And so to my day in Potsdam.

Reassured that the bicycle route would be Germanic in signage – lots of “atchung” and “verboten” and pictures of a cycle, I set off in light rain, first stop the Berlin Olympic stadium. It was painless although a singular lack of signage, did not pass unnoticed on my part . A rising sense of apprehensive anxiety was, to some extent, allayed by a dedicated cycle path with stencilled stylised images of a bike. Who knows where it was going but hundreds of Germans were all going in the same direction, not to Russia surely?

At last, road signs directed me to the “olympicstadiumplatz”.

The 1936 Berlin summer Olympic stadium and complex is, how can I say it, not unexpectedly, germanic! The main stadium is grey granite, “powerful, bold, taunt and unconquerable “! Big thick square columns.

Adjacent is another arena whose design and layout evokes the ancient Greek Olympiad site. Wondrous feeling. Again I keep thinking of the thousands who filled these sporting spaces – the pomp, pageantry and not forgetting circumstance, as Herr Hitler opened the games. I have a fascinating sense of history at such times that is all the more relevant when I am acutely aware that my father’s generation was part of that history.

Around the perimeter of the main stadium were sculptures, in the same grey granite, of past german olympic champions ( only males of course) , looking not surprisingly “powerful, bold, taunt and unconquerable”! They were completely naked, not that I particularly noticed.

As the Olympic complex was not precisely on the main cycle route from France to Russia, here my daily dose of disorientation slowly engulfed me.

Within the space of 15 minutes I was forced to ask 4 Germans in succession, directions – 2 had no idea, the 3rd tried to send me back the way I came, the last was the local postman who knew most but not quite enough. SO … You can ridicule me about MY deficiency but when 4 apparent “locals” can’t even read a map or have no idea about where a road is ( turned out it was but a few hundred metres away) , amongst my convoluted mixed emotions, there was one other, none other than my old friend: “schadenfreude”!

Potsdam is quite something. The town and surrounds reminded me of an Austrian like setting without the Alps. The whole region is an UNESCO World heritage site. Wide cobblestones streets, pedestrian traffic only and somewhat touristy with respect to shops but the parks and gardens and palaces built by Kaiser Wilheim the umpteenth and his sons and heirs, again are mind boggling. There is an analogy here between religion,cathedrals and Kings and Queens and their palaces, but I am not sure what it is!

I cycled there following a lake on my right and returned, by a twist of useful disorientation, by an unintended different route, through the Grunewald forest on a dedicated cycle and walking road! A fortuitous “wrong turn”‘ .

Then spent a few hours in the evening trying to find a specific shopping complex, to no avail. Took the metro back to my hotel and collapsed onto bed.

Thursday I shall take a train to Hannover to spend the day with Aaron and his family

To Berlin

A travel day Sunday from Spain to Berlin. Having travelled on several airlines of different origin, it is a universal finding that ALL inflight magazines imply that by owning a Swiss watch, a man can climb Mt Everest, dive to 1000m below sea level or fly a Tiger Moth around the pyramids.

And another thing, duty free shopping – forget it! Giorgio Armani clothes Chanel Cosmetics, Polo Ralph Lauren Men store, Burberry, Escada, Bvlgari and Montblanc, Nikon, Sony, Alcohol, Tobacco: they are the “Baker’s Delight” of ALL airport terminals and once one converts ( If possible) there is not that much of a difference between here and there in terms of price. Arguably the one exception is alcohol, specifically Licquers and spirits? A bottle of Tia Maria, Cointreau or limoncello for me ( or GIN for my friends). Not having been to the Gulf countries, perhaps all things may be cheaper there?

Perhaps my professional Cathay Pacific First Officer contacts may care to comment.

Flying from Barcelona to Madrid and across to Germany, reinforced how much the geology and terrain in Spain appears similar to Australia. ( at least at 30,000 feet! Spain had a record dry winter and hot summer, the country was parched brown fields of wheat and occasional green of vineyards and olive trees.

‘Subtly all aircraft are different…” even in Spain and Germany, so WATCH the bloody safety demo as we taxi! One still needs to blow up the life jacket and blow the whistle to attract attention. The cabin crew,thankfully, in all countries “arm the doors” , BUT it was only ANSETT that “cross checked” – perhaps that is why they went bust? Also passengers don’t have ’emergency evacuations’ any more. The guiding lights still come on! Who cares anyway, if we are about to crash, who amongst us would NOT have an emergency evacuation, even before we hit the ground?

