In Weimar

There’s heaps to do here in this most cultural of cities. Anyone who’s anyone has been here at some time: Goethe and Schiller are the main characters, but Liszt, Nietsche, Johann Sebastian Bach, Martin Luther, Walter Gropius, Thomas Mann, Paul Klee, Walter Kandinsky, composers Berlioz and Hummel, the artist Boeckling, Hans Christian Andersen, the conductors von Bulow and Abendroth, composers Peter Cornelius and Joachim RAFF!! In this, the anniversary of the Bauhaus movement there’s special emphasis on the Weimar Bauhaus group and even the hotel napkins at breakfast this morning promote the Bauhaus festival of 2009.

Now of course we turn up and the place closes. Once again we find that Monday is not the best day to be a tourist but in this city of tourists, wouldn’t you expect that at least half the museums would remain open? And when purchasing a “Weimar card” in the tourist info office for cheaper entry into museums, wouldn’t you expect to at least be warned that most of those featured on the card were closed?

So, a frustrating day all round. Thank goodness the city itself is picturesque and interesting enough to keep us enthralled for a few hours as we enjoy the sunshine and potter about. The Liszt House was a high priority, for it was here that he met Joachim Raff; not that our hero got so much of a mention in the composer’s museum. Staffed by two formidable women “of a certain age” (wearing slippers and reading a gossip magazine, no less) we were admitted to the museum and given headphones for a German language commentary. When declining three headsets and choosing to take just the one, the response was one of shrugged shoulders and an “as you wish” attitude. We found the museum to be dry as dust, in spite of much multi-media content and the exhibit was fundamentally a time line of his work with commentary and musical illustration.

We walked over the park to Goethe’s garden house where, at least we had some insight into the man’s personality with a brave palette of paint colours chosen for their emotional qualities – his colour wheel is one of those images frequently portrayed on postcards here.

Most frustrating was the current closure of the Bauhaus museum, signposted from the motorway as part of this year’s Bauhaus celebrations and heavily publicised throughout the city. Clearly we were not alone in finding this rather odd as whenever we passed, we found a group of people muttering by the door.

We settled for a look around the museum shop, unsure whether this made things better in that we at least got to see what we missed or worse, because we realised what we had missed

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We consoled ourselves once more with the products of the Thuringia kitchen at the oldest pub in Weimar, the Black Bear – Kloesse (potato dumplings) and hearty stews washed down with an ample supply of the local brew of course.

To Weimar, via Dusseldorf airport

First stop this morning was Dusseldorf airport, to meet Edward who’s joining us for the rest of the trip. Our carefully made plans worked perfectly and as we parked the car and went into the terminal, we heard the announcement that his plane had landed and he was soon there with us. Good fun to have him along; lovely to have his company.

Driving through the German countryside was easy and we soon passed the former border between East and West, now marked by a single sign by the side of the road.

Arriving in Weimar late afternoon, we took a quick walk to orientate ourselves before finding a table at the Weisses Schwan, one of Goethe’s hangouts.

Cheers!

The Hague

Driving from the ferry terminal at Europoort to The Hague was easy, if not quite the most picturesque journey but just an hour after our arrival we were there to meet Ilya and Marieke anticipating a fun day discovering the city.

Our friends are excellent tour guides and we spent a happy day with them. More details to come, however, as we discover that European hotels are not the best places to keep up with email and blog posts. At 50c a minute, online activity is rescheduled for the next stop and a cheaper connection.

The hotel art is stunning here!

Zero miles on the clock – off we go

Passing quickly through Hull, stopping briefly to check all is fine in Cottingham where the bungalow is still for sale, we headed for the ferry. Couldn’t quite resist the lure of haddock and chips though!

Sailing out of the Humber estuary, we enjoyed passing familiar landmarks: Hedon church tower here, in the village where we lived when first married.

Then, further out, the flat Holderness fields, where there seems to be more sky and water than there is land, where my Grandad’s family farmed and where many of my roots are.

Then, just before going indoors for a nightcap, we take a glance at “the other side”, where the yellow bellies live...

Works every time

Opera on an English summer evening can be a risky business except at Longborough, where last night we enjoyed a fine supper in amusing company and a terrific performance of that old tear-jerker, La Boheme.  Wise friends booked a table in a marquee for our picnic and the performance itself takes place in a comfortable, if basic, opera house created from a farm building some years ago.  Still, heavy rain could mean a muddy field and a soggy evening all round, so we were relieved that the weather stayed dry and clear.

A cast of young singers in a contemporary set could have resulted in a performance which was memorable for all the wrong reasons: We still remember the performance of Rigoletto we saw in Sydney Opera House many years ago, not for the wonderful singing or the great production, but for the "hu-u-p" uttered by the henchmen as they lifted the sack containing a rather well-upholstered Gilda causing a few giggles in the audience.   But last night we could sit back and let Puccini play to all our emotions exactly as he designed.

The young cast played convincing roles - I've seen a few productions with singers who looked far too well-fed to persuade me that they were starving artists. Noel Hernandez, playing Rodolfo, looked a bit uncomfortable in his role at times but won me over with his fine voice and overwhelming ability to raise his game at all the right moments.  Madeleine Pierard was a wonderful young Musetta and Duncan Rock a fine Marcello.

Ultimately, though, it's Puccini himself who works the magic.  No matter how many times I hear it, even though I know what happens and I'm aware of the trick of the suspended note and spoken words when Mimi dies, it always makes me cry.

Genius.