Back home in the Midwest

This trip has been a marvelous adventure - I traveled for 15 weeks on my own; I learned a lot about France and its language; in Luxembourg I connected with "family"; in Norway, I experienced peace and joy; all along I met wonderful people from around the world.
The flights home connected smoothly. Going through customs in Chicago was simple. Eileen only had to make one circle past the international terminal - we connected on her second time around.
The drive home provided beautiful sunset scenes. We arrived back in Dubuque about 9:30 p.m. I immediately fell into bed.
The next few days, many people welcomed me home - so did the turkeys and the flowers. With the people, of course, there were numerous questions about my journeys which I was happy to answer.
My next project is to summarize in a PowerPoint presentation - where does one begin?! - the places and people that I have met since January.
Thank you all for your "follow-ship" over the last few months. I hope that we can connect sometime this summer to debrief together.
Enjoy this final pictures.Back home pictures

First week in Norway

2 – 7 mai, 2011   

            Early Monday morning, 4:45 a.m., Elisabeth met me at the car to take me to the airport. She and Guy have been wonderful to work with. I feel as though they have become my Luxembourg relatives. This morning she has packed a sandwich and drink for the trip.

            All went as expected at the airport. The plane to Amsterdam was quite full – I had an aisle seat in the very last row of plane. It was necessary and easy to nap a bit during the flight of 45 minutes. Upon arrival in Amsterdam, I found the bank to exchange Euros for Kroner so that I could pay for my train ride and taxi cab in Norway.

            The flight to Trondheim was 3 hours, so more naps and a little eating of airline food. I arrived in Norway at 10:30 a.m. Sr. Sheryl had emailed detailed directions of what to do once I arrived: catch the 11:45 train, just a short walk from the airport’s front doors, and about a half hour trip, and then take a taxi, which was waiting for me at the Åsen station, 45 minutes to Tautra Mariakloster. It worked just like that.

            Once at the monastery, about 1:00 p.m., I had a bit of dinner, then Sr. Marjoe showed me around and to my room. It has a view of the boathouses and the water -  water everywhere.

The day was calm and mild with a definite feeling of spring. The farmers are working up the fields in preparation for planting of potatoes, carrots, lettuce, etc.

After evening prayer, Sr. Sheryl and I had supper together. She was the cook – salmon, green beans, and rice – and made all taste so good. She and Sr. Gilchrist laid out before me the various musical tasks that were before me for the week.
PICTURES

I wasn’t sure how my body/mind would take the long days. At 9:30 I decided to go to bed, but first I took a picture of the evening sky, still in bright twilight, from my bedroom window. Then I slept quite well despite briefly checking the near darkness several times throughout the night. The curtains on the windows block most of the light for easily adjusting to the non-dark.

On Tuesday, the rehearsals began. Each morning from 9:00 – 9:30 I work with the choir. Then there are two or three scheduled meetings for individuals throughout the day. That evening I had supper with Sr. Gilchrist.

Tuesday morning, Sheryl had asked if I’d like to travel with her on Wednesday on some errands to Trondheim. On the way back we would stop at the world-famous Ringve museum of music. Tautra is an island in the fjord of Trondheim. Crossing the little bridge to the mainland is just the beginning. It was over an hour and a half to drive to Trondheim, through several tunnels and along the sea. Norway has lots of big rock mountains and lots of trees. It is very picturesque.

The Ringve Museum has an amazing collection of instruments by a Russian singer who came to and married in Norway. She and her husband purposefully collected instruments from around the world. Most are no longer being manufactured such as a piano with a keyboard like that of an accordion – an invention of the 19^th century. The other aspect of the museum is a history of musical instruments, so one finds a Moog synthesizer, a Hammond organ, and a jukebox. In the “barn” the audio tour provided recordings of the instruments being played and explanations of their significance. We really needed more than the 2 hours that we allotted to take it all in. It was a fascinating place to visit.

On our travels through Trondheim, we picked up Bjørn, a retired chef who has become a friend of the sisters who was coming out to Tautra for a retreat weekend. He connects with restaurants and stores to pick up foods that have expired dates but are still good to use and distributes them to several charities. This week the sisters were going to have several treats: salmon, asparagus, and tomatoes.

