Around Town

    So, while I write this in mid-October (and now because I want to keep track of how long it is taking me to write this down, I will keep that and add that I am working in mid/late November), my mind is starting to become slightly hazy on some of the details, but I will do my best to piece together the events from my memory, emails, and pictures.



    On May 11th, the Coulter family (sans Maddie) departed for the US, since the did not have an extension to stay beyond the maximum allowed time of 90 days in Italy, and thus the breakup of the Bernardi family began, and soon Matt Slattery would leave to go back home to Sarah.  It was a Wednesday, so we all said our goodbyes and left for class with Dr. Lev.  After that, we had a lot of free time, because we normally would have had Dr. Coulter's class and then a break between that and Italian, so we had an extraordinary amount of time on our hands (scary, huh?).
    At that point I still hadn't been to Santa Maria Maggiore, one of the four great basilicae of Rome, nor had I been to Santo Pietro in Vinculi (St. Peter in Chains), and Matt Slattery wanted to see the St. Mary Major one more time and hadn't yet been to St. Peter in Chains, so we headed out for each on a pilgrimage of sorts.  Fortunately for us, St. Mary Major was only about 20 minutes away, and St. Peter in Chains was not too much farther away.
    We were always able to see the high tower of the basilica, but until then I hadn't gone down the road to actually visit it, but as I got closer and closer, I was filled with more and more awe, and what I saw was only the back of the basilica.  So we went around, where there was a pillar with Mary on top, facing the facade of the great building, covered in travertine, added during the Grand Tour, around the middle of the 18th century.  I can't remember if I said anything on the Grand Tour, so I'll do so now.
    It had become quite popular by the late 17th century for those in northern Europe to learn the classical languages and about ancient history (namely, that of Rome) and antiquities from Rome.  These highly educated persons would come to Rome not as pilgrims, but as historians and sightseers.  In reaction to this, the popes desired to "improve" upon the already magnificent basilicae around Rome, as well as various other projects (Spanish Steps, Trevi Fountain, etc.), so as to impress these educated tourists, hopefully garnering a positive report that modern Romans were not just a bunch of illiterate, uncultured yokels.
    So, as it pertains to this story, the relatively new facade of Santa Maria Maggiore now covers up beautiful ancient mosaics, so you now have to crane your neck just to get a glimpse of them.  Fortunately, however, I was able to get one good picture of a mosaic of Christ.  The inside is absolutely massive, yet I'm sure that three or four St. Mary Majors could fit comfortably inside St. Peter's.  Contained in both sides of the transept are a great chapel for the Mass (left) and chapel for Eucharistic adoration (right).  It is a typical Roman-type basilica (built in the 4th century), in that the roof is not vaulted, but flat, in the typical Roman style.  There are huge colonnades on either side, just like at St. John Lateran, leading up to the altar, and there are still 5th century mosaics in the interior, particularly in the apse.  Although it seems like a mostly empty space, the side chapels and art more than make up for that feeling.
    At the point where the transept and the nave meet is a mini crypt, as well as a crystal reliquary, supposedly containing some of the wood from the cradle of Christ.  St. Jerome, the great translator of the Bible from Greek into Latin (known as the Vulgate), is also buried there.
    From there, we made the trek to San Pietro in Vinculi (St. Peter in Chains), which is actually pretty plain, and even the facade is unremarkable (by that I just mean that it doesn't really jump out at you), but is neat nonetheless  (I say 'trek' because it was just that, walking in unknown territory up and down stairs and down winding streets, and I am pretty sure that a bird had freshly pooped when I grabbed a handrail).  The inside is mostly white and is reminiscent of a hospital ward, though you could still see, because the church has undergone several renovations, where the new and the old met (I believe the facade is old, and there are ancient beams and stone visible). To the right, near the intersection of the nave and transept, is a set of statues and background, which, I thought, was reminiscent of the Trevi Fountain.  And apse was beautiful (as is every apse in Rome), and just about the only other notable thing there (aside from the Eucharist of course) was the set of chains that supposedly bound St. Peter. Whether or not that's the case is up in the air, but it doesn't matter since a) the chains are from that era, and b) we are not worshiping the chains.

    When Matt and I said our prayers and had sufficiently taken in all we could see of the church, we went back to the Ange, passing the Coliseum one last time, and we were stopped by some college-age American girl who was passing out stopping for fliers for some sketchy bar crawl. We humored her and said, 'maybe' but thought 'hell no, we would be killed instantly'. The we got some gelato along the way, and Matt was kind enough to pay for mine with some tickets he had left over and would not be using since he would be leaving soon.  Very generous of ya, Matt!  Wow, that was just an awesome day--it was warm, sunny, and there wasn't a cloud in the sky. Another day in paradise, as we relaxed in the garden of the Ange, waiting for another rip-roaring day with Anna Maria in Italian class!
    I should be posting on my trip to the Amalfi Coast with John, Peter, Minh, and Fr. Carola, but we'll just have to see if/when that happens.

Maggio a Roma--Race for Vocations

Bernardi after the race.

On May 7th, in the year of our Lord two thousand and eleven, I accomplished something that I never thought I would do--I ran/jogged/walked a 5K.  Yes, my 6-2, 195 pound frame made it 3.2 miles around Rome, via walking, jogging, and running.  Now, I would definitely not do this without some great impetus, and this great impetus was the Race for Vocations.  "What is the Race for Vocations?" you may ask.  Well, I'm here to tell you. Or rather, instead of trying to read my rambling words, you could watch this short video of Tyler Tenbarge, a seminarian from the Archdiocese of Evansville, and studying at Simon Brute Seminary, and with us for the semester in Rome, explain just what it is: http://www.archindy.org/vocations/race-video.html. So we in Rome, in solidarity with our brothers and sisters in Christ in Indianapolis, started our 5K at the same time as they did back in Indianapolis (we at 2pm, and they at 8am ET).  It was one of the neatest experiences of which I have ever been a part--running for a true cause with others made the universality and connectivity of the Church even more real, if that were possible.  So, this is the route that we ran, and the route, which makes a figure-8, actually ended somewhere on or before Ponte Matteoti: http://maps.google.com/maps?saddr=Lungotevere+delle+Armi&daddr=41.91864,12.47028+to:Lungotevere+Flaminio+to:Lungotevere+Maresciallo+Cadorna+to:Lungotevere+delle+Navi+to:Lungotevere+delle+Armi&hl=en&ll=41.916298,12.465491&spn=0.017276,0.042272&sll=41.91815,12.465148&sspn=0.017276,0.042272&geocode=FUuSfwId9kS-AA%3BFbCgfwIdCEi-AClXd5Ev8GAvEzEBJWB7nk8JEw%3BFRbDfwIdQiS-AA%3BFUPKfwIdFhq-AA%3BFZiffwId-E2-AA%3BFUGQfwIdQkW-AA&vpsrc=6&gl=us&dirflg=w&mra=dme&mrsp=5&sz=15&via=1&z=15  Afterward, we all had a great feast of burgers, brats, and dogs, cooked up by Dr. Coulter et al., and the ladies of Bernardi (Monica, Kelsey, Maddie, Katie, Maria, et al.) prepared the desserts and salads.  So, after it was all said and done, it was an awesome day, and it all ended with a great meal with even greater company.

