Silently passing in the blackness

Germany was not yet a nation in 1870 when war broke out between France and the North German Federation. It resulted in the loss of Alsace and Lorraine. The French built the Canal de l’Est afterwards to replace the transport it had lost. The canal begins just a short distance from Nancy. In 2003 the northern and southern branches were officially renamed Canal de la Meuse and Canal des Vosges. We spent the last days of this season on the Canal de la Meuse.

“I reviewed every whodunit I have ever watched, every story of psychotic serial killers.”

night shot
Night sets into the blackness

As you round the corner to enter the Canal de la Meuse there is a small town called Richardménil. We pulled into Its a lovely mooring. There are picnic tables and electricity. The narrowing Moselle runs alongside the canal. There is no bike path on this side of the canal so we were alone, aside from the nearby house hidden by the trees, with a large German Shepherd who greeted some of the occasional passers by heading for the footbridge leading to the paved path on the opposite side. Only one other boat came by while we were here and for the following four days.

The adjacent small town is up a steep hill. I biked there to get a baguette- a ‘tradition’ actually. This is a baguette made as they were made before modern methods turned the baguette into a less desirable product so I always ask for a ‘tradition.’

With very warm temperatures on the way we headed up the canal, climbing towards the source of the Moselle. This means we are entering emptied locks. These locks in particular are very difficult to use. The bollards are three meters or so above our heads. There are no holds for the bow other than the activating mechanism’s flimsy pipes, whereas in many locks there are holds built into the walls. To secure the stern I had to climb on the roof, using the hook to place the line over the bollard. We held on tight as the water gushed in turbulently. You rise quickly, hoping not to lose control.

We spent the next three days in the shade as temperatures climbed to 32c/90f outside the little town of Bayon. We grilled on our tiny charcoal barby and prepped some surfaces for later painting. People biked along the narrow, paved bike path, the small bridge crossing the lock just a few meters away. Up the road is a a roadside burger stand. We stopped there one day as the chef was just arriving. The friendly owner gave us a menu, and invited us back. We returned the next day. The burgers are good but not great despite the 5 stars awarded on Google maps, while costing us $40 for two with fries and a bottle of beer. This isn’t exactly cheap. A hundred meters closer to the canal a fete was forming. On Saturday night there was live music, a typical over the hill rock band, referring to their age. They weren’t half bad, especially considering how deep in the countryside we are.

A few people came walking alone late at night, well after midnight, wearing a headlamp, the light on their forehead bobbing in the pitch black mist. As they passed in silence with just a small door separating us, I reviewed the whodunits I have watched, stories of psychotic serial killers. But these were just people walking in the dark.

Joe Goldberg
Penn Bagdley as the charming, loving, affirming yet psychopathic murderer Joe Goldberg in ‘You.”

The heat wave passed after several days. The important town of Epinal lay some thirty locks ahead. The French water authorities had issued a notice stating that the canal south of Epinal was closed effective several days previously. We called the harbor in Epinal to see if it was closed, which they answered in the affirmative. We could have stopped short of Epinal and taken the bus into town. Since we would then have to turn around to got to our winter harbor, repeating the same 30 locks, we decided to forgo the journey. We headed back north for the winter, ending our boating season by gathering with some of the friendly and interesting people we’d met along the way. This year it’s Australians , with one Brit couple, one Belgium and one French.

toul at night sm
Harbor at dusk. The cold weather cometh.

Back on the boat in Netherlands

May 18, 2020

From a masked airplane ride from Madrid we proceeded to the masked train ride but not before a perfunctory interview upon debarking the KLM flight from Madrid. They did not keep the virus questionnaire at the end of the 30 second interview. That saved time helped us make a perfect connection to the train. Train schedules are much reduced here probably due to reduced ridership. We appreciated the fortuity, not just of the timing for the train but for how well the journey had gone given the uncertainty we faced. Our good forture continued even to the gate at the marina. We’d been give the wrong gate code although I’d asked a few days before. The resident harbor master saw us from his boat and opened it for us with his remote control. We could not know if anyone would be there to greet us aside from the 90+ year old who is, or was until now, the only one allowed to live aboard.

