20. Yalova - 1970

Fruit Market in Yalova

These are a few photos of Yalova taken around 1970 by a friend of mine named Richard Frazier.  He was the photographer among my group of American friends in Turkey.

 As in most places, The military personnel stationed there tended to fall into different social groups.

Yalova Ferry Dock with Truck loading on Ferry

.

In Turkey, there were four major groups of people stationed at the base.  The first type were the people that were stationed at the base and never left it.  For some reason they were afraid to mix with the people from the town and limited themselves to the small three square miles of the base, afraid to try anything new.  They basically did their jobs and nothing else but keeping track of how much time they had left in "this horrible country" and complained about any little thing they could think of.

 The second type, for lack of a better description would have to be called "safe ones".  They did get off the base and see parts of the country they were stationed in, but were always "safe", taking command sponsored trips on buses with English speaking tour guides to see the sites.

Same Ferry Dock With Incoming Passenger Ferry

The third group consisted of people that were much more open to learning some of the local culture.  They would go to town, shop at the local market, possibly catch the ferry to Istanbul, go horseback riding across from the base, or take a trip to the beaches, but always with fellow Americans so they would not have to mix with the locals.


I was a member of the fourth group.  They were the people that lived in or mixed with the local community and embraced most aspects of the culture.  We were welcomed by our neighbors and became part of the community.  We shared life with the neighbors.`

One woman I knew went to the local beauty parlor with her infant only to find out that he was speaking to the local women at the shop with Turkish baby talk before English.

Corner Store Across from Our Apartment

When it was noticed that all the young girls were playing together in one neighborhood, the American wives would be invited to a neighbors home for tea.  That included the girls who got to act like the grownups having a tea party with their mothers.  They were needed to translate between their parents.  Children learned languages faster and more readily playing together than their parents did.  To play together you had to communicate and the children could communicate!

 

I was friends with an American family who lived in a second story (third floor) apartment.  Their son was an energetic four year old who was liked by the neighborhood.  One day he fell off the balcony into the street.  He somehow was unharmed but his mother tripped running down the interior stairs to get him and was quite visibly bruised.  None of the local men would speak or acknowledge her husband until his wife and son were invited for tea.  The women and children questioned her and her son.  The son did a lot of translating for his mom.  After a while, the women got up and called their husbands and elder sons in and talked with them.  According to the wife, they all came in with grim faces and left with smiles of relief.  They asked their wives to find out if my friend actually did trip and for assurance that her husband was not beating her.  Imagine your life being in the hands of a four year old learning a new language.  The boy's father was very happy to be, once again a welcome part of the neighborhood.  

Owner's Son Tending the Store

I was friends with a Turkish family in Yalova.  They owned a house near the main boulevard next to the beach.  The family was a household of two grown single women living with their widowed mother named Fahriye Yakali.  They also had two sisters that were married and had children.  Dinner was always fun.  Usually about six or eight adults.  No mater what he meal, we always had fresh fruit, and a community salad of whatever vegetables were fresh, including fresh herbs and lemon.  Most meals were community style with special plates and bowls for the children.  We were always talking about many different topics, usually in English for my benefit with one exception, Fahriye annem (my dearest mother), Fahriye Yakali.  As I grew up in my home town I learned to talk with my hands.  She talked with her hands.  Most times we seemed to understand each other better without the help of the others.  She was a wonderful woman that I loved.  She introduced me to her friends, had a great sense of humor, and had a family that was fun to be around.  Her family invited me to dinner many times because, according to her family, if Fahriye knew I was coming for dinner, she would fix a special dish for me to try.  Did I say that even then, the way to my heart was through my stomach!



After dinner it was the local custom for the families to walk along the street and exchange greetings with each other.  The children would walk in the front or alongside the women and the men would follow to protect the family.  We Americans were taught that the Turks were a patriarchal society, not in that household!  Before we went out for our evening stroll, we men had to get the okay from Fahriye about what we would do that evening .i.e. stop for coffee or possibly a quick game of Parcheesi or dominoes at the mens coffeehouse.  She would never embarrass the men in public.  If she had said yes at home, and the men invited us, we could enter the coffeehouse anytime during the walk.  If she had said no earlier, we would find an excuse to say not tonight or maybe later, one of the kids were ill, or it was going to be an early morning.  I do not know where this little woman's power came from but she had it.  She was, to my knowledge, a community leader among the elder women in the neighborhood and by proxy, maybe the town.

I am retired and have no deadlines other than those self imposed and some of my grand children are visiting for a few days. As a result there will be no more posts until after Christmas, Yılbaşı and Kwanza.  Whichever you celebrate, have a joyous holiday and see you in January!

19. Istanbul to Yalova - 1970

Well I made it to Istanbul and it seems like the end of the journey. The train stopped at the Serkaci terminal in Istanbul, which is just around the corner from the famous floating Galata Bridge.

Galata Bridge

At that time there was a Ferry that left twice a day from Istanbul to Yalova with two stops at the Princes Islands.  One was the island of Heybeliada and the other was the island Buyukada.  The first one was not developed in the 70's.  It was just a Navel Cadet school and a Greek Orthodox Seminary with a few homes The second one was Buyukada, a resort island with no automobiles, just donkeys and horse drawn carriages.  The only motorized vehicles allowed are service vehicles (ambulance, fire, police and I think a garbage truck). 

