Most Dangerous European Countries for Drivers

If you’ve ever rented a car in Europe, you’ve may have wondered which countries are the most dangerous—and the safest—to drive in. Perhaps you surmised that, because of the high speeds possible on its Autobahn, Germany is the most dangerous. You would be wrong. According to a formula devised by Forbes.com that compares annual road deaths to total population, Germany is one of the Europe’s safest countries. There are 20 countries in Europe where more people per capita die on the highway each year. Germany’s yearly death rate of 61.8 per million population pales in comparison to Lithuania’s rate of 223, Latvia’s 177.4, and Estonia’s 151.7. Greece is the 4th most dangerous with a rate of 148.8, Poland is 5th at 137.4, Slovenia 6th with 131.3, Hungary is next at 129.3, followed by Cypress at 112.2 and the Czech Republic at 103.7. The most dangerous western country is Belgium at 101.7 followed by Spain (93.7), Italy (92.4), Portugal (91.7), Austria (88.3), Ireland (87.4), France (74.7), Germany (61.8), the U.K (57.4) and Switzerland (49.3). The safest western country is Holland at 44.5.

Poland’s 5th place ranking is not a surprise. Its decades-old, mostly two-lane roads are poorly marked and not built for today’s heavy truck traffic. Last month, on the four-hour main route from Breslau to Poznan that is entirely over winding narrow roads, we frequently witnessed impatient auto drivers pass long lines of trucks without sufficient clearance. Crashes were often averted only when vehicles in both lanes moved onto the road’s shoulders. Beware if you plan to drive “east.”

What a Swiss Pass Does that the Eurail Pass Does Not

Eurail passes are a staple of European travel, especially the two, three, four and five-country versions that have been introduced over the past few years. But if one of the countries on your Eurail Pass is Switzerland, don’t expect to get the same benefits traveling in that country that you will with a Swiss Pass. Here’s what you get with the Swiss Pass that you miss with any Eurail product (purchase either or both passes here):

• Family Card: allows free travel for children under 16 years accompanied by a parent
  
• Free travel on Swiss Postal Buses
• Free public transport in 35 cities
• Admission to hundreds of Swiss museums
• Glacier Express (Eurail doesn’t cover Brig-Disentis segment)
• Brig-Zermatt train to Matterhorn
• 50% discount on numerous mountain lifts

Subscribe here to our monthly newsletter, Gemütlichkeit, The Travel Letter for Germany, Austria & Switzerland, and visit our website, www.gemut.com, for more good European travel advice, as well as special Lufthansa consolidator rates, Travel Guard insurance, the lowest European car rental and rail pass prices, and discounted rates at more than 30,000 European hotels.

Flying to the Continent via London

Low airfares to London often tempt travelers to schedule European vacations through that city. They are also attracted by the prospect of a short visit to the city on their way both to and from the Continent. For those whose main purpose is to see London, it’s a good idea. But if you’re going through London just to save money, forget it. In November, to take advantage of a really good Business Class deal with Virgin Atlantic, we decided to fly to Heathrow, then take the Eurostar on to Brussels the same day as our arrival. On the return, also via rail from Brussels, we spent one night at a hotel near Heathrow. Here’s the London tab for two persons:

• Roundtrip on the Eurostar, London-Brussels: $400
• Roundtrip Heathrow to Paddington Station via Heathrow Express: $126
• Taxis between Paddington Station and St. Pancras’ Eurostar station: $40
• Hotel and dinner near Heathrow: $350

So the total cost for the London transfers was $916. Of course there would have been related expenses—notably the “last night” hotel—had we flown directly to and from a city on the Continent, but certainly not $916. Think twice about getting to Europe via London—at least the way we did it. Even if had we chosen to fly on one of the low-cost airlines such as Ryan or Easyjet, we likely would have had to transfer to another airport such as Stansted or Luton; not an inconsiderable cost given the strength of the British pound.

Subscribe here to our monthly newsletter, Gemütlichkeit, The Travel Letter for Germany, Austria & Switzerland, and visit our website, www.gemut.com, for more good European travel advice, as well as special Lufthansa consolidator rates, Travel Guard insurance, the lowest European car rental and rail pass prices, and discounted rates at more than 30,000 European hotels.

Euro-Beater Special: Bike Tours Direct

My friend Jim Johnson, who’s written many a story over the years for Gemütlichkeit, The Travel Letter for Germany, Austria & Switzerland and other travel publications, had a great idea that got him out of the writing business. A cyclist and a veteran of many trips through Europe, he observed that European bike tour companies were a lot cheaper than high-end American companies like Backroads and Europeds. But these small European outfits couldn’t afford individually to market in North America. That meant it was difficult for cyclists over here to book them—or even know of their existence. So about five years ago Jim headed for Europe where he offered to represent a handful of European tour companies here in the U.S. I’m sure it sounds easier than it was, but in a few months Jim had a substantial inventory of trips and a killer website where you could book online (of course, there was also a toll-free phone number that Jim frequently answered himself) and see all the details of each tour. Suddenly cycling through Europe became affordable. These days www.biketoursdirect.com is bigger and better than ever and offers an amazing list of tours. If Germany is your preferred destination you can choose from just under 60 different itineraries throughout the country. For France there are nearly 40; Italy about the same. In fact, there are literally hundreds of tours in virtually every western European country, and a even few in the east.

How much do you save? It’s hard to make an apples-to-apples comparison, but here’s an example: Jim’s Provence supplier offers a self-guided six-night tour in three-star hotels starting at 560 euros or about $818. The price includes breakfast, luggage transfer, bilingual services, and detailed route documentation. Half-board (dinner) is available for another 145 euros ($212). Backroads’ website offers a five-night guided Provence tour at four-star country inns starting at $3,000.

