Montreux bank holidays

New Year's day was quieter than a Sunday. It was mild and sunny with clouds until sunset, when it began to rain. In the afternoon I walked the lakeside path as far as the Chateau de Chillon with my camera, and got a decent close up photo of a bird I couldn't identify swimming off-shore. A flock of a hundred or so Scaup were swimming together nearby. This is an aquatic bird I hadn't come across until I identified a few of them among the Coots and Mallards on the rio Aguas in Mojacar back in November. I wonder if the birds live here or are spending the winter here, or just passing through?

In the evening I watched the New Year's Day concert from Vienna, always a favourite, and even more so now we've sailed on the not so blue Danube, seen Vienna, and the Vienna Woods slipping past. It prompted me to take another look at my on-line album of cruise photos, and realise just how little of Vienna we'd seen in our packed day's visit. Hopefuly, there'll be another time.

Then I watched first episode of McMafia inspired by a novel of Misha Glenny. It's a dramatic exposée of the power struggle between different Russian criminal clans. and how this impacts upon the personal life of a second generation British banker of Russian parentage. It's a stylish portrayal of the lifestyle of the super-rich after the manner of the film of Le Carre's 'The Night Manager'. It's complex and a little slow moving, which makes me wonder if it's making sense to me. Early days, however.

Today was another 'quiet as a Sunday' sort of day, being a second Swiss public holiday in a row. It walked into town to see if anything was open, and found several restaurants, cafés and convenience stores were open, not that I needed anything, as I'd stocked up before the weekend. I walked up into the old time, and discovered several old streets and alleys I hadn't found before. I walked back past the ancient Parish Church of St Vincent Veytaux, and took another photo of it with the vineyard in the foreground, now in winter wear, denuded of leaves. The church was open, and the sanctuary was host to an unusual nativity scene.

The figures were cardboard cut-outs, which had been minimally decorated by a local artist who had also written an interpretation of the intended symbolism of the scene from his viewpoint which was displayed alongside the nativity scene in the spacious sanctuary of the church. In common with many other reformed mediaeval church buildings there's almost no furnishing in the chancel and sanctuary, just a simple Communion Table at the entrance. The simplicity of the space is enhanced by stained glass window light. It's a delightful building, with a timeless feel to it, and it's such a contrast to the glitzy cosmopolitan streets down below on the lakeside.

Later, I watched episode two of McMafia. I'm still not sure I've got a grip on the plot-lines, or if I'll have the patience to watch the third episode on Sunday next.

On the Danube - Vienna

We arrived at Handelskai in Vienna about half past seven, later than I'd expected, so there was no question getting away by taxi to the eight o'clock at Christchurch Anglican church the other side of the city centre. Disappointing, but unavoidable. After breakfast we were collected by coach and driven first around the central ring road, built in the 19th century under Emperor Franz-Josef, along the route of the mediaeval walls, which were demolished to make way for the road and for grand houses alongside. We were dropped off near the remarkable renaissance era Rathaus, and given a guided tour of the area in which the main public buildings, parks, gardens and old town streets and churches are situated.

In the main commercial thoroughfare, Graben, is a towering ornate gilded baroque sculpture. It represents the Holy Trinity. A nice coincidence to be confronted with this on Trinity Sunday. The tour ended outside St Stephen's Cathedral in the heart of the old town centre, a huge ornate gothic building of the 15th century, and we parted company as quickly as possible and joined the crowds attending the main mass of the day inside. The service had started at ten, and intercession were being offered. The Eucharistic prayer was sung in Latin, by the three con-celebrants, one of whom had a distinctively English or American sounding accent.

There was an orchestra, or maybe just drums and trumpets, plus a choir with soloists for a setting of the Mass of the Holy Spirit composed by a near contemporary of Bach, one Johan Joseph Fux. Very uplifting, and a welcome surprise to us, deprived as we were of an opportunity to attend an Anglican Sunday liturgy. I noticed seven candles on the high altar, evidence of a Bishop presiding, and indeed the man at the back of the procession going out at the end was wearing a purple biretta, quite old fashioned these days, to see that.

Afterwards we found ourselves a place where we could drink coffee and eat strudel. Clare tried the apricot and I tried the apple. I mistakenly ordered Vanilla Sauce, aka custard, for both of us, and ended up eating both lots. The we walked some more streets and ended up visiting Vienna's Jewish museum. It was an unexpected find in a side street, and both of us decided on impulse that this was something we'd prefer to see, even if it meant curtailing sightseeing.

