Soaring on skiis- Innsbruck Austria

High Flier

I’m sitting in the café at the top of the Bergisel ski jump in Austria, site of the 1964 and 1976 Winter Olympics. It’s a nauseating height. The kind that even spectacular panoramic views can’t help you ignore. I feel as if the collective nerves and adrenalin of the hundreds of competitors who have launched themselves into record books have gathered in my stomach.
I order a strong espresso but it only seems to heighten the nausea, so, I order an applestrudel in an attempt to take my mind off the scenery and onto my stomach.
Then I saw it. The reason I was so nervous. A young Austrian jumper, on the slope, preparing to jump. Perhaps I had been channeling his nerves?
Heart racing, perspiration pouring down, a quick prayer as the seconds ticked by….and that was just me! In contrast, this athlete appeared as cool as an Austrian snowflake. His lithe body bends, clips onto the two ski rails , adjusted his vest and soars. Skis crossed, sky high and then gracefully gliding down the artificial grass slope. A terrain watered and tendered like a prize cricket pitch. Visons of Eddie the Eagle flashed through my mind. I was in awe.

Thinking how lucky I was to witness this in the height of summer I make my way slowly step by step, slope by slope….down the path. Suddenly the jumper runs passed me, back to the cable car, back to the top. Unlike me, he didn’t need to stop for coffee and cake at the café. Realising he was heading for a re-run, I rushed to the bottom for a different view. A group of Indian tourists were gathered on the teared seating getting an informative brief from an English speaking, Austrian coach. I stop, and listen in. Discretely of course.

 Huge sprinklers spray water droplets into the sky creating rainbows and sparkling like thousands of Swarovski crystals. After a few minutes the sprinklers stop, a tiny speck appears at the top of the jump, then, without hesitation, soars through the sky. The crowd applauds and break into a clacker of disbelief. The smiling ski-jumper  takes time to approach the group, pausing for a few quick photos, then its “auf wiedersehen” and back to the top. Me, well, I head down to the next coffee shop. All that exercise and energy has made me exhausted.

Blokzijl, Netherlands

The campervan squeezes along the narrow streets. We suck in our breath and pray that nothing comes the other way. I'm grateful that our friends discovered Blokzijl in the northern Netherlands by canal boat and told us about it, otherwise we would never have found it.

Now we sit in an old café. The owner seems as old as the building. He creeps in the darkness amidst tables set with candles and surrounded by art work in the style of the Dutch Masters. The rain and gloom is fitting with the atmosphere but somehow adds to the experience of visiting this medieval fortress built in the 1600’s. We are the only patrons.

Outside the rain quietly fills the gaps in the cobblestones spraying afar as red cape-clad cyclists pedal passed. They stop momentarily and peer in the window. No doubt we do not make a suitable display and they pedal on in the rain. Barry Manilow sings on the radio in contrast to what I see and feel.

As I finish my coffee and yet another slice of Dutch appeltaart the music changes, the radio now plays “You can be a Champion”  transporting me back to Vanuatu where Facebook reminds me that I was two years ago. The song was sung loudly and enthusiastically by my Grade Six class as they graduated from primary school, many of them departing to boarding schools in more developed countries. How life changes, so quickly, and yet Blokzijl reminds me that in reality, some things never change, they just wear the markings of time.

Many dorrways have small displays

A gloomy day but full of discoveries.

The most wonderful thing about campervan travelling and having time, is that you end up in the most unexpected places. There is a huge population of grey-haired nomads roaming foreign territory and doing it in a way that is self sustaining financially; renting out their homes, living off their pensions and living cheaply. At times it seems as if the whole world is populated by 0ver-60's!

We have arrived in Germany and know about ten words of German between the two of us. Our prime objective is to stay off the beaten track as much as we can, however some larger towns and cities definitely deserve a side trip.

Our first stop is Kassel in the Hesse District. Nearly obliterated by 400,000 bombs in October 1942, the town managed to rise from the ashes and today is a vibrant, creative community.  We came in search of the Grimm Brothers as  part of the Fairy Tale Route but arrived in time for one of the world’s most famous contemporary arts exhibitions. “Documenta 14”. “What? You’ve never heard of it?” Neither had we! But tens of thousands of other people had and the city was swamped.  The festival takes place every five years, the chosen artist kept a carefully guarded secret until the event. It is highly organized and deeply meaningful. I managed to locate an outline of Documenta 14 written in four languages but it was so artistically intense with purpose and clarification there is no point in me trying to describe it. I’ll leave that to Google.

Needless to say on a balmy summer evening we stroll with others along greenspaces and public venues seeking meaning and understanding of many of the huge art installations which have begun unfolding during the 100 days of the exhibition. I’ve always loved installation-art. The fact that one can dream up an idea and have it created in the most fancival sizes and constructed in whatever medium fits. I once had the opportunity to be a part of an art installation called “The Queue”. I was one of thirteen people who queued in the most unexpected places and then waited for a code word on which we would disband and reassemble at another obscure point over three days.

I am, of course, in awe of the huge Pantheon with pillars constructed of tens of thousands of books preserved in plastic wrap. The sky above is stormy and daggers of lightening flash. The on-coming rain will be a real test of how water tight the structure has become. Nearby what appears to be  huge terracotta piping is housing assorted homely objects. A speaker on a trolley is set on full-volume and repeats a haunting phrase over and over. People crowd around it discussing it’s artistic merits. I just want a translation of it’s words. All of this deep thinking creates a thirst and we are soon eating and drinking in the temporary pavilions set up in one of the plazas and discussing the meaning of life...and art.

Pantheon of books at "Documenta 14" Kessel

Close up of a tiny part of a column