Jim Johnson’s BikeToursDirect definitely merits one of our first 2008 EBS (Euro-Beater Special) designations.

Gemütlichkeit to Focus on Euro-Beating Strategies in '08

With its February issue, Gemütlichkeit, The Travel Letter for Germany, Austria & Switzerland, begins its 22nd year of publication. The lead article will be on Bamberg, a city spared by war whose architectural treasures are the equal of any German town its size. As do all Gemütlichkeit destination reports, the piece will contain reviews of hotels and restaurants and plenty of how-to advice for getting the most out of a Bamberg visit.

Having spent many weeks in Europe during the last half of ’07, the editors and writers of Gemütlichkeit are fully aware of the impact the strong euro can have on the North American traveler. Thus, in 2008 the publication’s editorial emphasis will be on euro-beating strategies. In fact, this policy was kicked-off with the December 2007 issue which carried a story detailing how to visit Europe for two weeks in the off-season for less than $2000 per person, including airfare.

If you’re planning a European trip in ’08 or '09, I guarantee you’ll save much more than the $59 cost of a one-year subscription. Order online or phone 800-521-6722x3.

Cheap Business and First-Class Upgrades

Perhaps you’re like me in that the reward of being in Europe for a few days or weeks is no longer sufficient to justify being stuffed for eight to 10 hours into a chair that I wouldn’t be comfortable in at home for more than about 30 minutes. A few years ago I decided that if I couldn’t fly Business or First Class to Europe I wasn’t going. Of course, I won't pay the $9000-$12000 per person rack-rate Business Class fare from the West Coast, so every year it’s a scramble to find the best deal; whether it’s a straight purchase, an upgrade, the use of frequent flyer miles, or a combination thereof. In November I paid $1300 for Virgin Atlantic’s Premium Economy Class, RT London-San Francisco, which gave me the right to upgrade to their deservedly-praised (see my review) of Upper Class for 40,000 miles—which I transferred from my American Express Membership Rewards account. That got me as far as London, but getting from there to the continent is a story for another time.

I found out about the Virgin Atlantic deal from Matthew Bennett, publisher of First Class Flyer, a newsletter devoted entirely to strategies for getting to the front of the airplane for the lowest possible cost. In his December issue, for example, he alerted readers to Business Class fares from JFK to Stansted (London) for less than $2000. Here’s an example of his tips, this one on upgrading to business:

Buy 19,000 British Airways miles now (the yearly limit) and 6,000 in January and you’ll have enough for a Business Class upgrade from the US to London—at a cost of only $737.50! The upgrade is valid with fares as low as $686 round-trip, whereas a Business Class ticket costs $2,900 to $12,000.

And, finally, this on one of the new all-Business Class airlines:

While MAXjet launched new service from Los Angeles, it is often ignored by the major carriers, and will have little influence on fares in this market. Sign up for the airline’s special email alerts and you’ll be the first to know about fare sales that will likely start in the $998 range from LAX.

Right now “Mr. Upgrade” is offering a free trial issue, plus three special reports and you can sign up for his free email upgrade alerts.

Subscribe here to our own monthly newsletter, Gemütlichkeit, The Travel Letter for Germany, Austria & Switzerland, and visit our website, www.gemut.com, for more good European travel advice, as well as special Lufthansa consolidator rates, Travel Guard insurance, the lowest European car rental and rail pass prices, and discounted rates at more than 30,000 European hotels.

Rail Pass vs Rental Car: Why the Car May be Better in '08

In connection with my recent research trip to Europe, over the past four weeks I have rented four cars and taken perhaps a dozen rail trips. While I enjoy both means of travel, in these weak dollar times the car has advantages that must be considered by anyone planning to visit Europe in 2008. The best values in both accommodations and dining are outside the larger cities and a car provides far better access to them than does a rail pass. It also offers the traveler greater flexibility. For example, Michelin Red Guide in hand, the motorist can easily locate a nearby hotel in an acceptable price range and either phone ahead for a reservation or drive there directly. If the chosen accommodation is fully booked or unacceptable, it’s easy to find another, possibly in the same town or village, or at worst only a few kilometers down the road.

Because of their restricted mobility once disembarked from the train, rail travelers are almost forced to make advance reservations. For example, because of a last-minute change of plans we had to find a hotel in Brussels with less than 48 hours notice. Had we been traveling by car—and had a Michelin Red Guide for the Benelux countries—we could have found something in our price range outside the center at the last minute. But, traveling by rail we were loath to wait until our arrival at Brussels' Midi rail station to begin a hotel search. Fortunately, my laptop enabled me to book the Brussels Hilton for $129 at Hotwire.com, a great bargain, though breakfast was an additional 32 euros (about $47) per person—needless to say, we found a coffee shop.

Rather than restricting the traveler to higher-priced hotels near rail stations in larger cities, a rental car hugely broadens the choice of destinations and accommodations, and provides the traveler with far more flexibility.

Before you rent a car though, you many want to read our 12 tips for renting a car in Europe. If you're in the market for a rail pass you'll find the lowest prices at our website, www.gemut.com. Or, to speak to a live expert on European car, rail and air, call 800-521-6722.

European River Cruises: Book by 12/31 to Avoid Fuel Surcharge

Book a Uniworld European river cruise by December 31 to avoid the company's new fuel surcharge of $7.00 per person per night on all Europe cruises and $10 per person per night on cruises in Russia and the Ukraine. The charge, which applies to all 2008 bookings, will be waived if the booking is fully paid for by December 31. Book your Uniworld cruise through Gemütlichkeit, The Travel Letter for Germany, Austria & Switzerland and get a 5% discount. Call 800-521-6722.

