We return safe and sounding off about the great times we had. Tours and groups of tours from the Intourist Guides, and toured the tourist traps, while on tour in Europe. We parried and purred as we mobbed our way through Apse and Answered, Berth and Baily, Cloister and Crypt, Dormer and Dortmunder and the Donau, Entrance and Egret, Fauvism to Felonious Monks, Gang Ways to Geminate Windows, Hofbrauhaus to Hanau, Impressionism to The River Ilz, Jacobean to Jarlsburgerin, Keeps to Kahl am Main, Liebtfraumilch to Linz, Moats to Basilica di Santa Maria Maggiore, Naves to Nüremburg,…you know I could do the alphabet if I wanted. It’s like running the numbers.
I am sure you realize I could have completed the alphabet but there are some things left understood. Suffice it to posit that prose is my penchant. The company we kept not in the Keep was cordial and corrupt. As we closed the bar too many times it was a bevy of boisterousness at times. Then oft went we westward wending through cobbled lanes and throughways. Only in civilized places could car and carrier, cart and scooter occupy same said paths. Was it mayhem? Maybe. Wanderlust or wearisome? Why not?
The boat/ship/sliver was stealth on the river, nary a wake, and silent as lambs. The Donau welcoming in its breadth and riches. The only excess on this venture was excess itself. Too large a chess set, too cool a pool, too happy a pianist, just a great time for and by all. Notably on site with Lizi and Michael were Don, Dan, Mark and Mark, Paul, Betty, Marg, Suzanne, and Karen. A table a day ringed with tales of cheer and treks.
Photogenic plates positioned beneath our eyes daily. And we did. Not the 5K expected but a bare nut shy of said goal. And with the share policy selected, we will tally the five in the end.
When I build the summer place, I am sure it will come up short to Shönbrunn. What only a 1000 rooms? What squalour! And Cloisters and Monasterys with so few residents that I find it’s hard to find them. And we rail at the Trump’s of this world and their lavish excesses. Pshaw! We buried Pompeii for nearly two millennia, after naught had occurred in the world, we still cooked on stoves, had bakeries and forums, streets and vehicles.
The roads are no better today than the goat paths of the settlers of Capry. See video at, http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eHISAVCfkPA
ShalI I toot my own horn? Not so early my good man Riiiiiiiiccola! Pour it smooth.
Mark Hull Du Calumet, First of the coterie of York, Son of Don, Scion of Karl in the House of Pfunkstadt, Connubial of Suzanne, Yeoman to the Hun of Honda, Prevailing in the Seat of Hespeler, Having been again to Australia, and now Grandad's Land, and for some, from The Dark Side.
Recent Comments