Tales and Travel

Grimentz: Geraniums galore and more

And the winner is — Yvonne Rouvinet. The competition: Geraniums.

Grimentz, a tiny Swiss hamlet high in the Anniviers Valley in southern Switzerland, is the Shangri-la of geraniums. The fiery red blossoms are the village claim to fame – brimming from boxes on houses, apartments, hotels, shops. Tourists clog narrow cobblestone lanes with their cell phone cameras.

Yvonne Rouvinet and her prize-winning geraniums.

Every August the village sponsors a geranium contest. This year there were over 170 entries in three categories: apartments, businesses and chalets. Rouvinet took top honors in the apartment category, beating out 130 other competitors.

Grimentz, a quintessential Swiss village, was my destination for a solo mountain break. Husband Bob stayed home with his daughter who was visiting. I miss the Swiss Alps where Bob and I had so many amazing adventures. We biked, with panniers, six of the country’s nine national bike routes. We hiked, often spending nights in gemütlich mountain lodges and huts. We skied its challenging slopes. I enjoyed several terrific press trips to different parts of the country. Those were the days. We were younger and very fit.

The Grimentz-Sorebois cable car ascends to 2,700 meters.

At times it was all too nostalgic. I could not hold back the tears when I saw cyclists loading their bikes on the trains. How many times had we done the very same thing? I hate growing old. I still yearn to soar down black runs (red would do), hike to high peaks, bike those three remaining Swiss bike routes. Merde!

Reality really set in when I set out on a hike which the guy in the tourist office recommended as “flat and easy” – supposedly an hour and half trek to the Hotel Weisshorn. I rode the funicular from St. Luc to the start of the trail. I had a backpack, but unfortunately no hiking poles. The trail was stoney. From the onset, there were ups and downs, not steep, but not my idea of flat. I progressed slowly, stopping to take photos. This was the Planets Trail with markers for the various planets along the way. After about 45 minutes I reached a large clearing where an imposing planet-like structure stood at the edge of the mountain. A woman sat on a bench underneath. I approached and asked her about it.

“Saturn,” she answered. I told her I was on the way to the Hotel Weisshorn. “Oh, it’s up there,” she said, pointing to a distant building atop a mountain. No way. This was not a “flat, easy hike.” I was devastated. I was already tired and my knees hurt.

Marie Claire is from Belgium and has been coming to nearby Zinal every year for many, many years, this time with a son. Her husband died in 2006. She hiked to the hotel two years ago, but intended to take a pass this year and head back down. Her son had charged ahead. She invited me to join her for the descent. She saved me, lending me one of her hiking poles.

Flat? How naive was I? Nothing can be flat in the Swiss Alps.

We talked about our old and broken bodies. She has two knee replacements. I have one. We both have hip tendinitis. I have a decaying back. Marie Claire was also an inspiration, very positive about everything. “You have to keep moving.”

I failed at the Weisshorn hike, but certainly I could master the hike around Lake Moiry. Clement Vianin, a Grimentz native and the manager of the charming Hotel Meleze where I stayed, suggested I take the bus to the Moiry glacier, then hike the trail around the lake to the dam and bus stop at the other end. Bravo. I did it.

Moiry Glacier. Climate change has taken its toll.

Like all mountain glaciers, this one has suffered from climate change and has receded significantly.

The lake is a marvel of intense, vibrant turquoise. Minerals from the glacier’s melting ice give the lake its gorgeous hue.

I relished hiking around the lake at a snail’s pace, stopping for lots of photos. I even tried macro on some wildflowers. This is the Switzerland I love.

I was in heaven the first night when I entered the cozy, woodsy restaurant of the Hotel Meleze permeated with the aromas of Switzerland – fondue and raclette. I ordered one of my favorites, the deluxe version of Croute au Fromage, bread topped with ham, Gruyere and an egg, baked so the cheese melts and the egg cooks. This called for several glasses of Fendant (Swiss white wine). During my visit I indulged in other Swiss favorites, Rosti, grated potatoes with any melange of other ingredients. I chose one with lots of melted cheese and an

egg. I had another cheese bombshell, a Risotto speciality at the Becs de Bosson restaurant. Parmesan is pounded smooth in a big bowl as you watch. Grappa is added, then the hot rice. That was my Swiss cheese farewell. I savored it all, but by then I had had enough cheese and was ready for a return to fish from the Med.

