Larry's Travel Journals Chapter 3..............Journey to Trier

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Chapter 3...........Journey to Trier

 

Friday/Saturday

April 12-13, 2002

22:45

 

Left LA at noon on Friday and arrived in Vienna 3:00 pm Saturday. It’s like going from the 21^st century to the 18^th in 24 hours. From sunny LA to dark and colorless Vienna. Grand and stately but not glamorous and the cloud cover (like Paris) doesn’t help. In LA we always observe someone wearing shorts even if it’s “cold”; here people are wearing layers and they look like skiers to me but they’re just people.

 

Culture shock: At LAX I exercised experienced traveler savvy to request that my less than pleasant baggage handler at the x-ray machine show me and read me my luggage tag as I was going LA-SF-Frankfurt on United and on to Vienna on Lufthansa. Radar went off in my mind that this was a recipe for luggage disaster so I wanted to make sure I had the proper way to track the eventual mishandling. So, with a roll of the eyes my worldly service provider humored me and read me back my baggage receipt with a lovely snarl. Ok.

 

So, I get to Vienna and of course no luggage. The very nice gentleman who assisted me laughed as he read me what the baggage claim ticket had been coded for: LAX-SF-Frankfurt on 4/12 and then a different flight number than I was going to be on and on April 12 as well. It’s been April 13 here for 21 hours.

 

Then the very nice concierge sent us on a sightseeing trip and we got lost in the Viennese urban sprawl. After asking many nice people on the side of the road for directions and still not getting where wanted to go a couple said, come on follow us and got their car and led us to where we wanted to go. Just like home!

 

Well, I had streudel for dessert and achieved the first of my trip objectives! But why do they eat meat and smoke cigarettes? Why aren’t they all in the hospital?

 

We drove around the core of Vienna and I literally shuddered as we drove down the main street- which is emblazoned in my mind from newsreels I watched movies as a kid of Hitler entering Vienna in his convertible Mercedes after the annexation (Anschluss).  All of us assimilated American Jews should have been forced to visit Europe as kids to better understand history and to better be able to answer the question of what it means to be a Jew.

 

Marc, my German colleague, and I had a wonderful conversation at dinner about the current turmoil in Israel. I am more convinced than ever that the biggest force for the stabilization and harmony of the world is the use of English as the language of the modern world, the spread of the internet as a tool to disseminate democratic values, and the globalization of the world economy.

 

Tomorrow I’m going to drag Marc to Freud’s house and pay homage to one of the great men of the 20^th century and then to a symphony concert.

 

Yes, I’m here to work too. But man doesn’t live by work only does he? (Don’t answer that)

 

 

Sunday

April 14, 2002

23:30

 

I forgot to recount another “culture shock” story from yesterday. During my stopover in Frankfurt, I went to the Lufthansa ticket counter to take care of a ticketing issue. The courteous lady behind the counter spoke very good English so I remarked that her glasses were sparkling clean. How did she do that? I asked. So she tells me about this solution she uses and how well it works. Very good I said, I’ll have to look for it while I’m here. So she picks up the phone and calls the pharmacy in the airport and finds out that they don’t have any. Wait she says, when you are coming back to Frankfurt? She asks; “Friday evening”. Ok she says, I won’t be here but come back Friday night and I will have left you a bottle with my manager. !!!!!

 

Dinner last night was at a restaurant that was built in 1521. nuf said.

 

So this morning I slept till 11:00 am and after a nice brunch here at the hotel we went off in search of Freud. In London, I had seen the home to which Freud had moved to when he eluded capture and certain death by our old friend the Austrian housepainter. The famous couch was there and it was a thrill but when we got to Berggasse (the name of the street) Marc said where would it be. I said “Berggasse 19” like I had been there before! It’s absolutely amazing what scraps of data you cram into your brain. I don’t want to get too sappy but walking into the apartment building and realizing that the 20^thcentury and beyond was changed forever by the people who walked up these stairs as patients was a big thrill. Only the waiting room has been restored; the rest of the home is barren except for photos of the way it was (after all, the furniture is in London).

 

To avoid the rain we sat in a coffee house like all the other Viennese on a Sunday afternoon. A Starbucks is here (corner location of course) but ugh, why do that when the real thing is here. Damn cultural imperialism. A little tent card on the table said that due to “tradition” and something about fire safety that they will take your coat from the chair. They did. We were sitting next to a guy wearing a suit and tie.

 

Another thrill tonight at the Orangerie; the opera house where Mozart and Strauss were performed. Instead of multiplexes with ten bad movies at your choice, Vienna has at least ten concerts being performed a night. We sat in the room where Mozart and Solieri had their only same evening performances back in 1750 something. The orchestra played one hour of Mozart and then one hour of Strauss. No sound amplification system, just perfect architecture. The highlight was of course Mozart’s Symphony # 40 (you’d know it if you heard it) and Strauss’ Blue Danube waltz. The two most wonderful dancers in formal evening wear emerged from behind a door and it was like a beautiful peaceful dream. I must admit, I thought to myself that I am lucky that I didn’t die that day; I would have missed this sublime moment.