Once off the train we removed our masks. There were few people about and none masked and none close so we posed no mutual risk the entire 1.8 kilometer walk from the train station. During the next few days we had no need to get close to anyone other than chance encounters in the supermarket aisles. The public facilities at the marina are closed. No showers, toilets or laundry facilities. Their little restaurant remains shuttered.

For a few days we went about cleaning the boat deck and other exterior elements. It was a wet winter so the deck was green with algae. Then it was getting the heater to work. Nighttime temperatures were close to freezing so having a bit of heat in the morning is helpful. We do not run it at night as the heater runs off of diesel fuel so if fumes enter the living area you can suffer CO poisoning. One of the bikes would not shift gears so I had to mess with it. Then there was trying to remember where things were stored and how we did things last year. It took a few days before we left on Saturday.

By 0930 on Saturday the skies were sunny with a slight breeze. We turned the boat around to make departure easier from the narrow space and headed down the canal from Dronten towards Almere, about 40 km. Everything checked out ok as we went but then about 20 minutes later I noticed that the engine was running hot. I checked below and things were steamy so we floated in the canal while I figured out what had gone wrong.The hoses were all intact, the water pump belt was still entact, and the pump that circulates canal water through the engine’s heat exchanger was working- that’s the first thing you check before you depart. I decided to restart the engine and add coolant. The temperature came down and remained at the proper level for the rest of our journey. I concluded that the thermostat must have been stuck in the closed position. We ordered a new one and a spare belt.

Otherwise we had no issues along the way and after two days of sunshine our solar panels have kept our batteries almost fully charged the entire time. After a few days more these stopped working. I exhausted my diagnostic skills trying to find out what happened.

In Almere we had our first visitors. Our long time friends Kees and Ada, whom we met on the Eem in the village of Eemdijk in 2000, have two daughters. Marcella and Bart in turn have two daughters. They came by for drinks and snacks at 1700. It was just our second visit with anyone since March 9. On the deck we can keep a good distance. Inside it’s another matter so no one was allowed in. We joked and recounted stories for a few hours and even then, the sun showed no sign of tiring out.

IMG_20200517_180746
Bart, Jessica and Charlotte on the deck of Viking. I gather Bart does not like photos! He’s so easy going though.

After a week in Almere and a complete change of plans, we headed back to Dronten before a stop in Hasselt and then Zwartesluis (Black Lock) to try to find help with the solar panels. After that we hope to cross into Germany to start the 600 km voyage to Berlin via canal. It’s a beautiful route that takes a few weeks if you push hard. The borders with the Netherlands are still closed in both directions.

Some strange art and impressive art at the University of Vilnius

Petras Repšys  (1940) painted a rather strange set of scenes on the ceiling and walls of a room at the University of Vilnius.  It is worth a look.  He is a graduate of Vilnius Art Institute (1967)  Works in sheet, book, graphic arts, ex libris, easel paintings, frescoes, sculptures, medals. The exilibrisus began to develop in 1969 .  Here are some photos of his fresco “Seasons of the Year,” executed from (1974-1984).

Petras Repšys Seasons of the Year

Petras Repšys Seasons of the Year

Petras Repšys Seasons of the Year

Petras Repšys Seasons of the Year

 

For further information consult https://lt.wikipedia.org/wiki/Petras_Rep%C5%A1ys

On the ground floor you will find the fabulous ceiling of the University book store

U of Vilnius book store

U of Vilnius book store

U of Vilnius book store

U of Vilnius book store

U of Vilnius book store

U of Vilnius book store

U of Vilnius book store

Rome Struggles, Rome Beckons

View From Castle San Angelo

Rome Struggles, Rome Beckons

We landed in Rome’s Ciampino airport.  We are barely on the ground and already Rome’s disarray hit us.  

