Author: Lee Hausman

Last night I saw the terrific Virtuosi di Venzia performance (stock photo at left): an eight-person chamber orchestra, supporting a tenor and a soprano as they sang a dozen arias from Vivaldi, Handel, Puccini, and Verdi. All performed in a de-comissioned, 15th Century, private chapel (capacity: 180). Last time I saw this, I sat dead center in the front row, with the singers just 10 feet from me; last night I sat in the last row (still only 100 feet away), and it made no difference: the acoustics were wonderful and the singing amazing. After a performance like this you understand why people cry at operas. The bonus is that this performance costs about 10% of a ticket to the La Fenice Opera House down the street, from which the moon-lighting musicians and singers originate.

The sun has returned today, my last day in Venice, and I spent the morning hanging around the Rialto Bridge, scoping out Christmas presents, downing a capuccino, and taking in the watercraft rodeo around the bridge in the central canal. It's a quintessential view of Venice and amazing that there are no boat collisions.

At lunchtime, I made my way back to the Taverna Campiello Remer (which, it turns out, is closed on Wednesdays) and I'm glad I did. This hard-to-find taverna is charming, rustic, and inexpensive. The friendly, multi-lingual staff explained their (very unusual) lunch buffet, which included 14 plates of buffet items, from marinated roasted chicken to macaroni with shrimp. The buffet, plus a pasta course, 1/4-litre of wine, water, dessert (cinnamon cake or baked pears with chocolate drizzel), and coffee was just 20EU! Excellent food and great ambiance with many locals eating there, too. And, judging from the grand piano, guitar, and cello in the corner, the evening meals, with music, are probably also wonderful. If you're coming to Venice, put this taverna on your list.

On the way back to my hotel, I stopped in at the nearby Trattoria ala Rivetta, where I have been having an afternoon bicchiere of red wine with the owner, Stefano, for many years. I recognize him, of course, but if he doesn't always recognize me (after a two year absence), he's kind enough not to let on. This tiny restaurant is a gondolier hangout, with excellent food, and you can get a small glass of wine for 1EU and stand around outside the door or in the entryway enjoying it. I usually manage to arrive just after the lunch rush has ended so there's time to chat and not be in the way. The restaurant has a place in my heart because I'm sure (though there's absolutely no proof) that it's somehow associated with the family of my old Country & Western dancing partner, Lynda Revetta, who passed away a few years ago. Oddly, Stefano continues to insist that Willie & Waylon would be inappropriate dining background music. Go figure.

This is one policy that distinguishes many European restaurants from ours: if you stand at the counter to order and consume something, it often costs less than if you sit down and order it through a waiter. This is a sensible plan for those in a hurry or who just want a small bite or drink and are OK with standing. The price differential is usually in the range of 1-3EU, so it's significant.

I'll be taking a short nap after writing this in preparation for visiting Harry's Bar, with its devastating Martinis. This is the original Harry's, the famous bar created by the famous Cipriani family, and reputedly where the Bellini (Proseco and pureed white peaches) was invented. If you don't know it, see their story here. Haven't had a Bellini? Everyone has to have at least one! But don't even think about making it without pureed white peaches. Harry's is where Ernest Hemmingway, Charlie Chaplin, Orson Welles, Hitchcock, and other members of the gliterati hung out, so it has a certain historical cache. In addition, the tux-wearing bartenders are a hoot – stylish, funny, suave, and really good at what they do. They almost make you forget you're paying 18.50EU for a tiny (but potent) martini.

The actual bar at Harry's is tiny, just six seats, and I have been lucky over the years to either find an available stool when I arrive or not wait too long for one. The people I've met there have also been interesting: last year it was a really nice older couple from Rio, who's son was attending school in Chicago, and who were here on their private yacht. I know I'm a little too old to be adopted but suggesting it to them crossed my mind. Well, as I said, it's always fun at Harry's.

