We then were his guests at dinner in a very good local restaurant. I had a tasty bacon and sauerkraut spätzele served in an old beat-up pewter skillet. Spätzele, those wonderful little dumplings, are one of my favorite German foods, a speciality of the Schwäbisch region, which includes Augsburg and other points west of Munich. We had a great evening, but before we could get some sleep, we had a load of jeans and a couple sets of undies, T-shirts and socks spinning in the dryer in the basement. We needed to pack them that night before we left at 5.30 in the morning to catch our train to Friedrichshafen.

The hiking in the foothills of the Alps behind King Ludwig II’s Neuschwanstein castle was really spectacular. We ended up off the marked trail following footpaths that clung to the edge of the sheer drop most of the way, so we got treated to different viewpoints of the castle, the lake, the Alps, the surrounding communities, and as we got higher and higher, we could see Hohenschwangau castle (Ludwig’s childhood home) behind Neuschwanstein. We got about to the point where they take the postcard pictures, but we were much, much higher. It was just incredible. We had packed lunch treatments, and made ham and gouda sammiches on brötschen (small rolls, soft inside, crusty outside) on a semi-flat spot along the way.

Very few tourists make it beyond the Marien Brücke (the Maria Bridge) that Ludwig had built across the Pöllat Gorge, so our experience was extra special. It was a hike I have wanted to do since I first saw Neuschwanstein, but for one reason or another, mainly having to do with pressing time schedules or snow blocking the paths, I never got to do before.

Afterward we hiked back down, following the path this time, which only took about 20 minutes, the tour of the castle with a senior administrator was really interesting. We got to see a lot of behind-the-scenes stuff, including the structure that supports the domed roof of the throne room. It’s ironwork, as Ludwig had visited Paris and was impressed with Monsieur Eiffel’s structural work. We also got to go up the highest tower and walk around the balcony. The little room attached to the side of the tower top was going to be a little library room, but it wasn’t completed inside. It was raining at this point, one of those showers that springs up in the evening in the area, but we still walked around the outside balcony.

After a great breakfast (no one makes breakfast like the Germans, and the buffet at the guest house was superb. Herr und Frau Bastian are to be commended!) Tuesday morning we went to the Kristall-Therme, a rather nice spa near the Gästehaus Charlotte where we had spent the night. It was filled with mostly old people bobbing up and down in the pools. There were also several squealing kids. I wondered why they weren’t in school. We were a bit bummed that they closed the lap pool, which I never noticed the last time I was there. It is behind a round, very salty pool. It was T-shirt weather again Tuesday, as it was the day before (until we got higher up in the mountain). It was not bad outside, even though we were wet and in swimsuits. Two of the popular pools were outside. The last time I was there, the snow banks were about 6 feet away from the pools! Then it was quite a refreshing dash from pool to pool or to go inside.

After our swim and wallowing in the warm pools, we enjoyed a walk to the town of Füßen, the regional administrative center, which is where the trains to and from Munich stop. I was glad we only brought enough stuff for the night, and hence just had our daypacks, not our full backpacks. I did make the mistake of lugging this laptop, which was not needed as I really didn’t get any time to do much on it. We enjoyed a walk around the town, stopping to visit the Franciscan monastery and its church. The latter is tremendously ornate in that overdone Bavarian Baroque style. An interesting feature is a glass coffin with a bejeweled skeleton inside, apparently the relic of a minor saint.

We poked in a few shops where I bought a couple souvenirs, then bought stamps for my post cards at the post office near the station. Postage for a postcard to the U.S. is €1. I know not to complain about our own postage rates now! I wrote the postcards on the train back to Munich.

Back at the apartment, we had just enough time to toss in a load of clothes, primarily our two pairs of jeans each, before Sten picked us up and took us out to Ammersee for dinner. We got back about 10 p.m., and still had to put the laundry in the dryer (we used two €.50 coins to get almost an hour of drying time this time). We gathered our stuff from around the apartment, left “thank you” sticky notes for Markus and Rike, and when the clothes were dried, repacked our suitcases. It was after midnight when I got to bed.

I didn’t hear David up and about Wednesday morning, and woke up at 5.12. We had to be at the station no later than 5.30 to catch the U-Bahn to the main station. Talk about hustling! Good thing everything was packed. I ended up shaving and brushing my teeth on the train to Ulm, where we would change for the train to Friedrichshafen and our Zeppelin flight. More about that fantastic adventure in my next post!

Though I had booked us on Air Berlin, the closest we came to an Air Berlin plane was to pass it on the bus to and from the plane of the airline we were actually on, which was an Austrian company called Niki. We loved it. For starters, the stewardesses wore pert hot pink ‘60s looking caps and black jackets. It was nice to see them liveried identically, except for their crew chief, who wore a hot pink shirt as well. Then we actually got fed! None of this “$2 for your favorite Coca-Cola products and juices” nonsense I got on USAir and not even a bag of salted peanuts. Niki passed out some darn tasty sandwiches on both the Frankfurt-to-Vienna leg, and again on the leg to Stockholm. They also had one of those cool in-flight progress maps up on the video monitors so we could see how we were doing, which is something I missed sorely on the flight to Frankfurt from Philadelphia. In short, USAir could learn an awful lot about in-flight service from Niki.

We arrived at Stockholm’s Arlanda Airport at the new Terminal 2, had no trouble getting our luggage and sailed right past the customs officers gaze. There was no passport control, hence no new stamp on our passports. Due to construction we couldn’t figure out where to meet my friend Curt Borgdén, who was picking us up, but fortunately, after we wandered into the lower level of the parking garage, he found us.

It was raining when we arrived, but as we headed to Drottningsholmslott, the royal country palace, we could see the sun trying to peek through the grey clouds. It ended up being a lovely day to stroll the grounds of the palace. The royal standard flew over the residence, indicating a member of King Carl XVI Gustav’s family, if not the king and Queen Silvia themselves, were at home. Hence, some of the elegant formal gardens were roped off for security reasons.

But Swedes take very seriously their right to stroll public lands, so most of the gardens were open to walkers. We headed for the Chinese Pavilion, a 1700s gift from one of the kings to his wife, done in the gaudy chinoise style that was fashionable at the time. First, though, we passed what appeared to be a medieval fair tent, which I mistook for some sort of setting for an outdoor theatrical. It turned out to be the guards’ headquarters for the Chinese Pavilion, and was, in fact, made of festively painted and shaped wood.

The pavilion was closed, but we could walk around it and admire, or maybe chuckle a little, at what 18th-century Swedish court artisans assumed was Chinese ornament. Surprisingly, the façade reliefs were all repetitions of the same, not very Asian scene. We took a break and had an ice cream cone in the little café in the cellar of one of the side service buildings. It had once been a kitchen, perhaps serving the pavilion, and had old bread ovens and warmers around one wall.

