A brush with protests and riots

A beachfront experience thanks to an inconvenient protest

In1997, we visit Allepey ( Kerala, India) near Kumarakom which is a bird sanctuary. We  book into a two-bedroom thatch-roofed houseboat on the backwaters. It has a reasonably sized dining room. The onboard 'chef', prepares our meals and refreshments. When there are no mosquitos we sit out on a platform that extends out of the boat at a lower level.  This could only accommodate two chairs. The backwaters are calm and so we are never in danger of being washed over by waves or slipping into the waters.

When we are about to disembark the next day we find out there is a hartal in place. Our car with a driver has been waiting for us at the pier but he will not take us. He will not drive us to our next destination. He fears the car will be damaged by the protestors. Now, we have to spend the night in Allepey. A quick thinking boatman says we could book into a local hotel for the night and just hope the hartal would end the next day.

He has got someone with a motorbike to take us 2 at a time to a hotel he recommended. The suitcases also come on a motorbike. 

We are lucky to meet the owners of the hotel. They are resolutely hanging on to the house the have inherited along the beach front, refusing to sell out to hotels sharing the expensive beachfront with them. We have lovely home made meals and naps in a hammock on the beach. 

The hartal ends the next day and so our relieved driver feels it safe to take us to our next destination.

A hartal is a mass protest, often forcing a shutdown of workplaces, offices, shops, and courts of law. It's somewhat like a labour strike. 

In Kerala, unlike most other Indian states, normal life almost comes to a standstill, during a hartal. Union leaders ask people to keep vehicles off the road and to shut shops and other establishments, including schools, for 48 hours. 

A real threat

In that same tour we are stuck in traffic jam in one of the main thoroughfares in Bangalore, India. We are just a few minutes away from the hotel but the traffic is at a standstill. We hear protestors. We get angry looks. Our driver gets jittery. They might smash our windows. Shards of glass could wound us. I'm sure we all kept our fingers tightly crossed. We were fortunate that within a few minutes traffic began to move and we were spared.

Steering clear 

We are just ending our day of walking around 'Japan Town', Sao Paulo , visiting the special museum depicting the history of the largest Japanese Population outside of Japan (see my blog: Alms and the Man). As we walk down the main thoroughfare and turn into the street leading to our AirBnb apartment right in the city centre. We see suspicious activity. Shields held by riot police form 4 walls at a busy intersection. They are not movinng. Our minds sense urgency. We just know that we have to leave the area immediately. Since we are very familiar with the area, having spent a few days there, we immediately turn into the side streets and alleys. The circuitous route takes us safely into the condo. 

We are already thinking of taking the metro bus and train to the outlying areas of Sao Paulo the next day. Little did we know then that a riot did take place and had turned violent. And what was the protest about? Fare hikes! 

In the thick of it

Our AirBnb apartment in Buenos Aires was right on Avenida De Mayo, the main road leading to the seat of Argentinian governance, right next to the historic Parisian style Cafe Tortoni, the haunt of famous figures from all walks of life, including Albert Einstein and world leaders. It is best known for the salon downstairs that holds interesting daily events, including live radio performances, poetry readings and a tango show. ( Little did we know that we would watch a life performace outside a restaurant on our forays the next day.)Of course, there was always a long line outside the cafe waiting for their reservations.  If there were any famous figures we were glibly unaware. 

We returned from roaming the streets, negotiating a long queue next door, before entering our temporry premises. A cruise friend, a tourist agent from Buenos Aires, came to share the simple dinner I had prepared. Over dinner she enlightened us on why Argentina welcomed immigrants. "We are all boat people," she puts it simply.

Just as she leaves we hear drums and dismiss it as some activity next door at the cafe. But it continues and we hear chants as well. It's all in Portugese and so we are clueless. Curiousity gets the better of me. I  look out the window. What do I see? Groups of people all walking towards Plaza de Mayo. It all seems peaceful. No need for bravado in going out on the streets to really get to know what is happening! So, I do. I see some musical instruments but no visible weapons. I don't see police. A woman comes by and hands me a pamphlet. I try to make out the message. Could it be a commercial advertisement? it is in a foreign language. Since it didn't seem exciting and I simply couldn't comunicate with anyone ( blog on having trouble with exchanging tickets) I called it quits and retired for the night. Weeks after we left Buenos Aires we found out that I had witnessed a protest against repression and censorship.

