Millers, but no Flour.

"You know how I've been looking forward to this," I said to Claudette as we got off the Viking ship, Kara, in Kinderdijk, the Netherlands.

"Yes, I know how excited you get about mills.  I think it goes back to when you read Geoffrey Chaucer's tale about the millers in The Canterbury Tales in high school," was her response.

"I'm not sure about that.  These are windmills. I think it's a testament to mankind's ingenuity to use wind power to grind wheat into flour for bread," I said.  I have always been fascinated by mechanical contraptions, especially those of the eighteenth century.

We were on a river cruise upon which we would navigate three rivers and visit five countries. Having begun in Amsterdam, Kinderdijk was our first stop in Holland. Kinderdijk is a UNESCO World Heritage Site with nineteen windmills, many of which are operational. I experienced quite an odd sensation there.  I found it quite unusual to disembark a ship then walk down hill. But that is the way Holland is.  Much of the land is below sea level and indeed river level. Our guide was Hans, a handsome lad, who was a college student and who, by his own admission, had taken a tour guide job to improve his English language skills. His field of study in college was international commerce.


"Did you notice his name?" I asked Claudette as we followed Hans on the road beside the river.

"So?" was her curt response.

"Hans Brinker or the Silver Skates.  You know, the little Dutch boy who saved his country by plugging up the hole in the dyke with his finger! Didn't your Mom read you that story?  I queried.

"I don't remember.  But probably," she answered with a slightly bored tone.

Before us appeared almost a postcard view. Stretching in front of us was a flat landscape punctuated by what appeared to be rectangular shaped bodies of water. And beside these bodies of water were those curious appearing windmills, their blades reminiscent of a flower blossom on its stem.  Hans led us a few hundred feet down to the water and a stone building which was like a windmill maintenance shop. There he gave a lecture about the history of the windmills, their construction and operation. During this lecture I found that his reference to millers was not the same as mine. He referred to windmill operators as millers.  But the term miller to me meant someone who ground wheat or other grains into flour or meal.  I was not to see windmills making flour from wheat.* The purpose for the windmills is for water control.  Much of the Netherlands is below sea level and consequently is often flooded. The windmills pump the water from these flooded areas. The dutch have been practicing flood control with windmills for over three hundred years!

As we walked along the path toward a windmill there were people fishing  and an artist selling his wares. Claudette was very interested in the fishermen but did not see them catch a fish. There were a few wildflowers scattered along the path. We came to a narrow drawbridge across the water to a windmill.

"Wow! they're much larger than I thought!" Claudette exclaimed.

I used the measure application on my phone to determine the height to be about 51 meters  as we gathered at the base of the windmill. Hans, the guide, was saying, "...and the miller's family lived here. A miller's family was usually large, sometimes as many as 15 children. Kinderdijk is named for children.  They looked around one day and saw so many children playing that they named it Kinderdijk. Kinder means children in Dutch. While we wait for the other group to leave the mill, I will ask you this question.  Do you know why so many Dutch people are blonde? It is because in the old days people shaved their heads because they had lice. Then they found out that bleach would kill the lice! And there you have it!  We can go in now."

We entered the mill. To the left was a narrow stairway up to the top of the mill. Being in the midst of recovery from a bout with severe bronchitis I did not attempt the climb.  But my dear wife did.  Inside

the windmill was very compact as you might imagine. It had never occurred to me that people lived in them.  The rooms were small and very compact and on several levels. The giant gears, water wheel, and mechanisms of the mill received the priority of space.  Almost all of the mechanical parts of the mill are made of wood. Different types of wood are used for specific parts.  The wooden shoes made famous by the Dutch were a necessity for the millers to keep their feet dry. The miller received compensation from the government for operating the mill.  Outside the mill, Hans demonstrated how to aim the huge windmill fan blades into the wind. It was quite a time consuming method to rotate the top of the mill to which the fabric covered blades were attached.

As we walked back to the ship we passed the giant Archimedean screws which now move water from the lower level into the river above. There was also a gift shop where those souvenirs could be purchased.  A wooden shoe was outside the shop large enough for a tourist to sit in for a Kodak moment!

*There were windmills used fro grinding grain in Holland but that was the most common use for a windmill.

After thought:   The positions of the blades of the windmills were used to signal such events as births, deaths, approaching armies and other.

from my sketchbook

The Fourth Day of July

It was the fourth day of July when the Viking Kara docked at Passau, Germany. We had been sailing overnight on the Danube River. It was a brilliant day with only a few puffy white clouds in the cerulean sky. The temperature was in the eighties, and we were anxious to get ashore.  On this particular day we were in group 3B.   There were 198 passengers on the ship divided into several groups, perhaps only twenty-five persons per group.  Our tour guide was named Greta. Her mastery of English was quite good, and she wore a native dress. Many of the guides were students, but Greta was a bit older.