At the Borgdéns’ home that evening, Curt’s delightful wife Ann-Louise made fabulous thin waffles for dinner, topped with a choice of strawberry or raspberry sauce and fresh whipped cream. Earlier she had dispatched their youngest son, Jonas, to the store for the cream on his bike a bit earlier. Afterwards, we went to check out a local mall, for the fun of comparing ours with theirs. They are about the same, though most of the stores were different. We did spy a Bath & Body Works, though.

One store really fascinated us. It was a sort of Target, stocked with everything from housewares and hardware to soft goods and, this amused us, a surprisingly large equestrian tackle section. The food section was extensive. We got an assortment of licorices to sample, including nasty salted ones that the Swedes love. There were also some varieties that really cleared my sinuses.

The next morning we took the local commuter train into Stockholm central and set off on foot. The plan was to walk along the harborfront Strandvägen street to the Wasa Museum, but after a quick exploration of stately St. Klara’s Church and a walk as far as the promenade near the opera, alight rain started falling. Soon it was a heavier rain. By the time we ducked into St. Jacob’s Church, ostensibly to check it out but really to get out of the rain, it was a very steady downpour.

We were to rendezvous with Joachim Öiwall, a friend of many years, at 1 p.m. at the “Spitting Cup,” a circular opening in Central Station’s main floor that looks down into the lower level. It’s a popular rendezvous spot. At this point in our progress, or rather lack thereof, we realized we’d never have enough time in the Wasa Museum before having to hightail it back to the station, so we decided instead to check out the royal treasury in the palace. While asking the way of one of the guards, who love the opportunity to both chat to someone and avoid the otherwise boring duty of standing with a gun looking stern, we learned that there was to be “a big ceremony” at 12.15, which I took to be the changing of the guard. I was right.

We joined the throngs gathered in the right-hand circular colonnade in the palace forecourt, all jostling for position out of the rain. The office for tour tickets (and its inevitable gift shop) didn’t open until noon. As the clock chimed 12 atop the adjacent Storskyrkan church, which is where the royal family worships when they are in residence at the palace, a dapper officer stepped into the court and began to announce which regiment would replace the one currently serving guard duty. At this point everyone dashed forward to get a place along the line strung halfway across the court.

A military band led in the new guards, which, who, we learned, belong to a transport regiment. There was lots of ceremonial marching about, and while the soldiers looked respectable enough in their blue uniforms with white gloves and berets, there was a nice simplicity to the proceedings, with periodic band accompaniment. After the new guards were in place and the old ones marched out of the castle, the band performed a nice little concert. Unfortunately, it was raining steadily and most of us left by the second number, that old Swedish folk tune, “The St. Louis Blues March.”

We found Jocke, as he is more familiarly known, and he led us to a great Thai restaurant for lunch. My padh Thai was delicious, the portion American-sized, and the price about $9. Thus fortified, we decided to visit the Stadshuset, or city hall, which is where the Nobel peace prize is conferred, and the Nobel dinner and dance held. It was a soggy but not long hike over to the building, which is topped by Sweden’s royal three crowns emblem, but alas, we had missed the last tour by 20 minutes. No big deal; it was in Chinese anyway.

We decided, therefore, that since we wanted an indoor activity, we would go to the Wasa Museum after all. We hopped a couple buses and disembarked in front of the ornate Nordic Museum, then in a very steady rain, worked our way behind it to the Wasa Museum.

The Wasa, an early 17th-century warship, is one of Stockholm’s greatest must-sees and is quite remarkable. On August 10, 1628, it set sail on its maiden voyage to join the Swedish forces then battling in Poland. It made it across Stockholm harbor, heeled over in a sudden wind, righted itself, heeled again, took water in its gun ports, and sank in less than a minute. Its maiden voyage lasted about 25 minutes.

Because of the clean, cold, almost salt-free water, the ship remained virtually intact, except for its masts, which embarrassingly, stuck up above the surface and were cut off to avoid further humiliation. In the late 1950s, an amateur archeologist found the ship and soon efforts were underway to raise it, which happened in 1961. The present museum was constructed in the late 1980s. The Wasa is an amazing time capsule of life aboard a 17th-century man-of-war.

Work has progressed on analyzing paint samples to determine how the ship was decorated. A large model is constantly being painted to show how the ship looked in all its splendor. The conservators were a bit embarrassed to discover that the Swedish Baroque was a lot more gaudy than they thought. Much of the stern castle was painted a Pepto-Bismal pink with bright primary color and gold accents.

Jocke went back with us to the Borgdëns’ home in Sollentuna, where Curt and Ann-Louise had prepared a scrumptious dinner of roast deer meat, a potato and cheese casserole, a heart brown gravy, and salad. After the meal we took dessert in the living room, a nice ice cream log. We made and changed (multiple times) plans for the next day, weaving them around Curt and Jocke’s respective schedules and the opening hours of places we wanted to go.

My flight into Frankfurt from Philadelphia, the third and final leg of my journey that began at 5 a.m. at Northwest Florida Regional Airport, got in 35 minutes early. It was still dark in most of western Europe as we landed. Airlines have gotten real stingy, as most travelers know. Breakfast was a single blueberry muffin and a glass of OJ. I was expecting that and had a water bottle in which I poured a packet of powdered Tang-like “orange breakfast beverage,” and also had with me two packets of dried fruit to nibble.

But worst of all is what little legroom there used to be has vanished. My knees were already touching the seat in front of me even before its occupant reclined it the little bit that coach seats can actually recline (which is precious little). They are also skinnier, I think, unless my bottom has widened, which I hope isn’t the case! When I dropped my glasses on the floor midway through the flight, I had to wait until the guy next to me to get up to deplane before I had enough room to bend over and find the wayward specs.

Passport Control in Frankfurt went smoothly. I got the first visa stamp in my new passport, then claimed my luggage. I had plenty of time to tidy up and shave in the men’s room until David’s flight came in, also a bit early. After we gathered his luggage, we cleared German customs without a hitch and entered Germany.

Two regional trains and about 45 minutes later we stepped off the second train in Darmstadt Main Station, where my friend of 23 years, Dieter Heck, waited for us. His wonderful wife Regina had prepared a typical, massive German breakfast for us of various sliced meats, including the “Schinken” that I love, a smoked, thinly sliced ham similar to prosciutto. Fresh Brötschen, or hard rolls, and an assortment of jams also were on the table. Regina knows my fondness for fruit teas, despite her insistence that they are “children’s tea,” but brewed a pot anyway.

Despite being a tad jetlagged, we were eager to start our holiday. Dieter and Regina proposed a simple visit to downtown Darmstadt, where we enjoyed strolling a shopping mall and an outdoor food market. The visit also included a walk up to the 1920s Ludwig Church, a massive dome sitting on a square pedestal base. The dome was entirely rebuilt, having been bombed during the war. The inside was inspired by the Pantheon.