Buyukada

From there, it is on to Yalova and the end of the first half of my journey.  Yalova is one of the two towns near Karamursel Air Station, a base that I was stationed at from 1967 - 1970.  I spent most of my time either visiting or living in Yalova.  Yalova was virtually destroyed in August 1999 by an earthquake that killed about

Relief After the Quake

10,000 people in the Yalova area itself.   It has since rebuilt but I an afraid it will never be as we remembered it during the 70's, a vibrant seashore international community with a strong work ethic.

After the Quake in Yalova

 Now it seems that everything was built over as a resort and it seems only catering to tourists.  I know I am probably biased in my view, but I have never been able to reconnect with my Turkish friends.  Here are a couple of photos of how it is now.  Hopefully, my next post will be about how it was in 1970.

The New Yalova

The New Yalova

Thought 1

Lilliputian man,
Seas of time,
Swirling

The New Yalova

18. Thessaloniki to Istanbul - 1970

After our walk back down the mountain path, we got in the car and drove directly to Thessaloniki.  I was let off in the center of the city near the youth hostel.  I had just enough for money for one more night in a hostel.

The next morning it was off to the city hospital to get my blood typed.  Once you were typed, they would give you a color coded card identifying your blood type.  Then you would go outside with the card and set around the hospital steps with this card over your neck.  Families whose members were having surgery that day would walk through and pick you out and take you back into the hospital to have your blood drawn if a transfusion was needed for the surgery.  For this they would pay you something like the equivalent of fifteen dollars cash.  This was a lot for some of them, especially if they needed more than one.  Many people not used to this system would break down and end up donating their blood.  When you did this you had to accept the money and then give the family the money back yourself.  Other people would take the money, but out of guilt would come back a month later and donate.

This gave me enough money for a train ticket to Istanbul and ferry ticket to my final destination, on the Sea of Marmara, Yalova Turkey.I bought a loaf of bread and got on the train.  The train was powered by an old steam engine straight out of the old west.  1860's style.  The passenger cars were European style.  a series of glassed in seats that would seat six going down one side and the aisle going down the other side as pictured, where many people spent there time walking, stretching, sightseeing, and getting fresh air.  Sometimes it was a battle between cigarette smoke and the black smoke and cinders from the trains smokestack.  The picture shown is actually the orient express in 1971 that ran between Paris and Istanbul  until 1977.  The train I was on was older and the accommodations, like berths and dining cars, were  nonexistent.  The train was sort of a local and took about 24 hours. We were on our own for meals and drinks.  We left late morning or midday, I am not really sure.  Some of our stops were three or four minutes.  During that time we would rush out and get a quick drink from a fountain and jump back on the train as it was leaving.  I met someone that was in the same financial straits as me.  I had the bread, and he had a can of sardines.  I do not like fish but that day, I was happy to share my bread for some of his fish!  So much for maintaining standards!

The scenery was spectacular and the border crossing was uneventful.  We arrived at the Istanbul train station about noon the next day.

17. On the Road to Thessaloniki part 2 1970

 

My ride that morning was much better than the day before.  I got a ride with a gentleman from Germany who had lived in Greece in the past and spoke the language.  He was on holiday hoping to visit some monasteries.  A few that we tried were not open for visitors or had a long waiting line.  The entry method was being hoisted up the side of a mountain in a basket.  He had given up on finding one and was thinking of heading on to Thessaloniki when we drove around a bend and we looked up and saw a small way station monastery on the face of the cliff.

As we got closer we could see a small footpath going up the side of the mountain.  We wanted to get closer but at the same time did not want to intrude.  We also did not know if anyone was there.  As we stood there outside the car, we could barely hear someone calling.  We thought it was a woman calling her goats but as we looked up, she was waving at us and urging us up the path.  We accepted her invitation and climbed up the path.  The man I was with appeared to be healthy and I was in pretty good shape at the time, but it still took us at least 20 minutes to hike up the path to the crest of their home/monastery/farm.

There were two people there.  It was an old lady about 60 or 70 and her mother.    Her mother stayed up there all the time because it took her too long to hike up the trail.  It took her (you guessed it) about 20 to 25 minutes to climb the path.  The younger one went down the path to catch transportation to town for supplies and then carried them back up the mountain.  She and her mother lived there and kept goats and chickens with a nice looking dog that herded the other animals for them.  They had a small vegetable garden off to the side where some flat space was available and a small barn like structure underneath part of their building for the animals.  She told us they lived there to take care of traveling and hermit monks that were passing through on pilgrimages to and from other monasteries and hermit caves.  I think by today's standards it would be called a Skete or way station.  They kept them fed, washed their clothes and basically took care of their worldly needs so the monks could spend their time praying and mediating.  They insisted they were not nuns but this had been their lay ministry for her entire life and most of her mother's.  I think they would today be considered female monks.

They invited us inside to see their home.  They lived in one room sharing a small bed, stove and a simple wooden table with two chairs.  They had a trap door down to the barn and, I think, a root cellar.  There was one window overlooking the valley that got both morning and afternoon sun and another window by the door that looked towards the path and their garden.  The walls were covered with religious paintings,  icons and one newspaper print of JFK that was printed.  Many of the paintings were painted on the walls and some were framed.  Which were icons and which were just painting I could not tell you.