Back to those geraniums. I plant them every summer, but mine never looked like those in Grimentz. “It’s the climate,” Rouvinet said. “Not too hot. That is not good.” She also pointed out that the old dark wood of the village buildings “gives a good effect” to the geraniums. Many of the ancient houses date from the 13th to the 15^thcentury.

The villagers use a special fertilizer for geraniums. They caution against over-watering. Dead-heading the faded blossoms is also critical. Many chalets and apartments in Grimentz are not occupied year round. Thirty village volunteers visit unoccupied residences to care for the flowers.

Wooden houses were built upon a base of stone where grain was stored. Wine now replaces grain .

Grimentz is in the French speaking part of Valais, a bi-lingual canton in Switzerland. The town, elevation 1,570 meters, is a ski resort as well as a geranium Mecca. It has just 450 permanent residents, but the number skyrockets to as many as 4,000 in winter when skiers arrive. Summer and geraniums bring almost that number, but many just come for the day to admire red blossoms and take photos.

Rouvinet’s prize? Not a bottle of champagne. Not a bottle of Fendant, but a bottle of fertilizer and a coupon to buy geraniums next year.

Scroll down for more photos.

Road to the Moiry Dam and glacier at right.

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Ship Ahoy Norway

fullsizeoutput_1ac0 What a jolt. Icy water was poured down my back. Ah! Ouch! And I volunteered for this? I was on board the MS Nordlys with some 300 other passengers cruising the Norwegian coast. This was our baptism, a rite of passage for crossing the Arctic Circle. It was a chilling experience, but fun with lots of laughs, shrieks and photos. Participation was not obligatory. Many, including husband Bob, passed on the baptism.

The Nordlys (northern lights) is part of the Hurtigruten fleet. “Hurtigruten is not just a cruise ship. It is a unique hybrid, a cruise ship and a ferry,” said David Lam, a member of the expedition team on the MS Nordlys. “It’s a ferry with nice facilities.”

The ship was our home for 11 days as we embarked on a unique voyage exploring the stunning coast of Norway. Our cruise began and ended in Bergen, sailing all the way to Kirkenes on the Russian border and back. Passengers representing seven different nationalities were onboard during our cruise. Many, like us, were senior citizens.

Days on ship begin with announcements in four languages (Norwegian, English, German and French) about 8:30 am. No sleeping in. If you want breakfast, it is time to get up. The ample buffet of all the usual breakfast goodies, including different kinds of smoked fish, ends at 10 a.m.

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Days are filled with interesting lectures, relaxing in comfortable lounges, marveling at the ever-changing scenery, and shore excursions. Announcements alert the passing of noteworthy sights. Passengers gather outdoors on deck7 (the Nordlys has 8 decks) for explanations and photo opps. We were blessed with several warm, sunny days, as well as cool and cloudy days, but only one rainy day.We experienced rough seas once. The boat rocked. We rocked when walking as if we had had one too many — but that would have been costly on the Nordlys.

Norway is very expensive. The cruise was very expensive. Alcoholic beverages and soft drinks, not covered in the cruise price, are expensive. KiZfEnLSRYWAfF8GRdJBGQ

When crossing the Arctic Circle and entering the region of the midnight sun and northern lights we were invited to toast the event with a glass of champagne with a strawberry. I naively thought this was gratis. No. That champagne cost 125 NOK (Norwegian krone, about $12.50).

No matter. It was fun minus champagne. The return Arctic circle crossing celebration involved a spoonful of wretched cod liver oil followed by a spoonful of a sweet liqueur. Grimaces and laughs this time. You could keep the spoon. Plus, have a glass of champagne for a price.

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Entering the legendary Troll fjord, a 2-kilometer fjord with a narrow entrance and surrounded with steep-sided mountains, called for another celebration. Most cruise ships are too large to enter the fjord. Smaller Hurtigruten ships, like the Nordlys, can only enter during the summer months. It was amazing to witness the ship turn around in the tight space.