 

Tomorrow it’s back to work. We meet Heimo at 10.

 

 

Monday

April 15, 2002

24:00

 

Too tired to write much but if I don’t write now I’ll lose the momentum.

 

Spent the whole day negotiating with Heimo, his accountant and partner. Suffice to say that at 3:00 pm my eyes started to close and all of sudden he says, “ok, we go to visit the schools now”. So off we go, Heimo, a driver, a translator, Marc and me. That’s five of us. Now if you’ve been here you know that there is no such thing as a straight road. Every road ends after ½ mile and you have to switch over to some other street. So you’d think we would cram five of us into the car of choice in this part of the world, an MB but no, we get into a car that was last used in the Ringling Bros circus as a clown car. In and out we schlep going to three schools over two hours of torture. BTW, Marc has a seriously thrown back so he’s dying and I’m kvetching every time I get in and out “oy, Oy”. I kissed the earth at the end.

 

So we get picked up at 8:00 pm for sightseeing. Heimo takes us on the magnificent churches of Vienna tour. He points out that one image of Christ was inspired by an artist who had a toothache. Now, whenever anyone in Vienna has a toothache they come here and pray to the “tooth God”. So I told Heimo that Jews don’t pray to any tooth God, we have children who become Dentists!

 

Taxi to a restaurant (in an MB with a driver who thinks the streets of Vienna are practice laps for LeMans.). For the rest of the night, I feel like I’m in the bar scene in Star Wars. The restaurant was lived in by Beethoven in 1817 (yeah, that Beethoven). They serve wine and more wine, no beer, just wine, and the archetypical Viennese buffet of meats and salads. We’re surrounded by no one younger than 70. An accordion player and a guitar player are going table to table and singing and playing. All I can envision is the scene from Annie Hall where Grammy Hall sees Woody Allen as a Hassidic Jew in black garb. I see them as soldiers from the “good old days” singing in a beer hall. Ok, ok, I’m a bit sensitive.

 

I just want to know why they’re not dead from lung cancer. No exaggeration, one old geezer smoked continuously for 2.5 hours. My head is spinning from the secondhand smoke.

 

Going to call it a day and have some strength for the exciting conclusion of this episode of “The Austrian Negotiations”. They probably did the Treaty of Paris faster than this.

 

 

Tuesday

April 16, 2002

15:00

 

En route to Geneva to meet Pierre for dinner.

 

Well, we all remember when Neville Chamberlain (no, not Richard Chamberlain’s father!) returned from Munich in 1938 or so and proudly proclaimed “Peace in our time” after his meeting with the little Austrian housepainter. No such proclamation here but we have now completed re-constituting the German/Austrian FK empire with the conclusion of contract talks with Heimo. Actually, one of the conditions of the contract is that we deal with Austria directly and not as a part of Germany. Ahhh, history has a long memory here. Anschluss is a very dirty word.

 

I feel a bit Napoleanic right about now as I savor the moment of “re-taking” Germany and now Austria. Next stop in Geneva I will attempt the dizzying and death-defying leap of trying to wrest legal control at maximum and marketing rights at a minimum of France from Pierre. Is there a net around here?  Do you think he would notice if we switch the meeting to Notre Dame in Paris and I start muttering, “Je suis l’etat.; Je suis l’etat”.

 

I also directed Marc to immediately start selling licenses in the Netherlands as it is “next door” to where he lives and they are basically an English language country.

 

Onward to the duty-free shops!

 

Tuesday

April 16, 2002

23:30

 

Before I forget, Marc and I were talking about where I might go on Saturday as I will have the day free in Frankfurt. It led to the inevitable discussion about what there is to see in German cities since so many were ruined in the war. I told Marc that bombing enemies was a significant core competency in the US and we’re darn good at it. So, this morning in Vienna Heimo is showing us the beautiful St Stevens cathedral and I  noted the remarkable colorful tiles on the rooftop. Yes, Heimo said, that’s because of the American bombing at the end of the war. I guess we targeted the church (unusual) and took out the roof. So I inquired, did we pay for the replacement roof? No, he said sheepishly. So I said that the world now knows that the US has three national pastimes, baseball, football, and dropping bombs on people who deserve it.

 

WARNING: readers who think my life is good enough already should close this file and return to whatever value-adding activities you were doing before engaging this journal.

 

Geneva. Oh my God. It’s France without an attitude, with mountains and a lake. French wine and food, French language, French women, clothing, style and did I say food?

 

Before I blather on about Geneva, let me assure my work colleagues, and Jacqui, that I am here on business, I’m not on vacation. I promise that I have important objectives to achieve here. I’ll save those comments though for another trip report.

 

I heard a cute joke the other day about Canadians, “Question: How do you get 20 Canadians out of a swimming pool?, Answer: you tell them to get out of the pool”

 

It’s true certainly for Germany; (e.g. “how do you get 150 Germans to be on time for an 8:30 concert? Tell em to be there at 8:25.”)