Our next stop was the hilltop Mathilde neighborhood, noted for many buildings of the Jugendstijl design movement, a variation of the Art Nouveau style. There is also a very ornate Russian Orthodox church on the hill. After strolling around, including passing through an interesting grove, we settled at a delightful outdoor terrace café where we had some refreshment. I enjoyed a sort of chocolate milkshake with a couple scoops of ice cream bobbing in it.

Then it was off for the nice drive through the countryside to Burg Frankenstein, the ruins of the hilltop castle once visited by English author Mary W. Shelley. (See the video here on our Web site.) Inspired by her hosts’ tales of the castle’s onetime use for medical experimentation that apparently included body parts, she crafted the famous Gothic novel Frankenstein. Today the castle is predominantly in ruins. An entry tower and the tower and some of the keep survive. Techies were busy decorating the ruin for a Halloween haunted castle production while we were there, taking full advantage of the castle’s reputation.

Back home we enjoyed one of Regina’s famed do-it-yourself dinners, in which we grilled various meats, shrimp and veggies hibachi style on a table-top grill. Afterward, the jetlag really caught up. Bed time! We slept like rocks for almost 10 hours.

After another great breakfast, we were off to Heidelberg Sunday morning. My college roommate had his high school senior prom in Heidelberg castle: how I envy him. It’s a fantastic town for walking around. You can rent PDAs with a preprogrammed tour and a pair of headsets and stroll around the various sites listening to guided history lectures. A medieval fair was underway in one of the squares, which we enjoyed poking around. Lots of food, crafts, jugglers and a sort of theatrical recounting local legends were going on.

We ultimately wound up on the hill in the castle after taking a funicular ride up there. Much of the castle is also in ruins, but what is left evidences its former beauty. A popular attraction is the world’s biggest wine cast, which actually has a dance floor on top of it. We enjoyed a pause at an outdoor terrace in the castle where we had some drinks before proceeding to the back terrace overlooking the town and the Neckar River below. We followed a path down the hill on foot, checked out the bridge, which is under renovation, then drove home in Dieter’s speedy Cadillac STS. At one point Regina, our driver, got it up to 200 km/hr.

As Regina and their son, Martin, were attending a dance performance, and their daughter Sophie is a picky eater, Dieter, David and I took the bus into town and had dinner at a Mongolian restaurant called Khan. It had a great Chinese buffet, plus a side buffet where you could load a bowl with various meats and veggies, almost as we did the night before, and chefs would grill them for you. We were ready to roll away from the table after our huge meal, which culminated with fried bananas and honey.

Monday morning, Regina had her piano lesson so Dieter assembled a good breakfast including my fruit tea and lachs (smoked salmon) for the Brötschen. Upon Regina’s return, we hopped back in the Caddy and headed up to the state of Hesse (where Hessians come from) and toured the Kloster Eberbach. (Video will be up soon. Keep checking.) The monastery was started in the 1100s, and finally went secular in the late 1800s. It is noted for its variety of wines. In fact, the lay brothers’ dormitory became a pressing room! Many indoor scenes for the film version of Humberto Eco’s book, The Name of the Rose, were shot at Eberbach. Imagine, I was in rooms where Sean Connery (and Christian Slater, in his screen debut) once trod!

Kloster Eberbach Monastery

After a visit to the gift shop (where the primary “gifts” available are bottles of the monastery’s wines!), we drove along the Rhein River to Rüdesheim, a very charming, very touristy river town noted for the famous Drossgasse, a narrow alley lined with restaurants and shops hawking tourist junk. We had lunch in a place with an outdoor eating area, which, I believe, is the same place I ate at with my relatives during my first backpacking trip in 1985.

We took the two-person cable car up to the Niederwald Denkmal, a mammoth statue of Germania overlooking the Rhein valley below. It was erected by one of the Kaiser Wilhelms in the 1800s, during his drive to unite the various Germanic principalities into one country. Dieter and Regina scoffed at the patriotic jingoism of the inscriptions, while I noted that Germania was having a very bad hair day. We took a half hour to walk back down to Rüdesheim, passing through vineyards and sampling the grapes along the way. Most were the blue variety and were very sweet. It looks like 2008 will be a good year for Rhein wine.

Now back in Darmstadt, Regina is preparing a soft cheese dinner comparable to baked brie. It smells great! I’ll keep you posted on our adventures. Now it’s dinner time.

The “Eddie Bauer bottle” is a great Lexan water bottle that will hold 18 ounces (or, when I get to Europe, half a litre) of a beverage. The cap is spill-proof, which is especially nice. Now that airlines are charging for onboard drinks and airports have jacked up the prices for beverages knowing you can’t take more than three ounces of any one liquid past the TSA checkpoint, having a water bottle along is a must. I carry those little individual drink mix packets ($1.50 for ten packets of the Wal-Mart brand) in my carry-on daypack. Once past TSA, I fill up the bottle at any drinking fountain. Hopefully aboard the plane they won’t deny me basic water for free! I’ll fill up the Eddie Bauer bottle at a water fountain again shortly before boarding to be sure.

Oh, as its name suggests, I got it at the Eddie Bauer outlet in Silver Sands. They always have the coolest stuff there, including lots of great gear for travelers. My daypack came from Eddie Bauer. It’s just big enough but not so big I’ll be tempted to overstuff it.

The “peanut butter for Martin” came to be on the list last week. David, my traveling companion and a longtime friend from our Tulane University days, and I will be visiting my friends Curt and Ann-Louise Borgdén, who live outside of Stockholm. Their middle and youngest sons, Axel and Jonas, still live at home. Their oldest boy, Martin, is in his first year at university in Malmö. He wanted to meet us, and will take the train into Copenhagen and meet up with us a week from Saturday.

I had introduced Martin (and the rest of Curt’s family) to the wonderful “Fluffernutter” sandwich, something I enjoyed as a kid and still do. They particularly like crunchy peanut butter (they call it “chunky”) so David picked up a large jar to leave at Curt and Ann-Louise’s house. I didn’t want Martin to be left out, though, so he’ll get a jar of his own.

Taking presents to our hosts is a tradition. (They always bring me great European food, like chocolates!) Fortunately most the bulkier stuff, including a Sam’s Club-size canister of Creole seasoning for our first hosts, Dieter and Regina Heck and their kids in Darmstadt, and the peanut butter for our friends in Sweden, will be offloaded first. Our next stop being Munich, I also have some locally produced cane syrup (pronounced “sirp” locally) to leave behind for Markus and Rieke, who kindly offered us their flat in Munich while they are on holiday in the Orient. Otherwise, Munich is pretty much booked up for Oktoberfest, which ends the weekend we arrive.