Our tour would be about two hours long, and we would be back aboard for the cook out on the forward deck.  Boris would be cooking hot dogs and hamburgers. As we took to the narrow cobblestone streets sans sidewalks, the feeling was almost claustrophobic. (I sometimes suffer from this phobia.) The white buildings were brilliant in the sunlight.  It was the first time I had seen buttresses between buildings. We had frequently seen flying buttresses of gothic cathedrals where the walls are supported by the earth, but these were different.

The street we were on led to a wide plaza. On one side was the Danube River but on the other was the City Hall of Passau. It was an impressive structure with a clock tower. According to the "Measure" app on my phone it was 225 feet tall. The Rathaus (City Hall) was built in 1398.  On the side of the building the residents have been recording the level to which the Danube has flooded since 1501. The highest mark was in 2013. Virtually every town on the river has a high water mark on some wall. The mural over the windows of City Hall depict the reign of Frederick II of Prussia. He was the major monarch of the Hohenzollern dynasty. I'm pretty sure he was the emperor who had the tallest men in his empire for palace guards.  They were known as the giants of Frederick the Great. The Hohenzollern dynasty ruled Prussia from 1415 until 1918.  As luck would have it, we were on the Rathausplatz at 10:30 a.m. when the glockenspiel was played. The bells rung out in the clear morning air and drowned out any commentary of our guide.

Greta led us into the interior of the pale yellow City Hall.  We entered the actual chamber that is used by the local government.  We thought we could sit in any of the chairs but found out that those at the head table were not to be used by tourists. The tables which were aligned together seemed to be of a modern style. The walls were decorated with paintings by Ferdinand Wagner.

Back on the street we walked uphill before going downhill to the river.  But it was not the Danube, it was the Inn. While we were on the banks of the Inn, Claudette discovered she was missing her hat.  She retraced her steps to City Hall while we followed a zig-zag street to higher ground.  The nice receptionist was holding it for her. We emerged on a large plaza.  On our left was the former home of the prince-bishop who once ruled the area. These men were initially bishops of the Catholic Church who obtained the title of prince from a local monarch.  Hence, they become known as prince-bishops but their titles were not hereditary . Only the entranceway was accessible to us, but we were able to observe the beautiful staircase and the interesting  fresco on the ceiling above. By this time Claudette had rejoined us. Steve and I had trailed the tour group waiting for her.

Our guide Greta led us along the cobblestoned streets toward Saint Stephen's Cathedral. It loomed up ahead with some scaffolding around the exterior of the apse. So often in our travels major structures of interest have scaffolding attached for restoration or maintenance  purposes.  St. Stephen's was no different.  The entry of this cathedral, named for the first Christian martyr, faces a plaza with a statue in the center of it. The church was built in the Baroque style. This style is characterized by more color and more light in the interior. We thought it was great! Claudette decided that it was our second most favorite cathedral after La Sagrada Famelia in Barcelona. It was so very bright, airy, and very colorful. I thought the golden pulpit was a bit much, but I was impressed by the 17,974 pipes of the pipe organ. To me, pipe organs are where art and mechanical wizardry merge. We were fortunate to hear a concert by the organist while we were there. After the concert we visited the gift shop. I wanted to buy a postage stamp. Along with drawings I add postage stamps, beer labels, and other ephemera to my sketchbooks. Fortunately another tourist was able to translate for me. Although my ancestors immigrated from Germany in the eighteenth century I have no facility with that language.

Our guided tour was over, and we had a leisurely stroll back to the ship.  The cook-out was in progress with hot dogs, hamburgers, and barbeque.  Later in the afternoon we sailed. At dinner the bakers presented a cake with an American flag on it. We Americans sang our national anthem and God Bless America. There were toasts and the decorative cake was consumed.

"WHATZIT?"

When our ship tied up at the pier in Regensburg, Germany, on the Danube River I was in for a treat. Less than one hundred yards behind us was a tugboat which had been made into a museum.  The Ersekcsnad was a paddle wheel boat built in 1923. It had huge red paddle wheels on each side. Below the decks the massive steam engine had been meticulously restored. One part of the ship had dozens of ship models depicting river craft through the years. One in particular caught my attention. It appeared to be two hulls or pontoons with a paddle wheel in between.The larger hull had a small house on it. I took several photographs and made some drawings.  After close study of of my pictures and sketches I was at a loss to determine how the watercraft operated. In desperation I emailed the director of the museum. 

I received a quick reply from Germany.  It seems that the ship in question was not a ship at all but a swimming mill. After a bit of research I was able to determine what a swimming mill was used to grind grain into flour for baking. The mill would be towed to the part of the river where the fast current would turn the paddle wheel which in turn turned the grindstones. In the mid-twentieth century there were so many swimming mills on the rivers that they interfered with commercial traffic. Hence, the demise of the swimming mill. Very few exist today as relics from the past. 

