Green-blue alpine River Isar.

Up on a gondola lift.

On Tuesday, Tom and I found ourselves in a train again — as I had mentioned earlier, we have missed Vicky upon our arrival to Munich, and now we were returning there for a few days. And to combine pleasure with enjoyment, we had reserved our Wednesday to a trip to the Alps. Our train picked up a bit of delay, most of it on the border, where — to my surprise — they checked our passports. Apparently in connection with an approaching world cup in soccer. When we finally sat on the S-Bahn in the last leg of our journey, we saw Oliver get on the train — that was good news; he would make it to have dinner with us. That we wanted to have at a Vietnamese restaurant Comviet near the station. There, a server beheld the five of us and debated with Holger for a while: we would have to wait about an hour. Holger called to an affiliated restaurant a bit farther out (owned by the same family) and reserved a table there. The food was excellent and the only problem surfaced at the end — I wanted to invite our hosts to this dinner, but the restaurant did not accept cards. I thought it a bit strange, but it would seem that Germany (unlike, e.g., Czechia) is not set up for and used to credit cards, hence one must plan and carry some cash along.

Then we spent the evening pondering and planning our trip to the Alps. We were on our vacation just at the time of Bavaria experienced floods, which sank our plan to visit Garmisch — train connection looked unreliable. Vicky and Holger recommended going either to Lenggries or Bayrischzell. Lenggeries offers a lift to Brauneck, with various hiking loops and opportunities on top. Bayrischzell also has a lift, but it looked like trails up on the mountain were closed for landslides; yet in case of bad weather (which was possible), we could hike in the valley. We resolved to buy Bayern Ticket — a one-day permit to all Bavarian rails — and make the decision in the morning according to weather and what would be visible on webcams.

Lift terminal from Brauneck.

How do you know you're in the Alps?

Cameras showed a hot summer day in the morning, with sun burning through the inversion — and temperatures just above freezing; we chose Brauneck. Holger loaned us a functional German cellphone, where we had our tickets and train schedules, and we were ready to go. The mountain-bound train has three sections that split into a separate valley each; fortunately, stations display very reasonable sign explaining the train ordering — it was not hard to find our car to Lenggries (but I still checked it with the conductor to be sure). The little train was half empty and courageously sped through the comely foothills of Alps. We hoped that small random clouds in the sky did not portend any trouble.

In Lenggries, we had to walk through the small town and cross a bridge across the blue River Iser (I'd like to know why Alp rivers look blue — they're mostly brown everywhere else — salt contents, perhaps?) until the parking lot near the lift terminal. I felt better noticing very few cars parked there — going to visit the nature, I don't want to be crowded. The lift turned out to be very civilized — the lady at the register claimed not to know much English, but then figured it out — she asked if we want to go "up and down" and sold us round trip tickets, and advised us where to find their (FREE!) bathrooms. The lift sports tiny gondolas that get boarded on the fly, the gondola just slows down you must jump on board. Even I managed that and soon we hovered over the valley and admired para-gliders exploiting air currents below the summit.

We picked a ridge crest trail with minimum of people.

Young tourists need no cane.

Up top I wrapped myself in layers that I had shed during our march through the town — we could feel having ascended some 2,300 feet, and weather was more alpine. I was a bit scared by the crowds milling around a cross, but fortunately that was the one spot — as soon as we walked beyond the launch slope of the para-gliders, we were more or less alone on our trail. That is our trail segment — the whole Brauneck is covered with routes and paths, and one can always spot some other people (not to mention cows) — and Hütten (cottages). They mostly looked closed, but even so the whole thing was full of civilization.

Tom and I thought up a loop across Latschenkopf — and that we liked a lot. A narrow path along a sharp crest with views to all sides — to the rest of Alps, but also to the Munich plain — was exactly the thing that we needed after our stay in the cities. Both chilly air and a breeze were pleasant; we felt more like at home. During our first climb along a rocky trail I remembered I actually wanted to borrow Vicky's hiking cane, to provide some support for my old arthritic knees — but it was too late, I had to cope without. At least I carried a proper tourist daypack — I haven't brought any from home, but then I spotted one at Lídl — and decided it was worth adding, to carry something other than my city tote, which I claim to be my handbag at airports.

Sid claims that I look sufficiently German that he, too, would greed me, servus.

Benediktenwand - we did not go there, for we would not make it back in time.

On our way to Latschenkopf, we let ourselves get lured a few yards off the road and hiked up to Kirchstein — with a great view to Benediktenwand. After consulting a small map we reckoned that we had no chance to hike all the way to Benediktenwand (since last gondola was going down at five, and that it would require a lot more time and more importantly, better preparations), but we ran up Latschenkopf — with more views — and a sign proudly announcing that we were at 1712 meters! We laughed that it was really just "like home" (with mere 66 meters = 216 feet left to go up). There was yet another thing "like home" — the few people whom we met on those paths, greeted us — mostly with folksy "servus", which amused me — I have this greeting associated with my parents' generation.

Latschenkopf - whole 5,616 feet!

Returning along this kind of goat trail.