[ Added the next morning: Something is seriously wrong in Venice. When I arrived at Harry's, not only were four of six bar stools empty (and remained that way) but several tables were unoccupied and there was no line to get it! This is something I've not seen in 8 years and a very disturbing sign of the times. The dour but eloquent bar tender gave me his take on it: people no longer seem to value the syle and legacy of the era that birthed Harry's (1930s-40s) and monster cruise ships flood the town with tourists but insist they all return by 6:00pm, killing the evening trade. His remedy? Everyone needs to watch Casa Blanca a few more times. My attentiveness to his pouring out his heart earned me an additional free Martini I really did not need but could hardly politely refuse. ]

Tomorrow (or today, depending on when I post this) I'll be bidding dear Venice farewell early, cruising away in the AliLaguna boat to the Marco Polo airport for my flight to Charles de Gaulle airport in Paris. It has been wondeful to be here again, and I think everyone should visit La Serrenisima at least once. Consult with me before you go. Tomorrow: Vive la France and pass the cheese!

A light rain is falling in Venice today. Just a mist that makes you get the umbrella out and then feel dumb carrying it. Until you see the passing wet heads and wonder why they didn't think to bring an umbrella.

Maybe it's the rain, or maybe the cruise ships have left (there's a sight: the juxtaposition of those mammoth ships and the lower Venetian skyline), or maybe the tourist season is just winding down, but activities are undeniably tamped down today. Walking down narrow lanes is easy, no dodging or elbowing, no choking crowds. Shop owners stand in their doorways, trolling for end-of-season customers, 20-50% sale signs are up, and the gondoliers sit idle. Venice heading into Winter repose?

The Nigerians who sell knock-offs are forced to stand, hooded black sentinels in this rain, holding their goods in their hands and arms – no sheet laid out on the ground as their shop window now. Perhaps the law has changed since my last visit – I don't recall seeing their spreads the last few good days, either, and there seem fewer of them than in years past; end of season or a sign of the Euro economic crisis? Hard to say.

The seats at Florian's and the other battling orchestra cafes on St. Mark's Plaza are empty in this weather, but the staffs in their tuxes squeegee water off the tables periodically anyway, idiot tourists still feed the hated pigeons (those “rats with wings”, as any former Manhattanite knows them to be), and the orchestras continue to play. No acqua alta (high water, when the storm drains back up at high tide) yet but the temporary walkways, stacked and ready, sit in the rain.

I have been thwarted in my quest to eat a highly-rated lunch at Taverna del Campiello Remer – after quite a bit of work finding it, trudging around narrow streets in the Cannaregio area, above the Rialto Bridge, I found it closed. Couldn't tell if that was just for today or permanently. Their web site is still up, at least.

So, I turned my wet feet back toward the Academia Bridge and the Dorsoduro area. With so little time here I have to make each meal count, which takes me to the Taverna San Trovaso. I found this gem through the wonderful Chow Venice book and have made it a regular stop ever since. This is a casual-dress tablecloth restaurant, with separate rooms upstairs for large groups and smaller ones downstairs. I noticed today that the small room I was in had copper air ducting running its length, so business must be good. The staff here is friendly and accomodating.

My lunch consisted of insalata mista (mixed salad), fresh bread, and penne pasta with tomato sauce, bacon, and onion, accompanied by a carafe of their nicely-chilled house cabernet. Everything was fresh and tasty and a delight to eat. As I dug into this feast, I reflected on the trouble Americans often have in European restaraunts: failure to understand the rhythm of the meal and the service. Here eating is not a sport or a fast-food prelude to whatever comes next; no, it's a time to sit and savor, enjoy, and relax. With that in mind, for example, it's only natural that the waiter will let you sit in peace for 10-15 minutes after finishing your meal before inquiring if you need anything else. This is where Americans often get antsy and claim the service is bad. “Check, bring the check, where's the check”? But the waiter thinks it would be rude to rush you, so he does not.

Many visitors are also suprised, when the check comes, to find the coperto charge on it. These two euros cover the cost of that basket of bread you received, and are obligatory. Even with it, my lovely hour-and-a-half lunch cost me only 20 euros, with tip, and it was worth every penny.

Watching others, I was reminded as I ate of my manners. My dear departed mother would probaby find some fault these days, as these things have gotten more casual in the world in general and in my practice. Does it really matter? Yes, it does. In the 1980s, I dated a beautiful chef who had trained in Paris and Rome. Our romance was in its early days when she came to my place to cook for me. I remember that her company and the meal were terrific, but I remember more clearly that for some reason she complimented me for keeping my left hand quietly in my lap throughout the meal! Two thoughts flashed through my mind then: “How lucky I am to be in love with a woman who appreciates the finer things”; and “Thanks, Mom, for telling me to get my elbow off the table so often”! Good advice then, good advice now.