Maggio a Roma--Beatification and Bernardi Talent Show

Night of JP II's Beatification--the line is about a mile long.

It was in Italian class that I asked Anna Maria, whilst learning the months of the year in Italian, "So, does Joe DiMaggio mean 'Joe of May?'"  Needless to say, I think she was a little confused, though she knew who he was.  Anyway, May started off with a bang, with the late now-Blessed Pope John Paul II being beatified on Sunday the 1st.  For the record, I was in Rome for it, though I cannot say with too much certainty where I was at the time he was officially beatified.  I believe I was in Mass, though, at Santa Maria del Popolo.  You may wonder, "Greg, perche? I mean, you were right there, why didn't you go? There was even an all-night vigil the night before!"  Well, let me clue you in as to why I did not go (though I think the Moosbruggers and, maybe Minh, went, despite having traveled with me from Austria).  1.  I had just gotten back from Austria/Germany the night before the vigil, and, after nearly 36 hours travelling or being in an overheated hotel room, I just wanted to relax.  Secondly, I was sick of Italian crowds, and did not want to get caught up in the 1,000,000+ crowd of Italians, Polacks, Americans, and whoever might have decided to show up for the event, in hot and humid weather.  It was a grand sight, I'm sure, but I was able to watch most of the Mass online from the comfort of my own chair and a nice ceiling fan to boot.  Besides, I only go to the big events (i.e. canonizations).  Later that night though, some of us wanted to see JP II's casket, which had been exhumed for the event, and is now in his tomb, which is now on the right side, in the main basilica, in the Chapel of St. Sebastian.  What we found, however, was a[n Italian] line, which, if stretched from end to end, would have been at least a mile long, if not longer.  So, not wanting to wait for several hours, we decided to bag the idea and head back for Bernardi.  That was kind of disappointing, or at least it would have been had I not been walking back in Rome, a little town in which you don't mind an "unsuccessful" journey.

    On May 5th, all of us at Bernardi expected either to be performing in or watching the Bernardi's Got Talent show, but what us men did not expect was something that I will not easily forget.  The women of Bernardi made and served us guys (and ate with us) an absolutely great meal of pasta, salad, and gelato.  In addition, they made each of us a place mat (which I still have) with truly meaningful and affirming comments, and they picked a saint for each of us, along with a logo, which they felt represented us--my saint was St. Sebastian, and my logo was the Notre Dame leprechaun (both were very apt, in my opinion).  As Jonathan Huber put it, they made us "feel like kings".   It was such a generous act, which I had never before seen, and may never see again; but to experience and receive so kind a gift as that, which truly made a great impression on me, was unbelievable.  There is really no other way to describe it than to say that the ladies of Bernardi Spring '11 are incredibly holy, charitable, and awesome.

    Afterward, we all went up to the salotto, where we witnessed great acts, ranging from the Coulter Family Band (complete with Dr. Coulter on the drum, aka the trash can), to Dan and Ephrem performing a dead-on impersonation of Smeagol/Gollum.  Other highlights were Paula's reading of her original poetry and Tyler's inspirational (if not thought-provoking) speech essentially on  why it's so awesome to be Catholic (no offense to those who are missing out).  I wish I had pictures of the night, but I didn't have my camera with me, and was too busy instructing others on the dangers of bicyclists (perhaps someone will upload them to Facebook--yes, I'm looking at you, Jodi Vasko).

Österreich Continued...

The next day, Brady, Katie, Maria, Minh, and I, after playing some cards on the balcony and getting a bite to eat at a local restaurant, decided to explore a little bit around Schoppernau and the surrounding towns, and we ended up hiking up one of the mountains.  At first, it was a warm, sunny day, as we made our way up the mountain.  It was kind of steep, as we wound our way up, zig-zagging up the path, so everyone except for Minh picked up a walking stick to help us along.  It took probably an hour and a half to get up the mountain, though we didn't get to the top, where there was still snow.  Speaking of which, Minh and I were hoping to do some skiing, but due to an abnormally warm winter, all the snow (aside from that at the very top) was gone.  Anyway, due to the fickle European weather, we got caught in a rain/hailstorm, which was made worse by the fact that it got a lot colder.  We stopped intermittently under the cover of the trees, but made it up to a tiny hamlet that seemed to be shuttered for the summer, or at least for a while.  We tried to find some shelter, and briefly stopped in at a tiny chapel, but only stayed under its porch for awhile, because the door was locked.  The views, as soon as the rain and mist cleared, were absolutely breathtaking, and being able to once again breathe fresh air outside of Rome was an even greater bonus.  We soon made our way down the mountain, which took half as long as climbing up, and as we got lower, it began to get warmer and sunnier again, and we were able to dry off.  Later that night, we continued to celebrate Brady and Katie's engagement by going to the Moosbrugger Cafe, and Stefan, who speaks English well, welcomed us with "some" beverages and a little food.  Unfortunately for Brady, however, he had to get up early to get to the airport to fly home, because classes at St. Thomas were still ongoing.
    The next day we spent sleeping and relaxing, so not much really happened, and the next day it was raining for a good portion of the day, so other than wandering around Schoppernau a little bit and getting lunch at a local restaurant, we didn't do much until the evening.  We were able to go to Mass (in German of course) that evening at the local church, which was stunning because it seemed to be old, yet was well-maintained, with beautiful paintings and ornately-carved wood works. Afterward, we all went the house of their relative, Lily, the other English-speaker in the town, for dinner.  I can't remember exactly what it was, but I believe that it resembled something like macaroni and cheese, but with potatoes, and without the cheese.  I do remember that it tasted great, however, and was really filling.  We finished off with some schnapps, and looked through an album with many fascinating photos capturing her family's history in the town, as she recounted many stories.  The really neat thing is that there is a replica (not exact, but close) of Lily's house, called Rößle, in Kohler, WI (I really wish I had gotten a picture of it--dang).
    The next morning, we got up a little earlier, had breakfast, bade farewell to Walter and Marlene, and then hopped on the bus to take the hour and a half ride down to Dornbirn, where we waited for our ICE train, which we took to Frankfurt Airport, whence we caught a taxi to our hotel.  Although it was a long day for all of us, Katie, Minh, Maria, and I went out in search of somewhere to eat, and the only reasonable place to eat was--an Italian restaurant.  The proprietors were even native Italians, and the one time we could have used our Italian outside of Italy, we didn't.  Oh well, that's the way it goes, but since Katie speaks fluent German, I guess we didn't need our "perfect" Italian skills anyway.
    So, the next day, our last in Germany/Austria, I caught a shuttle to the airport, picked up the car, drove back to the hotel, and picked everyone up to drive up to the Dusseldorf-Weeze airport.  I might have mentioned this before, but the RyanAir CEO is extremely stingy, and decides to have his planes fly out of the most far-flung airports, which explains why Minh and I flew into the Frankfurt-Hahn airport, and why we were flying out of Weeze.  Anyway, I got to check off one of my bucket list items by driving on the German Autobahn--much to the chagrin and fright of my four passengers (again, Katie, Maria, Minh, and Tim--I apologize for scaring you more than half to death).  But I only topped out at just over 180 kph, which equates to about 112 mph--don't worry, it was a perfectly sunny day, with barely a cloud in the sky, though there was some construction.  But that was easily THE quietest 3 1/2 hour car ride I've ever been on.  The important thing is that we got there in one piece in plenty of time, and I made a pit stop in the Netherlands as I filled the car up with gas.  Drive in three different countries in my lifetime? Check.  So, we killed some time playing some cards, as we waited for our plane, and we were the first ones at the gate.  We would have been the first ones on had there not been a half hour evacuation of the airport.  We were sitting there, and all of a sudden an alarm goes off, and a voice comes over the speakers, saying we need to leave.  So we went out and stood on the tarmac, but then came in after the fire/terrorist/whatever threat was cleared.  Other than that, however, there were virtually no issues getting back home to Rome and, eventually, Bernardi--fortunately, we were able to catch the last train to the Lepanto stop and walk home from there, getting back at about 930pm, completing our nearly 36-hour travel back to Rome, that had started at 10am the previous day in Schoppernau, Austria.

