Pollenatrix

Pedalling along

This summer we've taken to biking in a big way. Munich and surrounding areas is cycling heaven -- miles and miles of bike paths, subways and trains that easily accomodate bicycles, and gorgeous scenery within easy striking distance on a weekend. Not that the cycling isn't just as good IN the city.

Last weekend we took the S-Bahn (a regional train) to Starnberg See (Lake), and had a fabulous day cycling around the lake. We had planned to bike half-way round, lounge on the beach, and then take the ferry back, but unfortunately a bit too much lounging was had and we missed the ferry. The end result was that we clocked a record-breaking (for us) 50km on our bikes in one day. Still, we fit in some swimming and a number of stops along the way at the beer gardens (it was VERY hot!), and a great meal in a tiny and ancient village at an inn overlooking the lake and alps. Wow.

I bike a lot in town during the week as well, and during this hot spell it's given me first hand experience of the concept of global warming. We live in a forested area with streams and rivers, but it's only 3km away from what I would call the "real" city. At night, it's cool and comfortable at our place, but my friends who live in the "city" complain that the heat is impossibly uncomfortable, night and day. I can see why; biking along the path, I can feel the blast of heat off the buildings and cars and concrete the minute I leave our canopy of trees.

If it make that much difference in such a small area, imagine the effects multiplied millions of times over the entire planet.

WOC Diary: Monday (last day)

Last day. Considering my prior experiences with the social events, I was relieved not to have registered for the gala dinner that evening at a cost of 155 euros plus the purchase of a ballgown. However I learned the next day (in passing at the train station) that it had been worthwhile, after all. Rats.

The highlight of the day was the closing ceremony.

WOC Diary: Sunday

True to form, Sunday’s social event – a "Mediaeval Evening and Concert" at the Duke’s Palace -- was another expensive comedy of errors. On the bright side, I met some great people who joined me in a quest to find the venue after the bus (tonight, there was a bus) left without ever having announced its arrival.

The taxis dropped off us off as a grand looking building, and our little group wandered through courtyards and alleyways and pulled on locked doors to find the right entrace. One sharp-eyed person spotted a group of parked catering trucks, so we tried the nearest door, and this one opened. It led into a dingy hall, and we followed the sound of voices up a dingy staircase. I imagined that all the rest of the participants were now well on their way through the first course of the meal in a dining room, so it was a bit of a shock when we found everyone standing corralled into a small room. A large number of people were huddled in line against the far side of the room, holding small butter plates in one hand and a glass of wine in the other. Then it hit me: a buffet. A stand-up buffet with bread, some pate, and cold bean salad. And lots of wine, thank goodness.

WOC Diary: Saturday

More interesting sessions today, and tonight, the beginning of a series of organized social events which would prove far more entertaining as comedies of errors.

The first, a “Burgundian Gastronomy evening”. A large group of people stood in the lobby and later outside on the sidewalk waiting for a bus that never arrived, despite assurances from organizers that it was on its way. These assurances turned into rather less confident “I don’t know where the bus is” to “the bus has been cancelled”, although admittedly the answer varied depending on who was asked. When I questioned the young fellow who seemed to be in charge, he replied that it was only a five minute walk. I had a vague idea of the area in question, and pointed out that it was not a five minute walk and that there were elderly people who might find this distance difficult. He replied that if they couldn’t walk that far, they wouldn’t be able to climb into a bus either, and that they should take a cab.

WOC Diary: Thursday

Thursday I explored the ancient streets of Dijon, admiring the architecture and imagining what life was like there in the 1600 and 1700’s. I visited several museums, and at the Musée de la vie Bourguignonne I got stuck behind a local group of senior citizens on an outing. The guide’s stories about life in old Burgundy were interesting, so I decided to tag along. The seniors were really cute – they whispered excitedly among themselves in French about the objects on display, and I could clearly hear the voice of my own parents saying, “That’s an antique? We used to have one of those when I was a child!”.