Tent 'city' in Seoul

Walking down the arterial road in Seoul, taking in a world war 2 picture exhibition and then posing in borrowed hanbo, we stroll towards Seoul's City Hall, an imposing glass structure with a living wall in its foyer. It is right beside the old city hall which houses a library. And next to it? A tent 'city'!

We knew that tents came up In Zucotti Park, NYC during Occupy Wall Street, a protest against ecconomic inequaities. But it is 11 years now. Is it still alive in South Korea? What a stark contrast to the buildings and the preparations for the Spring Festival. Typically, it is only much later that we learn of the protest by supporters of an ousted president. 

We were very lucky indeed not to be terribly inconvenienced by any of these events.

Watch Switch: Changing of the guards

Yet another miss: Changing of the Guards, London  

4 times in London, espcially at St James Park, yet not a single view of the world famous Changing of the Guards at the adjacent Buckingham Palace. Most of the time we are busy loitering the streets of London steeped in history and then leisurely walking through the serene gardens when we tend to lose all sense of time. When we hear the Military Band along the Mall we already know it is too late for the show since we will not be able to see beyond he crowd. But the last time we visited London in 2019, the trip where we got lost (see Ditched by a london taxi), we had wet days. The day we are at St James Park the rain has let up. This time we are definitely going to watch the parade. We are hopeful that the drizzle would not hamper the event. I thought we were cutting close to the start of the event and that it would be a struggle to work through the inevitable crowd. Unbelieveably there are only a handful of would-be spectators hanging around. We are very lucky indeed. It has stopped raining. Expectantly we wait, and wait, and wait. Nothing is happening. A few officials are  walking to and fro sharing a few words, like ants meeting on their expeditions to exchange information. Show cancelled because of rain? Time to whip out the camera and zoom in on a black board close to the wall of the Palace. Confirmed. Well the smart ones probaly checked the website and knew that there isn't going to be a parade this day.  Well, we tried! 

Hard to Miss: Changing of the Guards, Stockholm

The first time we were in Stokholm was in the summer of 2014. Our grandchildren were travelling with us. After traversing the city centre by metro, bus, and foot we stroll through Gamla Stan, the Old Quarters of the city. After taking a look at the entrance to the Palace, we have just left the huge square in front of it. Its about noon and the young ones are begining to be restless when they suddenly perk up. There's a band playing music that gets the feet tapping. Our heads turn this way and that finally setttling on a Cavalry band that is making its way towards the Palace. We are in awe of the bright blue uniforms astride chestnut coloured  horses that lead the Procession. They play popular songs. After all Sweden is the land of ABBA. They are followed by foot soldiers, guards, from another direction. Mounted police make sure the parade route is clear of traffic and pedestrians.  The whole parade seems convivial without compromising precision and ceremony. The entire routine of 45 mins is delightfully entertaining.

Sweden is not only about Nobel, IKEA and ABBA,  but also rejoicing in ceremony. Is it any wonder that it is one of the world's happiest countries?

 

Not deterred by rain: Amalienborg, Copenhagen

Copenhagen is a very walkable city. We often start at the Central Railway Station and then walk towards The Little Mermaid. On the way we pass the Palace, the Cathedral, the Parks etc. In 2015, when our grandchildren travelled with us, we have a drizzle.  The trees at Nyhaven provide scant shelter. Might as well brave it and walk towards Amalienborg Palace, the royal residence.   Not much shelter there either accept under the arches connecting the four similar buildings that form the square in the middle. Normally it is devoid of people except for those who opt to visit the palace museum. Today, just as we approach one of the arches we hear marching , and there we are having exclusive views of the changing of the Guards. The Danish Royal Guards march from Rosenborg Castle, well known for its gardens, to Amalienborg Palace.The blue and black uniforms stand out. There is a band since the Queen is in residence, this being her winter abode. There is no fancy footwork. A far cry from London or Stockholm, indeed. At least, the normally quiet square was enlivened for a few minutes, with tourists, music and ceremony.