The rest of the home was carved out of the sandstone rock and had two levels.  The top level actually consisted of an alter with painted icons, some painted directly on the sandstone walls, some painted on wood, and wooden hand carved icons surrounding the alter.  The cross was carved from stone into the window and glowed from the sunlight flowing through the window and surrounding the crucifix.  The lower level was the monk's cell with a small library in a wooden bookshelf and a small wooden cot.  A small workplace with woodcarving tools and paints also took up space in the cell.  There was another window through the stone wall but you could not look down from it, only up.  I was impressed much more with this place than the Vatican.  The faith of the two women, combined with the simple beauty and serenity left you with a feeling of peace and contentment.

After showing us their place, they insisted on feeding us, telling us this is what they did.  We sat down and they fed us a large bowl of a warm bean stew that I had learned to call pilaki in turkey, and a large hunk of bread slathered with goats butter.  It may have been the atmosphere but that was some of the best pilaki that I have ever had.  As a result of my travels and limited finances my stomach had shrunk and as I was getting near the bottom of my bowl, I asked the man I was traveling with (he translated for me) if it would be considered an insult if I did not finish my soup.  The local Greek custom was the same as the Turkish one and as he was telling me yes, the daughter was laughing and reaching over my shoulder and placing another ladle of pilaki in my bowl.  I think she understood English!  It was a long walk back down the mountain.

16. On the Road to Thessaloniki part 1 - 1970

 The ferry left on time that night and I was ensconced in my deck chair for a good nights sleep.


Shortly after sunrise we were slipping between the Island of Corfu and the mainland of Greece.  I do not know how the water is now, but in 1970 it was a clear azure blue.  You could see bottom and all the fish between.  It seemed so clear you could not tell how deep the water was.  It was this way right up to the pier.

When we landed, after customs, everyone went on their way to whatever they had going on in their lives.  Most of the people were heading south to Athens, or all the beautiful beaches, caves and Greek islands.  My goal was to head east and get across Greece as quickly as possible.  I was out of money again and had to get to Turkey to pick up the fifty dollars I had mailed  to my friends in Yalova.

I walked out of town to start hitchhiking.  I found a good spot where I could look down over the town and observe the traffic to ensure I was on a good road.  I was on the only road heading east.  This was good.  What was not good was the fact that there was no traffic.  The first hour I was passed by a garden tractor.  Sometime during the second hour an old woman came by riding her donkey.  As a joke, I stuck out my thumb to see if I could hitch a ride.  She must have been coming from her garden, because as she was laughing at me, she reached into a bag she had tied to the donkey and pulled out a large cucumber and gave it to me.  This was about a foot long and quite thick.  It was actually my food for the next two days.

I eventually did get a ride in the back of a lorry.  The truck was on its way to Ioannina (pop. 32,000).  The back of the lorry was full of people, some looking for work and some with animals on their way to market in the big city.  There was even a family there on there way to the hospital seeking medical attention.  It was an interesting ride and it was fun trying to talk with them.  They spoke no English and I spoke no Greek.  I did speak a little Turkish but was afraid to use it,  most Greeks hated the Turks in those days and I was afraid I would get kicked out of the lorry.  They left me off on the other side of the town to help me possibly get another ride.  If I was lucky I could still make it to Thessaloniki that day. 

So far I had gone from sea level to about 1500 feet.  Now I had to hitch over the mountain at an elevation of 5500 feet, over a mile high!  I sort of lucked out.  I got that ride.  A trucker picked me up with his lorry going all the way to Thessaloniki.  He could speak a little English so we did have some conversation.  The problem was that he was crazy!  I have never been so scared in my life!  I enjoy riding over mountain roads with their curves and views.  I absolutely love it, but this driver was passing cars and trucks any time he felt like it, whether it was on a blind curve or not.  There was no slow lane either.  It was nothing more than a small two lane country road.  Thank you for the small village on top of one of the peaks.  He wanted to stop for coffee at a friends house.  While he was in visiting his friend, I got out of the truck and hid like a small boy inside of a culvert going underneath the highway.  He must have called me for about 20 minutes before he finally left without me.  I had half of my cucumber for supper that night and the other half for breakfast the next day.

15. Brindisi to Greece 1970

I arrived sometime in the morning and searched for the youth hostel.  I found it about mid morning and checked in with what little money I had left.  It had been close to a week since I was able to shower and I wanted to look halfway decent when I met my friend James Timko at the San Vito base.  I was luxuriating in the hot shower, all lathered up with soap, when the water shut off!  The whole village was on water hours due to low water levels.  I later found out the water was shut off at midnight, turned on at 6:30 so people could get water for the day, then shut off at 9:30 and turned back on for a few hours for evening dinner and ablutions around 6:30 to midnight.  I was not a happy camper, thankfully the hostel was only about 300 meters from the bay.  I quickly toweled off and hiked to the water and took a dive off the pier to rinse some of the soap off. 

San Vito Air Force Base

Shortly after my saltwater rinse I met my friend James Timko near the San Vito Base.  I wasn't let on the base by security so James met me at the main gate and gave me a tour of the countryside, beaches and his rented villa.  As an E-4 and E-5 in Brindisi, he was able to afford to rent a villa with a couple of friends and still afford a maid.  We then went down to the piazza in the center of town and sat at a cafe eating a sandwich and drinking a cup of espresso.  While there, he showed me the two columns and steps that marked the end of the Appian Way from Rome To Italy.  He also told me that all military personnel that were stationed at the base had to avoid mixing with some of the men at the neighboring cafe because they were communists and socialist and if he was seen socializing with them, or if he got placed on report or arrested for having an argument or fight with them, it would be considered an international incident and he would lose his security clearance!