For the techno-geeks out there, I'm using an a Nikon S620 digital camera, occasionally the iPhone camera, an iPad, and the Blogsy app to make these posts. I'm using direct USB from the Nikon to the iPad to transfer photos, and a nifty feature in iPhoto to “beam” photos from the iPhone to the iPad. I use an iPad carrying case (Kensington KeyFolio Pro2) which includes a nice, BlueTooth keyboard and props the iPad up like a laptop screen, which I highly recommend.

Given that the iPad is the perfect portable blogging device, it's disappointing that the process is not easier. The official WordPress iPad app doesn't work well. Blogsy, with its own flaws, is the best of several stinky alternatives I've tried. Inserting pictures, aligining them within the text, and controlling text flow are not as seamless as they should be, this many years into the web. I happen to know HTML (the underlying language used for these pages) by heart and am able to tweak things behind the scenes, but it must be awful for those who don't know it to try to get some control over their posts.

Whining over, last night was the “Cicchetti Crawl”, wherein I sampled the tapas-like Happy Hour offerings of several Venetian watering holes. It's a fun business, having a small glass of wine and one or two delicasies while standing at the bar, chatting with others, and then moving on, and it makes for an entertaining sit-down dinner alternative. Here are two pictures of the offerings at Bacaro Risorto, one of my favorite places to hang. My favorite cicchetti? The tempura'd zucchini flower, stuffed with an anchovy.

Bacaro Risorto is conveniently right next door to my hotel, Casa Fontana. I've stayed here for my last several visits to Venice and it's a nice hotel, run by a friendly and helpful family. It's located just south of San Marco Piazza so it's both easy to get to, and get away from, the touristy sites and hordes. I'm in Room 11 this trip, which is on the back and has its own balcony with chairs. It's a very nice treat to sit out there after a day of walking and relax with the view and a book.

Today, we have a bit of an overcast and I'm exploring a new place for lunch which is difficult to get to but reportedly worth the effort. Ciao for now!

Just a short post about yesterday, most of which was spent on the EuroCity 87 train, crossing from Germany into Austria and then down into Italy. The views were quite spectacular, and I've posted two pictures, but they do little justice to the reality. This has something to do with the sense of scale you get when you're standing, for instance, at the edge of the Grand Canyon, which is totally lost in a flat image. But at least you get the idea.

Nonetheless, the trip was a congenial, if long, six hours and two different sets of fellow passengers joined me in our comfortable, six-person, 1st class compartment

We arrived right on time at 6:10 pm at St. Lucia station in Venice, and I was lucky to exit the stazione ferroviaria (rail station), get a vaporetto (water bus) ticket, and then step right onto the #2, which swept around the west of Venice and down the Giudecca Canal. Dusk fell, the lights sparkled across the water, and the wind freshened up before a cold front. I love this part of arriving in Venice – riding the waves, the pas de deux of the pilot and conductor at each stop, the promise of exploring the island – and it always makes me smile. I disembarked at San Zaccaria and was soon checking in at my favorite Venetian hotel, Casa Fontana. And what a nice room Diego had waiting for me: double bed, beautiful tile flooring, private bath with shower, and best of all, a balcony with two chairs and a table, overlooking the piazza of the San Zaccaria church. Today: fine Italian food and wine!

With Oktoberfest in its last super-crowded days, I decided to see other parts of Munich. The popular Marienplatz is a central downtown area, lined with lots of shops and sights. The photo at left, below, is the “new” Town Hall, with the famous glockenspiel clock tower, where mechanical figures dance and whirl when the bells chime.

The equally famous and seemingly more popular Hofbrauhaus, at right, above, was swarmed with folks. The atmopshere inside was not unlike the Oktoberfest beer tents but, without the high ceiling and openness, it was infinitely louder inside and not as welcoming. But, I had to do my duty, so I had my necessary litre of Oktoberfest Marzen there. Tasty, yes, but not as fun as the tents.

The picture at the left shows a portion of a room off to the side of the main dining area where racks of padlocked mugs, belonging to Hofbrauhaus regulars, are stored. I wonder how many liters you have to down to earn this privilege?! Only about 1/3 of the total number of mugs is shown. There are also tables there that are designated for regulars, so you have to be mindful where you sit.