The last time we landed here there was only one bus to Termini, Rome’s central transit point.  We presumed that was still the case when we bought our tickets from the vendor in Valencia’s airport, thinking what a good idea it was to sell tickets ahead of time.  But then we walked out the front door, saw the bus platforms and four bus lines” names, but the name printed on our ticket was not there.  I asked several staff and passengers to find which line was ours. We stood in that line for 15 minutes (at least we were shielded from the hot sun).   The confusion was not over, however. as we were told to get in another line, whose placard was for another company. Indeed our bus appeared but as we waited we wondered if we had been mislead.  Then there was getting on the bus.  Italians do not stand in line, they crowd around the door, outflanking you. Eesh-  I was already exhausted.  And the struggle goes on and on.  Why?  Because Rome is chaotic like a turbulent fluid.    

Traffic moves like a raging river one moment and a logjam in the next, herking and jerking until the wee hours.  Yet like the fluid that finds its level, people get to where they are going, eventually, competing with each other and the buses and trams.  The latter are what the drivers avoid using, but once in their cars they spend lots of  time trying not to hit them and the other cars and the jillion darting scooters.   Everything would work better if most everyone used mass transit, or the recently added bike lanes which they might do if there were enough buses, subways and bike lanes,  but there aren’t since people spend money on cars instead.  

The enormous trash bins are another sign of chaos.  They are emptied daily yet each day overflow in an unsightly mess.  Rome city government is getting advice on how to solve their trash mess from Palermo, of all places- that’s how bad it is.  Even the upscale neighborhoods of the city have these problems, such as on Viale Giulio Cesare, which runs past the windows of our summer abode.  Down a bit from our place tourists by the millions line up for St. Peter’s and the Vatican Museum.  The back streets are lined with upscale stores, wine bars, restaurants and made to measure shops.  But trash mars the area.  The platforms upon which the containers nicely sit hold four dumpsters, one for household trash and three for recycling.  They need perhaps two more but there’s no room on the platform and cars take up the room otherwise available.  

Rome’s other issues contribute to the strain.  Refugees, street people, tax avoidance, pollution, street trash.  The list is seemingly without end-  this is not an easy place to run, so no wonder there’s so much dysfunction.   And yet people come, because Rome eternally beckons.  Where else would you find an Eternal City,  a city of such high art?  There are countless richly decorated and appointed churches, public buildings and monuments, private palaces such as the Pamphili Palace, still occupied by the family but mostly a museum.  There are Egyptian columns and Roman era ones such as Trajan’s which tells the story of the conquest of Dacia, modern day Romania.  And there is ancient Rome. Every shovel full brings up a history lesson, it seems.  This is why Metro Line C is not yet done after so many years, delaying one of the remedies for the chaos.  There is plenty of cultural modernity to bring you in and keep you here.  Wanted in Rome publishes huge lists of things to do-  concerts, expositions, talks, walks, plays and of course opera.  The Italians invented this high soap.  Good grief, are they melodramatic or what?  http://www.wantedinrome.com/whatson/.  

 

Summer brings the Music Fest, starting June 21.  Nighttime is filled with outdoor concerts and plays and acrobats and who knows what else, all free, and all the ones I have seen have been very good.  My favorite venue is atop Castel San Angelo.  Order a glass of wine and enjoy the music and the view of St Peter’s!!  And of course any time of day or night have a cappuccino.  Maybe you’ll find a delightful something to draw.

Then there’s the odd public service we ran across.  At Ottaviano metro, where you exit the subway for the Vatican, there is a free water spot.  Rome has had public drinking fountains, these little green creatures called ‘nasoni, for eons.’  They run constantly.  But this fountain is different, like the old milk dispensing machines, standing some 2 meters/7′ tall.  You put your bottle under the spout, press the button showing the size bottle you have and presto!  You can get fizzy water as well, yet it is totally free!   What?  

Only in Rome would you get free carbonated water.  How do they manage this and yet not be able to adequately handle the trash and sweep the streets?  Or perhaps more importantly, why bother with this at all? Perhaps it has something to do with the trash.  Millions of plastic bottles filled with water fill landfills and float in the Tevere that winds through the city.  Can we help if we give away the sparkling water?  I’d say so.  

The government is trying.  You can see that with this strange giveaway, with the trash platforms, another metro line.  But you see the challenges everywhere you go, the trash strewn streets, the refugees, the homeless, the African street vendors.

June 2016

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