This feat was celebrated with a cup of troll coffee. Price: 99 NOK ($11) for a cup of coffee with a splash of schnapps. But, you could keep the souvenir fjord cup. I had passed on the champagne, but splurged on the coffee – shared with Bob.

“At Hurtigruten we give you the opportunity to travel with meaning. Building on our explorer heritage dating back to 1893, our explorations are grounded in the likings of people who value learning and personal growth over luxury…you won’t find waterslides, casinos or any sort of dress code,” states the Hurtigruten brochure.

We had booked an Arctic superior cabin on deck 6. It had all the necessities, including TV with CNN (important) but was miniscule. Galant Bob took the window side of the double bed. To get in and out, he had to side step.

A German woman from Augsburg told me she had taken four or five luxury cruises. “This is very different. It is not a luxury cruise, but I knew that. I am glad I came. I wanted to see Norway,” she said.

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The cruise is an excellent way to see Norway, especially if one participates in some of the shore excursions. They too are pricey, but offer the opportunity to see and learn about this Nordic land. We especially enjoyed biking in the town of Trondheim, a visit to the indigenous Sami, feasting on King Crab pulled directly from the frigid waters as we watched, and several bus excursions through spectacular countryside.

In addition to organizing entertaining celebrations and leading excursions, the friendly and knowledgeable expedition team conduct lectures covering various topics; polar explorations, birds of Norway, Norway and Norwegians, and more. The latter was enlightening. Norway vies with Finland for having the happiest citizens. Dream on, DT, Norwegians do not want to emigrate to the U.S.

While breakfast and lunch were buffet feasts with open seating, we had assigned seats for the three-course dinners. The food was good, innovative and interesting, focusing on local ingredients and Norwegian specialties.

Tasty reindeer — better than beef, and said to be “sustainable.”

We received a menu with each meal explaining in detail the ingredients and preparation. The salmon was the best I have ever eaten, and the reindeer was a rare and delicious treat.

As mentioned, Hurtigruten is more than a cruise ship. In the late 19th century, services along the 780-mile coastline from Bergen to Kirkenes, a busy route for transportation of goods and people, were unreliable. Shipping companies were invited to submit tenders for operating an express route between Trondheim and Tromsø, or Hammerfest. In 1893, Captain Richard With’s steamer, DS Vesteraalen, established a regular sea link between the towns which was later expanded from Bergen to Kirkenes, a trip of only seven days. The connection was named “hurtigruten” – the fast route. With went on to explore other Nordic destinations.

“This marks the beginning of Hurtigruten’s adventurous and unique explorer operations,” states the company literature. Destinations now include Iceland, Greenland, Alaska and Antarctica, as well as ports along the Norwegian coast.

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In addition to cruise passengers, cars, bicycles, motorcycles and some cargo were on board the Nordlys. We met many “walk-in” passengers who used the ship as a ferry from one stop to another. If their transit is less than 24 hours, they can travel without booking a cabin. Some, with backpacks nearby, stretch out on comfortable lounge chairs and sofas. They are free to use all ship facilities, including the jacuzzis.

Hurtigruten is at the forefront of sustainable tourism. The company is building the first ever hybrid-powered expedition cruise ships and has eliminated single-use plastic from all its ships and hotels. Their “Coastal Kitchen” relies on locally sourced products.

Yes, it is expensive. But, it is a beautiful and enlightening experience (minus the baptism and cod liver oil). And now I have a Polar Arctic certificate.

If not a talesandtravel follower, sign up, upper right. Your email is not shared. More about Norway to come: the amazing country, its food, photos of the splendid scenery.. I will also be posting on my trip last winter to Costa Rica. And, whatever else inspires me. Don’t miss out.

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Who am I?

Who am I? Leah Larkin. Carol Larkin. Leah Koester. Leah Kulton Koester. Leah Carol Koester. Carol Koester.

I have been all. It’s a crazy, complicated tale. Read on.

If not interested in my name saga, scroll down for photos of my neighborhood in southern France.

The press interviewing the press, Leah Koester, at my recent naturalization ceremony.

Ever since my first marriage to Dennis Larkin, ions ago, I have been Leah Larkin. No more – at least not in France where I am now a citizen and Leah Koester. I am, however, still an American citizen, and still Leah Larkin for US purposes.

