I Have Friends Everywhere

One of the great joys of traveling abroad is meeting people of all ages, nationalities and walks of life, whether it's Cornelius, the retired barrister from Rotterdam, Olga, the graduate student turned professional comedienne from Moscow, Marcello, the elementary school teacher moonlighting as a tour guide in Zurich, Laszlo, the genealogist from Budapest, or Dina, the college student turned artist from Genoa.

Our overseas trips to Korea, Italy, England, France, the Netherlands, Spain, Germany, Switzerland and Austria have all been culturally enriching thanks to the numerous human connections we established over the years. This year, we were often asked:"Are you all okay over there?" or "Will you be all right?" in the face of the evolving fascist incursion perpetrated on the American people by the Trump regime.

Unlike many Americans, Europeans and Asians are not fooled by the ham-fisted narratives that Trump's band of pirates and cutthroats are pandering in the vast and furiously-paced construction of the new totalitarian regime. Of course, non-Americans aren't suckling at the teat of Fox News, either. They are clear-eyed and clear-headed enough to recognize an alarmingly authoritarian regime when they see one.

With that preface, I'd like to introduce you to a few of the many wonderfully articulate people we befriended in our time in Germany, Austria and Italy this past summer. Naturally, all of them had something to say about the sad state of political affairs in America today, expressing sympathy for those citizens of the U.S. grappling with the impending demise of democracy.

Meet Eugene (above), the night proprietor at the Hotel Deutsches Theatre in the heart of Munich where we stayed in 2011. Eugene, 92. is a native of Budapest who survived both the Nazis and their Soviet successors in Hungary. Discussing the trend toward authoritarianism in the U.S., he noted: "The oppressors always crumble from within." Then, he added with the wink and a smile: "Isn't his real name Drumpf?"

Meet Slim (above, front), our server at The Snitzelwirt Restaurant on the boulevard between Karlsplatz and Marienplatz. Slim, 43, a native of Tunis, is not happy with the state affairs in the U.S. "My sister and her family live in Washington, D.C. I would love to pick up my mother in Tunisia and visit the U.S. For now we will continue to meet in Tunis until that crazy man is long gone and forgotten."

Meet Gaia, the afternoon proprietor at the Hotel Bolzano B&B. Gaia, 24, is a graduate student at the Free University of Bozen-Bolzano focusing on environmental sustainability. A rock climber, Gaia disapproves of the recent trend toward authoritarianism in the U.S. Her advice: "You're a former mountaineer. You should move to the mountains of Bolzano. Get out while you still can, before it's too late," she noted with a smile.

Everyone we met on our recent journey expressed concern for our welfare under such an oppressive regime. Their messages and themes were clear and their encouragement reminded me of dialogue from the recent Andor series written by Tony Gilroy: "There will be times when the struggle seems impossible. I know this already. Alone, unsure, dwarfed by the scale of the enemy. Remember this: freedom is a pure idea. It occurs spontaneously and without instruction."

"Random acts of insurrection are occurring constantly. There are whole armies that have no idea that they’ve already enlisted in the cause. Remember that the frontier of the resistance is everywhere. Even the smallest act of insurrection pushes our lines forward. And remember this: the need for control is so desperate because it is so unnatural. Tyranny requires constant effort. It breaks, it leaks. Authority is brittle."

"Oppression is the mask of fear. The day will come when these moments of defiance will have flooded the banks of the authority, and then there will be one too many. One single thing will break. Remember this: We fight to win. That means we lose. And lose and lose and lose, until we’re ready. All you know now is how much you hate (this situation). You bank that. You hide that. You keep it alive until you know what to do with it.”

Return To Isolona

A highlight of this trip was having the opportunity to connect with our Italian cousins, the Sanguinetis, in Isolona. The remote village resides in the Fontanabuona Valley near Genoa. Having already spent a fortnight in Germany, Austria and Italy, we remained uncertain we could meet. But two days before departure, we finally connected, thanks to the wonders of social media and Google translate, and a meeting was scheduled.

The Fontanabuona Valley is an inland drainage northeast of Genoa. The area, well known for slate quarries that have been worked since medieval times, provided livelihoods for many residents of Commune of Orero. In nearby Cicagna, the town has become something of a home improvement hub, providing roofing tiles, floor and wall tile, countertops, tablets and pool table tops for consumers as far away as Rome.