Subscribe here to our monthly newsletter, Gemütlichkeit, The Travel Letter for Germany, Austria & Switzerland, and visit our website, www.gemut.com, for more good European travel advice, as well as special Lufthansa consolidator rates, Travel Guard insurance, the lowest European car rental and rail pass prices, and discounted rates at more than 30,000 European hotels.

European Hotels: The Breakfast Thing

As I’ve mentioned, we’ve been staying in a lot of chain hotels this trip: Marriott, Sofitel, Mercure, Hyatt, Sheraton, and last night the Hilton Brussels. The reason is they all have a large inventory of guestrooms which they discount on the Internet. This Hilton was booked at Hotwire.com for $129 or about 88 euros. Besides price, there are a few advantages such as good beds and multiple channels with English language TV. The main negatives are their total lack of charm and regional or local character. Once in the room, we might as well be in Portland or Miami. The other downside is these deals never include breakfast. I am a breakfast eater; nothing major, just some high-fiber cereal with yogurt and fresh fruit, a little OJ, a roll, butter, jam and coffee. However, if I want to eat breakfast this morning in the Hilton it’s gong to cost 25.75 euros ($38 or $76 for the two of us). That’s the price for the continental breakfast. For the complete spread, with eggs, sausage, etc., it’s 31.75 euros, or a little over $90 for two. To be fair, we’ve seen breakfasts of rolls, coffee and cereal offered in these chain hotels for as little as 11 euros per person, but the average is slightly more than 20 euros. So, most days we hit the streets looking for coffee shops that serve breakfast. In doing so, we’ve spent, on average, about 15 euros for two us.

Brussels’ Toscana 21: What Happened?

Little Toscana 21 was so good (see our November post) three weeks ago that on our one overnight in Brussels on the way back to the U.S., we just had to go again. Same friendly welcome, same family. We dropped by at 6pm and, as before, the place was locked but the “patron” came to the door and happily took our booking, offering the window table. We returned at 8pm and soon all six tables were full. From the short menu we simply reversed the dishes from our last visit: this time Liz had the carbonara and I had the penne ragu. From the moment we laid eyes on the plates set before us we knew things had changed. Missing was the shine that is on food that has just come from the pot; it was replaced by a dullness that signifies it has been on the plate for too long before being served, has been microwaved, or both. The bits of bacon in the carbonara had a telltale refrigerator storage taste. My penne’s ragu, instead of being tender pieces of long-cooked veal, was some sort of ground meat—possibly veal but in no way close to what we had three weeks ago. Instead of the pasta coming directly out of the hot water, and the sauce then immediately added from the pan in which it was cooked, the ingredients been blended at some previous time—and because of the dish’s temperature variations—had unquestionably been microwaved. The meal was certainly adequate and the service very pleasant and welcoming, but the food bore only a faint resemblance to what we had three weeks ago. We’ll not get back to Brussels for at least a couple of years. Somebody please check this place out for us.






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Rail Germany: Berlin to Cologne

A long trip via first-class ICE train is an experience every traveler to Germany should have. I cannot think of a less stressful, more comfortable way to get from one city to another. Take today’s trip from Berlin to Cologne. At 8am we breakfast on muesli, coffee, juice, and rolls in Hotel Art Nouveau’s quiet breakfast room. The skies over Berlin this morning are gray, matching a mood that is equal parts too-much wine at last night’s farewell dinner at Tavola Calda, and the fact that this morning we must leave Berlin and our friends, the Schlenzka’s, the capable and affable owners of Art Nouveau.

As door of the old cage lift opens onto the building’s ground floor, the taxi driver is already there, waiting to help transport luggage to the trunk of his car. In less than 20 minutes through morning Berlin traffic and we are in front of the massive glass façade of the city’s new atrium-like main rail station. It is 8:40am and our train is scheduled for a 9:08am—or so I think—departure from track 13, two levels up from the main floor. Somehow I got 9:08am in my head, but we soon discover that ICE 952 for Cologne doesn’t leave until 9:48am. We take the extra time to have a latte from Starbucks, purchase a couple of paperback novels at the Virgin bookstore, and then browse shops spread over the station’s several levels. Though it’s a busy Tuesday morning there are no lines and none of the stressful feelings that accompany air travel.

Up on track 13, a couple of hundred fellow travelers are strung out along the approximately 150 yard length of the platform awaiting the arrival of ICE 952. From the chart posted by the track we note that wagon 37 will stop at the “E” section of the platform, so that is where we station ourselves. When the train pulls to a stop, wagon 37 is right in front of us. We simply walk aboard and locate our two window seats which face each other with a table between. There are approximately 60 seats in our car, seven of which are occupied. There are hooks for coats and plenty of space on overhead shelves for our belongings.

As we glide through the countryside there is almost no noise and not much movement. Unlike Austrian trains, every seat has a clear view out a wide window. Liz reads her new book and I peck away at this blog post. At each end of the car, a digital display provides a variety of information about our trip, including, from time to time, our speed. Though neither of us has paid it much attention, we did see it was once over 200 kph (125 mph), a very routine number on ICE routes.