Welcome to Austria!

Although I am back stateside now, I will fill out the rest of my blog, just in case you're still interested in hearing more about my Euro-tripping.

A picture taken from the balcony of our room.

    On April 24, Easter Sunday, I was up at 5:30 am, and running on about four hours of sleep, Minh and I caught a taxi and headed to the airport for an 8:40 am flight to the Frankfurt-Hahn Airport.  What I didn't know, however, was that this airport is not the main Frankfurt airport, and we had to take a 1 1/2 hour shuttle ride to the Frankfurt train station, which ended up not even being the main station (we took the Metro to Frankfurt-Main).  From there we took the ICE train, leaving at 1:30 pm for Dorbirn, Austria, via Ulm and Lindau, Germany.  This was the fastest, and most expensive train, which topped out at about 280 km/hr, but was very quiet and comfortable.  We were able to see a lot of great countryside and farms along the way, but the day seemed to be a mixture of Trains, Planes, and Automobiles, and the Amazing Race.  We were literally running from train to train, as we had to switch twice, but by the grace of God we made it each time.  Once we got to Dornbirn, we took a 1 1/2 hour bus ride up the mountain to Schoppernau, a small mountain town in Austria.  Once we got there, Minh and I quickly saw why Maria and Katie wanted to go there--almost everyone had the surname Moosbrugger, and it was obviously where their ancestors were from.  Plus, "Moosbrugger" was on just about every restaurant or store in the town, which we found to be pretty humorous.

Katie and Maria, with their firework cake.

    After Minh and I got off the last possible stop in what we were hoping was Schoppernau, we started walking along the main road toward our bed and breakfast (or so we thought), though we turned out to be going in the opposite direction.  Luckily, as Tim, Maria, Katie, and Brady were eating dinner at a local restaurant, Maria randomly looked out the window and they all shouted for us, which was great because otherwise Minh and I would have walked to the farthest edge of town. After 14 hours of travel, we were finally where we needed to be.  Another cool surprise was that when everyone came outside of the restaurant, Katie showed us her engagement ring from Brady--he had proposed the day before--and we went to the Moosbrugger Cafe so that Minh and I could eat. We both got wienerschnitzel and fries and a bottle of Mohren Brau.  The Moosbrugger’s very distant relative, Stefan, seemingly out of the blue came out with two slices of cake, with a small firework on top, for Maria and Katie, although we all thought that he was bringing the cake out for Katie and Brady to celebrate their engagement.  He came running in with the slices of cake, set them down, and ran out with no word of explanation, so we just sat there 

A look at the fields and mountains of Austria.

    That was all pretty exciting, and after an hour or so of conversation, we went back to our B&B, Marlene's Haus, and I was able to sleep like a log, which was great, especially considering all the travel of the past day.

Holy Week in Rome

St. Peter's on Good Friday.

Alright, I was just kidding about blogging on Austria next, since I forgot about Holy Week.  A big group of us Bernardians went to the English College—don’t worry, it was Catholic, just the English counterpart of the North American College.  It’s the favorite church of the Coulters, so we followed them there for Holy Thursday Mass, which was celebrated in their “newer” church, which has distinctly Byzantine feel to it.  The Beatitudes are written in mosaics, in Latin, on either side of the nave, and there the backgrounds were all golden.  It was a truly beautiful church, and it had the sense of an ancient church, with a flat roof, columns, and two side aisles.  When the priests processed back to the old chapel with the Eucharist after Mass, the congregation followed, and we prayed in front of the Blessed Sacrament for a few minutes.  It really was a very humbling and reverent experience, which set me up well for Good Friday and Holy Saturday.

Looking at the back as the fire is lit.

On Good Friday, the whole group (minus those who were elsewhere) went to St. Peter’s Square to stand in line for about 2 ½ hours before the service (if you are ever in Rome for the Triduum and want to go, you will need a ticket—which is free—but you can just ask your bishop).  Waiting that long wasn’t too bad, especially in comparison to what it would be the next day, and we were all talking, keeping each other entertained.  When the gates did open, it was absolutely hilarious to see the nuns running to get a good spot along the aisle.  Just imagine a nun in her full habit flying in the wind behind her, booking it toward the entrance.  What was particularly special was not just being in St. Peter’s on Good Friday, but the fact that our seminarians were serving for Papa Bene.  They admitted that they didn’t do too much, but even so, just to be part of it would be an unforgettable experience.  Also, this was the most solemn and reverent Good Friday service to which I had ever been, and something that I won’t soon forget.