Stiff, formal Monaco makes up with views

Monaco's Palace, in use for 7 centuries (no newer palaces built because of land scarcity), sits atop a hill. We usually climb up the side of the  hill, walk through a garage, take an elevator to a higher level and then walk through the Princess Grace Gardens and Oceonagraphic centre before we reach the Palace. Just before 12 noon the roads are closed off so the square before the Palace is clear. The guards are in white. It seems they are dressed in black during the winter months. It is a very short drill, but ceremonious neverthless. It may not be exciting but the fantastic views of the harbour all around us more than makes up for the lack of oomph. It's not reasonable to expect grandiose performances of such a small area.

Athens: Pom-pom Pomp steeped in history

The first time we found ourselves in Syntagma Square only because the park had a bench under a shady tree where we could enjoy our sandwiches. When we look up from our mouthfuls we see strangely clad men marching with their feet swinging high with the pom-poms on their feet jiggling. Curious, we walk closer to find out what it is all about. We are actually at the Tomb of the Unknown soldier and the changing of the Guards has just ended. On our next visit, our grandchildren accompany us. They would certainly get a thrill out of this. And so, as soon as we finish our visit to the Acropolis, we head towards Syntagma Square just in time for the ceremony. It is actually below the Greek Parliament  and Presidential Mansion. 

The guards, called the Evzones, march in from the barracks behind the parliament to the accompaniment of a band. Apparently the sentry changes every hour, while the grand ceremony only takes place on Sundays. The distinction here is that the sentries do a slow march, perhaps to facilitate the return of blood circulation, having stood motionless for an hour. 

Their uniform, made up of twelve parts, is also unique -- handmade, intricately detailed:

▪︎soft red cap with a silk tassel, 

▪︎dark hand embroidered wool waist coat, 

▪︎wide sleeved white shirt, 

▪︎a kilt like garment made of 30 m of fabric with 40 pleats, 

▪︎3 kg white shoes (with at lease 60 nails on the sole), hand stitched, pointed upward, covered with huge black silk pom pom, 

▪︎woollen stockings, silk garters with tassels, 

▪︎a gun that weighs over 5 kg. 

It is easy to become dishevelled with all the tassels, pom-poms and loose clothes as they march or as the wind blows. That is taken care of by off duty guards who quickly do the 'touch up', adjusting the wayward pieces.

What happpens if the sentry on duty who does not move at all has a problem? That's where the gun is extremely useful. A heavy tap on the ground summons an off duty guard who verbalises possible problems to which the answers are made with blinks. Go figure the unique codes!  

There is a whole lot of history in the spectacle. Imagine the hours needed to put on the various layers of clothing and training to march in a unique style. Something to marvel at, indeed.

 Drum struck in Seoul

Fooled

From Incheon, our cruise port,  we take a local bus to Seoul and then walk the arterial road that leads us straight to the Grand Palace aka Gyeongbokgung Palace,.

As we approach the huge gate we see women dressed in Korean costume, the hanbok. Wondering if it is a special cultural event I approach a giggling young lady with my question. She doesn't speak English. I try another young woman. She said the hotel lent it to them for the day. Others had rented their costumes and these women were all foreign tourists, mostly from China. I later learnt that if you were dressed in a hanbok entry to the Palace was free! A great disappointment indeed that I was easily fooled! 

A Chinese boy, a tourist, took a liking to Drink nd happily posed for a photograph.

Appeased

The huge palace grounds accommodating the architecturally beautiful pavilions and pagodas, topped with Korean black tiles, set in scenic gardens, courtyards with cherry blossoms beside ponds, all against picturesque mountains in the background, easily took us an hour of walking. Just as we are about to find a place to rest our legs we hear drums and notice a crowd near the main gate.

Enraptured

As we approach gate, we see the  crowd  swelling and we also notice men in bright blue, red, green and yellow  traditional costumes bearing spears and swords.  There's excitement and anticipation in the air. We hear the band playing traditional music - drums, double reed oboe and the gong. The palace guards march towards the gate in precise formation that involves intricate movements and rituals syncing with beating drums and bellowing. Keys are then symbolically exchanged between the commanders of the outgoing and incoming guards. They have just reenacted  the historical changing of the Royal guards! All of 40 mins.

As we walk towards the city centre we have a glimpse of another enactment  at Deoksugung Palace replete with traditional musical instruments, and exchange of a password for verification followed by  guard ceremony . The palace doors then close.

Whether colourful or not, whether small or big, the changing of the guards is charged with music, precision, history and does suffuse awe!