By Friday, I had gotten to know the other people who were on retreat at the monastery. The guests eat with Fr. Anthony in the guest dining room after the noon prayer. We eat in silence until all have finished eating. Then as the dessert and coffee or tea is being prepared we converse with one another. The Lutheran pastor, the very first day I arrived, gave me a quick lesson on Norwegian vowels so that I might better join in the singing of the prayers. (Now I need to inquire about the consonants because I am hearing some new things.) Another woman, Amanda Dorothea, who is a pastor of a church in Rotterdam, is here with a friend for the week. They are doing lots of walking and some touring of the area. Amanda was a choir director for 20 years. Now she uses a lot of music in her church. We have had numerous chats as we share a common kitchen.

This day, Bjørn wanted to give us a chance to taste Munkeby cheese. This cheese is being made by the Cistercian monks who are about an hour away from Tautra. They come from Citeaux in France, so the cheese looks a lot like brie, but it does not smell like brie – the odor is much stronger – however, the taste is mild and earthy. It is made with goat’s milk from the region around the monastery. It is quite popular with Norwegian restaurants of a certain caliber.

With the cheese tasting, Bjørn prepared rhubarb, cooked just until tender in a water-sugar syrup, and fresh asparagus. There were biscuit crackers on which to set the cheese, too. His chef-hand made it look appetizing, and it was very tasty.

Another cheese that the Norwegians really like is “brown cheese.” This is made from milk that is cooked down, until carmelized, and then processed as cheese. It is very smooth and a little sweet, not unlike Velveeta, but it is not so soft.

In the afternoon, after my lessons were done for the day, Amanda and I walked to the monastery ruins on the other side of the island. It is not a long walk at all. At that site, there are several small shops with gifts, Norwegian and otherwise, and a little restaurant that serves Norwegian dishes. Today there was a funeral dinner being served, so we did not go in. The area is set up for picnickers, too.

Norway has decided to intentionally preserve any remaining ruins – monasteries, castles, and such. There is work going on at this site to tuckpoint the stones.

It was a lovely day weather-wise today. This week there were two days of rain, another two overcast and windy days. The weekend is supposed to be more pleasant. Friday, like Monday, were warm and mild. I hope there will be more good weather next week when I’m on retreat. When the sun doesn’t shine, even indoors it is much chillier.A few more pictures

As I predicted, I do not have convenient access to Internet. Also during retreat, I do not expect to be online at all. If necessary, please call Mariakloster – some of you have that phone number. That will be the best way to reach me until I make my return home.

Peace, Dear Reader.

Last days in Luxembourg

PICTURES

            Saturday morning I had the delight to meet Ernest and Claude Molitor, certainly a relative from several generations before. They came at 9:00, joining me for breakfast. Unfortunately, just as we were about to sit down, we heard the dog yelp. She had gotten behind a car that Guy was moving up the hill toward the house; she could not be seen. This changed the course of events for Guy and Elisabeth for the day since they had to take the gentle and forgiving dog to the vet in Mersch; she was limping badly. As they made their way out the driveway, I sat down with the Molitors.

            In sharing our family trees we have found that Philippe Manternach and his wife née Thérèse Schumacher is the common starting point. Ernest’s family tree is of the Schumacher’s. By what was written down, it seemed possibly that Philippe was a son of Nicholas III. However, the dates do not align according to Fr. Albert’s history. There is a ten-year difference to account for. I would like to find out who are the parents of Philippe. This would be a younger brother to Nicholas, and agrees with the story that Philippe and his sister Cecile were cousins of Henry, our great-great grandfather.

            Later in the day I received an email from Ernest with this family information: Nicholas’ wife, Ann Maria Weber, was the sister of Ernest’s great grandmother who married Peter Molitor. The farming community here is still close-knit, as I understand, so it is no surprise that the prettiest women would marry the handsomest men in the area. I hope that we can keep in touch via email.

            Guy and Elisabeth returned about 11:00 with the dog, who seems only to be badly bruised but with pain relievers. The Molitors stayed a little while longer; we all sat at the pond until a little after noon watching the dog for fear she might misstep into the pond. However, she stayed dry, and at least she wanted to be around people.

            In the afternoon, I decided to take a longer drive to a city in the northern part of Luxembourg – Clervaux – because the weather was perfect for a walk. There is a museum there with a photographic exhibit called “The Family of Man” and some walking trails surrounding the town. I left the house about 2:00. The drive was relaxing. I found the castle-museum, but the exhibit I was expecting to see was closed for renovation. So was the exhibit of miniature castles depicting chateaus from all over Luxembourg. However, the part of the house dedicated to the Battle of the Bulge was open.