The Easter Vigil Mass was even more memorable (and seemingly almost twice as long).  Matt Slattery and I went to St. Peter’s Square at about 2:30 pm to wait for the gates to open at 7:30 pm, and then once we got in we waited until 9 pm for the Mass to start.  Now, it is really frustrating when you get there really early and you see others elbow their way in within an hour of the gates opening.  So, Matt and I kind of barricaded ourselves in and with those in “line” (I say that because it was more of a blob, and it only got worse when the time to enter drew nigh) we tried our best to keep intruders out.  We made friends, had some food, drank some water, and held each others’ spot in line when someone had to go to the bathroom.  Trust me—you cannot survive something like this unless you make some friends within the line.  Throughout the entire time there was this Polish girl who acted so innocently while she budged through all of us and tried to get her family in line as well.  Funny enough though, there was this Aussie from a high school group that pretty much did the same thing with about an hour and a half to go.  The difference, however, was that he was really funny and entertaining.  He was an interesting character too, as he knew more about the USA—at least our state capitals—than most Americans.  He also led those in the front of the line in singing several songs, entertaining everyone as it got down to about a half hour before the gates opened.  From “Don’t Stop Believin’” to “Land Down Under”, he kept the crowd going and singing along. He even knew “I’m Proud to be an American”.  Then he did the unexpected and sang the opening ditty from the Lion King, which was pretty much a shout but right on key.  The Italian/Vatican police were none too pleased, but they had bigger problems, like controlling a line with thousands upon thousands of people, which stretched almost the entire way around the square.

Easter Vigil, as the Gospel begins.

The Mass itself was extremely beautiful and powerful, and began with Pope Benedict lighting and blessing the fire as the basilica went dark.  Then came the procession to the front with many, many cardinals and bishops with their candles lit.  Just a quick rundown of the Mass: there was a lot of incense throughout the Mass, there were readings in French, Spanish, English, Italian, and German, and the Gospel was in Latin—pure gold.  Plus, there was a lot of chanting in Latin, which was cool as well.  The most amusing part of the Mass was when one of the monsignors (I think) said, in Latin, “Holy Father, I present to you…the Alleluia!”  It was a truly powerful experience to see so many faithful Catholics flock to the heart of the Catholic faith, and to celebrate the most important date on the Church calendar.  Plus, can you imagine what it was like not only to be fully received into the faith through Confirmation, but then to receive First Communion from Pope Benedict himself? Simply amazing.  I can fill in the other details later, but for now, I guess this will have to do.

Papa Bene after the Easter Vigil.

After Mass, I remembered that I had some Reese’s eggs from home—thanks, Mom—and I broke those out and some of us shared those, while still in St. Peter’s Basilica, which I thought would never happen.  It was a late night, as Mass got done at about 12:30 am, but we all went for gelato and then went back home.  It would have been even later, but Minh and I had to get up early to catch a cab to the airport to get to Austria, which, I guarantee, is where I will pick up next time.

Welcome to: The Happiest Place on Earth

       No, it isn't Disney World, but it is kind of like Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory.  It is...the Guinness Storehouse.  After we left Cork early in the morning, we headed to Dublin, arriving just before noon.  Since we couldn't check in to our hotel until 2 pm, we went straight for downtown Dublin and the Guinness Storehouse.  Once you get to the main street in front of the entrance, it really seems like a city unto itself.  And it was, as I learned, as Guinness had affordable housing built for its employees when no other housing was available.  It is a very large complex, and the storehouse is just the part where the beer ferments (or used to be there) and where the museum/visitor center is.  It was an absolutely awesome experience, and I spent 3 of the best hours of my life there.  From top to bottom, the people at Guinness really know how to make you get lost in a time warp, which was very much a good thing.  They have tools, vats, casks, and huge kettles, all of which were used a while ago to brew the finest beer in the world (needless to say, the only drink I had in Ireland was Guinness).  There is a long and detailed history that progresses the farther you go up, from level 1 to the Gravity Bar on level 7, where you can trade in your ticket stub for a "free" pint of Guinness, which truly isn't free, but included in the price of admission.  Just a brief history, Guinness was founded by Arthur Guinness in 1759 at St. James Gate, Dublin, where they have been brewing ever since.  So, that was just about the briefest history you're gonna get about anything.  What was also neat was the fact that I was able to have a nearly 360 degree view of Dublin while I sipped on the best Guinness that I have ever had.  I'm sure that I've also left out other stuff, but some other notes--I saw the oldest pub in Ireland, the Brazen Head, as well as Trinity College, though I didn't see the Book of Kells.

The harp that Guinness' logo is based on.

        After the Guinness Storehouse, we met up with the Coulters, as well as the Moosbruggers, and we walked around downtown Dublin, ate dinner, and went back to our hotels.  The next morning, we were all up at about 4:00 am or so, and headed to the airport, whence the Coulters, Jonathan, and I went back to Rome--damn--and the Moosbruggers and Tim embarked for Austria, which is where my next post will pick up.

The Land of Eire--Part III

Blarney Castle.

Here I am kissing the Blarney Stone.

        On the morning of the 17th, after breakfast and Palm Sunday Mass at the local church, Tim, Jonathan, and I drove for a little over two hours to Cork, where we stayed at Jurys Inn Hotel.  It was a fairly nice hotel, right along the river, which opened wide enough to have a couple French Navy ships dock there.  Cork is similar to the size of Rochester, MN, both in size of buildings, area, and population.  We were all pretty tired, so we slept for about four hours and then walked around, looking for a place to eat.  Unfortunately, there really wasn't anywhere to eat, aside from a Subway and this fried chicken place, which was sub-par at best.  Also, the people didn't seem to be as nice as those in Camp, and we all kind of wished we had stayed there the whole time, especially when we were standing on a corner, and a guy in a car shouted out to a sketchy guy with long hair and trench coat, "Get a haircut you (blanking) (blank)!"  To which Jonathan said, "Welcome to Cork!"  So we ended up going to the fried chicken place, which was nowhere even close to KFC, Popeye's or Raising Cane's.  The redeeming part was that there was a digital jukebox there, and I was able to play Bruce Springsteen's "Badlands" and Queen's "One Vision" for 50 euro cents each.  We later went to a real pub, had some beer, watched a Spanish League soccer match, and went back to the hotel.

Marina of Kinsale.

        The next day, which was really sunny and warm, I got up, had the hotel Irish Breakfast buffet, which wasn't too bad, and we headed out to Blarney, which is northwest of Cork.  We went into the Blarney Castle, kissed the Blarney Stone, and walked around the estate for awhile.  The really neat thing is that a noble family, who maintains the castle, still lives in the Blarney House, which is about a quarter mile or so away from the castle; there are also tours there for four hours per day, six days a week, which is impressive, considering that it is actually an active home.  The grounds are really beautiful and are well maintained.  There is also more or less a 30 minute hiking trail at the opposite end of the grounds (away from the Blarney House).

A couple streets in Kinsale.