In addition to assessing the motherlode of slate, the Fontanabuena Valley is famous for its hazelnuts, much like the Willamette Valley in Oregon. The valley, characterized by its lush greenery, streams and a variety of natural landscapes, features Vermentino and Dolcetto vineyards, olive groves and expensive chestnut and oak woods. Historically, Fontanabuena  was an ancient fief of the Fieschi family.

Although our visits have been brief when we travel to Italy, they have been most enjoyable. It's been great connecting with family; we could feel the genuine love despite the language barriers in communicating. On our first trip to Isolona, the Sanguinetis gifted us numerous photos of my family, including the picture below of, from left, my uncle, grandfather, grandmother and mother that I had never seen before.

Port Of The Dolphin

In the late 18th century, Portofino might have been the ideal "pirate cove" from The Count of Monte Cristo, where buccaneer Luigi Vampa and his crew would have divided their plunder after raiding a merchant ship. Today, Portofino is a primary Ligurian tourist attraction often frequented by the world's rich and famous. Clustered around a small harbor, the village features colorfully painted buildings that line the shore.

In 2013, as a scrum of paparazzi and rubber-necking tourists squeezed past our table at The Ristorante Delfino (top photo), I asked our server: "What's all that about?" "Johnny Depp is in town," he replied with a furled eyebrow. According to locals, it's quite common to spot celebrities like Madonna, Jennifer Lopez, Steven Spielberg and scores of others on the streets of Portofino when they venture from their gated villas.

The multi-million dollar yachts in the small harbor intermingle with the fishing sloops and tour boats, creating a colorful foreground against the backdrop of Portofino. The town itself is quite small, with less than 400 full time residents. Pliny the Elder named the village after all the dolphins that thrive along the Ligurian coastline on the Italian Riviera between Genoa and Portovenere on the region's border with Tuscany.

Motherland Redux

Retiring from my career position at Eugene Water & Electric Board in late 2008, my immediate inclination was to travel to Europe -- Italy, in particular. My mother and grandmother had maintained a 50-year correspondence with their cousins, the Sanguinetis, and I was intrigued by the notion of attempting to locate the family in their somewhat remote location in a small village called Isolona in the Commune of Orero.

My sojourn to the Motherland, however, would need to wait. When my just-graduated daughter chose to teach English in South Korea for a year, and I procured a fellowship to teach public relations at Sojang University in Seoul, it was a done deal. After some initial culture shock, I adapted nicely and enjoyed every minute. My daughter visited from Busan, and I connected with several former UO students living in Seoul.

Though retired from EWEB, I would continue to teach public relations full time as a non-tenure track instructor at the University of Oregon School of Journalism and communication during the school year. The best part? Summers off. By spring, I had airline tickets and hotel reservations booked for Italy in summer, 2010. But still a rookie at international travel, I would have much to learn, and some of it the hard way.

My first mistake was flying into Milan late in the afternoon. As I waited outside the terminal at the bus stop, a cab driver took pity and told me: "No bus to Genoa." He then pointed me to a bus bound for the main train station in Milan. "You take train to Genoa." Negotiating with the ticket office, I secured a ticket to Genoa and barely made the train in time for the two-hour trip in the dark, arriving in Genoa at midnight.

After that experience, a bus trip to Isolona in the Commune of Orero would have been nigh impossible. My next trip to Italy, in 2013, would be slightly more productive. Thanks to our hotel proprietor, we hired a cab driver who spoke both English and Italian, and was proficient in Genovese, the local dialect. Unfortunately, as luck would have it, Liguria has more than one Orero, and we chose the wrong one.

Then, in 2014, my brother and his family visited Italy and they not only found Isolona, but also learned the son-in-law of Anna Sanguineti was mayor of the small village. He pointed out the Sanguineti home, but unfortunately, no one was home that day. But armed with new information, we ventured to Genoa once again in 2015. This time, with help from our cab driver, Andrea Giovanelli, we connected with the Sanguinetis.

We returned to Italy once again in 2018, and in addition to enjoying the sights, sounds and cuisine of Genoa, we took the boat excursion to Portovenere and made yet another pilgrimage to Isolona to see the Sanguinetis. Then, on 2020, we were all sidelined by the global pandemic, abruptly ending our annual excursions to destinations like Genoa, Turin, Barcelona, Munich, Zurich and Geneva. Now, in 2025, we were finally back.

Long Train Runnin'

In about a dozen trips to Europe or Asia since 2009, we've never rented a car: too expensive and frankly, too much trouble. Except for an occasional cab, traveling by train is the best way to go. This year, we travelled by train from Germany (Munich in Bavaria) to Italy (Bolzano in South Tyrol and Genoa on the Italian Riviera), about 300 miles.