            Once again the impact of WWII on the people of the area took a stronghold in me. This place was at the very heart of the fight for independence from Germany, which had annexed them immediately. Many letters of testimony and thanks were exhibited along with the munitions and uniforms of the war, even a brown scapular (called a talisman) from one of the American soldiers who had perished. I was moved.

            After this viewing, I climbed the hill toward the abbey, stopping in at the parish church where a woman was practicing the organ, and then following the road to the top. The Benedictine men’s abbey is quite “new” having been built at the beginning of the 20^th century. The chapel is beautifully renovated with simplicity and light. I visited the “expo” of abbey life below the chapel. Here I discovered that Dom Paul Benoit had been a resident of the community. He was a composer as well as an organist who taught the well-known French organists of the turn of the century – Debussy, Faurés, Ravel, et al.

            The bookshop was open, too. I found a wooden-bead rosary for my nephew who makes his first communion today. The monk blessed it especially for him.

            Now it was time to return to the car, as my parking permit would expire in half an hour. I stopped again at the church to see if there would be Mass in the evening, but no. So I went on to the car taking the opposite direction around the chateau. The street was lined with eating places, many of them already busy. I stopped to buy a Magnum caramel and almond ice cream bar at one of the cafés because I heard that they were very good. Indeed it was, like a Dove bar but better.

            I reached Larochette just before 6:00. Seeing people heading to the church, I parked the car and went in to Mass. The choir was singing, but the congregation did not have any way to participate in the music – I saw no books or papers. Interestingly the Mass setting in Latin was the same one that was being used at the church in Nice, so I could at least hum along. I like it. It may be one to use in the States during the transition time if someone wants to use the Latin text.

            Afterwards, I walked across the street to the medieval festival. The crowd was quite small, but the “players” were enthusiastic for their task: food was being served, wood was being chopped, coal was being ground, and along with two coats of armor there were other small items from the time to observe.

            There was a musical group singing French/Belgian folksongs. And a camper was set up selling sausages on a bun and beer. I went across the street to the Café de la Place, recommended by Elisabeth to have supper. The music was just the right volume from there, too. I had a chevre chaud salad: lettuce with a mustard dressing, served with small toasted squares topped with baked goat cheese seasoned with oregano, and garnished with a tomato and 3 slices of melon. It was just what I wanted.

            I made it back to the house about 8:20 p.m., which was a good time to Skype family on this special day for my nephew. The First Communion Mass was not until 4 pm but that would be 11 pm my time; the time difference fascinated my nephew. I’m sure they had a good party if the rain stopped at all.

            Sunday morning dawned bright and clear. Elisabeth and I sat for a long while. She showed me pictures of the house when they bought it. It really must have been a strong dream for them to commit to four years of renovation before they could even move in. The transformation is amazing.

            This afternoon, I am trying to update the blog, then to pack the bag into something that is manageable. Elisabeth will lead me to the airport this evening so that I can drop off the car. I won’t be able to check in early, so we will leave at 4 a.m. in the morning to catch the flight to Amsterdam/Trondheim.

            It has been a wonderful week in Luxembourg. So many people have welcomed my inquiries and interest in the country. It feels very much like home. Now if I could only learn Luxembourgoise – after I secure a little more French.

            This may be the last entry of the blog until I return to the States. The next two weeks I will be in Norway with the Cistercian sisters in Trondheim. The first week I will assist with musical consultations; the second week I will be on retreat.

            So much love to you, Dear Reader. It has been a pleasure to share my travels with you in this medium. You are in my thoughts and prayers. With love, LaDonna

Days 88 and 89 mercredi, jeudi et vendredi

27, 28, 29 avril 2011

            Wednesday morning the Internet connection has finally been achieved!

Elisabeth did a lot of calling around to see if there was anyone I could meet with regarding relatives. Shortly after 11:00, she made a connection with the parish house in Larochette. I headed into town, parked, and walked up the hill in the direction of the house. As it was, I had overshot my destination, but an older Portuguese man tried to help along with his wife and a neighbor. Finally when I said “the former priest house” they knew it.

            The secretary was helpful, showing me a book from about 1875 to 1920 or so. I found the name Manternach several times, one being the son of Philippe (the musician). So I determined to come back the next day because the office was closing at noon.