        We then drove down to Kinsale, which is much smaller than Cork, and is a fishing town on the southern coast of Ireland, about 25 km from Cork.  I really enjoyed it simply because it is smaller than Cork, and has the feel of Dingle.  We walked around for a bit and then ducked into a pub for lunch.  I had hot seafood chowder and warm bread, and we just sat around for close to an hour and a half, just talking and relaxing.  Afterward, we walked down by the bay and through the winding streets, stopping in at the churches and taking in the fact that we were in a small town in Ireland, which was much better than being in Cork, and like being in Camp.  One final note on the city of Cork--there is not much to see there, and I would honestly not recommend going there, because there truly isn't that much to see or do, but I suppose it is a good in-between point for Blarney and Kinsale, among other places, I'm sure.

The Land of Eire--Part II

The rolling dunes of Inch Beach.

         On the morning of the 15th of April, in the year of our Lord, two thousand and eleven, I had the best breakfast that I've ever had in Europe.  No, there weren't any cornetti or stale cereals, it was an Irish Breakfast.  This consists of an egg, baked beans, toast, tea, ham, sausage links, a Jimmy Dean-type sausage patty, a black pudding patty, half of a small tomato, and orange juice.  Although not everyone had this every day, I did because a) it was very filling and I needed some energy for the day, and b) I normally don't get this in Rome.  After breakfast, the five of us packed in the car and drove to Brandon Point, which was about 25 minutes from our place.  Of course we got lost along the way so it took a little longer, but it was well worth the drive along roads wide enough for only one car at a time to pass.  At first it was fairly sunny and warm, but it quickly cooled off and the winds came.  We could overlook the bay for miles, and watched as the waves crashed on the cliffs and the sand.

Inch Beach.

        Afterward, we headed down to the town of Dingle, which was about a 45 minute drive or so.  Along the way, though, it began to rain hard, and we were all pretty nervous, as Jonathan was driving on a mountain road through fog, rain, and again on a very narrow road.  So we got to Dingle and it was still raining, and we walked down a fairly busy (for Ireland) street.  We ducked in a few stores and bought some stuff, but we were mostly just trying to stay warm and dry, or at least as much as we could.  We eventually walked down along the pier and had lunch at Murphy's pub.  The leek and potato soup I got, plus the warm fire, really helped me warm up after being poured on by the rain.
        When we emerged from our lunch about an hour or so later, it was warm, sunny, and clear, which helped us stay and walk around by the bay for awhile longer.  From Dingle we headed to Inch Beach, which is a peninsula off the southern edge of the Dingle Peninsula.  The dead seal on the sand notwithstanding, this was easily the most beautiful beach I had ever seen.  The tide had not yet rolled in completely, so there a lot of sand laid open, which transitioned into sand dunes about a hundred yards from the edge of the water.  Covering the sand dunes for the three-mile stretch along the beach was long Irish grass, between which a bunch of snails were taking refuge from the sun.  We left Inch Beach after at least an hour or so, and after we got back to the B&B we went to the pubs again for some more Irish fun.

The town of Dingle along the Dingle Bay.

        After a full Irish breakfast the next morning, John gave us a map and directed us toward Killarney National Park, about 45 minutes southwest of Camp.  We went up and over the Slieve Mish Mountains, which are more like high, rolling hills than actual mountains.  Despite that, however, I enjoyed them more than the high mountains of Switzerland, perhaps because they would be easier to climb and I would have less chance of falling down.  The park was great, with a lot of beautiful scenery, with a lot of grass, trees, and bushes surrounding a series of small mountains and a large lake, with a couple islands in the middle.  It was a very peaceful and enjoyable place to walk, and at times reminded me of walking in the woods in Minnesota, except everything was much greener in Killarney.
        What really makes this national park unique is Mmuckross Abbey, where, unlike every historical building in Rome, we could go just about everywhere without having rooms barred or roped off.  There was formerly a community here of Observantine Franciscans, devoted to the Holy Trinity.  Henry VIII, unfortunately, forced them out, but they returned, only to be driven out for good by the Cromwellians in 1652.  Despite this, however, it is kept in great shape, and people are still being buried there.  What was most bizarre of all was the fact that the "Gandsey Families, Minnesota, U.S.A." are the primary benefactors of this place, helping it remain in as good condition as possible.

To the left of either the 6th or 7th hole.

        So we walked around the park, taking it in and enjoying even more the fact that we weren't in the commotion of Rome, and then went and walked around downtown Killarney, which wasn't that big, but big enough to walk around for a half hour or so.  We also peeked inside the Cathedral there, which was like the majority of other Irish churches in Ireland--19th century Gothic--but it was still really neat nonetheless, and was a great contrast to Rome's churches.

The 9th hole at 9:30.

Lake and mountain, Killarney National Park.

        On our way back to Camp, we had lunch at the South Pole Inn, named so because a local explorer went there, though he ended up just short of his destination.  Anyway, we got lost, and with me as the navigator, I felt kinda stupid for having misled us for an extra twenty minutes out of our way.  Fortunately, though, we did get back in time for Jonathan and I to grab the clubs of John Doyle and a friend of his, which was really generous, considering that neither of us golf all that well, and we were pretty much complete strangers--it really shows the great hospitality of the Irish.  We headed to Castlegregory--yes I said CastleGREGORY--Golf and Fishing Club, got lost of course, and eventually hit the links by 7 pm.  When I first heard that the place existed, I said to myself: "Greg, you are going to golf on that course."  And I did.  The clubhouse was a crapshack, but that really didn't matter, since the course itself was pretty nice--several holes had the long Irish grasses, one green was about 30 feet higher than the tee box, and some holes had sand dunes, all of which were challenges.  It was well worth it, though, because from the 5th to 7th holes, we played along the side of the course that directly overlooked the beach, the mountains, and the setting sun, for which there are no words (really I'd rather put a picture up here, so that I don't have to spend an hour typing it).  But seriously, it was awesome.  Afterward, went to--where else?--the pubs.  Although this night was "special" as there was a birthday party for one of the local guys at Fitzgerald's pub.  The Railway Tavern was much more quiet and laid-back, so I was there for at least an hour or so, just to take a break from the more popular, albeit more crowded, pub.  When we were at the Railway Tavern, Katie even worked up the nerve to sing Sweet Baby James, by James Taylor in front of the Irish locals that were there--very cool and props to her for that!  That's all for this night, but more to come.  Here is a link to a bunch of pictures from this post: http://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.10150167853861956.305889.507151955&l=18feeefcf1

The Land of Eire--Part I

April 14, 2011

Looking out over Tralee Bay from our B&B.