Based on previous experiences, I have concluded that the most prompt and timely train service is in Switzerland and Germany. Italy and Spain? Not so much. Leaving Bolzano, we immediately fell behind schedule, missing our connections, first in Verona, then Milan and finally Turin. We eventually arrived in Genoa after 11 hours on trainsand terminals, tired but relieved.

Messner's Mountain Museum

In planning our European junket, we chose two destinations on either side of the Alps as beginning and end points: Bavaria and the Italian Riviera. We would land in Munich and spend a week exploring the area and touring the castles of King Ludwig II. From Munich, we hopped a train to Bolzano in South Tyrol to witness the splendor of the Dolomites and visit one of Reinhold Messner's renowned mountain museums.

Messner, of course, is the first to climb the fourteen 8,000-meter peaks in the world, all without the use of supplemental oxygen or high-altitude porters. In addition to his climbing exploits and extreme expeditions, he is the best selling author of 60 books and the founder of the Messner Mountain Museums, a collection of six mountain-themed exhibitions.

Since we were in Bolzano, we hopped in a cab to Firmian, the ancient castle with fortifications dating to 945 AD where Reinhold Messner established the centerpiece of his six mountain museums in South Tyrol. The menagerie, located on the hills immediately west of Bozano, explores the relationship between humans and mountains from a variety of spiritual, economic, philosophical and cultural perspectives.

The self-guided exhibition leads visitors a journey through walls, towers and plains, beginning in the depths, examining formation, rock and exploitation, then moves on to explore myths and religions before focusing on tourism and alpinism. Architecture, art and nature combine to weave a compelling narrative. The tour is not predetermined and participants may explore on their own and at their own pace.

The centerpiece of the six mountain museums, Firmian features a treasure trove of Tibetan art and exhibits on Tibetan life and culture, including shrine rooms, altars and deity statues.

The museum focuses on man's connection with the mountains.

Duolingo Dilemma

After a week in Munich, we initiated preparations for the next leg of our journey to Bolzano on July 29. Having already purchased our train tickets, we retired early. In the middle of the night, our phones buzzed with reckless abandon. We ignored tham at first, thinking it was another fraud alert on a credit card, but now awake, we started the process of preparing for a train trip through Austria to our destination in Italy.

Our phones were flooded with texts from family members asking if we were okay. Apparently, national news outlets had reported a fatal train crash in Munich. We responded that we were just fine, and that we would board our train to Bolzano shortly. We were only a few blocks away from the Hauptbahnhof (main train station) in downtown Munich, but we hailed a cab anyway because of our heavy bags. 

The five-hour trip from Munich to Balzano was picturesque farm land then mountains as we transitioned from Germany to Austria. The Tirol is one of those unique regions that began as part of the Holy Roman Empire, and eventually Austria-Hungary, until the conclusion of WW I, when the Kingdom of Italy seized the southern part of the region. For centuries, the region has been known for its heavy transit trade over Brenner Pass.

Arriving in Bolzano ("Bozen" in German), we waited for a cab and watched as numerous customers boarded taxis they apparently had ordered. Calling our hotel for assistance, they were unable to help and instructed us to call the cab company. Contacting the cab company, the recording noted: dial "1" for Italian and "2" for German. No English. Eventually, we commandeered a cab intended for someone else.

Munich Miscellany

Tooling around the city center of Munich is quite the rush. The city's core, closed to motorized vehicles, pulses with vibrancy and prosperity. Yet, despite its urbane sophistication, Munich maintains  a certain provincialism that visitors find charming. Locals insist that their metropolis, which tops out at more than two million residents, is little more than a world village. During Octoberfest, the city welcomes six million more to hoist a glass to the conclusion of harvest season.

Munich prospered as a salt-trading center but was slammed by the bubonic plague in 1349. The epidemic subsided only after 150 years, when locals initiated a ritualistic dances as a reminder of their good fortune. The dance is reenacted daily by the little figures on the city's "glockenspiel" in the Marienplatz. By the nineteenth century, Munich witnessed an explosion of monument building, providing the city with its compelling architecture and wide Italian-style avenues.

The situation reached the point of excess when King Ludwig II assumed the Bavarian throne in 1864 as his grandiose projects, such as tlie Neuschwansten Castle, bankrupted the royal household and threatened the governmental collapse. Ironically, today the castles are major money generators of Bavaria's tourism industry. Munich experienced more back luck in the 20th century, nearly starving to death during WW I and suffering relentless Allied bombimg raids during WW II.