I confirmed my flight info last night. Thank goodness I did. USAir has been diddling with my reservation since I made it in February. This time they told me there is a “glitch” in the first leg of my return flight. As it is the Frankfurt to Philadelphia portion, it’s rather substantial, and a “glitch” is not a good thing. They tried to blame it on Travelocity, which is interesting because I didn’t book through Travelocity. In fact, USAir handled the return flights themselves, which was necessitated because they cancelled my final leg back into Northwest Florida Regional Airport. I gained an extra vacation day out of the mess!

The “glitch” had one bad effect. I lost my window seat. The agent told me the “Travelocity problem” caused the “glitch” and hence it’s not USAir’s fault that I lost the seat I wanted. Even though I booked back in february, I seem to have lost my priority over someone who booked just recently. There’s something really screwed up in our air travel service. Airlines have adopted a “take it or leave it” attitude. “Service” is certainly not something practiced any longer. But thankfully, the agent assured me the “glitch” would be rectified before I try to board upon my return in October. We’ll see.

One good thing I learned: for overseas flights, I’m allowed TWO pieces of checked luggage. I think I’ll take a small duffle bag with the gifts. When the gifts have been distributed, I can use the duffle for souvenirs I’ll bring back. When not in use it will squish up flat and can  be tucked away in my backpack. That crtainly solves the problem of the extra stuff to pack in the form of gifts.

For this trip we booked most of our train reservations before even leaving the States. In the past I have waited until we get to Europe, but I have had several uncomfortable situations in which we find a train—especially some overnighters—has been booked full when we go to make a reservation. The cost to make a reservation here does not appear to be more than it would had we booked it in Europe. David was able to make the bookings through his AAA Travel office in Dallas, which deals with RailEurope. He also got our railpasses (we’ll be using a Eurail Select Pass-Saver, with eight days of travel in five countries) through AAA, which provides the pass protection insurance policy free of charge, unlike if we bought it through RailEurope directly. There are only one or two trains we’ll have to book once we arrive in Europe.

German Rail’s Web site, www.bahn.de, was a real help on this trip. It lists just about every station in Europe, whether Die Bahn handles it or not. For example, we will take a pair of French high-speed TGV trains from Paris to Crestview’s sister city and back. French Rail’s Web site was really convoluted. In fact, the TGV service has its own Web site. I finally gave up and returned to bahn.de and found all the details I needed. You can click a button for printable versions of each itinerary you settle on, but I just did screen captures and printed them instead.

We decided to purchase our roundtrip tickets to Füßen from Munich and back rather than use a day on our railpass. When you get a railpass, calculate the value of each day of travel. If it’s cheaper to buy the tickets (German Rail’s Web site shows you the price), don’t burn a day of pass usage; save some money. I was able to buy our first class tickets online and print out the voucher we’ll present to the ticket-taker.

Yeah, we could’ve saved some money traveling second class, but the train to Füßen is one instance where you’ll wan to be in the first class carriages at the front of the train. Why? Füßen is the starting point, sort of the port of entry, if you will, for explorations of King Ludwig II’s romantic Bavaria, including his famed castle Neuschwanstein. (That’s the marvelous fairytale-like castle that inspired Walt Disney.) The rest of the train, no matter when you go, will be packed with tourists, most of them Japanese. When you arrive in Füßen, there’s a mad dash through the station, across the street and aboard the local country bus waiting to take visitors to Neuschwanstein and Hohenschwangau castles.

Neuschwanstein in winter.

By being in the front of the train, it’s a quicker dash to the bus. It takes the Japanese, who are a societal people, a few minutes to get oriented before they dash en masse for the bus as well. If you’re getting out before Hohenschwangau, as we will in the village of Schwangau, which is the stop before it, be sure you are by the exit doors in the rear of the bus or you’ll never squeeze through the hoard of tourists. It’s especially tricky if you have luggage to carry as well!

I’ve started a folder of valuable information. From Rick Steves’ France, I copied the pages pertinent to what we plan to see in Paris. It will sure beat lugging the fat guidebook in my luggage. With my interest in World War II history, I spent some time perusing the Third Reich in Ruins Web site (www.thirdreichruins.com), and made a page of notes of places I wanted to see in Munich. I also discovered on the site that one of the Hitler Youth academies, called Ordensburgs, is not far from my relatives’ home in Koblenz. (See my last blog for a bit of information about Koblenz.) These sort of notes, plus rail itineraries, our trip calendar (I updated it last Thursday evening), contact information, flight info, the one set of roundtrip train tickets I had to book online (see above), and city maps are all in the folder, which will travel in my carry-on.

I was still debating taking my laptop up until last Friday. The iBook is a great tool, though, and I will certainly be blogging as we go along. In fact, I may decide to make entries from Europe in this blog my journal, although I am taking with me the handy little 5” x 7” 100-page notebook our friend Janice gave me in a “journalist’s kit” she assembled for my birthday. I think David solved the dilemma: He wants to use the iBook along the way, too, to check e-mail and so on, and has offered to help tote it from time to time. Works for me. I think the iBook will get to see Europe.

There are still several stories for me to write for my “vacation folder” at the News Bulletin. I was hoping to get more done, but several have been gathered just in the last few weeks. Friday looked like it was going to be a good day for writing, until I realized we were parading in Crestview’s Homecoming parade Friday afternoon. Bang went two hours! Pre-departure work will get done somehow, I’m sure. It always seems to.

My next entry will probably be from Europe. Wish me a “gute Reise” (good trip)!

There were a couple uncomfortable hours last month when I received a message from Priceline.com telling me the airline changed my itinerary. I’ll return in three legs, Frankfurt to Philadelphia, Philly to Charlotte, S.C., then Charlotte to VPS. Well, USAirlines cancelled that last leg for the Saturday I am to return. But not to fear, the Priceline agent assured me, they rebooked me on a different flight.

But herein was the problem: the flight left Charlotte at 2 p.m. but I won’t arrive in Charlotte until 6 p.m. “There is a scheduling conflict,” the Priceline agent understated.

As it looked like the sort of adjustment that would take a while, she offered to call me back once everything had been worked out with the airline. Through my mind went the horror stories I had heard of people who booked tickets for extended trips online only to be left with no recourse when something exactly like my situation occurred. However, within 45 minutes, the agent called me back.

The solution USAir offered was to have me spend the night in Charlotte and then fly me home to Okaloosa County the next morning. That seemed reasonable enough—until the agent told me I would be responsible for arranging and paying for my own accommodations in Charlotte, plus getting to and from them. No go, I firmly told the agent, who chuckled and said, “I didn’t think you’d like that.”