End of Appian Way from Rome to Brindisi

I had run out of money.  Fifty dollars had lasted me from London to Brindisi.  That evening James loaned me enough money to get to Greece on the ferry with a little bit left over.  The little bit left over allowed me to eat at an authentic outdoor Italian restaurant on the waterfront.  I sat there and ordered some pasta and it was really neat soaking in the atmosphere right there on the pier, looking at the lights from the harbor.  They even had music on an old blue and white portable record player (remember them).  I can even remember the record.  It was a 33 of Dean Martin singing Italian love songs in Italian.  After dinner it was just a short walk to the overnight ferry to Greece.

14. Rome to Brindisi 1970

The next morning I got an early start after a breakfast of fresh fruit and bread.  I headed east figuring it would be better going directly over the mountains and then south down the coast instead of going down to Naples and skirt the mountains over to Brindisi.  As far as saving time, this route was a washout, for scenery it was fantastic!  The drive from Rome to the east coast on Italy's super highways in 2013 can be driven in about two and a half hours.  1n 1970 it was probably a six or seven hour drive depending on which roads you took.  It took me two days to hitchhike it.  I must have walked half of it.  I rode on a horse drawn cart, in the bed of a truck with about a dozen other people going home from market, and in a hay wagon being pulled by a tractor.  I walked for hours.  The roads were hot and even though they were paved, they seemed dusty.  What was nice though was walking down the mountainside highway, looking over the side through miles of grape vineyards and fruit orchards.  Watching the farmers and workers tending to the plants on such a steep grade was thrilling, one misstep or overbalance would create a calamity.

After the mountains, hitchhiking through the plains to the coast did not get much better.  When I was within about ten kilometers of Mancini, I had enough was tired and settled in for the night under a tree in the corner of a field.

The next day was not any better.  The coast did not have all the coastal resorts and rich properties then and the rides were few but I still made It to Termoli, a coastal town with a railroad.  That was about 120 kilometers that day, not very good.  I still had about 325 more kilometers to go to Brindisi.  I broke down and decided to take a train.  The price of a ticket would leave me with enough money for a couple of nights at the youth hostel.  I would borrow some money from my friends that were stationed at San Vito Air Force Base, an Intel gathering site near Brindisi.

Brindisi, Then & Now

I bought my ticket and was sitting down in front of the station when this old man walks up to me.  He is wearing glasses that have lens as thick as the glass on the bottoms of the old glass coke bottles.  He says something to me and I say "No Cabeesh Italiano,  please I speak English."
He says in English, "I can't read the schedule here on the post.  Will you read it to me so I will know what time my train leaves?"
I oblige him and  read about three quarters of it until we finally discover we are on the same train and have about forty five minutes until the train arrives.  To pass the time he asks me. "Where are you from, in America?"
If you are from New York State you hate this question because, invariably, when you say New York State they came back and ask you if you know their friend Joe that lives in Brooklyn.  So to deflect this I say "I am from a small village in New York State north of Albany NY."
He comes back with "I know Albany.  Where you from?"
"I live in a small  village north of Schenactady NY."
"I know Schenectady.  Where you from?"
"I live north of Troy and Cohoes NY."
Now he is really excited. "I know Troy.  Where you live?  Where you live?"
"I live in a town between Waterford, NY and Saratoga, NY."
"Do you mean Mechanicville? He says. "I live there fifty years!"

It turned out that he lived near Albert's tavern in Mechanicville when I was living on Sheehan street.  He was uncle or great uncle to Connie Zeppieri, an old classmate of mine.  He told me he came from Italy and worked on the railroad in Mechanicville for fifty years and had gone back to Italy and worked as an interpreter for the government.  The train we were on was a local, stopping at every little hamlet, and he soon got off.  It is strange, going halfway around the world seeking new experiences and cultures, and the person I met that day was from my own back yard and lived less than a block from my family!

13. Vatican City - 1970

What can one say about the touring the Vatican.  In 1970 I saw The Basilica of St Peter, the Sistine Chapel, the Chair of Saint Peter, the statue of St. Peter Enthroned with everyone touching his worn bronze toe, artwork by Bernini, Bellini, Michelangelo, and Raffaello Sanzio.  I also saw the museum and the Necropolis.

The Necropolis, underneath the basilica was still being excavating in 1970, but was open to tourists and was very exciting.  They didn't even find St. Peter's bones until 1968.  It was a wonderful day without the long lines of today.  I still remember the workers covered in sweat from the humidity in the catacombs.  I read that now entry is restricted to 250 people a day.  Tickets for this portion is expensive and you must apply for tickets months ahead.  When I visited it in 1970, it was affordable.  I think one fee covered all of Vatican City.

Before we entered the Sistine chapel we were given strict warnings about using flash cameras in the chapel.  I think they had just started to restore the ceiling then. You still cannot use flash cameras.

There is also a museum with many interesting treasures and displays.  I remember seeing many artifacts, treasures and some huge woven tapestries.  The tapestries were some of the ones that Raffaello designed for the walls of the Sistine Chapel they were huge, like 24 x 16 feet, made of wool, gold, and silver!

I think I started a new family tradition there.  When I came home from my trip, I was a long haired bearded hippie with a pierced ear wearing beaded necklaces and dressed in homemade red corduroy bell bottoms.  Yet for a while, I could do no wrong in the eyes of my father.  The reason?  I bought my father a gift from the Vatican, of a rosary blessed by the Pope.  My oldest daughter, Christi, growing up hearing this story made a point of bringing home a rosary from Saint Patrick's Cathedral in Ireland and another from a Cathedral in Munich, Germany and gifted her mother with them. Mom was pleased.