Looking down into the valley from the cross on Latschenkopf, we discovered that were we to walk our originally planned loop, we would be returning along a wide, steep, rocky road (which we had already tested as very uncomfortable; rocks roll under your feet, and that's very impractical to conquer in barefoot shoes), so we rather returned a bit under Kirchstein and chose a goat path diagonally down the slope. That was adventurous as well, especially since it suddenly disappeared — just like our map (Tom thoughts he left it on Latschenkopf, but later back home we discovered it in the bag). In the end we found a passage down the slope between rocks — which apparently HAD been the trail — combined with rock-climbing access — which led us to the back yard of another Hütte. We felt there a bit out of place and hoped that nobody would throw us out — but maybe we were on the right way after all.

However, the drop between rocks took us quite low, BELOW the lift terminal, and even so we had to descend another rocky road DOWN — and then re-ascend to the lift. That was a bit more comfortable, as a part of that could be cut short along a forest path. I thought we could order a Schnitzel at the station, but they were already closing — the last lift ride was approaching, and they did not want to have customers lingering in the restaurant. We caught our ride down easily in time, but it put us right in a dead interval between trains — they go every half hour, EXCEPT between four and five o'clock. We have seen our departed train from the bridge, having missed it by mere five minutes. Subsequently, the train station cafe offered nothing reasonable to eat (only pastries, which I can't eat), but they made me a coffee and we could go to the bathroom there. Thanks to Holger's phone we had a hotspot and could inform Vicky and Holger that we would appreciate dinner with them — as we would not manage to eat along our way.

Our trip in one picture — (from left) lowlands around Munich, ridge route from Brauneck with a goat path (in slope), Alps (in the background) and Latschenkopf (right).

And then we were sitting on a train again, this time relatively full one. Three chaps took places at the end of the car, with a few beers — and we watched, fascinated, as more and more such chaps boarded on each station, with more and more beers. They formed quite a party party before we got to Munich, all the while not interfering with other passengers except being noisy. That, too, reminded me of times of my youth in Czechia. A dinner at Vicky's was excellent, then we showered and slept — and in the morning hurried off to another train, to Prague. We targeted a dinner with Elsa and Olivia. The girls, alas, had changed their plans, and thus instead of dinner, we got into a restaurant right after our arrival, at three o'clock. In the end, it might have been more merciful that way — I did not wear my best clothes and did not wash my hair, but nobody seemed to mind. And Tom and I were back at granny's by six o'clock, and could rest a bit.

Tom's resting did not suffice, he started to phlegm up and cough in the evening, and stayed at home whole Friday, while I did some more pub crawling — first I stopped at The Sokol's Gym with grandpa, and then I continued to Kozlovna on I.P.Pavlova with Pavel. Through an irrational chain of coincidences, we had found ourselves AGAIN at the same time in Prague — he from California and I from Wyoming. I'm not sure whether Pavel is not a similar effect like that black cat in Matrix....

Vienna - Schloss Belveder.

Reflection of St. Stephen.

Tom did that day off good, and on Saturday morning we were hurrying to the train station again, boarding a train again, to Vienna, Austria, for a change. I admit that it all fell on me like a lid this time — tiredness of traveling and a strong desire to be back at home and "not to have to" do anything — my typical vacation disintegration half-life is twelve days; this time it came two days earlier. Still, when we met Pepe in the station, I lost a bit of it again. Vienna was awaiting us — we decided to take it on foot across the downtown and thus cover playing tourist. Tom and I only had packed altogether two backpack, not dragging any heavy luggage, which made it possible.

I hold a very nostalgic relation with Vienna. Some of it dates back to my totalitarian youth, when we would (illegally) tune to Austrian radio and TV broadcasts during our weekends at our cottage — an echo of the between-world-wars feeling distorted by the iron curtain, but still a whiff of what might had been. Viennese German language smells like my childhood, though, paradoxically, I don't speak it. The second part is closely past-totalitarian, when I used to visit Pepe in Vienna on weekends — and felt awesomely free — for finally BEING ABLE to be in VIENNA just for a simple weekend. As we were strolling through Vienna streets this time and I admired their well maintained facades, I felt horribly sad that Prague is not as pretty — that it never recovered from forty years of communist neglect.

The oldest church in Vienna - St. Rupert...

...and a modern garbage incinerator.

St. Rupert's Church was news to me — a small Roman church, perhaps from the eight, but certainly not later than twelfth century. The St. Stephen's Cathedral is certainly more imposing, but I liked Rupert much better. Alas, there was a giant rainbow banner hanging down its tower, which felt quite absurd even during (pride month) June — but perhaps that, too, belonged to my return to my childhood — when I spotted a street care in front of the church, beset with EU and LGBTQ+ flags — during our totality we, too, had (not just) street cars decorated by flags on account of various regime-imposed anniversaries or the Month of Czechoslovak-Soviet Friendship.