When Osley and I flew from Adelaide to Alice Springs, we were very attentive to the emergency procedures. and when completed, I explained to the hostess, that my travelling companion came from Brazil and was a little confused as to which ocean were were flying across? She was confused and not amused – a mandated requisite in personality combinations for Qantas cabin crew.

On Monday I walked for about 8 hours! I found that reading a city map in German is much easier than in Spanish. I was rarely confused until it came to returning! Confidently I set out for my hotel, eventually discovering that I was heading in the general direction of Egypt.

The local baker shop in Berlin is as common as the beer and winer bars in Spain. A ‘croissant’ is an universal word describing… well ….a croissant! However entering a german bakery and saying “Ich bin ein Berliner” , does NOT mean : I would like one of those round, deep fried, battered balls covered in sugar and filled with strawberry jam”.

The first such bread and cake shop that drew me like a magnetic, to my horror appeared to have flies buzzing inside the display counter! A closer inspection, revealed they were BEES! Now I know why its called a Bienenstich.

Keep left or right? That is the question. The roads are one thing but when it comes to footpaths, stairs, escalators, cycle paths, its chaos! Crossing the road is also akin to bungy jumping or worse still parachuting. I reflexly look to the left then the right, or as the childhood ditty went ” look to the left and look to the right then look to the left again, and you will never ever, ever get run over”….this works in Australia BUT not Europe.

I must admit that I rather like the guttural German language especially when listening to a deep male voice. It instantly reminds me of Mozart and The Magic Flute, specifically Sarastro the Bass Baritone and his wonderful arias.

I have occasionally had a coffee at a Starbucks cafe where I find I am surrounded by young Germans with their MacBook Air surfing the net!

Basically on Monday I walked along Strasse de 17 Juni to the Brandenberg Gate and long an avenue Unter den Linden then to Alexanderplaz, the Museum island ( to which I will return for a full day) and then top Hackescher Market, returning home via The Tiergerten with a stop over in Egypt.

My travel book states :

“Montserrat is a mountain top monastery in Catalonia, Spain. Situated atop an unusual rock mountain, it is very popular among Catalans, and Catholic pilgrims come from far and wide to see the Black Madonna…”

not this catholic! I will never know if this relic is just covered in soot or dark skinned!

The slow train trip takes 60 mins then cable car to the top at about 1200m Whilst getting there was enjoyable, trying to return to Barcelona was a nightmare! Along with several other tourists: Russians, Germans and me, we have ascended and descended twice in the furnicular railway, unintentionally! We are confused and to make the whole sorry saga even more frustrating the local Spaniards seemed just ad confused and uncertain! I feel a letter coming on!

Arrived home around 7.30 pm having taken about 3 hours, and need alcohol! Anyway I guess I may laugh about it in retrospect.

A wedding party appeared at the Basilica on Montserrat today complete with smoking bride. I don’t mean she was hot, she had a fag in her mouth which detracted absolutely from her matrimonial beauty. Thankfully I won’t be kissing her tonight.

Another long queue for the basilica, so I bypassed the black Madonna and headed higher up the mountain and rock – looking a lot like smaller version of the Olgas near Alice Springs. around the summit were the ruins of several monasteries, small basilicas and hermitages ( where a hermit lives) Not a vintage red wine!

It was the most energetic day I have spent in Barcelona as I was walking and climbing for some hours. A few scratches , a blister on my heel and already I feel better!

A Peloton of BMX rides – MAMIL types half of them having a fag whilst partaking of coffee arrived at the busy half way point at the main village around 11am before heading down.

And another thing.. After the concert last night.. Why is it that in modern, jazz, blues orchestras,
call it what you will, the man playing the brass instruments- sax, tenor sax, trumpet etc is always moderately bald on to but insists on growing long hair which is fine, thin and straight almost to shoulders; whilst the man who does the sound and lights ( at the back with a bank of electronic wizardry), always has thick hair without a sign of baldness and invariably has a long pony tail?

I have had my last meal in Barcelona – the best Tapas so far and discovered by accident literally around the corner from my bed and breakfast.