12. Rome - 1970

After arriving at the Olympic village in Rome and settling in a corner sleeping location away from the fires where the rowdies tended to party, we shared and traded some of our fresh fruit for other staples.  We checked the bulletin boards for notes from friends and to see if there were rides going in the direction that we are going.  My partner and I split up.  She met some old friends that were moving on to Naples in a couple of days and I was planning on traveling down the other side of Italy to Brindisi.

The Olympic village in Rome was built for the 1960 Olympics  By the time we were there, the place was pretty much run down.  The building that we all slept next to had boarded up windows and concrete abutments sticking out about two feet from the windows.  This gave us something to sleep under or on top of, depending on the weather.

Sunrise in Rome

The next morning was amazing watching the sun come up over Rome and the open air markets slowly waking.  We could  lay there and listen to the vendors yell and joke with each other and their early customers.  At least, I did this, until the local police came by to make sure that everyone was awake and okay.  Breakfast was a fresh glass of juice.  I remember buying it from a vender on my walk to the Spanish Steps where a group of us spent the day.

Sunrise on the Spanish Steps

It seemed that no matter what part of society or generation you belonged to, you would find a kindred soul there during the day.






With so many things to see in Rome you could start in one part of the city, start walking, and and not run out of things to see that day.

The Colosseum 

Hadrian's Tomb

Vatican City

The next day after another wonderful night on my concrete slab, I again headed for the Spanish Steps.  While passing the Piazza del Popolo, I bought some fresh fruit and loaf of bread at a open air market, and some cheese at a small deli.  I bought enough for the day.  I finished the 45-50 minute walk to the Spanish Steps, sat down and ate my breakfast, sharing some bread with the pigeons.  While doing this I planned the next two days.  I planned on leaving Rome and heading to Brindisi the next day.  Today, I decided to spend a little extra money that I didn't have and actually pay for a tour of the Vatican.  Having finished eating breakfast and feeding the pigeons, I left to tour the Vatican.

Remember, I said you could start in one part of the city, start walking, and and not run out of things to see that day?  Well, let me describe my last full day in Rome.  After breakfast I started walking to Vatican City.  From the Spanish steps, it is about a forty minute walk directly to the Vatican.  I could never take the direct route.  There is so much more to see!  If you add about fifteen minutes to the walk, you will pass
1. The Pantheon, in use since it was rebuilt in 126AD.  It has been an active Catholic church since the 7th century and dedicated to St. Mary and the Martyrs.
2. The Piazza Navona, containing four famous fountains, one by Bernini.  this piazza is full of artist, their wares, street performers and bordered by cafes and deli's with poor and expensive service.  In 2011 one of the smaller fountains, The Moor fountain, was vandalized and some large and small statues were beheaded.  Fortunately the statues were just copies.
3. A fifteen minute walk from the piazza is Hadrian's Tomb also called Castel Sant'Angelo in the Parco Adriano.
Another ten minute walk brings you to Vatican City.  This route was more in keeping with my goal of seeing all that I could.

11. Milan to Rome 1970

This is one of the quiet secrets of hitchhiking through Europe in the 60/70's.  It worked better hitchhiking as a couple even if you were not.  It made some of the girls feel a lot safer and less hit upon, and the guys got rides a lot quicker too.  If it was a truck, the guy sits in the middle and the girl sits by the window.  This made for smoother shifting and less groping or "traveling" hands by the trucker missing the gear shift.  For the guys. it opened up more rides in cars because a couple seemed to be less threatening and you had  the possibility of meeting many more people that would normally bypass a lone male hitchhiking.

I teamed up with a girl to hitch from Milan to Rome anticipating a two day trip to cover the 500+ kilometers.  We started out early in the morning by taking public transportation (city bus) as far out of Milan as was possible without having to buy a transfer.  Then we started hitchhiking.  We were very lucky that day.  Our first ride got us outside of Milan heading southeast.

Open air market in Parma

Our second ride, all the way to Rome, was fantastic.  The driver was an Italian professor who was fluent in English.  His specialty was Italian history and as we passed various sights he told us the histories of each of the regions we rode through.  He told us how the country was divided into twenty self governing regions with their own Parliaments.  He would also pull off the road and show us a view from our highway of a castle or village a few miles off our route, tell us what battles took place there and why it was important.  He would tell us some of the histories of cities that we drove past.  i.e. - Parma (existed in the Bronze Age), Modena (Etruscan Settlement post Iron Age), Bologna (Etruscan & Celtic origin and the oldest University), Florence (European trade center, Renaissance and Art), and Sienna (home of the Medici family).  He bounced back and forth from history to geography telling us about its two mountain ranges and the differences.  He also pointed out the crater lakes (Lake Bolsena, Lake Bracciano and Lake di Vico) with their black sand.

 This is one of the best rides that I have had.  He gave us the choice of getting out any time, but we could not have had a better tour.  We wanted to get to Rome and that was where he was going, but on the way we were given an insight and appreciation of this gentleman's love of his country.  We also ended up with a copious list of future places to visit.  We were dropped of in a suburb of Rome with directions on how to get to the center of the city and as he turned around he stopped again to say that we must at least go back to visit the Accademia Gallery in Florence to see Michelangelo's David.