At the time I married Dennis, I was embarking on my career as a journalist. My first job as a reporter was at the Louisville Courier-Journal. Up until then, I had gone by my middle name, Carol. Carol Koester (my maiden name) became Carol Larkin. My boss at the newspaper was Carol. There was another “Carol” reporter. And, I now had a sister-in-law, also called Carol Larkin. Too many Carols.

Carol Sutton, my boss at the C-J declared, “You will be Leah Larkin.” Not a bad byline. I liked it.

Once during a telephone interview, after introducing myself as “Leah Larkin,” my interview subject responded: “Give me a break, lady. Why not tell me you are Lois Lane.”

At the time of my divorce from Dennis, I asked for nothing, just his name. He was happy to oblige. When I married Bob Kulton, I did not become Leah Kulton. I remained Leah Larkin. It is the official name on my US passport, with Social Security, on all credit cards, membership cards etc.

Married Bob Kulton, but remained Leah Larkin

We moved from Germany to France 14 years ago. No name problems in Germany since all documents were through the US military. I was Leah Larkin at the newspaper Stars and Stripes where I worked, and Leah Larkin on the initial French documents – residency permit, health insurance card etc. But then, I decided to apply for citizenship. Little did I know what lies ahead.

Lots of paperwork and patience required. I persisted, and after several years, it worked. I got a letter – you are French. However, more time and paperwork before I could get the official documents, a French passport and ID card. That is when the Merde hit the fan.

Stars and Stripes reporter Leah Larkin interviewing Vidal Sasson – long. long ago..

My name is Leah Larkin. I assumed I could continue to be Leah Larkin. Wrong. In France a woman is legally known by her maiden name all her life. She can have a second name, “nom d’usage,” (user name), but it cannot be any name. It must be the name of her current spouse. It is illegal to use the name of a previous spouse. Now I had a French passport and French ID card with the name “Leah Koester,” and “nom d’usage, Kulton.”

How will anyone know that Leah Larkin and Leah Koester are the same person? I was worried. This looks suspicious. I could be a spy, a terrorist.

If I go to use a credit card, or carry out a transaction at the French bank where I am still Leah Larkin, and then I show a French ID card with the name Leah Koester, problems could arise. I envisioned other scenarios where this could be a catastrophe.

Why couldn’t I get a legal document certifying that Leah Larkin and Leah Koester are one and the same, that I am not a spy, nor a terrorist? I checked with a lawyer. No way.

The only path to legally be Leah Larkin in France requires hiring a lawyer and going to court. My identity fate would be up to a judge. I envision hefty legal fees, lots and lots more paperwork, and then perhaps the judge would not rule in my favor. And, if he did, yet again more paperwork to apply for a new passport and ID card.

Just getting this far has required ample time and energy. I am burned out. I am happy to have dual citizenship. I will live with dual identity. Maybe it could be an advantage. Am I too old to become a spy? How about heading to Russia to get the real dirt on you know who?

Name confusion and change started in my childhood. My mother insisted I be called “Leah Carol.” Double names were the thing back then. In the 8^thgrade, a boy said I had queer name. He made fun of it. That was a different era – what boys thought was important. I went home, crying to my mother. We can fix that, she said. You can be “Carol.” Throughout high school and university and Peace Corps, I was Carol Koester. Some folks who knew me back then still call me Carol, including one of my three brothers.

Confused? Me too.

Carol Koester, second from left, at Northwestern University with fellow members of our dorm French corridor where we were all supposed to speak French at all times. Whoever thought I would become French?

For the record, Leah Larkin and Leah Koester are one and the same. Leah Koester is proud and honored to be French. Leah Larkin would be even prouder.

Scroll down to see photos of Leah Larkin’s — no, Leah Koester’s –new neighborhood on the Riviera.

Beach at Roquebrune Cap Martin — before the tourist season.

Back in the Luberon, I photographed lavender. Here it is bougainvillea. Both are exquisite.

Bust of Le Corbusier along the seaside trail named for the architect.

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Ravishing Rajasthan

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I was draped in shimmering scarves. A colorful turban perched atop Bob’s head. We boarded an oxcart, sat regally on pillows, and set off, bumping along a dusty road, en route to “ a mesmerizing, surreal dinner.”