 

Geneva, “how do you keep a beautiful city clean and filled with respectable people?; you make it very difficult for anyone who doesn’t look right to get past customs.

 

There are four interrogation rooms where the customs service sends anyone who (ahem) doesn’t fit their profile.

 

Enough said. I’m going to sleep. Tomorrow more schools and Thursday to Lausanne.

 

 

Wednesday

April 17, 2002

21:00

 

How are Geneva and Las Vegas alike?

 

Both are gambling cities where, when you win, you buy a watch. Except instead of craps tables and 21 the gambling takes place in the discreet but plentiful private banking houses that line the street below me. The stores are crammed with every brand name in watches. The diamonds and gold are dazzling.  Pierre commented on my Omega watch but I couldn’t tell him that I got it in Beijing……for $8.00.

 

Pierre had personal business to attend to this evening so I explored the Veilleux Ville (sp) or the old city. By 7:00 pm all the shops in the city are closed and people are bustling to get where they are going. At 8:00 pm everyone reappears in the restaurants where they kiss cheeks, three times mind you, and then take out a pack of cigarettes and seemingly compete with each other for who can light up the most cigarettes in the least amount of time and make me sick to my stomach.

 

A domain.

 

Friday

April 19, 2002

15:45

 

En route to Frankfurt.

 

Quiet day. Meeting in the morning about selling rights in Italy and then a nice lunch at an outdoor café. Walk around Geneva. Au revoir.

 

 

Saturday

April 20, 2002

22:00

 

“A busman’s holiday” My mother used to use that expression and I don’t know that it ever made as much sense to me as today. I mean, what do you do when you are staying at an airport hotel in Frankfurt on a day when you awake at 11:00 am? You jump on the airport minivan and go to the airport for lunch! It doesn’t get any more exciting than this.

 

The lunch highlight was definitively rejecting a couple from sitting down at the empty next to me……….they were both smoking and I’ve had it. These people are nuts.

 

Sunday

April 21, 2002

18:00

 

Met with our 29 German licensees this morning. Went very well.

 

This afternoon Marc and his partner Ludgar took me to Frankfurt for lunch and a walk-around.

 

Suppose you were blindfolded and given a sleeping pill. After a gap in time when you awaken you are asked to guess where you are. Seeing the skyline at a first glance you would probably say “Chicago”, or maybe “Boston”. Very nice modern buildings.

 

Then you realize that there are some old buildings and of course realize you are in Frankfurt, rebuilt after the wrecking crew known as the USAF did their work. Let me tell you, those guys are good. I can only imagine how much even better they are 60 years later.

 

There’s a beautiful medieval town square that is in perfect shape. I can assure you that’s because someone decided to leave it alone.

 

I asked Marc whether his grandparents or parents still talk about the war and what that must have been like to live through the bombing. His answer is that if you ask his grandmother what time is it she will bring the answer around to the war.

 

Marc and Ludgar, without any way being patronizing are very sensitive to my war comments and inquiries about Jewish matters. They suggested that I might like to see the Jewish Museum in Frankfurt. Of course, I said.

 

On an earlier trip, I rambled on about the blessing of being able to see history in the flesh and to double the pleasure by reading a relevant book during the journey. This trip the book is Constantine’s Sword. It’s the story of how the church institutionalized anti-Semitism for the last 2,000 years. So yesterday I’m reading about the Crusader's march to Jerusalem in 1096 and along the way decided to kill thousands of Jews. Today I‘m in the Jewish Museum and there is an exhibit about the Jews of Frankfurt killed in 1096 by the Crusaders.

 

A very touching exhibit is a wall of the names of the Frankfurt Jews that were rounded up by the little housepainter’s thugs and sent to their deaths. The wall is a bronze etching of the typed notes on which the name of the person and their destination are inscribed. I was so moved I almost lost it.

 

Any question as to why Israel won’t meekly give in to anyone’s demands for anything? Come to Frankfurt and see the miniature replicas, all that remain, of the majestic synagogues that were destroyed in the 20^th century, see the artifacts of a civilization that was herded into ghettos hundreds of years ago and not allowed to leave and forced to pay outrageous taxes for the privilege of living there.

 

By the way, it is interesting to note that the Crusaders were told by their Pope that their mission was glorious and that if they should die in their pursuit of re-taking Jerusalem that they would go right to heaven and enjoy all its bounties. Hmmmmmm, that sounds familiar, I wonder if the Crusaders liked figs and fantasized about virgins?

 

Onward! Not east to Jerusalem but west to Lisbon.

 

Tuesday

April 23, 2002

5:10pm

 

Watch the faces of the people as they enter the passport control hall. The Non-US citizens on one side, US citizens on the other. I swear the US citizens look across at the others with a touch of smugness. I must admit when the customs agent returns the passport and says “Welcome home” it feels really good.