On our way into the center of the city we passed a local farmers market closing down for the night.  We ended up being resupplied with some fresh fruit and vegetables before arriving at the Olympic Village for the night.

 

10. Lugano - Part 2 and Milan, 1970

We had a leisurely breakfast while waiting for the mountain pass to be opened and it was by the time we were finished.  When we went to settle up we were told that everything was taken care of and they apologized for not having a room.

We got back on the road and headed for Lugano.   It was just a few hours down the road.  Once there and on the way there we enjoyed looking at the sights throughout the province.  It was like being on the Riviera only it was on a lake.  We ended the night camping in the countryside just off the road.  It may sound strange, but that night I did something that I never would of thought possible.  After some meditation, I ran naked through the farmers fields under the stars, got into my sleeping bag and had a good nights sleep.

 The next day on the way to Milan we were slowed up by cows and goats in the road and I seem to remember stopping to walk through an old village on the side of the mountain in Italy where all the streets were too narrow for a car and the sidewalks were all steps.  There was a chapel/church at the top attached to a small castle.  Either way a three or four hour drive turned into a six or seven hour drive that with today's roads would take about an hour and a half!

Milan Cathedral

We arrived in Milan and sort of proceeded to the youth hostel.  I say sort of, because at that time streets 
had a different name for almost every block and the names of the street were usually attached to the side of a building.  There was no such thing as GPS then, actually the internet had not even been discovered!  It was really interesting trying to find the main/central post office the next day.  The post office was used by many.  You could have a friend mail you some money to "General Delivery, Milan, Italy".   Then you go to that post office and ask them if they have a general delivery package for you, identify yourself, and they will verify and give you your mail.  This was quite common when traveling in the sixties and seventies. We soaked in the sights for two days before going our separate ways.

9. Grindelwald to Lugano - Part 1 1970

When I woke up the next morning I could barely move.  It was very painful walking down the stairs and when I was finally at the bottom, I could barely shuffle through to breakfast.  Thank God I inherited my parents determination and stubbornness.  After breakfast and a stretching yoga session I felt much better and could once again move.

Our plan for the day was to drive from Grindelwald to Lake Lugano on the Swiss/Italian border.  The waterfront city of Lugano was on the Swiss side.  The trip was about 160 miles and we figured we could average about 35 mph and do it in about four and a half hours.  This was allowing for all the swaybacks and climbs.  Switzerland had a very late spring so all the passes over the mountain were not yet open.  The mountain now has much improved roads and a 25 mile tunnel under the pass and you can drive from Grindelwald to Lugano in less than three hours.  The pass we selected was open that morning but we never got to it that day.  We got a late start and stopped for a couple of photo shoots and lunch.  This coupled with narrow winding roads really slowed us down.  In the late afternoon the road was starting to get black ice in the shade and we drove into some snow flurry's.  We also found out we were actually only averaging about 20 to 25 mph in our old van.  No one felt safe driving on the road so we turned around and went back to the closest inn.  When we went to see if we could all stay in one room we were told that all the rooms and dorms were full!  It was full of Swiss Army Reserves doing their yearly two weeks training.  At that time all the Swiss were obligated for military service.  We also were told that the pass was closed for the night about ten kilometers further up the road because of today's weather and we were lucky we turned around.

The innkeeper allowed us to stay in his barn in the hayloft above the animals.  He told us to get settled and to come back to the main building for some dinner, refreshments and a fun time.  We were worried about spending too much money but we went anyways.  The inn had two dining rooms that included a bar.  As we entered the office the innkeeper told us to go into the dining room on the right where all the enlisted were and we would enjoy ourselves and to avoid the one on the left because that was were all the officers were and they were all stuffed shirts.  It helped that at that time, I was a vet and a woman with us was also an Israeli vet.  Stories did abound!  We were offered free beer and all we could eat off their buffet table for the evening.  Everything was over with about nine o'clock.  They said they were leaving on maneuvers early in the morning and we went back to our hayloft and slept quite comfortably.

The next morning  we were startled awake by a large explosion around six thirty!  We ran out of the barn in various stages of dress, wondering what was happening, to be greeted by the the solders we partied with last night.  They had placed their cannon next to our barn and had fired a round off.  This gave them a nice laugh as they marched off.  They left us a fantastic breakfast and memory!

7. Interlaken to Grindelwald 1970

This is a photo of a bed and breakfast that my wife and I stayed at during the summer of 2010 in Interlaken.  It is quite a bit different than the youth hostel that I stayed in 1970, although the atmosphere is much the same.  The first evening shortly after arrival I was surprised to see the matron sending a couple of students out to the local store to pick up some groceries.  After their return she started cooking in the community kitchen and was soon surrounded by many of us.  Within an hour she had us stacking plates and what I call kebab sticks out in the dining/community room.  She then proceeded to come out into the dining room with fresh chopped vegetables and a big vat of melted cheese.  That was my first and best experience with a Fondue.

The following morning was a breakfast of coffee and a very good Swiss pastry.  After a leisurely breakfast a bunch of us spread around the town  some going to the waterfront, some going to the town center to shop, some walking around the neighborhood and of course others leaving to travel on.  We periodically met in passing and shared info and tips on what we had just done.  That was also how most evenings were spent; passing and sharing info along with the standard "Who are you?  Where are you from?" and, "Where are you heading?"  That evening after some discussion, I was convinced to go up to Grindelwald the next day. 