Soon it would be dark, but it was still light enough to admire distant mountains, lonely cows foraging for food and the occasional villager checking on his sheep. We were headed to a 16th century step well in the hills surrounding Rawla Narlai, an ancient hunting manor turned hotel/resort deep in Rajasthan, India.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA — Kitsch? A gimmick for tourists? Of course, but it was fun

Step wells are just that – subterranean Indian architectural structures, wells accessed by a series of steps down to a pool of water.

Dinner at the edge of this ancient well was good, but it was the ambience that deserves the stars. Magic and mystical. Seven hundred oil lamps flickered all around the deep hole. Hypnotic sounds echoed from the eerie darkness. Costumed waiters mysteriously appeared offering us all manner of delicacies on silver trays.

OK. It is all very touristy and not the kind of experience we usually opt for during our travels. But, we were the only tourists. Just us, the waiters, and a few musicians in the midst of this wild and weird setting. When there are more participants (almost always), more entertainment accompanies the spectacle. We had it all to ourselves, and it was indeed “mesmerizing,”as promised in the literature.

Not many tourists visit Rajasthan, India’s best-loved region, in May when temperatures reach 45 C°, (113 F°) – even above. But, after attending Alok and Ankita’s April 2018 Wedding (see previous post June 21, 2018), we wanted to see more of India. It was hot, very hot, but we survived. We did all on the itinerary except the ride on the legendary Kipling Train, “only 3^rdclass.” We were told the train was not running, but I suspect the tour operator felt two old geezers would likely succumb on the two-hour “rudimentary” journey in that heat. He may have been right.

It was a disappointment, but we feasted on so much during our fascinating Rajasthan journey — and I do not mean food. There was plenty of that, but, for the most part, a bit too fiery for us. Palaces, temples, forts, gardens, crafts, folk art, bustling cities, varied landscape — Rajasthan has all.

The idyllic “holy” village of Narlai sits at the base of an imposing rock hill topped with a colossal elephant statue. We, and an Indian family, were the only guests at Rawla, our 32-room abode that originally belonged the King of Jodhpur and served as a retreat for the royal family.

We followed a hotel employee for a guided village walk, were invited inside a few houses, and marveled at a newly reconstructed Jain temple. We witnessed the daily religious fire ceremony.

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Jainism is an ancient Indian religion which preaches non-injury to living creatures and re-incarnation. Many Jains from Narlai, as well as Hindis, have gone off to work in big cities, but own property in the village and contribute generously to its temples (300 in the village of 10,000).

For me the crème de la crème of the Indian trip waited up in the hills – a sighting of the secretive and seldom-seen leopard. See previous post: “India’s Big Cats.”

Narlai may not be on the average Rajasthan itinerary for foreigners. Our “morning walk through the pink city,” offered by the Samode Haveli in Jaipur was also off the beaten tourist track. This, like the other hotels where we stayed in Rajasthan, is a heritage hotel, a lavish palace still owned by maharajas but converted into a hotel.

We left the hotel at 6 a.m. and followed the hotel manager to places not on the tourist circuit . Most guided tours offer nothing “out of the box,” he said, so the hotel came up with this tour to show visitors more of Jaipur than the city’s top sights, the Amber Fort and city palace museum.

We visited the market, stopped for tastings of street food specials, and we learned, about garbage collection, street sweepers, religion and more.

Hindis believe that all living things have souls and cannot be killed. As an animal lover, I am intrigued with the sacred, ubiquitous cows, stray dogs, and monkeys. The cows that wander freely everywhere usually belong to someone, he said.

The owners tie up the calves and let the mothers roam, knowing they will come back to their babies. The dogs, he said, usually have homes of sort too. “Everyone makes so much food so they give leftovers to the dogs.” The dogs return and “guard the house.” Beware of monkeys. We noticed a group of the rascals on our walk. “That one is especially bad,” he said, pointing to the “dominant male…. He sends his troops out to scout houses. If the coast is clear, they return and raid the place. They know how to open refrigerators. They are very intelligent.”