             Alright, it’s finally time to get to my trip to the Land of Eire (or Ireland).  The Moosbruggers, Tim, J Jonathan, Maddie and Marie Coulter, and I shared a small bus, which brought us to Ciampino Airport, which is the cheap airlines’ airport.  easyJet flies out of Fiumicino, but we were flying RyanAir, which is owned by the cheapest CEO in the world.  He once proposed an idea to have passengers standing up for the entire flight, with nothing but a vertical board on which to “rest”, just so they could cram in more passengers.  Enough of that rant—we left at 10:50 Rome time and got into Dublin at about 12:50 Dublin time, which meant a very uncomfortable 3 hour flight, sitting next to a creepy Italian couple, who were all over each other for most of the flight.

            We rented a car for our trip, which made the trip what it was, because we were able to drive all around fairly easily—albeit on the left side of the road.  Jonathan, being the only eligible driver in the group, reserved and drove the car the entire time.  It was fairly scary, yet very humorous, as Jonathan drove right through a red light and we had a fairly close call as we took a U-turn after we had missed the turn earlier.  What really didn’t help us is that the GPS system kept saying “re-calculating” in some snooty British woman’s voice and that Ireland’s highways had been redone within the past couple years, but the GPS wasn’t updated enough, so according to it we were driving under/over/through fields, lakes, and rivers.  So, we made the 4 hour-plus drive across westward to our destination of Camp, Dingle Peninsula, County Kerry, which is an extremely scenic area.

The name of this bar will be familiar to St. Paulites.

           We arrived at Camp Junction B&B at about 6:30 pm or so, and were greeted by our host, John Doyle, the epitome of an Irishman—generous, pleasant, and helpful (a contrast to the Italians)—though he’s technically an American.  He was born in Chicago because his dad had to move there to get work, but his dad moved his family back to Ireland when John was six years-old.  So, he has the Irish accent, and is cool and everything, but—he’s a huge Bears’ fan, which was really too bad to hear.  Anyway, as soon as we got to the living room, he offered all of us cookies and tea, and we were able to sit in extremely comfy seats, all of which was a great change of pace from the hunger and uncomfortable seats experienced in the car.  So, we had some time to get acquainted with the place, and John directed us to Paddy’s Cottage Restaurant, where I had the Atlantic seafood chowder and BBQ ribs.  All of us were filled to the point of bursting, as the portions were huge—the cod that Jonathan got, for example, was about 15” or so, and stretched over each side of his plate.  After a couple hours or so, and a little digestion, we headed to the pub, of which there were two within 150’ of the front drive of the B&B, with John, and he bought us all a pint of Guinness, which was only 3.65 euro, and easily the best in the world, which is no surprise.  And for over half an hour I sat next to and talked with this old guy, who had been drinking since probably two in the afternoon.  That, combined with his Irish accent, made his words nearly intelligible.  I understood one out of every ten words or so.  But, I did catch the fact that he thought I looked like Barack Obama…yeah, I was a little taken aback, and I truly didn’t know what to say, so I just laughed in his face. Overall, though, I'd say that it was a great start to our Irish holiday.  Here's a link to a bunch more images from this post: http://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.10150167120571956.304159.507151955&l=ccebb903f9

Italian History Week

            Italian History Week was from April 9^th to April 19^th (I’m not sure on the ending date, since I was gone for it).  Anyway, even though it’s obviously over a week, all the major historical and archaeological sites were free—the best four letter word in the English dictionary.  Unfortunately I wasn’t able to take advantage of it as much as I had hoped, but I went on Monday, April 11^th.  I was up at 5:25 a.m. to go to the station church, which was in Trastevere that day.  Afterward, Morgan Rosand, Matt Northenscold, and I went to the Coliseum first and then to the Roman Forum.  The Coliseum was pretty cool, but we couldn’t go to the top level, though what we were able to see was fairly impressive.  Ordinarily it would have been 12 euro for that and the Forum, but, like I said, it was free for the week.  We were first in line a few minutes before 8 am, which was the time that it was supposed to open, but we were on ITALIAN time, which means that everything opens up much later than advertised, so we entered at 8:30.  Farther back in the line we saw the Coulters (sans Dr. Coulter and Maddie) and Maria Z., and we toured the Coliseum with them.  We did get up to the second floor, where there were better views, including one where the sun was beaming through the uppermost openings of the façade, which made it easier to imagine the magnificence of the building when it was gilded in white marble on the outside, along with a lot on the inside.  Anyway, on the second level, we all packed snacks, so we got those out, and enjoyed a nice 20 minute break.  I had several mini cheese sandwiches with what was essentially Hawaiian bread, along with Galetti, a type of Italian sugar cookie.

Road along the Forum Romanum.

            Unfortunately, most of the seats are gone, but you could see how the arena was able to hold about 50,000 people in its day.  You could just imagine the sights, sounds, and smells of the hundreds or even thousands of animals and people would fight and die in even one day of games.  Most of the floor is gone, but very visible are the underground chambers that held the gladiators and animals right before they rose to the arena floor to fight (although I guess the animals were just massacred—many to, or near, extinction).  This place (in addition to the Circus Maximus) was the center of ancient Roman entertainment, as politicians, emperors, or generally wealthy people paid out the wazoo to entertain the masses.  Regrettably, when the emperor would put on games, he would tend to drain to treasury just a bit.  So, we spent about a total of an hour taking in the Coliseum, and then went to the Forum for a half hour, although the Coulters went to one of the ruined baths.

Caesar's supposed grave.

            The Forum is more in a state of ruin than the Coliseum, but there are a few arches and buildings that survive.  There are columns from various temples, which would have been just massive, and the roads and paths there were paved with what must have been expensive stone.  Plus, according to tradition (or myth/legend), Julius Caesar’s grave is right in the middle of the Forum, and people are still leaving flowers and pictures there. It is like a very shallow grotto into which you can walk, with a wall blocking a direct view of the stone covering his grave, in addition to a small opening to let a few people in at a time.  I wanted to get into the Curia but wasn’t able to, which is fine anyway since we were short on time and had to get to the Angelicum for class.
        I forgot to mention on the first go around that I also went to Trajan's Markets with Jonathan, while we were killing time before lay guys' formation on Tuesday afternoon, April 12th.  They were kind of cool, but probably not worth the 7 or 8 euro that it would have normally cost to get in there, so I'm glad that we got in for free. The interesting aspect of the markets lies in what they were like back in the day--each individual stall filled with vendors selling food, trinkets, clothes, and everything in between.  Just to see all that going on would have been spectacular.  Also, our Italian class (with Ana Maria) and the other (with Marta) went to Castel Sant'Angelo, which was/is the pope's fortress whenever Rome is attacked, as there is a secret passage from the Vatican directly to the castle.  There is a huge bronze statue at the very top, which is the exact position in which Saint Michael the Archangel appeared atop the then-Mausoleum of Hadrian to signal the end of the plague in 590 AD.  You can see pretty most of Rome from the top, and you also get a great history lesson along the way, while seeing the weapons used, like an original (I think) ballista.