One of the advantages of some hostels are the matrons and their male counterparts (Patrons?).  When they have a good one, your visit is greatly enhanced by their knowledge and assistance.  By the time I left the next morning,  I knew that no one from the hostel with a vehicle was headed up the mountain.  I  also was told where the bus stop and the price of the bus was to go ride up the mountain.


But then she suggested I take the cog railway up to Grindelwald. The cost at that time was comparable if not cheaper than the bus and as she described it, a much better ride.  It was!

Grindelwald was where I learned one of America's educational shortcomings.  Language!  I grew up not learning another language.  I studied Spanish 1 from Mrs Ohmstedt.  She passed everyone that year because she was so happy she had become pregnant that year.  Like a fool, I signed up for Spanish 2 from Mr Acosta.  I think he passed me because I promised not to take Spanish 3.  Growing up in Mechanicville, I learned to swear in Italian and use my hands when talking but that was about it.  Not very much, but at age six after ruining some older woman's flower bed on Round Lake Ave, I tried using the new words and hand gestures she used that day on my father that night.  He introduced me to the joys of eating soap.  When I was in the Air Force I lived for three years in Turkey trying to learn that language.  I became barely conversational.  You have probably heard the phrase that you haven't really learned a language until you can dream in that language.  I dreamed in Turkish.  I really did.  I couldn't understand what they were saying then either!

 The amazing  matron back in Interlaken had written the phrase, "Where is the youth hostel?" and had me practice repeating the phrase in German saying that it was the same in Swiss Deutsch.  I even asked her to write it down for me.  What could go wrong?  After getting lost I tried the phrase on a woman that appeared to be helpful.  At least she was smiling.  I discovered that when you ask a question in any language, your answer will probably be given/returned in the same language.  I did not understand her answer so reflexively I say "No capiche."  She gives me the answer in Italian,  I  respond with "No capiche Italiano."  Then she tries French.  Frustrated I finally say "Do you speak English?"  She laughs and says of course and then gives me the directions I needed.  I was only a block away.

6. Saarbrucken Germany to Interlaken, Switzerland 1970

After three days in Saarbrucken I was back on the road to Switzerland.  I left that morning headed for Heidelberg and planned to head south from there.  Things did not work out that way.  I had taken three or four rides to get as far as Kiaserslautern, about half way to Heidelberg.
 

It was there that I was given a ride by a young family that convinced me to head south and to skip Heidelberg.  They were headed home to Stuttgart and they would drop me off in a small town called Ettlingen where I could head south while they continued east.  This saved about 125 kilometers of hitchhiking.
I remember doing some more walking that afternoon and spending the night in a field near the road.  About 50 kilometers north of the Swiss border I get a ride from an American couple to the border and on to the youth hostel in Basel Switzerland for the night.  Interlaken would have to wait for the next day

Breakfast the next morning was an apple and more muesli mixed in yogurt.  I really miss that muesli, not the stuff they sell today with all the artificial sweeteners and raisins.  I walked out of Basel to start hitchhiking again and had a leisurely day going up the mountains.  Today on the modern roads it is a two hour drive.  Then it took me most of the day.  The roads were much narrower and had many twists and turns.  You could ride on anything.  That day I remember riding in a wagon pulled by a tractor.  I was very glad it was not a manure spreader.  The old man told me to watch out for the tourist traps and to only shop where the locals shop.  He said that he knew because his son was paid by the government tourist agency to yodel in the mountains on a set schedule because that was what us tourists wanted.

I eventually arrived at the youth hostel in Interlaken.

8. The Glacier at Grindelwald 1970

Note.  Due to global warming this glacier no longer exists. Most of it melted!  please visit this site for an explanation.

I can not remember much about the hostel in Grindelwald except that it was beautiful, large and shaped like a mountain chalet.  It was also hung high up the side of one of the mountains overlooking the town!  It was quite a hike.

  I arrived early afternoon so had to wait until 4:00 to check in to get a bed for the next two nights.  After getting settled I left the six bed men's dorm room, (we were separated by sex during those days unless we were there as a family) and went back downstairs to the common room.  There I met a couple traveling by car that were looking for company to share auto expenses for a couple of days.  Three of us joined them. They were planning on visiting the lower glacier the next day, returning for the night and then heading into Italy over the next few days.  In the ravine, in front of the glacier, pink marble could be quarried as the ice melted and it was quite famous.

Morning found us shopping in the market for the days lunch. Before Rick Steves there was "Europe on five dollars a day".  I took the hint and bought a roll, 1/4th kilo each of cheese and sliced meat and viola! I had bought lunch and sometimes supper too!  Then we were in the van for the trip to the parking lot near the trail to the glacier.  We hiked up to and into the glacier paths and tunnels through and over and alongside the glacier.  It was a combination of chilly air and sweaty exertion at the same time.



When we came out we settled in for our lunch alongside a stream off the glacier.  We finished lunch, shared a joint and mellowed out watching the stream come of the glacier in the form of a very tall waterfall and then streaming down the side of the mountain in a rock bed.  Then someone gets the bright idea to get refreshed in the waterfall (translated - skinny dip in the waterfall and see who can stand the cold water for the longest).  It wasn't me.  I only lasted about 28 seconds.  One of the girls lasted for about 34 seconds.  We quickly dressed to warm back up and meet back downstream to head back to the van.