Fortunately, the change was not my doing. If I had originated the change in itinerary, then yes, I almost certainly would be stuck paying for an overnight visit to Charlotte. But knowing my rights as a passenger, I stuck to my guns. After a further quarter of an hour of discussions with USAir, my agent again returned to the phone. I was to receive an extra day of vacation! I’ll return Sunday, 19 October, instead of the day before!

That extra day will be spent in Koblenz, from whence my relatives on Dad’s side of the family hail. It’s a 1,000+ year old city situated strategically by the Romans at the confluence of the Rhein and Mosel rivers. It survived World War II pretty much unscathed, apart from a few stray bombs. But in early 1945, Allied bombers did some heavy damage, severely decimating its ancient heart, including many beautiful old churches. I guess our guys were making up for lost time, because with the Germans in disarray, Hitler just weeks from suicide and the surrender of the Third Reich imminent, it sure wasn’t necessary.

My cousins Ingrid and Gisela live there now, both sweet ladies enjoying their early golden years. They were children when the bombs of early 1945 fell. When I first began visiting them, Ingrid still lived in the 1930s flat her parents had moved into when it was new and part of Germany’s vigorous urban housing program. When she retired in the early 1990s, she bought a larger flat across the hall from Gisela and her husband Karl in a similar 1930s building down the street. Gisela and Karl’s bouncy daughter Christel lives two floors below her parents, sharing her flat with her boyfriend Rolf. Our family is under one roof!

Koblenz is special to me, and not just because of its rich history, lovely, lively Alt Stadt (Old Town, the historic district), and its situation as the perfect headquarters for exploring several dozen castles in the Rheinland-Pfaltz Palatinate, of which it is the capital. Koblenz is also a place to which I can trace part of my family’s roots and connect with relations who still live there today.

The first time I visited, during my first backpacking trip in 1985, we sat at Ingrid’s kitchen table and surrounded by old family photos and documents, drew a family tree in my journal, supplementing Ingrid’s material with family information I knew. (Later, when I got home, my mother and I used family information in my grandfather’s Bible to fill in some of the blanks, so I could send a more complete lineage back to Ingrid.)

(In case you wondered how we’re related, Ingrid and Gisela’s grandmother was one of seven sisters, some of whom immigrated to the U.S. during the late 19th century wave of German immigration. One of the sisters was my Great-Grandmother Schnabbe, whose name was changed to Schneider upon settling in the area of Mount Holly, in southwest New Jersey. My paternal grandmother, Lillie, was born very soon after they cleared immigration at Ellis Island. She married Edgar M. Hughes and they settled in Collingswood, a New Jersey bedroom community near Camden. Two years ago, while visiting Philadelphia, my roommate Leon and I visited Nanny and Poppa Hughes’ house. Apart from vinyl siding and the removal of the wall between the kitchen and dining room, and expanding the front bedroom out onto the porch, it is not too drastically changed. From this house a constant stream of post-war relief parcels organized by my grandmother through their church, was sent to Ingrid and Gisela’s mother to help alleviate the deprivations and squalor forced on the innocent German population after V-E day.)

Koblenz is also special because it’s the place where I usually begin or end (or both) my trips to Europe. Frankfurt’s airport is one of Europe’s most convenient, and usually less expensive, to fly in and out of. It’s just an hour’s train ride up the Rhein. When I arrive for a European trip, it’s nice to relax and shake off my jet lag with “die Koblenzer,” as Ingrid often signs her letters. And when I depart, I enjoy connecting with my roots again while visiting the jovial, hospitable folks who share my blood. Plus, I know lots of great stores in Koblenz where I can do last-minute shopping for gifts and souvenirs!

On this trip, my traveling companion David and I will begin with a visit to friends in Darmstadt, a manufacturing and research center south of Frankfurt. But as no visit would be complete without a stroll around Koblenz’ cheerful Alt Stadt, that’s where we’ll wind up. There’s a great ice cream café in Am Plan, one of the main squares, where I hope we’ll have time for some spaghetti ice cream. If we get some, I’ll let you know what it’s all about. Suffice to say, there’s no tomato sauce—nor spaghetti—in it!

Best of all, I’ll get to enjoy Koblenz for an extra day after we bid David “auf wiedersehen” at the newly renovated Main Station!

The Liebfrauenkirche rises over Koblenz

I jumped at the chance. While aboard the glittering vessel, launched in 1976 for America’s Bicentennial, I recall wallowing in the lap of luxury, my every whim attended to, and overeating some of the most scrumptious cuisine that ever passed these lips. Each night there was a lively, live musical entertainment production, followed by live shows in the Paddlewheel Lounge.
Oh yeah, in between, I also carried cables, set up video monitors and flood lights, and cautioned the boat’s passenger contingent not to fall over the cables we’d string around the shooting areas.
Steamboatin’, I quickly learned, was a magical, all-American, one-of-a-kind experience. It combines the lure of Mark Twain’s America with a first-class adventure, hosted by some of the finest staff in the cruise industry. It had already survived many trials and tribulations since Capt. Gordon C. Greene started it all back in 1890.
I was captivated by Steamboatin’. Within months I was doing freelance graphic design and copy writing for Delta Queen. By 1992, I was working at their home port office on New Orleans’ Robin Street Wharf. The Mississippi River was about 25 feet below my desk. Now how cool was that!
Fast forward a decade. By 2001, The Delta Queen Steamboat Company teetered on the edge of disaster. Its parent company, American Classic Voyages, had over-extended itself and was in bankruptcy. Fired when our department closed the year before, I again lost a job when Delta Queen dropped its ad agency (for which I had gone to work, ironically, on the Delta Queen account).
But Steamboatin’ is a resiliant institution. Delta Queen hung on and continued operations as AMCV’s other cruise operations ceased completely. It was rescued, we thought, by Buffalo, N.Y.,-based Delaware North Companies.
Folks who knew and loved Steamboatin’ came back in droves to their beloved paddlewheelers, both to work and to cruise. But out-of-state, out-of-touch corporate wonks were again already at work. “Steamboatin’,” their marketing gurus said, was too “old-fashioned.” Nobody wanted to do that any more, they opined. They “knew.” “Focus groups” (few of whom had ever tried Steamboatin’) told them so.
In true corporate-cleansing style, DNC “experts” replaced experienced Steamboaters, systematically undoing the company’s more than 110-year-old reputation for top-notch customer service. Carefully selected, service-oriented crew members were replaced by anyone who staggered onto the Robin Street Wharf and could demonstrate a proficiency at breathing. When their “experts’” hair-brained ideas flopped, the blame was placed on long-time employees who “didn’t get it,” rather than on silly notions like “golf cruises” that didn’t interest passengers. (Fewer than 20 of the expensive packages were ever sold.)
Steamboatin’, it seemed, got a reprieve following Hurricane Katrina, when DNC sold the Delta Queen, Mississippi Queen and American Queen to Ambassadors International, which formed Majestic America Line out of The Delta Queen Steamboat Company and the American West Steamboat Company.
But soon Steamboatin’s traditions were again threatened. Seattle-based staff insisted the boats were “ships.” Sorry Navy types; this is one case where the ol’ adage “if it’s big enough to carry smaller vessels, it’s a ship” doesn’t work. Following American river tradition, if any vessel, from skiff to the mightiest of paddlewheelers, is built specifically for river navigation, it is a “boat.”
References to Steamboatin’ and paddlewheels in marketing materials was verboten. Staterooms got TVs and DVD players. The new owners apparently felt the ever-changing vista of riverside America passing by your stateroom window was uninteresting. The professional live music was reduced to a couple guys keeping pace with a pre-recorded soundtrack.
I know. I was again freelancing for the boats I love. Delaware North, for their grand finale, had fired almost all of their home port office staff in the wake of the hurricane. I have yet to actually receive written notification of my dismissal. (If you’re keeping track, it was the third time in my career I lost a Delta Queen-related job!)
Now Majestic America Line is in financial disarray. Rumors are rampant that this is the last season for America’s heartland steamboat fleet, especially the venerable 82-year-old Delta Queen. Its congressional exemption to the U.S. Safety of Life at Sea statutes expires soon, and without support from MAL, Congress hasn’t bothered to do much about renewing it.
I was in New Orleans last month, speaking at the National World War II Museum. Across the nearby Mississippi River, the once magnificent Mississippi Queen lies tied up at the Perry Street Wharf. She has been stripped, I was told by those who have been aboard her, of all of the grand accoutrement that had dazzled me that week in the early 1990s, including furnishings, chandeliers, artwork, carpeting and even her toilets.
But there is a brief glimmer of hope for our American Steamboatin’ heritage. Rumor has it that experienced Steamboaters who once ran the company in its heyday are interested in buying the American Queen and one or two of her Columbia River sisters. I’m not sure of their veracity, but want those rumors to be true so very badly. I don’t want to see Steamboatin’ die. There’s too much of me in it.

