Post-Europe Trip Reflection #4: Bless-ed Driving

10 July

The drive got off to a bit of a shaky start, leaving St. Gallen. It was time for our first fill-up of diesel. At this point, we were realizing what an amazing vehicle we were given! It was quite difficult to find a station that would take our Canadian credit cards however. We ended up using some final Swiss francs to get ourselves set until we found another station. And again, went in the wrong direction from the Autobahn and started driving up a mountain. Oops. Once we got back on track (which included driving around a roundabout a few times as we deliberated which was the correct exit to take), it didn’t take long to arrive at the Austrian border!

We didn’t even have to stop, but chose to in order to get our passports stamped by both the Swiss and the Austrians. Again, the signage wasn’t great, but we were able to locate the place to buy our Vignette which would allow us to use Austrian roads. This one was 8 Euros versus Switzerland’s being 40 Francs! Not much for what was soon to become one of our most picturesque drives.

I would say on this particular day, the realities of travel, driving confusion, little sleep, four women together, etc. we found ourselves in an interesting place. The drive through Austria was a quiet one at times as we each took in the grandeur outside of our windows and mulled in our own thoughts. Up until this time, the majority of music played was my various mixes of Nineties tunes, yet on this day, it seemed fitting to play a little something more contemplative. This meant popping in "Nobody's Got It All Together" by Jill Phillips, then "Behold the Lamb of God" by Andrew Peterson and others and then the one mix cd I had along of more worshippy stuff (of course including some tunes by Rich Mullins, U2...). For me, music is huge. Nature is huge. Combining the two is huge-er. Despite what was going on for me inside, I could not help but sing out songs as I looked at the brilliant creation around me.

I didn't really get any shots that do this drive justice. It was a drive surrounded by mountains, some of them snow-capped and some of them church or monastery (I think?)-capped.

It just got more and more thrilling as we entered Italy. More mountains and then gradual rolling hills filled with vineyards and olive groves. So many old, old clay tiled-roofed homesteads. Such amazingly placed orchards and vines, making the best use of the steep mountain landscape.

The roads were a little thrilling as well! Very high up lots of times and filled with Italian drivers! Today I can proudly say that I drove in Italy, successfully! As tricky and frustrating as it could be sometimes (particularly their seeming impatience with you to move back over after you've passed someone, even before you could see the car you were passing in your mirror!), I just let myself join in on the aggressive style. One thing I happily give the Europeans overall with their driving is their actual understanding of the concept of passing (or as the British say, "Overtaking"). A pet peeve of mine in Canada is drivers who remain in the middle lane, never moving right. Always move right! Isn't that what we were taught?! The Europeans do it! (Even if they insist you do it before you feel that it is safe to do so!)

By the time we got to Verona, I started to tire, but driving in the city is a little intense and the others were hesitant to just start out their own Europe driving experience in that setting, so I carried on. Again, we had a lesson in the difference in direction-giving. We were reading the directions from the website of Ca del Rocolo, the rural Bed & Breakfast we were staying in (advertised as Agriturismo) and well, it becomes somewhat of a game. Going on instinct. "Turn...here! Yes, here!" "What's 'here'?" "Right. I mean, left!"

Honestly, if you want a taste, check this
out! Pay close attention to Direction #9!!

Yes folks, we were driving up a mountain again. This time a mountain road that narrowed the higher we got. Narrowed to the point where it could only fit one vehicle. And sure enough, we met another on its way down! (Picture this. Four exhausted women. Driving up a mountain with a large (and beautiful) drop-off to the right. Trying to follow a paper of directions. Hungry. Tired. Anxious. Nervous. Tense.) Fortunately, maybe because there was another car behind us, the car we met did the reversing to the closest spot where the road widened enough for them to fit into. And we carried on up. Did I mention that I stalled at the beginning of our ascent?! Sigh.