I am still wearing my new leather sandals that were handmade for me in Troy, NY with special rubber tread soles.  They were still  not completely broken in and I slipped on the rocks bordering the stream.  I then slid on my bottom down the wet solid rock bank for about thirty feet, gaining speed and then going over the side for another six foot drop in the air into a stream that was only about a foot and a half deep with a solid rock bottom on my behind!  The whole fall seemed to be in slow motion with me thinking over and over again I was going to break a leg and ruin my whole trip.  I did not break any bones or bleed from any cuts.  My friends helped me up and I managed with their help to walk back down the trail to the van and we returned to the hostel for a change into dry clothes and a cup of hot chocolate.  A plus to the day was that my sandals stretched and dried in the shape of my feet and fit perfectly for the next two years.

BTW - I just learned that I had a setting wrong on comments.  You can now comment on the posts.  Sorry it took so long to find it.

5. Luxembourg to Saarbrucken, West Germany 1970

I am sure that everyone has seen me mentioning West Germany. West and East Germany were not reunited until 1989.  My trip was in 1970 and I was not allowed to travel in East Germany.

My travel day did not last long.  It took about 3 hours to hitchhike to Saarbrucken West Germany.  The combination of walking in the rain and showers for days in Luxembourg in new sandals and carrying a heavy backpack reeked havoc with my feet.  My doctor has called my feet horse hooves, meaning I will never have fallen arches.  My arch is too high and will not touch the ground so all my weight and what I carry is on the balls of my feet.  By the time I got to the youth hostel I could barely walk.  But once again I was lucky.  This hostel was not too busy and allowed you to come and go during the day.  Another great thing that was passed on to me was to put an American nickel in the old soda dispenser down the street.  The weight of the American coin matched the weight of a larger denominational German coin.  We would select our soda, get the soda and then the machine would give us German change, We would make money buying a soda.

While recuperating, I would take short trips the next couple of days.  I would just walk along the river absorbing the atmosphere, go to see some of the first century roman ruins and even visited the famous Saarbrucken Zoo.  The zoo was well worth the visit and the coins I made buying soda paid the entrance fee.  Now I believe that it costs about ten Euro's.




After about three days of this it was back on the road!

4. Luxembourg 1970

The beer in that tavern was exquisite, maybe because I didn't have to pay for to much of it.  The people I met bought me a couple and had me check out a couple of local snacks.  It was a fun time and I was out of the rain!  It was so much fun that I was late for the afternoon opening of the hostel and by the time I got there the beds were filled and the people that could were sleeping on the furniture.  there was only a little floor space left in the hallway.  After a shower, the floor was quite welcome.

The next morning it was up at 7:00, buy a juice and some muesli to mix in fresh yogurt, and out the door with your backpack by 8:30 before they closed up for the day.  If you were staying in the area for another night you could place your bags with everyone else's in a designated room that the matron would lock for the day and unlock when the hostel reopened in the evening.  You had to do it this way because chances were very slim that you would get the same bed again.  This was done at your own risk!  There was a lot of competition that summer for places to stay.
Bock casemates today

The City of Luxembourg was great for walking.  I did a lot of walking that summer.  It didn't cost money.   During your walk you can stroll from the eleventh century to the present in an afternoon.  You can start in the upper old city along the winding river, with views of old fortress walls, castles, ramparts, the Bock casemates and markets of all sorts and work your way back to the lower modern city.  I remember doing this all day in a warm light rain.

The next day was scheduled as a travel day back to West Germany.

3. Belgium through Germany to Luxembourg 1970

The overnight ferry ride from Dover to Oostande, Belgium was uneventful.

 The ferry arrived very early in the morning and it seemed to be a dismal day.  I am sorry to say that I was not very impressed.  Everything was grey and I remember nothing but industrial warehouses for miles.  The sun did eventually come out after a few hours and the warehouses were overcome by farms and countryside that was very beautiful.  Unfortunately by then I was about an hour from  the West German Border.  In all, it took me about four hours to hitch hike across the country of Belgium.

The border crossing, if I can remember correctly, was between Saint Vith, Belgium and Winterspelt, West Germany.  From there it was a short hop (50 kilometers) to the United States Air Force base at BitBerg, West Germany where I spent the rest of the day and the night.

My neighbor from back home in Mechanicille, NY was stationed there.  His name is David Jones.  Dave showed me around the parts of the base that he could, got me some dinner and we talked for quite awhile before he found me an empty rack (bed) in the barracks for the night.  We met in the morning and he took me to the chow hall for breakfast where we met a friend of his who was just getting off watch and was heading home to his apartment in Luxembourg.  I had always wanted to visit Luxembourg so I caught a ride with him.

After we cross the border, there is an old castle on the edge of small village about ten or fifteen kilometers from the city.  He drove his small car through the gate and into the courtyard.  He is home.  His apartment was inside the castle along with several others.  From there he gives me directions to one of the youth hostels in the middle of Luxembourg City. 

I start to hitch hike from there, but end up hiking the last five miles or so in the rain.  The youth hostel is closed!  Most youth hostels back in the day were designed for cultural immersion.  You signed into one in the late afternoon, socialized with the other international travelers and made plans for the next few days during the evening.  The next morning after the breakfast hour you were asked to leave and the place was locked up until late afternoon again.  It was supposedly designed this way so that you couldn't just lay about.  You had no choice but to go out and mix with the local community, meet people, socialize, and learn first hand about the local culture.  Luckily for me there was a tavern right up the street from the hostel and that day I was introduced to the local malt beverages.