Visiting Rajasthan’s magnificent palaces and forts is impressive, awesome. We also especially enjoyed a visit to a tiny enclave of Bishnoi, a tribe known for love of wild animals. The tribal leader, a jovial character, showed us how he wraps 15 meters of cloth around his head to form his turban. He insisted we taste Bhang, a very potent brew which “can make you crazy.” Alcohol is supposedly forbidden, but “Lord Shiva likes Bhang so much we offer it to him,” – and have a healthy shot in the process.

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Rajasthan is all about color: vibrant saris wrapped around women; towering vivid, turbans crowning men’s heads; markets bursting with colorful vegetables, fabric and jewelry. Even towns are associated with color, Jaipur, “the pink city;” and Jodhpur, “the blue town.”

“A picture is worth a thousand words” Enough of my words. Scroll down for more picture highlights of Rajasthan.

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Jain temple at Ranakpur has 29 halls and 1,444 pillars all distinctly carved.

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Our fascinating 11-day tour of Rajasthan was organized by Wild Frontiers. Accommodations in the gorgeous maharaja palace hotels were fabulous. www.wildfrontiers.co.uk

By popular request following a Facebook photo, Today’s Taste features a decadent and delicious recipe. Click on photo above right for details.

Sri Lanka: Reflections

“The World Weeps,” I wrote last week in the aftermath of the horrific fire and destruction of Notre Dame cathedral. However, as many have pointed out, “that is just a building.” It lives. It will be restored. Most importantly, no one perished in the flames.

The Easter Sunday massacre in Sri Lanka wiped out the lives of 253 innocent victims. Families in church worshiping on this holy day. Vacationers having breakfast in hotels. All ages. All walks of life. For them, there is no tomorrow.

Is the world weeping? Are we becoming somewhat numbed to these dreadful acts of terror which destroy lives and much more? Does the dramatic plunge of the burning spire of Notre Dame have a greater impact than bombs ripping through a church filled with the faithful? It seems harsh, but I have to wonder.

A British gentleman I met at a luncheon mentioned Hitler’s invasion of Czechoslovakia. The British press did not make a big deal of it, he said, as “it was a small country, far away.” So, too, is Sri Lanka. OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

Of course, we are shocked with the savage attacks in the country. We are saddened to learn the heartbreaking stories of the victims. In March, brutal attacks at mosques in Christchurch, New Zealand, claimed 50 lives. We worry. Where will they strike next?

Terrorism, be it in the U.S, France, Sri Lanka, New Zealand, wherever, has claimed too many lives, scarred survivors, ruined the way of life for many. It is frightening to think that these attacks, as in Sri Lanka, have become part of life these days.

France’s billionaires are rescuing Notre Dame. Who will rescue Sri Lanka? I grieve for the country

when I think back on two enriching weeks spent there in 2017. I was impressed with the friendly, hard working people: Nimal, our guide and driver; Iran, a gifted cooking teacher; the jovial market vendors, the helpful hotel staff. Are they OK? What is their future?

Tourism has been Sri Lanka’s salvation. The country’s bloody 30-year civil war, which ended in 2009, kept visitors away. Gradually tourism revived as more and more discovered the astonishing sights of this island nation in the Indian Ocean. Not much bigger than Wales, Sri Lanka packs a lot into a small area: glorious beaches, ancient temples, hillside tea plantations, wildlife sanctuaries, rain forested peaks. Will the fear of more terror prevent tourists from discovering these treasures?

Tourists brought jobs and opportunities. Nimal, our excellent driver/guide, was building up a

clientele whom he chauffeured around the county. With Nimal’s encouragement, Iran, an excellent cook, had begun to offer cooking lessons in his home. More hotels were under construction, all promising more jobs. What now?

It is all troubling and tragic. Yet, I was relieved to receive emails from Iran, the delightful cooking teacher, and Nimal, our Sri Lankan driver/mentor. Iran wrote: “We hope every bad has happen not to be repeat any where in this world. We all safe but tourism will badly suffer as our bookings are getting cancelled. Thank you and keep in touch. As a journalist you can help us lot.”

And from Nimal: “Its really unexpected tragedy and don’t know what to say. Its bad luck for us. Tourism was good and world start to come and see our country,” he wrote. “We believe things will get settle soon and people will be able to go ahead with their normal life.”

Let us hope is is right.

Below are photos of Sri Lanka’s friendly folk:

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