Guests at Bernardi

Just a quick note of who has come to Bernardi over the semester.  I want to say that about six weeks ago George Weigel, the famed biographer ("Witness to Hope") of Blessed John Paul II, came for Mass, discussion, and dinner here.  It was a pretty neat experience, but he wasn't exactly what I thought he would be.  Kind of arrogant, but interesting stories about JPII nonetheless.  Unfortunately, all we could muster up for a meal was meatloaf, mystery meat and mystery bean lasagna, along with the standard corn salad and white sandwich bread (which I'm almost certain the houseworkers took from me, because after community night, I discovered that my whole loaf was mysteriously missing...).  Anyway, he booked it before the meal was even done, but I don't really blame him since a) he is probably more than a little busy, and b) the wine was bad and the food was iffy, at best.

Our second big guest was Cardinal Raymond Burke, which was really awesome, even though he's from Wisconsin.  The fact that he came at all was remarkable on two accounts: 1. He's a cardinal. 2. He is always very busy. However, he took a night out of his schedule to celebrate Mass with us, lead a discussion, and eat dinner with us.  He was really impressive, and spoke with such confidence about issues concerning the Church, it was reassuring to hear him speak.  Right before he left, he was very gracious in letting a bunch of us get a picture with him, even though I'm sure that he was very tired.

Our third major guest was Cardinal James Stafford, who not only celebrated Mass at Bernardi, but confirmed Liz Coulter.  He kind of seems to be losing it (he's nearly 80), but he's a cardinal nonetheless. As much as I hate to say it, the Mass was almost laughable, as he truly didn't know what was going on at times (if we sang the Gloria, when the intercessions were--Fr. Carola had to help him--and his homily was a stretch).  His homily was the biggest stretch I had ever heard, and was more circuitous than a roundabout.  He was reaching here, there, and everywhere, as if he hadn't prepared it AT ALL--I wouldn't be surprised if that were the case.  It was funny at times, but the funniest line of all was "cast your net north of the future"--what does that even mean?  Even Fr. Sheridan was, to borrow a phrase, very corn-fused.  Also, at dinner, Cardinal Stafford apparently said--out of the blue--"Alright, that's it!" and left.  The whole thing was very strange, but like I said, pretty laughable.

The Rest of Switzerland

That Saturday (March 19) was really a recouping day, as it was raining for most of the day, although half the group took the tram back up to Glion and did a lot more hiking higher up the mountain.  It eventually cleared up, but I just wasn't willing to be cold and wet for half the day.  So, Nolan showed me where the grocery store was, and I bought meat, cheese, fresh bread, and chocolate, and had myself a nice lunch while Nolan taught the Moosbruggers how to play poker and blackjack.  Also, we watched the Simpsons--in German.  I couldn't understand what was being said, and it was an awful episode, but it was cool nonetheless that I was able to watch it in another country and another language (although the part we were in was the French sector of Switzerland).

Sunday the 20th (another sunny and warm day) was basically our last day in Switzerland, and we woke up at 7 am, at breakfast a half hour later (when we finally figured out that we could eat the bread, with the meat, cheese, etc.  We walked to the train station and caught the 3:10 to Yuma--just kidding. We got on the 9am train Lausanne, got their a half hour later, and spent half the day wandering around.  After getting out of the train station, we walked up the STEEP slope of the city to get to St. Francois Church--which was locked.  So, we look at the map and see the cathedral.  Then we get the bright idea to hike another mile to the cathedral, down the hill and back up again, but luckily this time we had steps, only to find--it was Protestant.  It had clearly been Catholic at one point, based on certain statues (such as Mary, I believe) and elements from the facade that were taken down and for some reason put in the narthex.

Us at the hermitage, in a tree.

So, we decided to split up, and John, Audrey, Paul, Naomi, and I went off in our own group and headed to a chateau, which simply seemed to be a government building, and wasn't too interesting.  So, after briefly checking to see if it was open, we went to a (former) hermitage, which looked simply to be a large piece of property outside of and above town, with a couple hiking trails, a playground, and a large lawn.  OK, I just looked it up, and it was at one time a religious retreat center, which makes sense, based on how relaxed we were just being up there for half an hour or 45 minutes.  There were some crazy trees, which had roots and branches that twisted every which way, and we were able to climb them precisely because of this--yep, I pretty much felt like a little kid all over again.

My caramel eclair.

After lying down on the lawn for a few minutes and letting the sun warm us up, we went down to a district of the town called Ouchy [sic].  That is no typo, and we all had fun with it, getting pictures in front of a bus stop sign.  We passed through there on our way to the Olympic Museum, which was pretty cool, with a lot of memorabilia, well-kept grounds, statues, and eight columns with the names of Olympic hosts, and committee presidents; but, after seeing that the entry price was 15 CHF, we said "heck no!" and left.  We didn't really have time anyway, and we took the 1 1/2 mile or so long trek back to the train station.  On the way, though, we got lunch, and I stopped by a cafe where I got a baguette of ham, cheese, lettuce, and mayo, with a Coke and caramel eclair, which was easily the best dessert I had had in months.  We caught the 2:17 train to Geneva, went to a park, took a mini nap in the park under the warm sun and in the cool breeze, and then headed over to the Basilica of Notre Dame for a half hour to check on the English Mass time and to take a look around.  After a quick prayer and taking in the awesome Gothic architecture, we continued on our way around Geneva, looking at different shops, saying the rosary as we went.  We walked by the bay, which looked to be very peaceful.  One thing that I really wanted to do was have hot chocolate in Switzerland, which, if their chocolate was any indicator, was gonna be good--and it was.  Easily the best hot chocolate on this side of the world--even better than Italy's.  It was VERY hot, and made with so much dark chocolate that it tasted like a melted chocolate bar.

Nave of Basilica of Notre Dame

From there, we met up with the rest of the group at the basilica for Mass, and as we got close we saw a crowd of protesters, who were clearly Arab, marching outside the wall surrounding the basilica, holding torches, flags, and posters, chanting some crazy slogans.  It was both humorous and a little frightening at the same time, and I'm not really sure if they were even chanting against the Catholic Church or whatever it might have been, but we went into the church and left without incident.  During the Mass, though, I experienced something that I hadn't the entire time I had been in Europe up to that point--a piano.  Every other church has had the organ and/or Gregorian chants, so I had to chuckle to myself when I heard it, especially since one of our fellow Bernardians is very traditional and doesn't think that pianos are licit instruments in the Mass (which, according to one papal document, is not).