A profound, blessed and humbling audience of sorts: the Dalai Lama

Towards Little Lhasa

In 2015, on our trip to the northern states of India, and to Nepal, we took the overnight train from Delhi  to Pathankot, Punjab, passing army bases along the way. After all we are in Punjab which borders Pakistan. At the station we hired a car to take us to Daramshala ( Himachal Pradesh), the Indian abode of the Dalai Lama.

The harrowing drive

The route that crosses from Punjab to Himachal Pradesh offers scenic views of the majestic Dauladhar mountain range( a part of the Himalayas).  The 90 km distance should take us about 3 hrs. The roads are in good shape and hence the ride is pleasant. But when we start climbing the1500m up the slope, our feet press hard on imaginary breaks. Do we hear screeches? Are our ears fooling us? We have to suggest to our driver that he slow down at the sharp U-turns and precipitous curves. It falls on deaf ears. Tea estates and panoramic scenery whizz by. Curiously, as we speed further up, it is precisely along these curves that people are lined up. They each hold a white scarf. 

We reach Lower MacGranj in record time. Our cab driver swerves into a one way street in the opposite direction , diagonally crosses the road, apparently with utter disregard for traffic rules and safety, before he brings the wheels to a crunching stop at our hotel.

In an urgent authoritative tone he orders us out of the car and across the road, practically dragging us. He gestures to our right, tracing our path uphill. It all seems so ominous.

A bolt from the blue

A Land Rover with darkened windows drives by and in the passenger seat? None other than the Dalai Lama. He puts his hands together and looks directly at us through his window. The beaming, infectious, winsome smile is unmistakable in spite of the tinted window. The compassionate eye contact is etched firmly in memory. Eyes wide and mouth agape we don't even realize that we have put our hands together in a reciprocal gesture. Certainly not the time to zoom in for a precious photograph. Remarkably, there is no motorcade or convoy!

Did we pave the way, or did we just race ahead to clear the way for him?

We had actually been just ahead of his conveyance. The white scarves were prayer shawls held by his adorers hoping to get a glimpse of him. They chose the curves since the official car would slow down enough to give them a glimpse of the venerable man.

We had not even imagined meeting the Lama especially since he is very busy with public appearances in India and abroad. And then I remember a message I'd received from my brother a day before that I might get lucky for he was scheduled to return to his home! 

We do not forget to thank our driver. Our gratitude was written all over our faces. He was plainly gratified to see us in raptures. What a perceptive, quick thinking and astute driver to have!

When we come back to our senses we check into the hotel. We have to climb two floors but what is there to complain when the views are fantastic and the temperature in the 20s? 

We lunch and then begin walking around the hill town. We are in the lower part of the town also known as Lower McLeod Granj. We are surrounded by snow clad peaks and verdant landscapes. The first place we visit is the abode of the Dalai Lama and the monastry. The Temple Hall, surrounded by breathtaking vistas, is vast.  A few monks are sitting in meditation oblivious to the activities around them. We approach the centre which houses an imposing Buddha, the walls around the figure covered with paintings depicting his life. As we circumambulated the enclosure we turned the large prayer wheels all along the walls. The ambiance and the rituals are certainly very conducive to spiritual reflection. 

The awe never ends

Of course, there is the souvenir shop and a cafe in the grounds which we browse. As we walk higher up into town its late in the evening and therefore the stalls which also sell various sovenirs (other than those related to Tibetan culture), antiques and cheap clothes, have their wares all covered and secured with tarp.  The Temple road is studded with cafes at one of which we order hazelnut cream coffee and sit outside enjoying the scenery while as we sip and reflect on how the day was very fulfilling. 

Our walk into town brings us to a colourful temple of several floors in quite a narrow space. As we climb up the various floors, the stupa rising through the middle of the structure right up to the top floor, we are met with colourful frescoes and tangkas paintings on the walls and pillars. Our senses are overwhelmed. From the top we get a bird's eye view of the city glowing in the dark, with lights twinkling from the windows of buildings dotting the hill.

As we return to the hotel we are in for another treat. The sun is just beginning to set. A spectacular ending to a dramatic day. 

Seattle to Malta: Did you hear that right?

Cruising? Flying? Driving? No, we were riding!

Aha! Got you there! The Malta referred to is not the country in Europe but one of several cities in the US. This particular Malta is close to the border between the US state of Montana and the Canadian Province of Saskatchewan where our son lives.