Around 1pm we flag down the train attendant to inquire if we can get a sandwich at our seats. No problem. In a few minutes he delivers pre-packaged—but fresh today—sandwiches and cold drinks. The cost is 13 euros. We could have had hot food—six Nürnberg sausages with potato salad on a real plate, for example, is 7.3 euros—and bier vom fass (draught beer) in a proper glass. We read, we doze, we talk, we eat, we watch the towns, villages and farms pass by. In this quiet, relaxed way we are in Cologne on time at 2:09pm.

Epilogue: Cologne was just a change stop for us, the ultimate destination was Brussels. And there things turned a big ugly. With more than 30 minutes between trains I availed myself of the Mr. Clean facilities (not as clean as they used to be by the way—at least at the Cologne rail station). When I emerged, Liz told me our train had been canceled. The announcement had come over the station’s public address system and mentioned an alternative train or trains. She thought she heard a “30 something” departure. At the time it was 28 minutes past the hour, so we had as many as 10 minutes or as few as two. One level below the tracks, in an area of shops hauling our gear with us, we began an unsystematic search for a posted departure schedule, an information counter, or a DB office. Nothing as far as the eye could see. The only signs pointed us toward stairways to the tracks. But which track? We had not a clue. After a couple of minutes it was decided that Liz would stay by the bags, enabling me to move fast in a search for train info. At the hall’s opposite end, near the main entrance I think, I found an electronic reader board listing a Thalys train to Paris with a stop in Brussels. Departure 15:13 (13 in accented English could have sounded like 30) from track 8. But up on the platform there wasn’t a single DB uniform to confirm the 15:13. So once again Liz stood guard while I went wandering. In a few minutes I spotted a red cap surrounde, presumably, by other victims of the ICE cancellation to Brussels. Turns out we were in the right spot. The Thalys to Paris arrived and left on time, with us aboard. Here, in first-class at least, one gets free drinks, snacks and they even offered to order a taxi for arriving Brussels passengers. I asked once about the taxi offer and was told “later.” Compare to Germany’s airy and open ICE cars, these Thalys trains are dark caves. It’s been at least five years since I’ve ridden a Thalys but from the condition of the interior there has been no refurbishment. By the way, “later” never came; we found our own taxi.

Driving a Rental Car into Poland

We have a mid-size, manual transmission, car booked for travel to Poland. Pickup location is the Berlin Avis station on Budpester Strasse. The red-coated agent cautions me to keep the paperwork on my person at all times—do not leave it in the car—and always park the car myself —no valet parking— in a secure lot. If the paperwork is stolen with the car, he claims, it will invalidate my credit card insurance and I will not be reimbursed for the loss. I will follow his advice while in Poland but I simply don’t believe the credit card assertions. I plan to check when I return to the U.S.

The car is a full-size Opel Signum with automatic transmission and GPS. Of course, the GPS has no maps for Poland, so it is of no use to us when we cross the border. This why I brought along my Garmin Nuvi 660 GPS with Europe maps. Except for a minor problem with the Nuvi’s power adaptor, or the Signum’s cigarette lighter/power source, the device works perfectly, directing us unerringly to our hotels in the heart of both Wroclaw and Poznan.

Somewhere on the outskirts of Berlin, about 15 minutes into the trip, we discover that our German friends, Christine and Gerd, are not carrying their passports. No problem, says Gerd, airily, a passport is not necessary for crossing traveling between E.U. countries. At the border station, however, we find out that he doesn’t even have a picture ID. In German, he negotiates with the guard who periodically leaves the side of our car to confer on the phone, presumably with a supervisor. After four or five of these back and forth conversations, Gerd tells us he must phone his office and direct them to fax a copy of his passport to this station. He will then pay a fee and be issued a temporary document that will allow travel in Poland for a few days. Finally, our friends disappear into an administrative building and, 30 minutes later, emerge with their temporary papers. The entire process takes about 45 minutes. The papers regarding the car, including the authorization to drive in Poland, were totally ignored by the border guards.

The first 50 kilometers of motorway into Poland toward Wroclaw give us a rough, noisy, jarring ride. After that, however, the surface smooths and soon we are at the Sofitel Hotel just off the city’s historic main square. After check-in I park in the hotel’s underground garage at a cost of 20 zl. Back in the car the next day, Sunday, between Wroclaw and Poland, the roadway is smooth but two lanes all the way. From October to February in Poland, headlights must be turned on even in daylight hours. It rains, dusk settles about 2:30pm and by 3:30pm it is dark. Trucks dictate the top speed of about 80 to 90 kilometers per hour and there are precious few opportunities to pass. Some very bold drivers simply bull their way into the center and drivers on both sides of the road move to the shoulder to avert head-on collisions. Though the Nuvi’s guidance is flawless, the last 20 minutes over unmarked streets in heavy rain, facing an unbroken stream of headlights from the opposite lane, is difficult. There is much construction and the uneven roadway, which curves this way and that, is marked only by red and white-stripped pylons. It is not always clear which are the correct pylons. In such conditions, to have found our destination, the Hotel Mercure, without the GPS—even with a detailed city map—would have been a near-impossible trial and error process.

The next day in the sunlight, and with the GPS of course, we easily are routed out of town to the high speed toll motorway (11 zl) that runs west for about 60 kilometers before giving way to the meandering two-lane highway that leads to the German border. The traffic is mainly trucks, and they are exceptionally cooperative in moving to the right when passing opportunities are presented to faster vehicles. Perhaps 10 km from the border, the road widens to two lanes in each direction and the entire, right-hand, westbound lane becomes a parking lot for hundreds of trucks waiting their turn to cross into Germany. The wait we are told is often as much as 10 hours. We, however, fly through and are soon back on the speedy, smooth Autobahns of Germany.