Sunday was a rainy day in Munich which made it perfect for going to BMW Welt, which means “BMW World”. To me, it was BMW Heaven. If you don't know it, I was the proud owner of a 1995 BMW 525i Sedan for a few years and miss it often. The area is home to BMW HQ and includes the BMW factory (sadly, no tours were on offer during my visit), the Welt (a sort of giant showroom), and the BMW Museum. The company also owns Mini Cooper and Rolls Royce, so they were represented in the cars on display in the Welt, too. This is also where those who elect to pick up their newly purchased BMW at the factory come to collect it (and get the VIP treatment) before driving off into the sunset.

The museum was filled with dozens of gorgeous BMW cars and motorcycles from throughout the company's nearly 100 year history. Race cars, vintage and new motorycles, beautiful coupes, convertibles, and sedans – all were on immaculate display. I have to say that my favorite was the Isetta (shown below) which BMW came to own when it bought an Italian automaker in 1955. It was the top-selling 1-cylinder car ever (yes, one cylinder). If you look closely, you'll see that the only “door” is the entire front of the car. Sadly, it's no longer made (because I know you want one).

I rode the U-Bahn train back to town and whiled away the rest of the afternoon, dodging the rain, at the Augustiner restaurant on the main drag near the Karlsplatz. I've had a great time here in Munich but look forward to my scenic train ride tomorrow over the Alps to one of Italy's best cities, Venice. See you there!

It's hard to convey just how glad I am that I have been to the mother of all beer festivals, Oktoberfest in Munich. I had a terrific time. Here's an analogy for my U.S. readers: imagine the Texas State Fair combined with Mardi Gras. Live in or around Washington, D.C.? Imagine a carnival, with rides, plus 100,000 seats for beer drinking, covering half the National Mall. Now there's a Folklife Festival for you!

It's all in the timing, apparently. I arrived at 10:30 am on the last Friday of the festival, and found a light crowd strolling the main drag. There were 14 major beer “tents” and maybe 25 smaller ones. The major tents are multi-story temporary structures which have canvas roofs but little else to distinguish themselves as tents (see the photo gallery I posted earlier). The biggest tents seat 9,000 people! And it's all taken down and then put back up next year. Covering 103 acres, in addition to the beer tents, the festival has a Ferris Wheel, several huge roller coasters, and every carnival ride, game, and food stand you can imagine (I never did figure out how to say “Funnel Cake” in German).

I've read some other blogs about Ocktoberfest, filled with complaints about things like not being able to find a WC (restroom). Just a touch of preparation might have prevented many of those problems. For example, the Tourist Info office right at the central Munich train station hands out free, detailed maps of the Oktoberfest grounds, with WCs, ATMs, amenties for the handicapped, etc. all clearly marked. Showing up at 5pm on the last Saturday of the festival is also a formula for a) being overwhelmed by the crowd and b) not getting into a beer tent. Because you have to get into a tent or its outside beer garden to drink.

And so, at 10:30 am I went into the Augustiner Festhalle tent. Basically, the big tents are run by major breweries and I wanted to try Augustiner because their Oktoberfest brew is still stored in 200-year old wooden kegs and is highly-rated. I had no problem getting a seat. Tables can be reserved for parties of 10 or more, but most reservations don't kick-in until 4:00 pm. This seems to be little known secret, as many people bypassed tables with reserved signs on them that they could easily have sat down at. Some tents, like Augustiner, actually have areas of tables that are marked “Here is Open Seating”, which is where I sat.

Some basic Oktoberfest economics: when you reserve a table you guarantee to pay for at least two beers and a half-chicken for each reserved seat. If some of your party doesn't show up, you're still on the hook for the total amount and you'll haul in anyone who looks tolerable to fill the vacant seats. The servers actually buy the food and drink for each order (at wholesale, I'm sure) from the tent owner and then sell it to you at the posted prices. So they have a vested interest in getting as many butts into seats as possible, and will often help you find a seat if you ask.

I sat down at a table with three young Germans who waved me in. Tables have benches on either side, with no backs, so you're rubbing spines with the person at the table behind you. In no time at all, I was drinking my first “mass” or 1-litre (33 oz.) beer. That was the one and only size I saw, and it was tasty. To be designated an Oktoberfest beer, the brew must comform to the Rheinheitsgebot or “purity law” (brewed using only water, barley, and hops) and be about 6% ABV. It also has to be brewed within the Munich city limits.