WOC Diary: Wednesday

I left Munich in the dark and snow last Wednesday, and returned home less than a week later to warm sunshine and spring blooms. As it turns out, the World Orchid Conference was a fitting interval between this rather startling change in seasons.

I spent much of the trip to Dijon wondering (a) how I had let a travel agent talk me into taking such a circuitous route, and (b) why said travel agent booked me in a day too early. Though I spent more than a few hours of the twelve hour journey waiting in train stations and cursing missed connections, I also had reason to be grateful. If I had left on Thursday, as I intended, I would have been caught in the nation-wide strike that shut down France’s transportation systems that day. And so, while the majority of delegates were stuck wherever because of the strike, I had time to explore medieval Dijon and visit its museums.

This was to be the theme of the entire week: Frustration and disappointment one moment, followed by unexpected surprises and pleasures the next.

Dijon

I've posted a new photo album - "Dijon, France" - with some quick snapshots of scenes around town during the World Orchid Conference.

Vancouver

I'm on my way back to Ontario after a quick trip to Vancouver to visit a beloved friend. Another visitor to these parts at this time of year is the bald eagle. My friend and I went for a walk in Lighthouse Park yesterday and we could hear the eagles squeeking at each other, but I didn't get any pictures unfortunately. The forest was very dark and wet, and the tops of the ancient Douglas Firs disappeared into the mist -- well beyond my meagre photography skills to capture properly, I'm afraid.

Here are a few shots from a walk along the less photographically challenging Steveston Dyke, at the end of No. 1 Road in Richmond. The Siberian Snow Geese and eagles hugged the shoreline, just out of reach of my zoom lens. A heron played hide and seek with me, obviously concerned about being on the receiving end of too much attention.

Only a few years ago this walk along the Dyke was tranquil, bordered on one side by marsh and ocean and by fine farmland on the other. This farmland was supposedly protected by the ALR (Agricultural Land Reserve). It has all been swallowed by suburbia now, and the only remaining patch of green space has been transformed into a "nature park". The roar of jets taking off from the Vancouver International Airport across the bay is constant and unrelenting. This piece of land, one of the most important migratory flyways for birds in North America, is no longer peaceful. No wonder the heron was nervous.

A trek through suburban wastelands

Note: This post was written two days ago. I'm now in soggy Vancouver!

I'm back home in Canada for a visit, and at the moment I'm on a Greyhound bus between Kitchener and Toronto, watching miles of relentless suburbia speed by. Highway 401 parts an ocean of low-rise industrial warehouses and cheap residential housing. The homes are huddled close together, large and featureless save for double garage doors and cheap tile roofs repeating endlessly into the horizon. This landscape was beautiful once, covered in rolling farmland, small country villages, and forests sweeping up and over the ancient cliffs of the Niagara escarpment. Now the small pockets of scenery that are left stubbornly hang on without hope as a tsunami of development pounds over them.

Here and there, this littered sea of ugly housing gives way to vast islands of retail escape destinations -- big box stores and malls surrounded by thousands and thousands of cars. I recall the awesome variety of products inside those walls, and compare it with the tiny stores in Munich with their equally tiny selections.

Then I had a curious thought.

The landscape outside my window would look very, very different if people had to rely on a bicycle for transportation, the way I do back in Germany. I can just picture Canada's suburban inhabitants pedalling madly through interminable streets to reach their shopping destinations, and imagine the dismay on their faces when they realize that every one of their purchases has to be hauled home on the back of a bike. For one thing, any appeal shopping in a big box store or mall might now hold would certainly disappear, as would the perceived value of sorting through 20 different brands of whatever after a stenuous and exhausting ride. I have no doubt the masses would find, as I have in Munich, something better to do.

I look out the window again, and my smile disappears. So much good land. Wasted.

Christmastime in Munich

I've posted a few pictures I took around town, to give you a bit of an idea what it's like here at Christmas. There are a few shots of Austria from my visit there last weekend as well. The Christmas markets are well worth a visit; in fact, it will be kind of sad when they're closed up and dismantled for the year. Two more days!