A final thought on rental car security in Poland: Both hotels provided secure parking for the equivalent of $10 to $15. The Mercure’s lot was outdoors but fenced and guarded 24 hours. The Sofitel’s was underground. Once when we stopped at a roadside restaurant for lunch, a gate magically swung open to allow entrance to an inner parking lot overseen by a manned watchtower. When it came time to leave, the gate again swung open, controlled no doubt from the tower. There was no cost to park in the secure space. Since rental companies began allowing their cars into eastern countries, they have asked higher prices for such travel and restricted the cars as to make and model. Of course, no Mercedes, BMWs, or Audis allowed, but Fords, Opels, Seats, and Skodas, have been OK. With the number of high-end cars now driven by Poles, seeing the cars of Mercedes, BMW, and Audi on Polish highways is no longer a rarity. Perhaps cars from the west will lose their appeal for thieves and the rental companies will relax their rules.




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Night in Old Vienna, Part II

Back outside after our strange experience with Sweater and Little Voice (see Night in Old Vienna, Part I), we were still in need of food. Streets stretched far into the darkness with few lights to beckon. At a tram shelter we decided to board the first train out of the neighborhood. While we waited, night people peered at us from the shadows of doorways. A lone car, a taxi, sped past. Instinctively I whistled and yelled. The Mercedes screeched to a stop 100 meters away. We ran.

Smutny, on Elisabeth Strasse, we knew would be open. In less than 10 minutes there we were, ensconced at a good table in the front room by the window. Sixty seconds after that we were sipping half-liters of Budvar, the great Czech beer. Little has changed in the 25 years since we first came to Smutny—the green tile, the gaudy light fixtures, the fascinating mix of customers from all social levels. Known as a favorite of orchestra members from the nearby Staatsoper, it is just a Beisl that serves good beer and the plain food of Vienna. Schnitzel and venison goulash preceded by mixed salads were our choices. We consumed all with a hearty appetite and capped it with a shared dessert of vanilla eis mit schokolade. Around the corner and across the Ring, Norma was playing at the Staatsoper, and around 11pm Opera-goers started to drift in. Not the fur and cape crowd, but the folks from high in the upper balcony, the bookish, tweedy types. Later, we walked by the little outdoor food kiosk opposite the opera house that attracts the real fans, those willing to stand at the back of the opera house for an entire three and a half-hour performance and then, again standing up, take their après-opera nourishment in the weather. On this cold night in December there wasn't even standing room in a place that is nothing but standing room.

As we walked the Kärntnerstrasse and the Graben, spectacularly strung for the season with massive “chandeliers” of lights (see photo), we decided the food at Smutny has slipped a bit. I love the feel of the place; the people-watching is great, but for dinner, only in a pinch.

Notes on a Vienna visit:

• Breakfast at these Marriotts we seem to be frequenting these days is expensive, 15 to 23 euros ($40 to $69 for two persons). So each morning it was seven minutes on bus #71 to the stop just prior to Karlsplatz, and from there on foot to Café Schwarzenberg, where the basic Früstuck of coffer or tea, croissant, roll, butter, and jam is 5.60 euro. A Weiner Früstuck, which includes a boiled egg, is 6.50 euros. Freshly-squeezed orange juice is 3.80 euros. The meal is served by a waiter in a tux and the coffee and tea comes elegantly on a tray. More good people watching and you can sit for as long as you like.

• The Dorotheum, a high-end auction house that sells collectibles, including some near museum-quality pictures, furniture, jewelry, and artifacts, is a nice way to spend a bad-weather afternoon. Check coats on the ground floor and browse until your feet call a halt. Have lunch, a drink or snack at the bright café on the top floor. You don’t have to wait for an auction, you can buy displayed merchandise at the marked price. Men's like-new Movado watches seemed a good deal to me. Framed, original paintings fall into a 2000 to 20,000 euro price range. In the room that houses autographs and memorabilia, I watched as a man sitting at library table, under the sharp of a Dorotheum employee, minutely examined yellowed photos of the composer Richard Strauss. When finished, he carefully returned them to their storage envelopes. In a locked case, a photo of Marlene Dietrich, with what appeared to be her signature, carried a price tag of 40 euros.

• As many times as we've been to Vienna, it’s elegance and sheer beauty is always a surprise. Walking around the town—our main activity—we are reminded again and again why we come to Europe.

• At this time of year, in the more fashionable shopping areas of both Munich and Vienna, furs are still very much in vogue. They are worn on the street and sold in modish shops whose doors seem open to all, no security guards in sight. On the other hand, Germany particularly, seems very “green,” and conscious of the environment; much bio-this and bio-that. The animal rights movement doesn’t seem to have made as much progress.

• The Leopold Museum in the MuseumsQuartier has the largest permanent collection of the early 20th century Austrian artist, Egon Schiele. I especially like his pictures of Cesky Krumlov. In addition, for the next few months, the museum is showing the remarkable work of Christop Lingg, who traveled across much of Eastern Europe—Croatia, Romania, Kazakstan, Czech Republic, East Germany, China, Mongolia, and other countries—photographing ruined and abandoned factories and industrial installations. The images reminded me of the millions of poor souls whose lifetimes were spent in these desperate confines without a shred of hope for anything better.