After cruising from Yokohama  to Seattle  via Alaska on a repositioning cruise across the Pacific Ocean (passing through numerous time zones and gaining a day) and spending a few notable weeks with close friends somewhat close to the port city, we are to head for Saskatoon, Saskachewan. 

Options

We have several modes of travel to choose from: 

•Drive an hour to Seatac, take a flight to Vancouver, Canada, and transfer to a domestic flight

•Drive three hours to Vancouver Airport and take a domestic flight to the destination

•Drive 40 mins to Seattle King Street station and take Amtrak's Empire Builder (a trans- Continental train) to Malta (Montana, USA) from where a five hour drive north would take us to Saskatoon.

Preference

The train journey, which would take us about 24 hrs, appeals to us for various reasons:

▪︎Unlike airports, there is no need to arrive at the station long before the train arrives:

▪︎There is no cumbersome security check.

▪︎One check-in bag is allowed for each passenger (that is all we had)

▪︎We could ask for assistance while boarding, and disembarking.

▪︎We could take a walk through the train -- no cramped legs. 

▪︎There's only one time zone to cross over a day and therefore no jet lag.

▪︎Passengers are generally very sociable.

▪︎Most importantly, the train would chugg and weave through the scenic Glacier Park in the Rockies. 

We have flown over the Rockies and driven through them on the Canadian side several times but have never really seen it from the US side. Besides, years ago, we did the Amtrak CoastStarlight Express and Amtrak Sunset Limited, both overnighters, one in a roomette, and the other, in the coach. They were both remarkable in many ways. (More about those in another post.)   

Pre-boarding: No time to fret

We are to arrive at least 45 mins before departure if we are to check in baggage. Thanks to GPS we know that we are likely to encounter delays due to traffic jams close to Seattle. Our friends are savvy about this and have planned an alternative route, albeit longer in distance, but with less probability of congestion. In spite of it we have some moments of doubt. Happily we arrive well in time. It takes a few minutes to get our bearings in the beautuful station. We roll our bags to the check-in counter, the path to it blocked by several huge pieces of luggage. The officer at the counter tells us to just push them out of the way. He takes one  look at our ticket and staidly utters, "I can't. " We look up in disbelief. Is it because we are just coach passengers, not top tier?

Uh-uh. An explanation comes forth: Malta is an unmanned station and the train stops there for only one minute. It is not equipped to handle luggage. What next? The train floor is so high above the platform level, in most stations, that passengers have to step on a stool to board. I have a weak wrist due to an injury just before the cruise. DrInk has just got back to normal walking pace after his fracture. How to we carry our bags up into the coach? How do we unload the heavy items within a minute? 

What he told us next helped nix the problem.There's a corner section in the waiting room marked out for passengers who need assistance. There is already someone sitting there. We join her. A few more people come. The portly person, donning a red t-shirt, who is going to assist us strides in and sits among us jocosely introducing himself and expertly outlining how he would facilitate our boarding. We are in good hands.

The process: In a twinkle

We're at the gate closest to the train. Passengers who do not need help are a few gates further off. The train pulls in about 15 mins before departure. It is made up of a couple of Superliner rail cars that have two levels. In addition to coach seats, there are also sleeper cars where you can choose from a roomette, bedroom, bedroom suite, family bedroom or accessible bedroom. We have chosen coach seats at the lower level for various reasons, especially the proximity of restrooms. 

Our assitant has parked a golf cart at the gate nearest to us. First he takes the elderly people who have booked roomettes. Priority for more expensive tickets. Then he comes for the rest -- 3 of us for coach class. He effortlessly hoists our luggage on to the cart, and we board armed with our cabin bags filled with food for the journey and important items that we cannot afford to lose. Within 5 mins our luggage has been stowed in the dedicated rack close to our seats and we board. He does it all so efficiently and quickly that we are comfortably on board before the announcement for the rest of the passengers is heard. Most stream to the upper level.