Eventually, we all came tumbling out of our car and beheld the wonder that was to be our home for two nights! It really was great. Maybe for some, not worth the harry drive to reach, but I was in favour. Our host graciously picked us some tomatoes, eggplant, peppers, onions and garlic from her garden, gave us some mozzarella, Parmesan, pasta, olive oil (home grown) and wine and we had one of the most fulfilling meals ever. I was so thankful for my friends at this point who stepped up to make this meal while I plopped on the big nice bed in our room of cute wooden doors and shutters.

This is My Father's World

What a great day! It all just kind of "came together". I had no plan for my Sunday afternoon, but during the sermon in church this morning, my mind wandered to the idea of going for a nice, long bike ride. So after making lunch, I applied my sunscreen, filled my water bottle and went.

As much as I like biking around city streets, I was thinking of going out into the "country". Every day that I drive out to Pfennings I see great bike routes and realize that I really do have a draw to small towns and countryside. At the same time, I knew that I wouldn't be able to physically handle going so far on such a hot day and on an unfamiliar bike (I wanted to try out my housemate's). K-W has some good trails in the city, but I figured they'd be busy with walkers today, so I decided to stick to the city streets.

I was chucking along University Ave. heading out towards RIM Park when I came upon a sign for the Grand River Trail. Yes, this sign. (I try to illustrate these blogs as much as I can.)...

Now as a much as I love Kitchener-Waterloo, I have always found it hard that there is no lake, beach or attractive nature around (at least not, compared to my hometown--that's Wasaga in this pic...)

Every so often around town here, I cross this "Grand River", but well...yeah. I had heard of this trail, so I decided to take it.

First, I discovered this huge Kiwanis Park place that I never even knew existed in this city--looks like an awesome place to swim!

Then I was on this trail that basically winds around the river. I ended up biking along it for about 8 km, completely alone. I was no longer in the city. I was in the woods, I was at the river's bank. I was up, I was down, I was going through long, long grass and I had no idea where I was. I saw no one for a long time and no one saw me. In fact, no one in the world knew where I was (not even myself), which felt a little risky at moments, but brought back many childhood memories of me doing basically the same thing in the areas around our farm. I figured if I was safe as child, I was just as safe today.

I really can't describe fully just how much I enjoyed those kms along the trail today. It was as though I entered a secret little world or something. One moment I was in Waterloo and the next, I was completely hidden in nature. There was the feeling of familiarity with biking on trails that took me back to happy, childhood times of solitude. There was my catching glimpses of the treeline as it would only be along the edge of a river and that reminded me of the Amazon. There was my accidental detour off of the correct trail, right into wildgrass--a little precarious on a bike! There was me getting off the bike, traipsing through the grass, my foot falling in a hole, but me not injuring it and feeling relief that I didn't, seeing as I was in 'nowhere'. My delight with Lisa's bike that has thicker tires than mine and allowed me to bike without fear over such a variety of terrain. There was my successful ascent up a steep grade. And so many, many smiles out loud. Honestly, I couldn't help but smiling to myself. And to whoever else was there with me.

There was practically a laugh out loud as I coasted speedily down a gravel hill (again, without any of my usual skinny-tire-fear), passing some other people who said hello and then realizing I was re-entering the world. And where did I re-enter exactly? At The Dollhouse. LOL. (Kitchener's strip club.)

Today is Father's Day and I didn't visit my dad. Mostly because of gas prices and the fact that I am driving 40 km per day to work at this farm with the hopes of saving money! (I will see my dad next week though since I have to do a teachy gig at a camp up there.) This morning at church a woman whose father lives in Missouri shared her plan to spend today in her "Father's world". She then beautifully sang the hymn that I had forgotten has been a favourite of mine in years past. It came back to mind this afternoon as I spent the time I did--particularly as I walked through the tall, tall grass.

This is my Father's world and to my listening ears all nature sings and round me rings the music of the spheres.
This is my Father's world: I rest me in the thought of rocks and trees, of skies and seas; his hand the wonders wrought.
This is my Father's world, the birds their carols raise, the morning light, the lily white, declare their maker's praise.
This is my Father's world: he shines in all that's fair; in the rustling grass I hear him pass; he speaks to me everywhere.