My initial cold, heady stein of Augustiner was golden amber, with a light, slightly malty taste and a very light hoppy finish. It was smooth, very satisfying, and possibly fatally easy to drink. I took my time with it.

The crowd to me appeared to be 80% under 30 and easily 50% wore the traditional checked-shirt and lederhosen (men) or dirndl dress (women), and the occasional short-shorts lederhosen (hotties). In many cases “dirndl” seemed to be translated as “cleavage”. There were a lot of good-looking women, to be sure. Traditional and goofy hats abounded.

By 11:30 am the place was filling up and so were the festival goers. Occassionally someone would stand up on their bench (benches are OK, but not on table tops) and chug a stein, accompanied quickly by cheering, clapping, and pounding on tables for all corners, followed by a huge cheer when the empty stein was brandished above. Occasionally a competition between two chuggers would break out. Then again, when one fellow got the crowd going but failed to finish his stein off, oh, the booing and hissing were huge!! It's not smart to taunt the crowd!

Reasons for taking a drink were many and varied. Recognizing an old friend? Drink! Finding countrymen at the adjacent table? Drink! Someone from your table coming back from the WC? Drink! And this was BEFORE noon, when the band started playing, pouring forth endless German songs that demanded that you stand, cheer, and drink, drink, drink at the end! Who knew these Bavarians could be so much fun?

I finally finished my first stein and ordered half a roasted chicken with my second one. Must get that protein in (as if beer doesn't contain any). In typical European fashion, when you order chicken, you get chicken. And nothing else: no sides, no condiments, nothing. Still, it was seasoned nicely and hit the spot.

Speaking of countrymen, at my table we wound up with two Japanese students, five young Germans, and me. The next table over was an entire group of American guys and girls studying in Rome. In front of us, a full troupe of hilarious young German men (students, I would guess) dressed in matching shirts and lederhosen and having a ball – they were really entertaining.

At 1:00 with what I thought was my full day's quota of beer under my belt (it's good to have a plan… and not to worry too much if things don't go to plan) I spent an hour strolling around the festival grounds, buying a souvenir or two and sampling some small foods and sweets. The grounds were a lot more crowded but still easily navigable; lots of families with small children, strollers, etc. in the mix now.

At 2:00 I strolled into the Paulaner Festhalle tent and now, as a seasoned seat-finding pro, sat right down with a group of Italian and German youngsters. My third litre of beer of the day was a revelation: lightly sweet, with a citrus, malt and faintly raisin taste. Wow – it was really good! Again, an extremely smooth finish in the mouth and fatally drinkable.

The Paulaner tent was jammed and the 12-piece band, on a raised dias in the center of the room, complete with a rocking horn section (and sax-playing fraulein), cranked through endless German tunes and lots of American frat-party classics. I'm talking about the Rhino records stuff, like Shout!, Wooly Bully, and Gimme Some Lovin' (gad – will that Spencer Davis hit never die?!). The crowd loved it. The folks at my table left and their places were soon taken by the arrival, along with my fourth litre, of a group of middle-aged Italian men, who I quickly figured out were from Venice. One is a gondalier and, as I headed there Monday, it was fun talking with some of the Venetian locals. When they were trying to guess my nationality, they tossed out “Harley-Davidson” and were soon on to me. We sang, we drank, we stood, we cheered.

It's always interesting to observe the group dynamics in these situations. There's always one “class clown” who, if not in command, is at least intent on creating fun. This person will be loud, may be rude, will take risks, and gets everyone laughing. I saw this in many groups of men and certainly in the Venetians. I guess it takes one to recognize one.

At 4:00 we were kicked out of our table so it could be available for those who reserved it and we said our goodbyes. The place was really packed and getting to the tent's huge WC through the crowd took a lot of work. I finally escaped outside to the midway where I discovered the crowd had grown to almost gridlock, too. I parked myself in a good location and people-watched for a while and noticed other odd bits. Did you know they sell bratwurst by the meter? Yes, apparently you can buy .25, .5 and 1-meter of it, on a bun, ready to eat.