The conductor checked our tickets against the manifest as we boarded but no seats were assigned. The coach attendant affirmed we could choose any seat at all of the twelve available except the two in front  meant for the disabled. We chose seats on the left, since we were travelling eastward, so we could get good views of Glacier Park the next morning.  The restrooms are just two automatic doors, a few feet apart (flanking the pathway for the boarding ) away. Our seats are comfortably broad recliners with leg and arm rests. Almost immediately 5 more passengers board our coach. Most passengers had booked the 

Going the wrong way, but don't panic yet

It has taken only about 15 mins to board all the passengers. The train pulls out of the station  exactly at 4:55 pm as scheduled. We chose our seats for the side that would give us good views of the Rockies, believing that we were facing forward,  but we were actually facing the back! Consolation: the other passengers in our coach are all in the same boat. Besides, the windows on the right are so dusty that the views wouldn't have been great. The attendant has come by and placed a little strip of paper above our seat with an abbreviation of our destination.

We'll be doubling our length

An announcement tells us we have a cafe in the upper deck and the train will double its length overnight when we make a short stop in Spokane late at night. Phew! Just in time for the great views. Two coaches from the Portland line would join us. Those coaches would include an observation car and a lounge.

A word of caution: get off at your risk

Most of the stops on the route are 3 mins or less. No one is allowed to get off unless it's the destination. Every few hours a 10 to 15 min stop is scheduled. It is appropriately called the fresh air break. A quick smoke perhaps. But never wander too far off or you'll miss the train. The 30 min breaks at some stations are called crew-change stops. ( We had the same attendant throughout but the conductor did change). 

A climb from sea level to 80m

The first section of the ride is coastal, taking us along Puget sound, with views of  Seattle's port and the Space Needle, towards Everett (known for Boeing's aircraft assembly plant) and along different rivers, sometimes crossing them and at other times looping around the hills defining the rivers. Blueberry fields give way to cherry trees and forests.

As we are heading towards Leavenworth (a beautiful Bavarian village in the Cascades) a forest ranger comes on board. Even though her announcements were hazy , probably because of the sound system, it helped that she pointed out some features and gave a little history of the railroad. 

Seemingly all of a sudden, we are plunged into darkness. We have entered the US's longest railway tunnel at 12.5 km. The train worms up through the Cascade Mountains. 

Ah, missed it!

As we exit we are following the Kooteney River, offering us views of rapids and falls on both sides and practically underneath us. Needless to say, travelling at an average speed of 80 kph, and sitting on the lower level, the views disappear by the time we get the direction right! We could have ended up with  cricks in the neck.

All great stories have to come to a hush 

We are travelling in summer and we have sunlight till about 10 pm. We would be reaching Spokane only after midnight and we have to forward an hour since we'd be crossing a time zone. We have already dined on sandwiches and so we turn in for the night. The attendant comes around at 9:30 pm to remind passengers that fellow passengers would value silence. The men sitting before us, had met at the lounge at King's station but were talking away as though they had known each other forever. One had been a railroad man and the other a dairy farmer. Their stories were very interesting. They were also conversing with the couple across the aisle who had been reluctant farmers, made a fortune, quit and live in three different countries where they own homes. But out of respect for others they hushed up.

Overnight 

While we are trying to catch twenty winks we roll into Spokane which is a hub of activity. Morning ablutions are not too bad, with a choice of 6 toilets, a separate area for grooming, and one for the disabled all in the same section. Most people who use washrooms leave them clean and dry for the next occupant. 

At 8am it is announced that the observation car had been shunted to our train overnight. We breakfast on sandwiches and water from the water dispensers on board and quickly make our way to the observation deck on the upper level in the next car.

Just in time

We manage to snag two outward facing seats on the right (facing north) this time. The observation car has panoramic windows and a transparent dome providing clear views all around. Now we are feasting on stupendous views of glaciers, carved valleys,alpine meadows ,snowcapped peaks, plunging waterfalls of Glacier Park. The route is dotted with historical lodges. To our disappointment we do not see a single wild animal.

A retired nurse joins us and tells us how she is now caring for her frail father lessening the burden on her nanogeranian mother. She clearly enjoys the scenery. After she leaves her husband joins us and share stories about being a tree - doctor, now hoping to become along distance truck driver. There are some train enthusuasts who share trivia about the route. At least one person is sitting with her lap top tracing our journey.  

We are now already in the Prairies with the purple profile of mountains afar. Time for a quick lunch. We are in the last stretch. We get back to our seats and watch the fields and towns go by. We are on the stretch where in September 2021, the train suffered a terrible accident when 7 out of 10 cars derailed.

Crossings, delays, yet punctual.