The museum we visited displays the extensive historical research done on Jewish community life in Vienna since the end of the World War Two - survivors returned from concentration camps and a larger number of Displaced Persons driven out of communist lands in the Balkans and Central Asia, who ended up taking refuge in the city. Many were poorly treated and exploited. There was little or no interest in the persecution they had endured and they were denied the same civil rights as others. American occupation forces however protected them and helped those who wanted to go to Israel the United States, or elsewhere. Denial of the the plight of Jewish people persisted in Austria until the sixties and only after the Waldheim affair did measures to redress the injustices begin to take shape, and sit still continues.

On an upper story there is a developing collection of exhibits relating to Jewish life in Vienna from the Middle Ages to the 19th century. It's not substantial as it might be because the Nazis destroyed the previous Jewish history museum entirely, though research on recovery continues. There are also two contemporary historical exhibitions of an entirely original and different nature.

One is in a separate location we didn't visit and concerns the cultural life of the area in Vienna known as the Prater, the Viennese entertainment district with predominantly Jewish run clubs and theatres, that were avant garde in their day. Most of this disappeared during the Nazi era of persecution, along with several synagogue buildings. We saw the 'Stars of David' exhibition which is about Jewish people in radio, TV and film, writing and creating music as emigres in the United States. It was a huge eye opening multi-media celebration of Jews in show business, well worth seeing in its own right. I hope this goes on tour. I'd love to see it in Britain.

For me the entire experience made me think about how easily its possible for decent citizens to slip into denial when confronted by the plight of oppressed people. With so many needy people begging for refuge in Europe and UK at the moment, especially unaccompanied children, some of them lone survivors of families wiped out by war, some other wise upstanding citizens make excuses for inaction, others by xenophobia, anti-semitism or islamophobic behaviour. The moral voice of conscience can too easily get drowned by falsehood and anxiety. Migrants and refugees generally give back far more than they get to their host society, once they are entrusted with freedom and responsibility. And when this doesn't happen, everyone is at risk.

We had lunch in the Vienna Woods restaurant, and then visited the Skt Peter u Paulus Kirche at the end of Goldschmiedgasse, where we found an orchestra and the organ playing to a packed house. I'd have loved to stay longer, but was in search of photos and left after five pleasurable minutes of music in a fine baroque church, acoustically perfect for hearing baroque music. I found the church of the Minorites open - not what it seems - this is a Franciscan Order of Friars Minor church, of mediaeval origin. My next port of call was the Rathaus, to get a photo, and the huge imposing Burg Theatre opposite. This was enough in the time available. I then needed to head back, find Clare and go back with her to the ship on the shuttle bus provided, rich with impressions of a remarkable city centre.

After a brief siesta and supper, passengers were treated to an hour's concert by the Ars Mundi string quartet, an all female group that has been playing together twenty years. Music of Mozart, Haydn, Strauss Senior and Junior were on the bill. Their rendering of the Blue Danube suite and the Radzetsky March at the end were a fitting climax to a day of discovery of the beauty and the darker side of this key European city. So much to think about, as we cruise the last leg of our journey back to our starting point in Budapest.

On the Danube - second leg

Niether of us woke up to glimpse the locks during the night. Around four I woke up to discover we were no longer moving. The ship was moored along the riverbank in central Bratislava, and by seven thirty we were up and breakfasting, then ashore and ascending to the old royal castle which overlooks a city just a bit bigger than Cardiff, at eight thirty, in a Noddy Train.

The castle was ancient but when occupied by Napoleonic forces in the early nineteenth century, it was accidentally burned down, and remained a ruin for 150 years. Oddly enough its restoration was a project undertaken in the latter years of the Communist era - one of the few good things they did, our guide quipped. Actually, to the casual visitor, it feels rather dull and soul-less. Perhaps it only comes to life when there's a big event there. Apparently there has been a trading settlement in this place since the Celts came from the east in pre-Roman times. The view from the terrace of this high promontory is remarkable. Across the Danube a few kilometres to the west is Austria, to the east lies Hungary. 

This was a frontier town of some significance during the Cold War, and during the second world war when it was under Nazi rule. The names of Kyril and Methodius, apostles to the Slavs, are honoured here, as this was one of their early evangelisation successes and the language is Slavic, quite different from Hungarian, which is of Turcic linguistic origin, I believe. Orthodoxy represented the first chapter of Christian life and faith here, and this is still reflected in the Byzantine type cross in the red white and blue flag of Slovakia. The Papacy however, keen to extend its sphere of influence, both political and spiritual, eastward after the 1084 Great Schism, made disreputable efforts to proselytise and suppress Orthodoxy religion in favour of its own brand. It's only really in the twentieth century, with the movement of peoples in Europe, that Orthodoxy has established a minority presence again in a region, which to all intents and purposes, is strongly western facing.

