Day 15 -- Lucerne

The day-trip to Zurich was to be postponed indefinitely; we'd thought about shoehorning it today, but decided against it…because we were totally unprepared and fairly uninterested in visiting the city at this point (no offense, all you Zurichers out there). On the other hand, there wasn't a lot of "sightseeing" left to do in Lucerne.

But really, this stop on our trip was more about "recouping," and "takin' 'er easy" before the madness that will be Rome. Besides, Lucerne had really grown on me since that first day, and our disastrous walking tour. Sure, it was expensive as hell (we'd been pulling our hair out, fretting about our dwindling cash supply since the disappointingly expensive ferry ride the previous day), and it wasn't nearly as "quaint" as I'd thought…but it was frigging beautiful.

When the sun was out, and the sky was clear, there's no better place in Europe…really. You can see the two big ol' fat mountains on either side of this amazing, clean lake. There are little parks all over the place, and the drivers are almost scary about stopping for every pedestrian crossing a crosswalk. And it just looks and smells so clean – even the cow-riddled pasturelands are still pleasingly aromatic.

And there were still a few things we could do around town to pass the time. Our first stop was the "Richard Wagner Museum," located just east of our hotel.

See, my mother is under the impression that her branch of the family tree may be distantly related to Mr. Wagner. The main points of evidence:

- My grandmother's maiden name is "Wagner."

- Her father (Henry) immigrated from Saxony – the same now-German region that Richard was born in.

- There is a history of musical ability in the family.

Of course, since Richard Wagner lived from 1813 to 1883, all of his direct descendants are aware of their famous lineage …and (as I discovered) they're all still living in Germany. However, Richard had 8 siblings (many of whom died young), and his father may have had even more siblings…so…it's not totally unimaginable that we're distantly related, or that we share a common ancestor somewhere along the line. But that's a blog for another time.

So we visited the museum…which was one of these small little "this famous person lived here once" museums, with a few artifacts and pictures. I liked it – it was completely deserted when we arrived (excepting for the pleasant woman at the front desk), and the little artifacts were cool. It was great being able to get up real close to the actual piano that he used to entertain Crazy Ludwig II (same guy who built Neuschwanstein). I dunno'…there was nothing really earth-shattering (and like most museums built to honor an individual, it shied away from controversial topics like his philandering, raging anti-Semitism, and the contentious relationships he had with his contemporaries), but it was nice. Pleasant.

When we finished at the museum, we took a little 15 minute walk along the shore of the lake into town. Then we kept heading around the lake -- on our previous day's bike ride we'd passed the Lucerne Casino, and Erika thought it'd be nice to eat dinner outside the casino in (yet another) gorgeous park on the shore of the lake. And since I'd been totally indifferent as to "where we eat" for the majority of this trip, I agreed.

The lunch was predictably good – washed down with a couple tall glasses of Eichhof Beer (if you're keeping track, I'm particularly fond of the dark version, and Erika likes the "Monastery" version – if it's ever imported to the US of A).

Leaving the lakeside yet again, we walked to the old medieval wall on the north end of "old town." It was…really…just like it sounds. An old medieval wall…that we traversed. On our way down Ms. Eagle-Eye Godwin spotted a woman sunbathing topless atop a nearby building. And if there's one thing the Europeans and I have in common, it's a fondness for toplessness.

We decided, after all the nudity and wall-walking, that a nap was in order. However, on our walk home, we passed by a peculiarly placed Picasso painting on a placard (say that five times fast…IN LATIN!!!) outside a building we'd passed…maybe a half-dozen times before. Could this be the missing Picasso Museum that we'd wanted to see on our first day? There was only one way to find out.

Inside, our suspicions were confirmed – the Picasso Museum had been moved from the "old town" to "just outside of the old town." We paid the hefty admission charges and went inside…to "experience" us some "Picasso Art."

Here we go. Now, as I've stated before, I'm no expert on the "visual arts." I don't generally "get" paintings or sculptures…which is unfortunate. I've tried to educate myself, but it's a little like my problems with beer – I just don't think it's ever going to click for me. But I forged ahead…armed with a multi-page print-out issued to me by the lady at the front desk, and the "ability to get up close to the actual works of art."

The first thing that struck me about the paintings was…there were a ton of "mistakes" on each canvas. If you get up real close, you could see all the times when he dripped paint accidentally…or when a brush stroke was too heavy, and a glob of paint ran down the canvas. Sometimes it was a bit like looking at some sloppy graffiti on a metal wall -- all running paint, and run-over lines. Comparing this to the flawless renaissance & romantic era paintings, it's just amazing to see how the "imperfection" of Picasso was far more moving to me than the "perfection" of earlier artists.

Secondly, that little print-out turned out to be quite helpful. It discussed each painting, which was actually kind of nice. When we visited the Louvre we just kinda' "winged it." Each painting was allowed to have an impact on us, regardless of the history or actual meaning of the piece. At first it I was content to wander about and be affected by the art I was seeing……but eventually my "affectation" started to wane, and the paintings seemed to be variations on a theme – "royalty or religious figures looking awesome."

But in the Picasso museum, we had that magical little printout, and we got to read about the things driving each piece (and it turns out the paintings revealed very interesting things about Picasso's personal life – specifically his love life). When I got a sense of the artist, I was able to match up the colors, imperfect brush strokes, and odd angles to the story each work was telling. Each painting seemed to come alive – much more so than anything I'd seen up to that point.

Lastly, the museum was dedicated to showing an artist's "evolution," meaning that all the pieces were lined up chronologically. So you got to see a couple of Picasso's earlier works (including some things from his "blue" period), to the crazy Cubist and Surrealist stages (where he seemed very interested in showing every part of the female anatomy looking at her only from the front), ending with the totally crazy late period where he drew pencil sketches on paper mostly detailing his weird pornographic male fantasies. You got to see his influences, and how much his work changed through the years…which made the work seem more personal, and affecting. I'm finding that, for me, art is much more interesting when it's telling the tale of the artist, not the subject.

Anyhow, once again, this is not something I'm equipped to describe effectively. I'm not that good of a writer. The point is, I was very moved by this museum…more so than I thought I would be. We spent more time there than we were planning, and it was definitely a pleasant, unplanned surprise.

That night, after "refreshing" at the hotel, we went out to another "recommended" dinner destination: The Rathaus Brauerei. Big selling point – they brew their own beer. I mean, who's heard of such a thing? Crazy. Anyhow, I had a "knuckle of pork," thinking (in my deluded brain) that "knuckle of pork" didn't actually mean "pig knuckle" – that it was a fancy renaming of a savory cut of meat, or a simple mistranslation.

Turns out, I was right. It wasn't a pig knuckle (because pigs don't have knuckles, they have hooves). However, it was the next-closest thing. It was a circular, horizontal cut of a piglet's lower leg…with the fatty skin fully intact. Basically, some cured meat wrapped in an inedible pig fat. It wasn't very good. Plus, the sauerkraut (which I had enjoyed in both Munich and at several prior meals in Lucerne) was waaay too cabbage-y. The crusty, hard bread came with several "tubes" of mustard…which was interesting, because it was mustard in a "tube," but it wasn't enough to save the meal from being "not very good." The beer was all right…but…nothing that would change my general ambivalence toward the beverage…and certainly not as tasty as Eichhof.

After we finished that unsatisfying meal, we headed back to the hotel room and packed. We're heading to Rome tomorrow…leaving the cozy confines of this sweet hotel and peaceful little town…to throw ourselves at the mercy of the "loudest city in Europe." Hope we're ready for the change. Until then…