With all of these things we wanted to see, the first step was to make several copies of a calendar covering the dates of our trip and start penciling in itineraries. The “known” factors were easy: when and where we’d arrive and depart in Europe. I went through four copies until plans started to come together. German Rail’s Web site, http://www.bahn.de/international/view/en/index.shtml, is a fantastic planning tool. It includes thousands of train stations throughout Europe, so I could use it to plan train travel in other countries without having to open their respective rail services’ Web sites, too.

Obviously, a lot of what we hoped to see had to be omitted. Oh well, we’ll add it to the list for next time! (Once you start doing independent trips to Europe, it gets in your blood. There will always be a “next time”!)

One of the first things to go was a side trip to London. It was either that or Sweden, and Sweden is just so “fantastisk,” as the Swedes put it. (I know; I had a T-shirt that read, “Sverige är Fantastisk,” which means “Sweden is fantastic.”) Berchtesgaden was also off the itinerary. I’ve been there before, twice, and though I’d love to go back and explore on my own, having taken tours the last two times, it will have to wait, too. It was under consideration when it looked like my friend Clyde, also a World War II history buff, might be joining us for part of the three-week trip.

It was time to plug in the places that remained. There’s still wiggle room if we need to adjust our plans slightly. But as we plug in more “definites” — hotel reservations, visits to friends, and soon, train reservations — we’ll lose some of that flexibility. But that’s OK: the flexibilities are replaced with the reassurance of beds waiting in an assortment of friends’ homes, a chalet, a quiet Parisienne hotel, and aboard comfortable express trains hurtling through the night to another country.

Our itinerary is now pretty much set. We’ll begin in Darmstadt and visit Dieter and his family. Then we fly to Stockholm to see Curt and the Borgdéns. We’ll then take the X2000 to Copenhagen. It’s Swedish Rail’s impressive high-speed express train, which employs tilt technology to allow it to run on existing tracks. (Other high-speed expresses in Europe and Japan, for example, travel on their own special tracks to accommodate their high speed.)

We’ll only have an afternoon to poke around Copenhagen before taking a CityNightLine express to Munich. I love taking the night expresses. There’s something really fun about being lulled to sleep by the gentle sway of the wagon and the clickety-clack of the wheels on rails. CNL #483 is a great one: we board at 6:53 p.m. and don’t have to disembark until 8:57 the next morning. I’ve been on many overnighters from which we’ve had to disembark at 6 a.m. or even earlier! It’ll be nice to be able to sleep a little later.

We’ll have several days in Bavaria, using my friend Markus’ Munich apartment, or possibly that of my friend Tobi, as a headquarters. From there we’ll scoot down to Schwangau, the village across the field from Neuschwanstein, where we’ll stay in a pretty little chalet-style B&B. (I’m looking forward to that second B: nobody does breakfast quite like the Germans!) After another night in Munich, we’ll go south to Friedrichshafen on the Bodensee for our Zeppelin experience. We’ll have a nice, long day there, which is great as it’s an awfully pretty little town nestled up against the vast lake that borders Germany, Austria and Switzerland. The Zeppelin Museum, housed in the former harbor train station, a neat Bauhaus-style building, is fantastic.

Then another CityNightLine train awaits: we leave at 8:46 p.m. for Ulm, where we change to CNL #260 for Paris. It’ll be another good night’s sleep: we don’t arrive in Paree until 9:38 the next morning.

Another “supertrain” ride awaits: we’ll take the TGV, French Rail’s speed-record-setting express, to Nantes. There, our hosts Gerard and Marie Therese have promised to meet us and take us out to Noirmoutier, Crestview’s sister city on an island of the same name. We’ll spend several days there before returning via TGV to Paris, where we’ll enjoy an afternoon, night and the next morning.

Yet another snazzy train awaits. We’ll take the high-speed international Thalys express (also called “the Red Train” for its distinctive livery) from Paris to Cologne, then change to an InterCity train bound for Münster. I wish we had more time to explore Münster, as I had relatives who came from there, but our goal that day is the port town of Leer on the North Sea. Here a friend from Tulane, Ed Anderson, will be our host. Leer is about a five-minute drive from Holland, so we will spend some time over the border. This is a section of Germany (and Holland) I’ve never explored before, so everything will be new.

Our holiday will conclude with a couple days in Koblenz, visiting my relatives and catching up on the family news. If time permits, I hope to run downriver to the town of Remagen, where the famous bridge once stood. It was the Allies’ first crossing point over the Rhein toward the end of World War II. With luck the museum in one of the towers on the west bank will be open this time! (It was closed the last time I was there.)