In some stops our train was late due to various train crossings. But the locomotive can go at 112 km per hour and so we able to arrive at Malta on the dot. We realise that we are not the only people getting off. There are two mothers with their children who are at the end of a day trip. The train has to line up right so that the stool can be place on level ground. The train moves back and forth until the alignment is perfect before we step off. DrInk and I have rolled our bags to the entry way keeping in mind that the train will only stop momentarily. The others do not have suitcases. The attendant graciously unloads ours and almost immeditaely the train chugs off! Phew!

Our son greets us and immediately our cares vanish.

Note: 

1.If you take the Empire Builder from Chicago westward to Seattle you will be in perpetual sunset over a few states because the time zones progressively move backward. 

And so the route is also called ' going to the sun road'.

2. The border to Canada is about an hour's drive from Malta. The checkpoint, we discovered too late, was closed on Saturdays and Sundays -- rather strange. We wonder if we'll be able to enter Canada but take the risk anyway. To our relief, it is only the US checkpoint that is closed, not the Canadian. 

Who is the miller's daughter?: the Netherlands, June 2014

Groningen, The Netherlands: The Miller's Daughter 

Living in a wagon

We arrived at Groningen following our GPS directions to our accommodation at the local windmill, a working one!  We are close to the windmill but cannot locate our accommodation. Is it supposed to be in the mill? We are in a rural community so I simply park the car along a side road while the other two adults walk around looking for the address. It takes a while but they do finally locate the entrance. The road leads us to the front yard where the host is waiting. Our room was a well furnished wagon with only a potty for nightime leaks. None of us wanted to exercise  that option. A nice clean barhroom is in the main house, a few feet away. The room on wheels had a little deck with a couple of willow chairs and a bird cage. A nice place to relax with a book and a refreshing drink.

What's  in a name?

Surrounding us is a rustic wilderness that has only natural sounds and lots of greenery. Most importantly we are in the shadow of a working windmill. The wagon is like and offshoot of the mill, hence the name.

Chemistry lab: experimental kitchen

To prepare a meal we use the host's guest kitchen in the main house. The makeshift kitchen consists of chemistry benches replete with racks for test tubes and such, and working sinks at both ends. It turns out that the owner is an architect and has bought this house to restore it, the furnishing being sourced out antiques. We ate at the picnic table at one corner of the 'lab'. The main washroom is also located here. It has modern amenities but a thick old wooden barn door with antiquated bolts and hooks.

In the morning a walk around the neighbourhood leads to vistas of vast open grassland where horses graz and romp to their heart's content. The grandchildren do not want to wear their jackets despite the chill since they wanted to acclimatise themselves to the weather.  

Korenmolen Wilhelmina: the works

Thats the name of the windmill we are staying beside. No visit to Holland would be complete without a peek into a windmill whether used for irrigation or for grinding wheat.Our host arranges for us to see the inside of the windmill for the next day. The lady who runs the mill had to take a 6-month training course in running the mill before she could take over, for controlling the vanes can be hazardous for the uninitiated. We realize how important the course is because when the winds are strong the blades will need to be controlled with precision and knack just as in maneuvering a sailboat in stormy seas. 

Red framed barn doors beckoned us inside. The mechanics and tools are pretty rudimentary and the louvered sails can go haywire if not tilted at the appropriate angle or given the right amount of slack. She grinds wheat in the mill. All the different stages, the tools, the sluices, grades of flour and types of storage and packing are explained to us. What we enjoy most is climbing the narrow steep stairs, more like a sturdy ladder with flat rungs. When descending she recommends facing outward and that makes it all less awkward and more comfortable. Also a rope is strung from the rafters with a knot at the bottom end. You could slide down the rope to get to the round floor. Another thinner rope next to the steps serv as a hand-grab to enable quicker climbing. Just above the floor in which the horizontal discs of stone grinders are, a door opens out into a deck surrounding the tower. A large contraption on the outside wall has a rope wound around it . The rope is released or shortened by turning the wheel to control the movement of the 4 sails/blades and also to brake them. 

Friendship needs no common language

The lady's son was of the same age as our grandchildren. They tried to befriend each other, one speaking Dutch and the others English.

Just before we left we spent some time talking to our host in her garden while her son socialized with our grandchildren on their trampoline.

The drive out  took us through pastures with healthy Friesland cows  and horses. Traffic on the roads was very well behaved. The older grandson tried his hand with the GPS and helped me navigate.