Quickie from Vienna

We're on the run but have two restaurants in Vienna to tell you about in coming posts, one old favorite that has slipped but another that serves wonderful old-time Viennese food at amazingly low prices. It's one of the finds of the last few years and gets our new EBS (Euro-beater special) rating. Its the Gasthaus Ubl near the Flomarkt. Details later.
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Prague: Picking Restaurants Based on “Curb Appeal”

Choosing restaurants by peeking in windows and reading posted menus is not an exact science. We proved that last night. Our “stroll and select” method yielded the worst food I’ve ever been served in a restaurant. Arriving in Prague by train in mid-afternoon we immediately hit the streets after check-in at the Marriott. As always, when we walk we keep an eye out for good restaurants for that night’s dinner. Good signs are lots of customers (especially local customers), and the appearance of authenticity as to type (if a restaurant that serves Italian food doesn’t look the part, the food probably won’t taste the part either; a German gasthof should look like a German gasthof). The menu posted outside also gives clues. A list of daily specials is good. A long complex menu is bad; how can they keep that many fresh ingredients? For some reason, men waiters seems also to indicate good food. Hand lettered or chalked signboards placed outdoors touting a long list of specials are sometimes, but not always, a negative indicator. A proliferation of such outdoor signs almost always means ordinary food. And never choose a restaurant that doesn’t smell right. But no matter how good your sniffer and your instincts, it’s never a sure thing. The owners can do everything right when it comes ambience, décor, and menu, and then hire an incompetent cook. And, of course, the reverse is true; unlikely-looking places sometimes have great food.

In our four hours of wandering Prague’s streets we passed hundreds of restaurants. We completely disregarded the really touristy ones on main squares, as well as expensive, fancy ones. Of the rest, perhaps 20 caught our eye enough to be considered. We zeroed in on three. What we were looking for was good plain Czech food, well prepared. From the outside, Svejk, on Siroka 20, seemed authentic and was crowded with what appeared to be locals. It was brightly lit on a side street, had large, high windows, and looked like it had been there a long time; perhaps a neighborhood favorite for decades.

I crave vegetables and leafy greens so I almost always start with a salad. The small “Balkan” salad ($6.50) at Svejk was chopped green peppers, cucumbers, and tomatoes topped with a feta-like cheese in a watery dressing. Not an impressive start, though the vegetables were crunchy and seemed fresh enough. But, since salad is not what this part of the world does best, I wasn’t too worried. Then came the plate with the duck leg, the white and red cabbage, and the dumplings ($14). The duck was stiff, gray and dry. With an ordinary table knife I couldn’t cut into it. That’s right, too tough to cut with a knife. For some reason, as I struggled with it, the words “desiccated” and “autopsy” occurred to me. It was hard to imagine that this lump of hard, dead bird flesh was meant to be eaten—and paid for. Had the kitchen found an abandoned duck leg in a far corner of the cold box, heated and served it? My fork was able to penetrate the skin to a depth of about a quarter of an inch, allowing a few dry, tough strands to be twisted out. The cabbage was thick, gooey and vinegary, the dumplings rubbery and tasteless. Yuck. In less than two minutes I came to the terrible realization that I could not eat anything on the plate. I’ve choked down food that wasn’t very appetizing and left dishes partly uneaten, but never before in a restaurant have I been unable to eat any of the food served me. At the same time, Liz was having trouble with her barely edible goulash and potato pancakes. I considered telling the waiter the food was unacceptable, but what would that have accomplished? Nothing. There would have been an offer to provide alternative dishes, but it would have been more of the same. We’d seen enough. It was time to get out of Svejk and go someplace else. Or at least find a sausage from a stand on the street. We put on our coats, I found the owner (manager?) and told him I wasn’t feeling well and that, regrettably, we had to leave. He seemed flustered but quickly figured the bill. We paid $35 and left. Back at the Marriott we split a club sandwich at the bar ($13).

A Night in Old Vienna

If you book Marriott’s Renaissance Penta, make sure it’s a really good price because the hotel is in the boondocks, southwest of the Ring, a 30-minute walk or 5 to 6-minute bus ride from the center. Our Innsbruck train problems (see last post) delayed our arrival at Vienna’s Westbahnhof until 8:30pm and we didn’t get to the hotel until 9pm. But as our taxi driver weaves his way expertly through a maze of wet, dimly-lit streets, past the dark outlines of hulking buildings, I am taken back to the post-war days of Harry Lime. In the background, a haunting zither plinks away at The Third Man Theme. Weariness and hunger are forgotten. Only five minutes in town and my mind whirls with the history of a city that is infatuated with its own past. We whiz past the massive, majestic Staatsoper. Pavarotti is gone, von Karajan is no more, but tonight it's another full house. Even at this distance we can see the great, flood-lit spire of St. Stephens piercing the sky, impressive even with scaffolding.

After check-in at the hotel we throw our gear in the room and set off into this shaky neighborhood’s remote, dark streets looking for dinner; a friendly beisl with home-cooked food we hope. Guided by lighted “Gösser Bier” and “Ottakring Bier” signs we peer into a couple of seedy candidates but reject them; no customers. We walk on, and as we do there’s a familiar ring to some of the street names.