And then, all too quickly, our holiday will be over and filled with great memories (we hope!), David and I will depart on our respective flights, his departing about 20 minutes before mine. But don’t fear; I’ll keep you well informed as our journey progresses, via further blog entries as well as video snippets that will be posted on the News Bulletin’s Web site once we’re in Europe.

Well my renewal was received in less than ten days! Then David Price, who’s joining me on my upcoming European adventure, got his new passport in less than ten days, too. I guess the State Department has got their act together.

Even before David’s passport arrived we started roughing out our itinerary. I had some ideas of what I wanted to see and do, but had to hold off on actual plans until I knew who was going with me. At one point it looked like Clyde, a buddy from Dallas, was coming along, though maybe just for part of the three-week trip. He always wanted to join on an exploration of German World War II sites, so maybe Berchtesgaden and Nuremburg would be on the itinerary.

In London right now, there’s an Ian Fleming exhibit at the Imperial War Museum that, as a staunch James Bond enthusiast, I’d really like to see. Perhaps London would be a stop. Crestview’s sister city, Noirmoutier, on an island off the French Atlantic coast, was under consideration, too. And so was Stockholm, my all-time favorite city in the world. Obviously, all of the above destinations couldn’t be squeezed into a three-week excursion without it deteriorating into an “If-It’s-Tuesday-This-Must-Be-Belgium” whirlwind mad dash.

When I did my first backpacking trip to Europe back in 1985 (that long ago? Wow!), I met three guys while in line at the Central Station in Stockholm. They had been in Europe about week, as had I. “What have you seen so far?” one asked me. I talked glowingly of Stockholm’s beautiful green spaces, the imperial treasury, the 17th-century warship “Wasa,” raised intact from its watery grave in Stockholm harbor, and leisurely nights sitting at a terrace café enjoying ice cream while watching the mid-summer sun make its lazy journey toward the horizon.

“What have you guys seen?” I asked them.

They rattled off an impressive list of cities and countries between their arrival in Amsterdam a week before. “But what have you seen?” I pressed.

They shuffled their feet in embarrassment. Finally one said, “Train stations, mostly.”

I didn’t want our trip to be like that. Most of our stops should be for a minimum of two or three nights, we agreed. In Munich, for example, we will use my friend Markus’ flat as a headquarters to go exploring into Bavaria. We’ll be in town for the tail end of Oktoberfest (which starts in September and ends in early Oktober). Also, the BMW Museum is newly refurbished and has reopened. And it’s been more than 30 years since I explored the endlessly fascinating Deutsches Museum. I know it’ll appeal to David, a computer engineer. Plus there’s just the pleasure of wandering around the Old Town, poking in shops, and having lunch at the sprawling Viktuelmarkt, the outdoor food market. No Munich visit would be complete if you didn’t see the noon or 5 p.m. Glockenspiel on the New Town Hall. (Insider’s hint: climb the tower of St. Peter’s Church across the Marienplatz for a great view of the parade of mechanical figures.)

The list of places we hoped to see grew longer. A couple weeks ago, three members of Crestview’s sister city committee visited the News Bulletin’s office armed with photo albums, picture books and an alluring video of Noirmoutier, our sister city. That did it. Their kindness and enthusiasm planted the island town firmly on our itinerary. I hope to meet city officials and convey greetings on behalf of our city officials. (My roommate, Leon, wondered that if I was to be an emissary of Mayor David Cadle and the city council, would I receive a tall silk hat and a sash?)

Later, watching the video, I saw an enchanting island of farms, salt flats, charming old streets, lovely beaches (I wonder if it’ll be warm enough for a dip in the Atlantic in early October?), and, my World War II senses perked up when I saw footage of old bunkers and gun emplacements. Within days of our meeting, incidentally, our new friends in the sister city committee had a host family organized for us, who would even be meeting our TGV train from Paris!

There were more places I wanted to see. Last year, when writing a “Border Crossings” travel column about the golden age of Zeppelin travel, I contacted the Zeppelin Company for information about the Zeppelin-NT, the newest generation of passenger airship. Ever since I first visited the NT in 1997 (and even got to sit in the passenger gondola while engineers installed instruments and equipment!), I have wanted to take a flight over the Bodensee (the vast lake, also called Lake Constance) over which Count Zeppelin first tested his rigid-frame airships in the late 1800s. It’s now on the itinerary!

Since childhood I have been fascinated by King Ludwig II’s fairytale castle, Neuschwanstein, in the foothills of the Bavarian Alps. I have always wanted to hike the public walking trails around the region, climbing up to the promontory from which you get that great head-on view of the castle you see on all the calendars and travel brochures. Alas, on previous visits we’ve always been too rushed to make the evening train back to Munich. Then when Leon and I were there in January 2006, a recent blizzard had blanketed the whole region with a gorgeous snowfall that unfortunately, closed most of the paths in the hills. Hopefully in fall they’ll be open!

As a special side treat, Clyde’s brother, for whom I helped plan a family holiday vacation in Germany several years ago, offered me a contact in the castle administration who has arranged a “behind-the-scenes” tour after hours! I am giddy, of course. Inside, Neuschwanstein is only a third complete. Bavarian government officials arrested the king and terminated his lavish construction projects, so his castle, which is across the valley and within sight of Hohenschwangau, the castle in which he grew up, was never finished. If all goes well, David and I will get to see the late-19th-century construction techniques that were employed to build the world-famous landmark. (And maybe even climb one of the towers!)

But there was still the matter of seeing family and friends. Cousins on my Dad’s side of the family live in a quiet residential section of Koblenz, the ancient Roman city built at the confluence of the Rhein and Mosel rivers. Cousin Ingrid injured her shoulder a couple years ago and is still receiving physical therapy to regain movement of her arm. Her sister Gisela has leg trouble, and Gisela’s husband Karl recent broke his shoulder. Their daughter Christel has been keeping me informed of their progress. It would be negligent not to visit them when I’d be so close. Not far away in Darmstadt, Dieter and Regina Heck and their great kids Martin and Sophie eagerly look forward to showing us their new home, having moved there two years ago from Munich. Besides, who could resist an invitation to see Frankenstein castle, which is close to Darmstadt?! (Mary W. Shelley was a guest there and was inspired to write her famous gothic horror story after her stay.)

Farther north, the Swedish Borgdén family and I have been close for many years, ever since Curt, while visiting the U.S. as a student, stayed in my Tulane University residence hall room for several days, then, after I finished the school year and went home, visited again in New Jersey. We have been great friends, and his wife Ann-Louise and their kids Martin (who will be away at university in Lund), Axel and Jonas are consummate hosts. Stockholm, though is a bit off the beaten path. But thanks to Europe’s low-fare budget airlines, we found a great flight from Frankfurt to Stockholm for about $136, including taxes and exchange fees. (I just got my credit card bill; that’s how I know!)

