us as we entered. We were only in one corner of the cemetery, but the graves stretched out of view. Uncle George, of course, is buried in the oldest portion of the cemetery. Not far from his grave is the grave of Leonard Cohen, the pilot who died with him in the Norseman crash in 1948.

Not long after our arrival, others began to appear. As we think back, we come up with the following list: 10 servicemen, five officers from Uncle George’s squadron (the 100th), a senior armed services rabbi and a couple of photographers. But we were also tremendously honoured by the presence of His Excellency Jon Allen, Canada’s ambassador to Israel and the Canadian Military Attaché, Jordie Elms.

After a few of the servicemen set up the sound system, the service began. The rabbi started with prayers and readings (including Kaddish), the commander of the 100th Squadron spoke and Dov read the well-known poem, High Flight, by RCAF spitfire pilot John Magee who died in Britain during WW 2.

High Flight

Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of earth,
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;
Sunward I've climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth
Of sun-split clouds, --and done a hundred things
You have not dreamed of --Wheeled and soared and swung
High in the sunlit silence. Hov'ring there
I've chased the shouting wind along, and flung
My eager craft through footless halls of air...
Up, up the long, delirious, burning blue
I've topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace
Where never lark or even eagle flew --
And, while with silent lifting mind I've trod
The high untrespassed sanctity of space,
Put out my hand, and touched the face of God.

After the service I thanked Dov for reading this poem -- one I’ve always loved and that has always made me think of Uncle George. Dov answered, “Me, too!”

After Dov read the poem, the Ambassador spoke briefly and very kindly. Dad followed with comments regarding George‘s upbringing, quoting some words from a song that has become our family‘s theme song:

As you journey through life to the grave you pursue
There’s one thing in earnest I wish you to do
Oh, listen, my boy, while I say this to you:
Oh, cling to the Bible, my boy.

Dad also highlighted a number of scriptures in Genesis that referred to God’s love for and faithfulness to Israel. He ended by reading Psalm 118.

After Dad finished, I stepped forward and sang two favourite songs in Hebrew. In English they say:

Comfort my people
Comfort my people
Speak tender words to Jerusalem
This is what you shall say to them:
Your hard work
Has been done
Your atonement is won
You’re received from My hand
Twice for all you’ve done
Comfort my people
(Isaiah 40)

and

Establish peace, goodness, blessing, grace and mercy
Father, may You find it to be pleasing in Your eyes
To bless all of Your people Israel
Bless us with peace each moment and in ev’ry hour
May Your peace be with us in ev’ry hour

[I believe both songs were written by Steve McConnell.]

Krista said later that a number of the Jewish men listening looked us with amazement and tears in their eyes. It brought her to tears to think of how these words affected them. I’m just glad they could understand my Hebrew!

After a few moments of silence and contemplation, the service ended. The rabbi came right over to me and told me how deeply touched he was by the words of my songs. I thanked him and reminded him that the Word of God is powerful. The ambassador also told us how touched he was. Dad -- all of us -- had prayed often that, during this service, we would reveal Yeshua and bring glory to God. I think He answered our prayers. All these Jewish men were clearly moved and touched, some to tears -- not by us, but by the scriptures we read and sang. Baruch HaShem! Praise His Name!

After everyone else had left, Dov and we stayed a bit longer and walked over to the grave of Leonard Cohen, the young pilot who died with Uncle George. It is sad to reflect on the loss of so many young lives.

One of the pleasant surprises of the day was receiving a personal invitation from the ambassador to attend a reception at his home this evening. The occasion of this event was the official unveiling of the new joint international rate commemorative stamp issued by Canada Post and Israel Post. It had become available on April 14, the day we left Canada. Dad was able to purchase several small books of these special stamps in Toronto and had presented one to Dov as a gift earlier in the week.

We were very honoured by this kind invitation and so pleased to be a part of this small historic occasion.

After this very long and emotional day, we were happy to turn our car toward Jerusalem and home. Tomorrow will be another long day!

Israel #10 - Capernaum and Beyond!

Shalom!