Amazing news! I have been notified that the last 4 weeks of denial and pilgrim suffering, have not gone unnoticed in Rome. An edict from the Vatican – known as a Papal Bull – has recognised my efforts and I am the proud recipient of a complete set of monastic bedroom furniture, tastefully Hand carved in the Gaudi style – single bed size of course. But wait there is more – It is carved out of the last remaining bits of the original wooden cross.

Picture attached

Friday.

Another “hill” walk, yesterday Gaudi, today the area developed for the Barcelona Olympics in 1992. Similarities with Sydney abound. Just as Homebush Bay a waste dump ( radioactive?) was transformed into a “green” clean Olympic venue, for Sydney, so the same thing occurred in Barcelona. The whole area was on a hilltop 200 m above sea level. The diving pool was set into the side of the mountain so that spectators had the perception that competitors, especially in the 10m dive were almost diving into space from a height of 200m. The main arena was also fascinating. The main venues were open aired.

There are a series of cable cars from beach front to the Montjuic Hill, an older and death defying contraption there being one car going up as the other comes down which did nothing for my acrophobia. A more modern cable car takes one to the very top.

At the Olympic museum I learned that Johnny Weissmuller in 1922 became the first man to break 1 minute for 100m ( perhaps even 110 yds in those days) – using the over-arm crawl stroke.

He later became a movie star, famous in one role only – Playing Tarzan in the 1950 – 60s black and white films. Tarzan the Ape Man, created by Edgar Rice Burroughs, famous for living up a tree with a monkey and a young boy! In the books no women, ( its camels in the desert, apes in the jungle ) in the movies, being American, a woman was involved.

Even though pre-pubertal and pre-physics, I distinctly remember that I was confused, vaguely irritated, as despite the gravity defying swinging from vine to vine, his leather apron thingy NEVER seemed to obey the laws of gravity but rather those of decorum. A sort of tutu tease! In retrospect, my unease, irritation and anxiety were indeed a reflection of my subliminal awareness that the laws of nature were not being obeyed – iin more ways than one!

I went to the Palau de la Musica Catalana and it’s a smallish space and despite its Gaudi like appearance it’s a copy cat! I sat through a jazz type concert for 90 mins! Mr Lacey would have been proud of me.

Again my absolute lack of any sense of direction, had me walking around in circles when the theatre was literally tucked in a narrow street 50 metres away.

So many museums, I need a break so taking a train to Montserrat tomorrow – Saturday

Friday.

Another “hill” walk, yesterday Gaudi, today the area developed for the Barcelona Olympics in 1992. Similarities with Sydney abound. Just as Homebush Bay a waste dump ( radioactive?) was transformed into a “green” clean Olympic venue, for Sydney, so the same thing occurred in Barcelona. The whole area was on a hilltop 200 m above sea level. The diving pool was set into the side of the mountain so that spectators had the perception that competitors, especially in the 10m dive were almost diving into space from a height of 200m. The main arena was also fascinating. The main venues were open aired.

There are a series of cable cars from beach front to the Montjuic Hill, an older and death defying contraption there being one car going up as the other comes down which did nothing for my acrophobia. A more modern cable car takes one to the very top.

At the Olympic museum I learned that Johnny Weissmuller in 1922 became the first man to break 1 minute for 100m ( perhaps even 110 yds in those days) – using the over-arm crawl stroke.

He later became a movie star, famous in one role only – Playing Tarzan in the 1950 – 60s black and white films. Tarzan the Ape Man, created by Edgar Rice Burroughs, famous for living up a tree with a monkey and a young boy! In the books no women, ( its camels in the desert, apes in the jungle ) in the movies, being American, a woman was involved.

Even though pre-pubertal and pre-physics, I distinctly remember that I was confused, vaguely irritated, as despite the gravity defying swinging from vine to vine, his leather apron thingy NEVER seemed to obey the laws of gravity but rather those of decorum. A sort of tutu tease! In retrospect, my unease, irritation and anxiety were indeed a reflection of my subliminal awareness that the laws of nature were not being obeyed – iin more ways than one!

I went to the Palau de la Musica Catalana and it’s a smallish space and despite its Gaudi like appearance it’s a copy cat! I sat through a jazz type concert for 90 mins! Mr Lacey would have been proud of me.

Again my absolute lack of any sense of direction, had me walking around in circles when the theatre was literally tucked in a narrow street 50 metres away.

So many museums, I need a break so taking a train to Montserrat tomorrow – Saturday