Here I must pause to provide a little history. About 15 years ago, a search for Gypsy music took us to a Hungarian restaurant in this same, rather poor, Vienna neighborhood. As it turned out there was no music, we were misinformed. The night being warm, we headed back to the old town on foot. From the open door of a decrepit little bar on Rennweg came the sound of music. Venturing within, we found a clientele one might charitably describe as “working class” (later in the evening a fight broke out). But at the Stammtisch, strapped to an accordion, a pudgy little man's sweet tenor voice filled this small cave of a restaurant. Grabbing a couple of seats, we ordered a beer and settled in for the duration as Walter Meda sang Wienermusik —Strauss, Lehar, Lanner, et al—the songs of old Vienna that, even if you don’t know the words, may have you blinking away a tear or two; especially along about the second or third beer. (I got hooked on this music listening to a pair of weekend San Francisco radio shows hosted by the longtime Bay Area broadcast personality, Doug Pledger: Pledger Plays the Classics and Pledger at the Opera.) After a couple of hours, we were invited to join Walter and the rest of the Stammtisch regulars. Nobody spoke English except one grizzled denizen of the streets who had been a prisoner of war in Georgia. Fried to a crisp on tumblers of white wine, the old guy’s total repertoire consisted of eight or 10 American slang phrases from the ‘40s, which he used on us as conversation starters. Language, though, was unnecessary; all at the table understood we were there because of a shared love for the music. Who knows what direction the evening might have taken had we been able to communicate beyond gestures and sing-alongs. This way was pure, just Walter’s songs, no chance to discuss politics or religion. Liz and I stood the table to several rounds—my recollection is that price of drinks was measured in pennies, not dollars—and stayed until closing. We had the best intentions to return, but Walter only sang one day a week, and we never seemed to be in Vienna on that day. In the years since then, I have often wondered about the little beisl and especially about Walter Meda.

Let’s now go back now to Saturday night, December 1, 2007, 9:30pm, and the food search—though I’m going to disappoint those waiting for a happy ending; there isn’t one. The dialogue is Liz and me:

“Isn’t this the neighborhood…?”

“Yeah, I think so.” She doesn’t have to mention names or places, I know what she’s referring to. We are in front of a shabby restaurant/bar with a crude sign that reads “Heuriger.”

“Isn’t this the...???”

“Could be.”

In fact, it is the place of our memorable night with Walter Meda. As we enter, we see on a chalkboard scrawled, “Musik Donnerstag” (Music Thursday). Inside, the little Heuriger on Rennweg is shabbier, darker, and smaller than I remember, and this time the old Wienermusik comes from speakers somewhere. It is clear that nothing has changed in the 15 years; not even a new chair or table, no paint, nothing. Behind the bar a tall, distinguished 60-ish man wearing a sleeveless sweater over a clean dress shirt, offers a friendly “Grüss Gott.” There is only one patron, a tiny, toothless, old woman at the Stammtisch who noisily cackles at us. She is very, very loud, apparently very, very drunk, and we politely ignore her. Sweater notes the exchange and rolls his eyes. We are looking for something to eat and this isn’t it; except for the woman, Sweater is obviously alone. We decide, however, to have a beer. With some misgivings we take a seat from where we can see Sweater and the bar but only part of the Stammtisch and nothing of its loud occupant. Did I say loud? We hadn’t heard anything yet. As Sweater approaches to take our order the woman lets loose, at thunderous volume, a combination of shouting and singing, “Jawohl, die besten lokale, die besten lokale, jawohl.” The strength of the voice coming from such a tiny woman, five-feet tall or perhaps a bit less, is amazing. Despite repeated entreaties from Sweater, who we know by now from looking at pictures on the walls, is the owner, she launches one of her arias about every two minutes—at ear-splitting volume. “Jawohl, die besten local” and a couple of other words we don't get. Sometimes she gives the “Jawhol” a melodic, multi-syllabic treatment, trilling up and down the scale to demonstrate that indeed she has, or had, a singing voice to be reckoned with. All this at excruciating decibels. She’s also a bit ornery. Once, when Sweater ducks into the back room for a couple of minutes, she pitches the entire contents of her beer (or wine) mug onto the floor. Finally, three or four new customers straggle in and stand drinking by the low bar, and exchanging pleasantries with Sweater. Every few minutes, Little Voice cuts loose and each time she does, Sweater motions her to tone it down and then apologizes again to his customers who ignore her. After about 30 minutes, in preparation for departure as it turns out, she gets up and gives a few euros to Sweater. We can see that the seat of her dress is wet, she has either been sitting in spilled drink or...? Sweater kisses her on both cheeks and she leaves after one final “besten locale” rendition. He has shown remarkable restraint.

When it’s our turn to go I tell Sweater I like his music (I’m referring to the canned stuff we’re hearing). He shrugs his shoulders and says, ”Wienermusik.” In my limited, crude German, accompanied by gestures miming an accordion, I inquire about Walter Meda. At first he says, “Donnerstag, musik ist Donnerstag.” But suddenly he realizes what I’ve asked and puts both hands to one cheek, closes his eyes, and tilts his head to one side. “Todt?,” I ask. “Yeah, todt,” he says. But I can see that Sweater doesn’t care that we care. He’s playing out the string here. Maybe, though, he wishes as we do that Walter could come back just one more time and bring some light and cheer — and Wienernusik— to his crummy little joint.

Night in Old Vienna isn’t over. Stay tuned because in the next post we find food.

Garmisch to Vienna: A Missed Rail Connection

Today Europe’s great rail system let us down. In another way, however, it also proved its greatness. With our rail passes we wanted to go from Garmisch-Partenkirchen to Vienna. The sharp DB reservationist at the GAP rail station printed two identical itineraries: one departing at 10:04 and another 12:04. Both required an eight-minute change in Innsbruck. Not a problem. Being slugabeds we chose the later time. The scenic, 78-minute GAP to Innsbruck route is a new one for us, and we enjoyed the spectacular views high above the Inn river valley. It was a great ride as long as it lasted. At the next-to-last-stop, Innsbruck Hötting, the train emptied. Seemed strange so we checked with the conductor, who told us the final potion of the journey would be by bus. “Fifty meters,” he said and pointed down an alleyway. Of course, our eight-minute change time was soon blown. By the time we had caught a jam-packed city bus (the “R” line) and arrived at the main rail station, our 13:30 train to Vienna was 20 minutes down the track. Fortunately, this is Europe and not America’s West Coast where we’d have had to wait until the next day. A friendly sort at the station’s service center gave us a free seat reservation for the 15:30 to Vienna. So, we asked, what happened in Garmisch, aren’t they aware of this problem? Obviously their computerized reservation system isn’t. “Ahhhh, zuh track is broken, ziss iss a problem we haff for zix veeks,” he said with a wave of the hand. Hmm, we still don’t know. Whoever is at fault, within the next few months anyone planning a connection in Innsbruck from GAP, should find out if the train goes all the way to the main station.