            From there I headed to the village of Manternach, which is REALLY in the middle of nowhere. It is a farm town that has had a history of mills – paper, wood, textile, and steel. I saw no remnants of anything large, but the mills have been gone for a very long time. After walking through the cemetery, I stopped at the town hall to ask for information. The young man seemed surprised and wasn’t sure what to say. (Imagine this scenario for a little town like Worthington, IA; the response might be the same.) He directed me toward a small museum further down the street. I walked the street without seeing anything that looked particularly inviting until I reached the top of the hill and the end of town. Turning to go back downhill, I stopped at a little bar called “Manternacher Stuff.” This café/bar was run by a young Portuguese woman. The dog barked a greeting and the two little girls, both under two years of age, were playing. I had a café crème, watched the girl’s temperament dissolve as they headed toward naptime, and used the restroom. As I departed, I received a souvenir of the place, a pen. Then as I headed back towards the car, I saw signs for a nature center.

Going in I found brochures with historic information and trail maps. This old house with a barn area attached had antiques from the turn of the century. It was neatly laid out. Upstairs was a lovely museum showing the geology of the area, the former flaxseed-to-linen production, and a number of taxidermy animals. A young man came in after a while. I surprised him, first by being there, and then by telling him that my family name was Manternach. He said that when he first arrived at the nature center, he had done an Internet search of Manternach but only Manternach family information came up, noting of the town. He was full of information about the area and gave me a trail map of the woods nearby.

The trail was along the little river where the mills had been over time. I was able to see the dam that could divert the water to the mill. The path took me up and down the hills. Other trails converged here – Luxembourg is a friendly place for hikers and bikers. At the mill sight, there was limestone rubble, but no indication of a foundation. By now it was late in the afternoon and I headed back to the car and homeward.Manternach trail and city pictures

Thursday morning I got to meet Mr. Colbach, a former mayor of Heffingen. He had looked up the Manternach family records for this little town. It does not seem that our family is closely connected. However, by looking at Fr. Albert’s written history, he was able to describe the street in Larochette on which they likely lived. Elisabeth said these houses are quite old, now occupied by the Portuguese families. The old church has been razed and the cemetery moved, so what I visited the other day is the new church and cemetery.

Because of Mr. Colbach’s visit, I did not get back to the parish house and in calling I was not able to reach anyone. So I will try again Friday morning. For the rest of the day, which was dreary, I headed to Luxembourg City.

Here I took the first parking lot and went directly to the Tourist Information office. With maps in hand, I circled the block several times trying to find the entrance to the Notre Dame Cathedral, formerly a Jesuit institution and college. The deceased members of the royal family are buried in a vault downstairs. The building is another dominating structure outside and inside. 

The city’s historical museum gives the development of the fortress from the late tenth century to today. It offered everything printed in English as well as French, German and Dutch. The most striking exhibit was that of the German occupation during the Second World War. The people were forced by threat to participate as soldiers and cooperate with the army. Luxembourg has an amazing resiliency.

Next I walked along the borders of the “high city” and took an elevator down at least 4 floors to the “low city”. Back at the top I found the old St. Michael’s church, whose origins date back to the late tenth century. Then to the Casements which were tunnels under the city that held ammunition and allowed soldiers shelter and passage to other areas of the city.

It was a little after 5:30, so I hoped to get some supper in the City before heading back to Heffingen. Like in France, dinner service begins after 7:00 p.m., so I walked around looking at the multitude of menu boards. In the end I decided upon a place because my feet were tired. The food was delicious – my first taste of spring (white) asparagus. By 8:30 I was on my way back to the B&B.

This morning, Friday, I returned to the parish house to look at the book of records from the era of my great, great grandfather Henry. I was not able to find a lot, but I copied three items: the baptismal accounts for baby Henricus (1878) and then Mathias Henricus (1880); a year later, a record of the death of baby Henricus (1879). This is information that I don’t think we had before. According to the Iowa records, baby John should have had a place in the book in 1878, but I could not find another record. The other children who were born during the years of the book, I could not find either. There is likely another story to uncover here.