Afterward, we took a train to the Geneva airport, where we waited around from 8:30 until our 6:30 am flight back home.  It was probably THE worst sleep I have ever had, having slept first in a neck and spine-wrenching position in a lounge chair, then on the hard tile floor.  Luckily, we were able to grab a pretty good spot, where we were able to make a 'wall' with the chairs, making sure that no one would steal our stuff.  It was a good system, although I was really hot sleeping by the vent, then really cold when I woke up 2 hours later and the heat was off.  At the time it was absolutely miserable, but looking back on it, all I can do is laugh, since it was the most ridiculous situation.  And that's all folks from Switzerland!

On to Switzerland! Days 1 & 2

Eleven of us embarked early on the morning of St. Patrick's Day from Bernardi for Fiumicino Airport, bound for Geneva, Switzerland.  Even though I was excited to finally be going to another country, I was more than a little tired, having gotten up at 5:20 am and taken a cab at 6.  We took an easyJet flight at 8:45 and landed by 9:50.  Luckily, I was able to buy at chocolate cornetto and Coke for breakfast (healthy, I know) in the airport before we left Rome.  Anyway, about half of us (the others would catch up later) left Geneva on a train for Montreux, via Lausanne at 11:30, and by the time we got there, it was cold and rainy.

Horse racing game in the casino.

Now, going to Switzerland was my big idea, and I hyped it up a lot, so needless to say it did not start off on the right foot, and I was worried people would have been more than a little peeved if that had been the weather the entire time.  Also, Switzerland, which, despite being on the Swiss Franc (exchange was $1 to CHF 1.085 ), was pretty dang expensive.  Restaurants were all pricey, selling even pizzas or pasta for over CHF 20.  Luckily, we were able to find a relatively nice place that sold pizzas, falafel, and other things for a semi-reasonable price, and I had, of all things, a Hawaiian pizza.  Afterward, we made our way to the local casino.  The guy we asked seemed confused when Nolan said "casino" with the 'i' emphasized.  Apparently, the 'o' is emphasized or the locals will just look oddly at you (by they way, they were all French speakers in Montreux).  Actually, pretty much everyone in Montreux was exceedingly nice, especially the hostel owners, a married couple who had lived in Montreux for awhile. We tried to wait out the rain by spending a couple hours in the casino, which was really clean and relatively small, but was a much better atmosphere than Mistake Lake.  One of the coolest things was that there was horse racing game, with mechanical horses and jockeys making one loop around the track.  It's about 12 feet long or so, and was made by Sega in 2001.  So, Nolan and I split our time between this and blackjack, while the girls either looked on at the horse racing game, or went to the second level for hot chocolate or coffee or something.

The sun sets on our first day in Montreux.

The rain subsided enough, and we left to look for our hostel, which was right on Lake Geneva, and wandered for awhile before finding it.  The couple who ran it were able to direct us to all the local sites of interest, and are huge Queen fans (always a big plus in my book), since Queen had a studio there for awhile.  After a long day of wandering around, we went to the White Horse for dinner, which wasn't bad at all. The restaurant proprietor/waiter visited with us and was extremely entertaining, and even realized that he was spending so much time talking with us that he wasn't going to get our order in if he didn't leave.  The only problem was that one crepe cost me CHF 8.50, and it wasn't exactly the most filling crepe I've had either.

Freddie Mercury statue in main square.

The next day was, after an early morning of overcast weather, really sunny and warm, a great contrast to the miserable weather we had the previous day.  Although, here I'll back up and take that back slightly, because right before the sun set, the sun peeked out behind the clouds and illuminated Montreux, Lake Geneva, and the mountains in a really beautiful way.  A side note about the breakfast (which aside from lunch and dinner is my favorite meal), is that it was really meager, consisting of Smacks, some other cereals, bread, meat, cheese, and juice.  The only thing is that there was a sign that said that sandwiches were CHF 3, and we weren't really willing to spend that.  It wasn't until the last day that we discovered that that meant carry-out sandwiches, so we missed out the first couple days. Oh well, c'est la vie.  I went out a little earlier than the others and made my pilgrimage to the Freddie Mercury Statue, which was about a 15 minute walk away.

Later that day, we went to Chateau de Chillon, which had a lot of neat history, and was a really cool castle, built in several stages.  The whole complex is pretty big, and once held Francois de Bonivard prisoner, who inspired Lord Byron's The Prisoner of Chillon.  It was impregnable, and was home to the Counts of Savoy for a time.  A funny note is that one of the times that it did change hands, the lords of the castle sneaked out a back escape door that opened onto the lake, took a boat, and got away before the enemy even got through the gate.  There were many large dining halls (one of which can still be rented for parties), bedroom chambers with worn away frescoes, an armory, prison, heavily fortified keep, three courtyards and even a chapel with a private entrance for the lord of the castle.  Here's a link to the pics from the castle: http://www.facebook.com/media/set/fbx/?set=a.10150120629701956.294470.507151955&l=5f52643887

Late in the day; view from Glion.

I really enjoyed the history and architecture of the castle, so I spent a good three hours--at least--just wandering around, and getting lost in what it must have been like to see it back in its day, with the fires roaring and tables full of food, fresh from being cooked over the fire.  And even as I walked up the keep, seeing different swords, guns, halberds, pikes, and poleaxes, and looking down on the various defenses, I was able to envision a siege, looking to seal the impending doom of those inside...I know that was probably more thinking out loud than you cared to hear, but hey, I guess that's the history side of me.

Afterward, we took advantage of the great weather and went up the side of the mountain on a steep-sloped tram 600m up to Glion.  From their we were able to see beautiful views of the mountains in the distance, the sun high in the clear sky, the crisp, blue lake, and other surrounding views.  Up there we first stopped in a church, which was one of only two Catholic churches we found in Switzerland.  I'm sure that there a bunch more, but in this particular part we couldn't find many (that or they had been converted into Protestant churches).  Anyway, we hiked around for an hour or so, in search of a waterfall that we never found, but we wandered down a private path and eventually found the owners, who kindly showed us the way to a public path a little ways through their property and down the mountain.  We eventually sat down along the trail on a part that had a good view of the lake, mountains, and falling sun, as well as a natural sloping ledge, so we could just dangle our feet and relax.  The only unfortunate thing was that this happened to be during the time that I had about 3 or 4 canker sores, which occurred in one part or another in my mouth for about three to four straight weeks.  Other than that, however, it was really pleasant--warm, sunny, great company, and awesome scenery.  After about twenty minutes or so, we walked back to Glion, laid down on a grassy patch, and prayed a rosary as we watched the sun set behind the clouds (although we were hoping to see it set beyond the lake).  Afterward, we took the tram back down the mountainside, then hit the casino later on for a little blackjack, capping the night off with a little fun.