After a wonderful night’s sleep at Beit Bracha, we shared breakfast with the staff and guests. The staff is made up of volunteers from the US and New Zealand (at least the ones we met). The guests were all European -- British, Finnish, Dutch and Danish. It was wonderful fellowship throughout our visit.

We spent the rest of the day visiting various sites around the Sea of Galilee. Our first stop was Tabgha, an ancient church location on the shore of the Sea where, according tradition, Yeshua multiplied the loaves and fishes. Next we headed to Capernaum. These attractive ruins include a synagogue built shortly after the time of Yeshua, but on the foundation of the synagogue that existed during His ministry. You’ll remember that He taught there and stayed in Capernaum often.

Following Capernaum and carefully exiting the narrow lane between busses and tourists, we headed further up the hills surrounding the Sea to Korazin. These two towns, with nearby Bethsaida, were spoken of by Yeshua when they rejected His teaching.

"Woe to you, Korazin! Woe to you, Bethsaida! For if the miracles had been performed in Tyre and Sidon which occurred in you, they would have repented long ago, sitting in sackcloth and ashes. But it will be more tolerable for Tyre and Sidon in the judgment than for you. And you, Capernaum, will not be exalted to heaven, will you? You will be brought down to Hades! The one who listens to you listens to Me, and the one who rejects you rejects Me; and he who rejects Me rejects the One who sent Me" (Luke 10:13-16).

All three of these villages are completely ruined and abandoned. A good lesson to all of us!

On this trip, we’ve mostly looked after our own meals in our apartment, only eating out a handful of times. While we travel here in the Galilee, we’re eating at Beit Bracha or, as on this occasion, out! We stopped for lunch at a restaurant we found at the top of the hills around Galilee. It was nearly empty and seemed to be Arab owned. They had little English but were very polite and eager to please us. As we browsed through their menu (written in Hebrew, Arabic and English), our waiter asked if we’d like one salad. That sounded great to us, but we were alarmed when he brought about 10 or 12 dishes to the table. They were side plates that held a seemingly infinite variety of mystery foods -- plus one plate of French fries. And he brought a basket of huge, just cooked on the fire, pitas. We determined that we would try everything! By the way, Mom has become a hummus connoisseur. She can’t get enough!

We also ordered one dinner of Peter’s Fish (Tilapia) which arrived head, tail and everything between. Dad loved it. As well, we ordered one dinner of lamb shishlik -- what we would call shish kabob. It was divine!

We weren’t sure what this was all going to cost, but we enjoyed every morsel and were pleasantly surprised by the reasonable price.

By afternoon, Mom was feeling very tired and would have been happy to head back to Beit Bracha. But, Krista and I talked her into visiting Agmon Lake-Hula Valley, a wildlife area. This visit turned out to be a highlight of Mom’s entire visit to Israel.

However, as we drove up to the reserve, our second rental car began making some ominous noises. Not again! After driving a bit further, we began to think it was a brake problem. We’re not having luck with cars! But we carried on.

The wildlife reserve at Agmon Lake has a paved trail that makes an 11-kilometer loop around the waterways. At the main gate, visitors can rent bicycles, pedal cars or electric golf carts to travel the loop and view the birds and other wildlife. We chose a golf cart and were soon quietly gliding through the valley.

We saw many birds, including storks, kingfishers, starlings, ravens, and others. We also saw a mother water buffalo with her calf and many coypu (something like an otter). We highly recommend this experience.

Shabbat began that evening and we had a wonderful dinner with the staff and guests at Beit Bracha. We ended the evening again on the patio, watching the sun set over the Sea of Galilee. As it grew darker, lights of the various villages along the shore and on the hilltops grew brighter. It reminded us of Yeshua’s words:

“You are the light of the world. A city set on a hill cannot be hidden; nor does anyone light a lamp and put it under a basket, but on the lampstand, and it gives light to all who are in the house. Let your light shine before men in such a way that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father who is in heaven” (Matthew 5:14-16).

This morning we packed up and, after another breakfast/fellowship time, we reluctantly left the Galilee and began driving south again, brakes grinding all the way! Unfortunately, we’ve realized we will have to return this car -- especially since we expect to be doing a great deal of driving with Dov again this week.

But - noisy brakes and all -- it was a great two days away.