As anyone who travels to Europe will tell you, a big part of the experience is enjoying local cuisine. While Munich is a veritable world food court, our focus was on German comestibles. We dined at the some of the finest establishments Munich has to offer, including the Augustiner, where we had the best of the wurst (a variety of brats and dogs), and the Schitzelwirt, where the wienerschnitzel and jägerschnitzel were simply divine.

Another of Munich's "must see" features is the Englischer Garten, one of the world's largest urban public parks. Named after a form of informal landscaping popular in England from the mid-18th to the early 19th century. At the southern tip of the Englischer Garten is an articifical "permanent wave" in a frigid arm of the Isar River, where crowds gather on weekends to watch neoprene-clad surfers practice their moves. Residents of Munich also love their soccer team: FC Bayern.

Castle Conundrum

King Ludwig II of Bavaria was one of the great anomalies of European royalty in the late 19th century. Ascending the throne at the tender age of 18, Ludwig II had little use for governing, and increasingly withdrew from the day-to-day affairs of governance in favor of his artistic and architectural projects, including several lavish palaces, much to the chagrin of his ministers.

Born in Nymphenburg Palace (above) in Central Munich, Ludwig II was the oldest son of Maximillian II of Bavaria and Marie of Prussia, who became King and Queen of Bavaria after the abdication of the latter's father, Ludwig I, during the German Revolution of 1848-49. His parents wanted to name him "Otto" but his grandfather, Ludwig I, insisted that his grandson be named after him. "Ludwig" is the German form of "Louis."

As was the custom of the day when royalty governed most of Europe, Ludwig II and his brother Otto were indoctrinated into the regimen of royal duty from an early age. As heir to the throne, Ludwig was both extremely indulged and severely disciplined. He was close to neither of his parents. He did have happy moments living in Hohenschwangau (above), a fantasy castle his father had built near Alpsee in Füssen.

As a youth, he was already becoming something of legend-in-the-making. Handsome, strapping and tall at 6'4, he would become an enigma "to myself and others." Raised to accept the duties as heir apparent to Bavaria, he studied at numerous colleges. He showed little interest in politics but lived for the arts and sciences and excelled as a student. He is said to have commented that he would rather be a professor than king.

Nonetheless, when his father, Maximillion II, passed away suddenly, Ludwig II officially became King of Bavaria. At first, he was quite popular, especially with his subjects. He had a passion for music, particularly anything by Richard Wagner. But he disliked large public functions, avoiding social events whenever possible. Instead, he enjoyed touring the Bavarian countryside and chatting with farmers and merchants.

Two years later, war would alter Ludwig's outlook on life considerably. First, the Austro-Prussion War, followed by the Franco-Prussion War, led to the unification of Germany and Bavaria's loss of independence. Bavaria, reduced to vassal status, would retain its own army. As for Ludwig himself, a healthy allowance funded by the proletariat allowed him to pursue his interests in music, theater and architecture.

Now free to pursue his interests with gusto, Ludwig II wasted little time, delving into sponsoring operas and theater presentations. But even more significantly for Bavaria, he focused his energy on the design and construction of numerous castles, including Schloss Linderhof, Schloss Herrenchimsee and the grandest castle of all, Schloss Neushwanstein, the model utilized by Walt Disney in Disneyland.

Fascinated by the musical dramas and writings of Richard Wagner, Ludwig brought the composer to Munich. However, he left Munich due to government conflict and used his personal fortunes to fund the construction of his elaborate castles. These projects provided employment for many hundreds of local laborers and artisans and brought a considerable flow of prosperity to poor regions where the castles were built.

Despite the fact that Ludwig II financed his many projects with his own funds and not government coffers, his ministers attempted to dispose of him through constitutional means, insisting that he was insane and therefore unfit to rule. The accusations were numerous: pathological shyness aversion to state affairs, homosexuality and expensive flights of fancy.

I guess we'll never know. Under the care of severel psychiatrists, "Mad" King Ludwig and one of his psychiatrists drowned in Lake Stamberg under mysterious circumstances. His death was ruled a suicide. But was King Ludwig really a raving lunatic, or merely a shy genius? Despite being a massive drain on royal finances during his reign, the castles collectively have generated immense economic benefits for Bavaria ever since. He remains popular in Munich.