Home Movies

are so bloody boring. Which is why I decided that none of the videos of our June trip would be more than ten minutes long. So grab a glass of schnapps, strap yourself in, and enjoy our week in Germany and Austria in under six minutes.

Kaboom.

The June 12th eruption of the Sarychev Volcano off the coast of Japan, as seen from the International Space Station:

Where's that Doodle-Doo!?

Today we went walking in Hyde Park, through to the adjacent Kensington Gardens. We walked along the Serpentine and watched the ducks and swans, all of whom are extremely good at begging for food.






Kensington Gardens is home to the famous statue of Peter Pan. The park has many connections to Peter; J.M. Barrie lived across the street from the park, conceived his idea of a story for a boy who wouldn't grow up while walking through the park, and met the family who was the model for the Darlings here.


Our ultimate destination was this circus-tent-like theater, where a new production of Peter Pan is being staged, literally on the spot where it was conceived.




The production is a new version of the story, presented in the round, and the cone of the tent serves as a screen on which is projected a continuous 360-degree, 3D computer graphic backdrop.


The children are portrayed by young adults, which means we get a male Peter for a change. Ciaran Kellgren is great in the role, as is Jonathan Hyde as Hook.


Eschewing Disney glamour, Tinkerbell is played as a scruffy, semi-verbal urchin. (She does light up, though.)




All in all a memorable time, with an incredibly noisy audience, most of it under eight years old.

I have a new favorite restaurant.

So Audry and I went to a church in London called St. Martins-in-the-Fields. I have been aware of this place for decades, as it is the home base of the Academy of St. Martins-in-the-Fields, my favorite chamber orchestra. (You've heard them. They played most of the music in "Amadeus.")

What I didn't know was that St. Martin's is in the heart of London, right next to Trafalgar Square. Because of its name, I had always pictured it as a pastoral church out in the English countryside somewhere. Audry pointed out that the church is so old that it probably was surrounded by verdant fields when it was first built!



Across the street is the National Gallery, Trafalgar Square, and Nelson's Column.





Ah, but inside St. Martin's lurks the best restaurant I've eaten at since we left home...inside, and underneath the church. It's called The Crypt because...well, that's what it is -- the church's former crypt.


In the Crypt you walk and dine among ancient gravestones.


And the food! Hot pork sandwiches with applesauce, pickles, and strong English mustard. Sounds hellish, tastes heavenly. Audry took this picture of her cheese-laden vegetarian dish and Victorian lemonade (real brewed lemonade, with alcoholic content):

What I did today.

I went with Audry to Hampton Court, outside of London, where Henry VIII held many of his revels. This shot is looking down the great hall from where Harry sat. Now you know what it feels like to be Henry VIII. Don't thank me all at once.

The thin line between clever and stupid.

We're staying at the Cumberland, across from the Marble Arch at Hyde Park. It's an older hotel that has been ruthlessly modernized. The fine line between clever and stupid, which David St. Hubbins spoke of in "This is Spinal Tap," is razor-thin here, and I'm inclined to think the whole place falls on the far side of stupid.

The lobby lights are blue here, but they change color throughout the day. This morning when we came down they were bilious green.










The hallway outside our room.


Our bathroom. Looks nice, what with the glass sink and Philippe Starck fixtures and all, but the sink protrudes so much that you're almost a yard away from your reflection in the mirror (making shaving difficult, to say the least), and the design of the shower is such that you have to step inside to turn on the water, which inevitably results in getting sprayed with cold water.


Random lighting weirdness in the room. A couple of illuminated --what, golfing ads? -- on the wall...


...And a backlit chariot mural over the bed. (Actually, that one is pretty cool.)

London at last.

Later that day, we arrived in London, and had dinner with our dear friend Rob Shearman (writer of the superb Doctor Who episode, "Dalek.") Afterward, we went to a pub for a pint of nice, rich Badger Ale. Very good to be in London, with such good company.

Auf weidersehen

Our four days of touring at an end, we left for the Stuttgart airport -- on the Autobahn, at 145 miles an hour.

Random jaw-dropping German church.

The day before we went to Neuschwanstein, Audry's dad took us to this church. Not bad on the outside...




But on the inside -- holy schnitzle!

No escape from Disney, Part III.

Once upon a time, a young man dreamed a dream. Even though the age of knighthood was long past, and kings and princes had been reduced to figureheads, and the centers of power had moved from palaces to office buildings, the young man dreamed of castles in the clouds where fairytale dreams really could come true if you wished upon a star.

That young man's name was Ludwig II of Bavaria.

During the years from 1861 and 1886, he built a series of fairytale castles,the most famous of which is Schloss Neuschwanstein, never fully completed in Mad Ludwig's lifetime (and only 30% completed on the interior).


60 years later, another young man came to Schwanstein on a family vacation, and was inspired to create his own version of this fairytale castle. That man's name was Walt Disney, and the Sleeping Beauty Castle in Disneyland is directly inspired by the exterior of Ludwig's grandest folly.

And 65 years after that, Audry and I spent a day tromping around Neuschwanstein.


Ludwig had the jump on Walt in many ways. Like the various Magic Kingdom castles, Schwanstein uses forced perspective to great an impression of great height. (Not that it isn't plenty tall to begin with.)


The courtyard inside the castle. Contributing to the Disneyland feel is the fact that the castle is not made from hewn stone as of old, but rather from poured concrete blocks which have been molded to look like stone. It gives everything a slightly artificial feel.


The view of the Bavarian countryside from one of the towers:


You aren't supposed to take photos inside the castle, mainly so they can sell you postcards and picture books at the end of the tour. But Audry managed to steal a few snaps. Looking straight up the end of the circular stairway at the top of the tallest tower:




Heading back from the castle via horsecart:


Far below Schwanstein is Hohenschwangau Castle, where Ludwig was born. His bedroom contained a large telescope, through which he would was the progress of construction of Neuschwanstein.


As we ate lunch in a restaurant in the town below, the owner's dog made it clear he would appreciate some scraps.

Still no escape from Disney.

On Friday morning we set off for Austria in general and Salzburg in particular. Salzburg is a quaint town. Very quaint. Highly quaint. Full of quaintiosity.

Quite quaint. I mean like, really quaint.

If this all seems a bit Fantasyland to you, well, I'm sure that's what the Disney designers thought when they came here in the early 1950's.



Here is a typical Salzburg shop. How many things can you find wrong with this photo?


Looming over Salzburg is Hohensalzburg Castle, whose name I had to look up on Google despite the fact that "Salzburg" basically means "salt castle," and this is the castle where they kept the salt.


We went up to the castle on this funicular...


And then climbed way way up, hundreds of steps, to the tallest towers.



Salzburg's main interest to me is that it is the birthplace of my namesake and fellow prodigy Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. These are the doorbells to the house he was born in. Aren't they quaint?


Afterward, we went to a quaint little chocolate shop across the street from Mozart's house, and Audry had a delicious bowl of hot glop.