We also enjoyed the cathedral, the 12th century bridge, and the oldest sausage house in Germany, in Regensburg. But we thought twenty-nine Euros for six small sausages, sauerkraut, and beer times two was a bit much.   

notes: photos in the filmstrip above left to right: Regensburg, Viking Cruise Program Director, tugboat Ersekcsnad, Tony sketching on the tugboat. (Chantal, the cruise director has nothing to do with the post, her photo just adds color.)  

   

Vienna...but no sausages

"Did you see it?" she said excitedly.

"See what?" was my response.

"The horse," she said, her tone implying that I should have known.

"What horse? We're in the middle of the city," I said.

"It IS the Spanish Riding School," she said emphatically.

"We ARE in Vienna, AUSTRIA!" I responded.

"That just shows what you know. The Royal Lipizzaner Stallions are trained here in Vienna at the Spanish Riding School," spoken by her matter-of-factly with just a tinge of condescension.

"Well, I still didn't see one!" was my response.

"He stuck out his head briefly from his stall. Did you know that they are born black and turn white upon reaching adulthood?"

"Rubbish!" i responded using a word I had picked up from a British friend.

"Folks now that we have seen the stables, let's move back out into the streets of Vienna," boomed the voice of our tour guide in Mid-western accented English.  Frank, our tour guide, was an American that had married a local girl some thirty years prior to our visit.

We continued on to Josefplatz (Joseph's Square in English) in the bright morning sunlight. This square was a part of the Hofburg Palace. It is named for Emperor Joseph II of Austria and is considered one of the finest courtyards in Vienna. The life-size statue of Joseph on his horse is

a preferred perch by local pigeons. We had previously seen the palace from its other side at the beginning of our tour. It has an interesting curved facade. And the stables for the Lipizzaner stallions had been the royal stables.

Vienna has all the hustle and bustle of all European cities.  There are over one million inhabitants in the second largest German speaking city in Europe.  Vienna is continuedly voted the best city in the world in which to live.

Once it was considered the world center of socialism. In 1914 Adolf HItler, Leon Trotsky, Joseph Tito, Sigmund Freud, and Josef Stalin were residents. The coffeehouses of Vienna were their frequents haunts. We did not make it to a coffeehouse but did have coffee in an outdoor cafe. Actually, Evelyn, Steve, Claudette and I enjoyed brauners, coffee with cream. There was an oboe quartet playing nearby beneath the Pestsaule. This monument, known as the Plague Column,  was inaugurated in 1693.   After window shopping a bit we took the bus back to the ship for lunch...and a quick nap.



The bus picked us up at the ship after lunch for our ride to Schonbrunn Palace.

In about twenty minutes we reached the second palace we would see in Vienna. In 1569 the Holy Roman Emperor, Maximilian II, purchased the property along the river for a hunting lodge. From that year it has grown into the 1441 room palace it is today. Incidentally, this is a summer palace, i.e. a vacation home. Today the palace and grounds are an international tourist attraction attracting 2.6 million visitors per year. When we visited there were many visitors but since the grounds are so vast

"Inside Schoenbrunn Palace Vienna" by Reubentg - Visited Vienna in July 2012. Via Wikipedia - http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Inside_Schoenbrunn_Palace_

Vienna.jpg#mediaviewer/File:Inside_Schoenbrunn_Palace_Vienna.jpg

it seemed uncrowded. Touring the interior was more congested but much less than Saturday at Versailles. The interior of the palace is what you would expect in opulence. To me some of the decoration seems almost gaudy. It is as though there was a law against having an unadorned wall. No photography was allowed. Sometimes the argument is that the light from camera flashes fades the colors of the furnishings but I believe the prohibition of photographs allows the gift shop to sell more postcards and picture books.

Maximilian II created the first zoo at what was first a place to hunt wild game. This former hunting preserve is now the formal gardens of Schonbrunn Palace. As you exit the rear of the palace the

formal gardens come into view. They stretch out before you culminating at the base of a two hundred foot hill topped by an ornamental structure known as the Gloriette. Here I became familiar with a folly*. It seems that in the mid-eighteenth century royalty held Roman ruins in such high esteem that if none existed on their property they would pay an architect to design and build some.

Our visit to this UNESCO World Heritage Site was quite enjoyable although it was a very warm day. Perhaps we would have enjoyed it more if we had had more time. 

*Fol-ly

noun

1. 1.

   lack of good sense; foolishness.

   "an act of sheer folly"

   • 
     

     
     
2. 2.

   a costly ornamental building with no practical purpose, especially a tower or mock-Gothic ruin built in a large garden or park.