We had a bite to eat and spent the last 45 minutes before departure in Austrian Rail’s first-class lounge (first-class Eurailpass holders are welcome there in the final hour before boarding).



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Lindau Report: Hotel Helvetia Coverup

Here’s why I’m not happy with the Hotel Helvetia in Lindau. To begin with, when I called two hours prior to arrival by car to inquire about room availability and make a reservation, the woman at reception (the same one who later checked us in) failed to reveal the VERY important fact that the hotel’s lift is out of service—and will be for about another week—and we would have to hike up and down four long, steep flights of stairs. Since we planned to eat breakfast and dinner, and since Internet service (a WiFi t-Mobile ripoff of about $30 per 24-hour period) is available only in the restaurant and reception area, we trod those stairs numerous times in our 18-hour stay.

Second, the unsolicited pledge of a “lake view room” was making a silk purse out of a sow’s ear; the bottom of the small dormer window of room 318 is nearly five-feet high and looks directly at the building next door. Technically, assuming one is at least about five-seven, the water CAN be seen but the human neck is not built to remain in such a twisted position for more than a few seconds. For most people, any posture less than standing tiptoe reduces the window to a mere light source.

The final omission has to do with ongoing construction. The cacaphony started at 7:30, a little early for my jetlagged state. Besides that, the walls seem awfully thin and we heard every footstep and every voice from the hallway.

Do you want more? Sure you do. The bathroom, though bright and recently refurbished was tiny. The ceiling in 318 slants, and at my side of he bed if I extended to my full, magisterial five-11 stature, I banged my head; something I did twice. And this is another room where the small TV is located far from the only comfortable viewing area…the bed.

To sum up, we had a bad experience at a pretty good hotel. We’ve stayed there before and been very satisfied. The hotel is right on the water, the bar and dining room have fine views of the lake, and the rooms are well-maintained. But management has a responsibility to tell prospective clients about the stair climbing business; volunteering the carry up the luggage isn’t good enough. And I guess to get a better room we need to spend more than 150 euros—which is what Number 318 costs in the off-season.


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Hotel Zugspite’s Restaurant Joseph Naus Stub’n is a Big Winner

Garmisch-Partenkirchen, Germany—We planned last night— not well, as it turned out — to make yet another pilgrimage to the long tables at Gasthof Fraundorfer. It is about 80 percent of the reason we are in town. Had we checked their website or the Michelin Red Guide we would have discovered the Fraundorfer closes each year at this time for a couple of weeks. Just as I received this distressing news via my mobile phone, we happened to be walking past the Zugspitze Hotel and Liz made the off-hand remark that she had heard good things about its restaurant, Joseph Naus-Stub’n. A quick, hard right turn brought us immediately to the hotel’s reception desk where an agreeable woman booked us a table at 8pm. Some nine hours later we were on time, quickly relieved of coats, given a warm welcome and a choice of three tables. The place was less than half full, mostly with hearty-looking, well-dressed middle-aged couples. But it would soon fill up with a more hip, under-50, food and wine-savvy crowd; something I took as a positive sign. (BTW, I also think restaurants, such as Joseph Naus-Stub’n, whose washrooms eschew hand drying machines and paper towels for cloth hand towels are trying very hard to make me think well of them.)

The cozy room, approximately half of it raised about three steps, can accommodate perhaps 30 or 40, and is a nice mix of traditional, farm-style Bavarian, and sleek modern décor. The ceiling is blonde, carved wood, but lighting fixtures and the stylish leather banquette’s are very 21st century. The service was friendly, quick, and knowledgeable throughout, though I would have preferred the German menu, as translations often bring surprises. In this case, a “corn” salad with smoked bacon, turned out to be “lambs ears” lettuce (Nüssli) in a tangy dressing sprinkled liberally with crunchy bits of bacon—which were indeed smoky—but there was not a kernel of corn in sight. The star of the evening, by a wide margin, was strips of exquisitely tender and flavorful calf’s liver in a reduction of pan juices. You may recall from an earlier post that the night before our departure from the U.S., we praised the liver at San Francisco’s famed Tadich Grill. What we had then, however, is Friday night high school football compared to the Super Bowl. Though it’s scarce in the U.S., well-prepared, top-flight liver surpasses the finest beef filet, at least in my view.

Very good, too, though not in the same “Oh, my God” league as the liver, was Piccata Milanese; four thin rounds of fine veal fried gently and quickly in an egg batter, served over decent tagliatelle, and daubs of a light tomato puree. The soggy crust gets a small quibble.

An after-dinner glass of a decent Sauterne at only 4.40 euros was too good a deal to pass up, and paired well with the light dessert, a small kugel of vanilla ice cream in a puddle of hot espresso. The bill for two, including two beers and four glasses or wine, 81 euros, a bargain.

Joseph Naus Stuben, Klammstrasse 19, Garmisch-Partenkirchen, tel. +49/08821/901333, info@hotel-zugspitze.de,www.hotel-zugspitze.de


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