Well, I was feeling pretty lively then but was saved by the fact that I was broke (1 beer = 9.6 euros, chicken = 9.7 euros, souvenirs, postcards, stamps, etc. cash only, please) and probably couldn't have gotten into any tents, all of which had now sprouted long entry lines, anyway. So at 5:00 pm I headed back to my hotel. I was clearly intoxicated (let's see: 4 x 33 = 132 oz. / 16 oz. = 8.25 Mad Fox pints at 6%) but having spread them out throughout the day, I was in good shape and slept well without any serious after effects. Let's not talk about gross calorie intake, please.

I went back to the festgrounds this morning to mail some postcards there so they'd get the official Oktoberfest stamp cancellation. Today is the next to last day of the festival and, at 10:30 am, the crowd was as big as it was at 5:00 yesterday. Good golly, I can't image what it will be like tonight. The tents are open until around midnight and I'm sure they'll be rockin'. My visit was a great experience and I recommend it to you!

I had another fine flight on Virgin-Atlantic to London – the airline just can't be beaten for comfort and service. As many of you already know, it's relatively easy to accumulate rewards points from various sources and apply them to Virgin's frequent flyer plan to get an upgrade to their Upper Class ticket. So, except for a bit of turbulence here and there, it was another great flight.

One of the other things I like about Virgin is the Revivals Lounge at Heathrow. It consists of 30 private bathrooms with showers, plus a breakfast cafe! So, at no extra charge, Upper Class passengers can shave, shower, and change clothes after a wrinkle-laden, Einstein hair inducing, fitfull night of semi-sleep on the red-eye flight and emerge looking reasonably human.

I spent two hours hanging at Heathrow, busying myself to avoid falling asleep, and then caught a Lufthansa flight to Munich. It's amusing to compare American and European flight expectations: my Lufthansa economy ticket included several inches of free space between my tall man's knees and the seat ahead of me, and free food and drink (even wine and beer). Fabulous. However, there were no food choices. Instead, the stewardess practically raced her cart down the aisle, tossing a one-flavor-fits-all French bread pizza to everyone, without a word. It was mushroom marinara pizza, which I find tasty but it might not have suited everyone. Yet I head no complaining, no demanding to know what other flavors there were, and saw no one acting as if they were entitled to mutliple choices. Kind of refreshing, actually.

Munich's airport is modern and well-laid out and sits atop two rail lines. It struck me as odd though that the trains are express trains. They're locals, making 12 stops over 40 minutes, before reaching the center of the city and adding more time and jammed-in comraderie with other humans to your trip. Hmm… sounds a bit like a rail project that's working its way out to Dulles airport outside Washington, D.C.

See the traditional lederhosen costume at left? As the train made its way into town, more and more people in this traditional dress for Oktoberfest got on board. Women in those dirndl dresses, too. In fact, I arrived into the Hauptbahnhof central train station in a veritable swarm of these outfits. Fighting down the urge to race out and plunk down $300 for a real one, I luckily realized it just wouldn't “go” with anything else I own. Considering that they're made out of rather heavy leather, I don't how I'd have gotten one in my suitcase anyway, without sacrificing the room I set aside the for endless souvenirs I rashly promised everyone I know.

I found my hotel without mishap, and managed to get out to an Italian restaurant for a simple meal, and my first Oktoberfest (only 20-oz.) beer. Yes, everyone in town is serving the seasonal brew. Tomorrow is forecast to be a nice, cool, sunny day and I will devote all of it to worshipping the golden grain product and making my dent in the millions of pints that will be served this year at Oktoberfest. Stay tuned!

Welcome back. It's been a while since I've posted here and I'm very glad you're reading my blog. I hope you'll stay with me as I jet off to some interesting places in Europe once again and I look forward to adding regularly to this chronicle of my travels.

As you can tell by looking at the dates of the posts here, I managed to skip reporting on my 2011 trip entirely. No specific reason; just didn't do it. I did go to Amsterdam for the first time and it was wet but a lot of fun. The Dutch are a friendly people, to be sure.

If you tag along with me, this year we'll start off by spending some time enjoying the last few days of Oktoberfest in its home town, Munich. Then we'll take a scenic train ride over the Alps and down into my favorite island destination, Venice. The City of Light, Paris, will be our third stop, with some interesting events in store there for us. Then it will be back under the English Channel by train to London to revisit some familiar places and new pubs.

My trip doesn't start for a few more days, but do check back here after that for my daily photos and musings.