Anyway, we rode back down to the edge of the old town in the Noddy train, but decided not to go on the guided walking tour, but to explore at our own pace and on our own terms an area with a rich and varied architectural history, reflecting its mercantile history. We visited the elegant 14th century Cathedral of St Martin, in which thirteen royal coronations had taken place over the centuries of Hapsburg imperial rule. It was crowded with tourists, who were all quite and quite well behaved, perhaps in awe of the beauty of the place illuminated with tall brightly coloured stained glass windows which caught the morning sun.

We found ourselves a very stylish Kaffehaus in the characteristic fashion we've seen in other european cities, with dark wooden panels, paintings and even mosaics on the wall, so atmospheric, that we sat and drank inside, rather than out of the street, savouring the occasion. From there it was just ten minutes to walk back to the ship in good time for lunch, and another departure as we were eating for a long haul journey across to the other side of Austria, along the canal which runs right through Vienna, with a major lock before sunset, and others to follow.

The river banks along its entire length are forested and lined with walls constructed of large rocks, like coastal sea defences. The Danube along its entire 3,000km length is flood prone as it runs across extensive plains in each country it passes through, so preventative measures are an essential form of international co-operation. The canalisation of the Vienna urban area has been vital for the development of the city over the past two centuries. On the northern and western side of the canal the various buildings of the United Nations commissions house in Vienna are located in their own special urban area, and a number of these show some quite innovative examples of contemporary architecture, a bit like the city of London. It was supper when we passed through, and I had to content myself with the knowledge that there'd be a return journey for another photo opportunity. I just hope it's not dark when we arrive and the way back to Budapest.

 

Syncing and sandals

This morning, I took Clare to catch a train to take her to Coventry and a weekend looking after Rhiannon, while Kath and Anto travel north and east into Lincolnshire for the last of their back to back Rural Touring gigs with Sonrisa. She's now added Instagram to the band's Twitter account, and posts photos from the towns the visit, and when they're setting up. Good publicity, naturally, but also a pleasure for the family to see where they are working away. 

I stayed at home for much of the day, as there was nothing much I could contribute to the radio distribution now in full swing, until there's a pile of equipment receipts to supply more information to key into the new database. The efforts of the last few days intense concentration left me feeling quite drained and in need of respite. And there was still the OneDrive sync problem to puzzle over. It was late afternoon when the penny finally dropped, and I was running the same routine on my home computer. As ever it was was something trivial and quite misleading. The file being worked on, ostensibly within a web browser, was downloading and being opened from the hard drive and saved to 'Downloads'. Thanks to the speediness of the particular machine in use, this routine could be done without noticing where exactly the file was opening and saving from. On a slower machine this was visible.

I went down to the office and found no fewer than eight copies of the data file in 'Downloads', the result of repeated attempts by both Julie and I to ascertain how the update was not taking place as expected. Just one of them was slightly larger than the others, the first downloaded version worked on fully up to date. What a relief! Restoring this to its proper place on 'OneDrive' was trivial, as was texting Julie a brief explanation of what neither of us had noticed or understood. So we learn the hard way that while some files can easily open and close and be worked on in a browser, others cannot. The expectation isn't transferable, and the necessary cautious alertness easily forgotten if you're distracted or in a hurry.

While I was out in town, I bought a pair of Ecco sandals, having had such a comfortable experience with their walking shoes, bought a a couple of months ago. They fitted like a glove. When I went to Nerja on locum duty this time last year, I forgot to pack sandals and bought a chunky comfortable pair for a decent price in a town shoe shop. I started wearing them again a few weeks ago, once the weather warmed up enough, but discovered very soon that the hollow interior of both heels had caved in, and I was traipsing dirt in the house that had been caught in the cavities. They weren't yet uncomfortable to notice the failure for any other reason, but they had to be consigned to the bin, along with another older pair whose heel bases had collapsed rendering them unwearable, which had until now not been thrown out. A third pair also emerged that was unbroken, but they weren't comfortable enough for distance walking, only for popping down the beach. So I was pleased to be pushed into making the effort to acquire a really durable sturdy pair, which could last me several years, for a change.

In the evening, I watched with special interest the programme on Vienna in Rick Stein's 'Long Weekends' series. As a fan of Mediterranean cuisine, I find it all a bit too much 'mean & two veg' for my liking. Nor do the cake and chocolate side of things appeal that much. The white wine is much praised however, Weiner Gemischter Satz, grown on 700 hectares of land within the city's boundaries, made with several grape varieties planted and grown in a mixture in the same field rather than separately and then blended. This relies on the terroir as the French call it, the soil and the setting of vineyard, rather than the character of the grapes. No doubt centuries of experience in choosing the right varietals to take advantage of soil qualities makes for a praiseworthy product. It's something to look forward to.