Worn down, we ordered coffee and a pastry in an Italian restaurant across from Rupert — and then headed home to Pepe, with an obligatory stop at the garbage incinerator. That's another old memory, the incinerator used to be prominently visible for the train arriving to Vienna — already in the nineties it fascinated me, how it was possible to turn one completely industrial and utilitarian building into something other than a concrete box. The architect Mr. Hundertwasser had completed his ingenious idea with excellence. Still I hope that the incinerator does not sport crooked floors like the ones that can be found in his more famous house in downtown — the waste management would probably not be happy about that.

We walked among vineyards to get dinner.

Danube Island - Copa Beach.

We shed our backpacks at Pepe's and set out to another hike — uphill, among vineyards, until we reached a restaurant on a hill. We had beer and I searched the menu in vain for potato salad — I had practiced spotting Kartoffelsalat in Germany, but here it seemed that they had no potatoes... until I realized that the word Erdäpfelsalat starts with something similar to a Czech slang word for potato — ha, Austrians won't get me by using their dialect! Still I eventually ordered lentils with an egg, and Tom got rewarded by cultural and culinary gem in the form of salami in vinegar with onions. Then Pepe and I had to pool our change — even here, they would not accept cards, but it worked out and no one was forced to wash dishes to cover for the bill.

I insisted on biking on the next day — I'm fascinated by the origin and functionality of Danube Island — and moreover, I was saturated by pavement and architecture — I urgently wanted some nature and mild exercise. Pepe managed to borrow and municipal bicycle, while she owned two more at home, and we were good to go. Just to avoid going only back and forth, we picked Hundertwasserhaus for our destination — the very same famous house with crooked floors. Then Tom and I violently voted for a lunch — and landed on a patio at a random Greek restaurant. Pepe and I may have surprise Tom a bit — it was chilly and by sheer accident Pepe and I both donned very similar shirts — and topped it off with identical buffs/scarves. Tom claims Pepe and I must be related.

To make it more fun, we went to Donauinsel on bikes.

Hundertwasserhaus.

By the end of our outing we found out that the borrowed communal bike was an advantage — I was able to return it into a stand at the metro station and use the public transport to go Pepe's hill, while Tom and Pepe had to pedal up. Then we rushed off again to our train back to Prague. On this vacation we had spent so much time on trains that individual rides blend into one smudge. I retained that an on-board coffee is cheapest on the line between Munich and Prague — but only in the Czech leg; there is no service across Germany. And that mobile phones are pure evil — especially in the hands of people that play them loud for the whole car to hear, music in the better case, or "funny" videos (which they laugh to loudly, always watching them through all inserted commercials), and the worse case play some moronic game with unbelievable irritating ringing, squealing, cheering or jingling.

Monday was reserved for saying good-byes and packing — and on Tuesday we sat on another train — to Munich. Across the isle from us sat a Singaporian family with a little girl, and they played cards so long that Tom joined them — well, at least his journey to Munich passed quickly.

A combat mission awaited us in Munich — we held keys to Vicky's townhouse and were issued instructions regarding care of Shade the cat, but Vicky with Holger were at the time in Italy. Oliver stayed in a dorm in the neighboring town as this was hist test season, but he promised to help in case that, say, neighbors would get the impression that we were breaking in illegally — but otherwise we were left to our own resources. Our plan was to stop for dinner at the Vietnamese restaurant near the train station, to avoid having to cope with cooking in someone else's house. Tom was worried that we would not know how to order in German — but since our previous visit we had chosen bún with a beef roll, and ordering Radler was also manageable. Although two servers came specially around to make sure we knew that the fish sauce is meant to be poured into the noodle bowl (as they may have concluded, once we prove not to speak German, we were surely also ignorant about eating Vietnamese dishes), but otherwise all proceeded to mutual satisfaction.

Tom insists that the two of us must be related.

Even in Deutschland we managed to order good food.

Having successfully broken into the house, we found our beds and towels ready as we left them the previous week. The only one unhappy with the situation was Shade. He obviously did not expect such an underhanded move, when the door opens with no Vicky in them. Se tried to placate them about our presence by grooming him with a brush, then let him out for a while, but I'm afraid that his level was set too high. But perhaps it was alright that he did not get used to us; right in the morning we finally packed our bags and headed for the airport. This time, too, we received email from Lufthanse that we should check in carry-ons as well, but the airport checking in was automated and we did not have to argue with anyone. The only truly unpleasant thing was the persistent absence of air-conditioning — especially as we had to wait in a hall with glass ceiling during passport control — yes, it's probably modern-looking, but on a hot summer day liable to cause a heart attack. One wall of the hall was decorated with statistical information on Bavaria — so, this federal state has a third of the Wyoming's geographic area, while being home to sixteen million people (Wyoming houses 25x fewer).

Our flight home proceeded in a much more relaxed mood than our flight to Europe — even just because one third of the plane was empty, thus Tom and I had one free seat between us and could stretch out. I have a feeling that I at my old age need more room — not just on a plane, but in my life — I was incredibly looking forward to our Wyoming devoid of people — to our fresh air — where wind with the speed of sixty five feet per second is still considered a breeze. The only thing I lacked to perfection was a glass of radler — which the flight attendant solved by bringing us a can of beer and a cup of Sprite.