With all these options, how could we whittle it down to fit in our three-week trip? Watch for my next blog to find out!

Me.

When my roommate Leon, my usual traveling companion of late, realized he didn’t have enough annual leave this year from his job as an Eglin AFB data analyst, I started casting around for someone to join me.

Choosing a traveling companion for 21 days of adventure isn’t easy. Compatibility is a serious issue. I’ve seen friendships unravel after the first week or so of constant companionship. Expectations can vary, even among the best of friends. Somebody wants to plunge into Europe’s eons of civilization while the other wants to sample every beer brewed in every country. Pre-departure offers to poke through a few museums and gaze at dusty old masters in exchange for stumbling through every pub and Biergarten somehow just don’t work after the first few experiences.

Asking David to join me was easy. Though we haven’t seen each other in a few years (make that about seven, to be exact), we keep in touch via e-mail. But better still, our friendship goes back to our college days. David was there when I moved into my first apartment the day after I graduated. In fact, my electricity wasn’t even turned on yet, and in the swelter of a New Orleans May evening, he and I used metal rulers to scrape several layers of old wallpaper off my front room walls.

We lit a few candles to continue the chore until sunset, then sat around on the two folding chairs my parents had brought me and chatted late into the night. It was a bonding experience. I figured anyone who’d let me talk him into scraping wallpaper by candlelight would let me drag him around western Europe.

Our first priority, after purchasing plane tickets. I got mine in March from Priceline.com after extensive online shopping. I began at Farecompare.com, which allows you to see, side-by-side, the offers available on several travel Web sites such as Travelocity.com, Orbitz.com and others. A feature I really like is their fares forecast that comes up after you enter your departure and arrival cities.

Farecompare offers a wealth of comparison shopping information. Meanwhile, other windows are popping open with the information of the partner sites you checked when you started your search. As an example for this blog (since my actual flight info is at home and I’m at our comfortable News Bulletin office!), I entered an October 27 departure from Dallas/Fort Worth with a November 15 return. Several decent prices beginning at $781 roundtrip caught my eye.

But the fare posted by Ultimatefares.com really made me sit up. Only $578 they boasted, plus taxes and fees, of course, but hey, how much could they cost? Another $100 or $150, experience told me. That still beat the almost $800 the other sites offered. Yikes! I clicked it pronto, imagining all the things I’d buy with that savings.

Then came the final booking window, in which you discover those innocuous “plus taxes and fees” really pack a punch. In the case of the bargain $498 airfare, they were $443.98! The great fare that would have had you salivating almost doubled!

As for the other guys’ nearly $800 offer, those sites were up front with their offers: Taxes and “fees” were included. The $781 fare included fees of just $103.10. Kinda makes you wonder about Ultimatefares.com, doesn’t it? It certainly makes me pause, and would certainly make me not bothering even checking their Web site in the future.

Air travel today is complicated — and expensive — enough without a travel vendor pulling shady stunts with hidden “taxes and fees” that double the cost of their front page offer. Like I said, I bought mine from Priceline.com where after a bit of “negotiating” with “The Negotiator” (portrayed by a paunchy looking William Shatner), I got my ticket in March at around $735.

David got his online, but when he found a better deal within 24 hours, American Airlines refunded more than $200 of what he was about to pay, and he got a great deal, too.

In my next blog, I’ll invite you to look over my shoulder as I start planning our itinerary. Two stops are high on our list: Munich for Oktoberfest and a visit to Crestview’s sister city, Noirmoutier, France.

The writer pined for “a Target store, a nice mall, a larger theater and some nice restaurants like Olive Garden here in Crestview.”
Strangely, everything the writer equated with “nice” was a chain business. In her mind, our refreshing lack of cookie-cutter chain stores was mistaken lack of growth.

When I blew over here from New Orleans on the tailwinds of Hurricane Katrina, one of the things that endeared the Crestview area to me was precisely the absence of mall stores and and all those chains that each boast all the individuality of a slice of white bread.

Our wealth of homegrown shops and eateries are so much richer in character, value and variety than something punched out of a corporate marketing manual to assure each franchise has the bland sameness.

More interestingly, everything the letter writer wishes she had is already here:

• Target: It’s just a fancier Wal-Mart with virtually the same merchandise, only more expensive and with spiffier merchandising.

• A nice mall: I was shopping in Crestview’s mall recently for a machete to clear brush (I dare you find that in a Galleria!). In other stores I saw a budding beauty queen getting a fashionable gown, observed ladies buying the latest in beauty supplies, eyeballed a few antiques, then was overwhelmed by the selection of food places.
Our mall is called Downtown Crestview, where there is a greater variety of merchandise than a mall could boast, a bigger variety of cuisine than any “food court” ever offered, and the parking is closer to the shops than any mall’s acres of asphalt.

• A larger theater: OK, she has me there. I’m hooked on the Rave’s digital projection system and must admit I wouldn’t mind one closer to home.
But, the Main Street Fox Theatre’s owner just announced he’s about to start renovations on that classic movie house and is considering a digital projection system. It will also provide a venue for live community theatre, something you’ll never find at a mall cinema.
(Frankly, I’d much rather watch a film, especially an old classic, in an old movie house than a monsterplex.)

• Nice restaurants: If by “nice restaurants” the writer really meant “chain restaurants,” we have perfectly splendid Applebee’s, Ryan’s, Beef O’Brady’s, Cracker Barrel and Hooter’s. I have nothing at all against them. When you dine in one you are guaranteed your experience will be exactly the same as dining in the same brand anywhere else in the world.

But if she really means “fine-but-not-stuffy dining,” has she tried the Wild Olive, the Uptown Café or Mia’s?

Has she had hand-tossed New York pizza at the Hideaway? Did she ever gorge herself on Tuesday’s buffalo wings at Uncle Bill’s? Lumpia at Nellie’s? Beef bokkum at Song’s? The awesome chicken-fried steak at the Tropical Palm?  An overflowing taco salad (with a side of cinnamon crisps) at Taco Town? A Crestview roll at Bamboo Sushi? A dozen oysters at Ed’s? Barbecue from Possum Ridge? A blueberry fritter from Good Things?

If she had, or will, she wouldn’t be pining for pre-packaged corporate cuisine. I personally prefer our wonderful restaurants that tailor their food for the local palette, not menus selected for me by an out-of-state corporation’s marketing guru.

Someday Crestview will have a mall. It will be indistinguishable from every other American mall, with the same shops and the same vast, inconvenient parking lot. You’ll know at a glance that beneath its vast acreage, a verdant wood or field of gently waving wildflowers once grew.

People who, like that letter writer, equate the arrival of Starbucks with community “progress,” will be happy.

This relative newcomer, however, would like to bask in the personality, hospitality and uniqueness of Crestview’s homemade merchants just a while longer, thank you.