Afterwards, I walked next door to the Gemang, city hall of Larochette. Here Mr. Bruno Brunetti, through the request of Mr. René Manternach of Berford, helped find birth records for Henry in 1833, his sister Margueritte in 1831, and his son Philippe (1870)– my great grandfather. Even though the town hall could not provide more than this in the time they had, and because other books were “likely” destroyed in the fire that destroyed so much of the town during WWII, 1942 or ’43, I was grateful for the copies of these records.

Across from the mayor’s office there was a gathering of local people watching the wedding ceremonies of Prince William and Catherine Middleton.

I walked up the street called Hënneschtgaass, now Rue Michel Rodange. This was the street where the old church was located, and by Fr. Albert’s description, likely the one where the family home is located. Some of the doors indicated the year of construction, very few indicated the name of the family that constructed it. I took lots of pictures of this street, with the hope that I possibly captured a glimpse of the old family home.

At the site of the old church there is now a parking area and a small park for children. There are stairs leading up the bluff to a tower. I scaled upwards; the site was worth a visit for views of the town. Then I walked a very level trail along the hillside for quite a distance before turning around. The spring growth on the trees and the undergrowth are fresh and lush.

Before heading back to the B&B, I decided to have lunch at the restaurant of the Hotel de Chateau. It was fine, a good price, but the menu of the day was more Portuguese than Luxembourgoise: broccoli soup, fish (and calamari and, perhaps, mussels) in a red sauce with rice, and vanilla ice cream for dessert.

Back at the house, the BBC review of the royal wedding is repeatedly going over the details of the day. I’m rather interested in the music that was used, so I’ll be checking the Internet for more details on that.

Elisabeth had washed my laundry today, so she stopped by with the first load and more “relative” information. Good friends of Guy think that we may be related, and I think this is very possible. The family name is Molitor. They have death cards of Philippe (the musician) and his wife Thérèse Schumacher. This is a definite commonality. They will come for breakfast in the morning at 9:00.

Then we had tea and spent several hours together chatting. Elisabeth has a very interesting life story that could be a book. I won’t share it here in detail except to say that she met Zoltan Kodaly’s young wife one summer in Lucerne, Switzerland. Elisabeth’s grandmother took her many places to share the culture of music with her. When she was 13, she traveled with her grandmother to Lucerne for a music festival at which Kodàly was conducting some of his music. Since Kodàly, who was already and old man, liked to nap in the afternoon, his young wife of 18 years and a violinist was looking for companionship. The two young Elisabeth’s found each other and spent many hours together taking walks around the lake. Elisabeth Nilles never met Mr. Kodàly, but I feel like I just had an out-of-body experience in her storytelling.

I think that’s all for today. Here’s wishing you many happy memories of your week. And a special greeting goes out to my nephew Jonah who makes his first communion tomorrow. With love, Dear Reader.

Day 87 mardi

26 avril 2011

            This morning, after breakfast, Elisabeth let me use her computer to do some Internet things. She also retrieved the password for the in-house Wi-Fi, but I can’t get it to work on my computer. I’m not sure what the problem is since this is a first time problem. I couldn’t find anything online that suggests a reason or a solution.

            After a few bites for lunch, I returned Elisabeth’s computer, and Guy gave me the phone so that I could call René Manternach in Berdorf. His wife answered the phone and she did not want to speak English. Before I could ask in French, she hung-up. Then I asked Guy to call. He did a lot of talking to explain my situation. I was welcome to come in the afternoon, so this became the focus of the day.

            Already I had a new Facebook friend from yesterday’s meeting of Nathalie, the friend of Georges Manternach in Beaufort. This surprised me because she was cautious of me presenting myself at her door. But I hope that we might keep in touch.

            Berdorf was just a short drive away. The Manternachs live in a house near the edge of town. I took along my computer with pictures and Fr. Albert’s family history. The door opened for me as I approached. René and Mariette were most willing to share the family history. His skin and hair coloring is very much like our family.  As we studied the two histories and compared dates with our family, there did not seem to be a close connection; possibly if we had another generation back for René’s family, but to the time of Heinrich (Henry) there was no connection to place or time. His family is from Heffingen, and has no story of people who emigrated to the States. So he may be related if we had information that went back far enough.Pictures of the Manternachs

            When I showed René the death card of Philippe Manternach, the musician, he went on a hunt. He came back with two pieces of music that he had played in band in grade school – trumpet. He made me copies of these pieces: one is a marche, the other is called Zimmen-Menager. The first piece is published by M. Hulsemann in Luxembourg. The other is a handwritten copy, but I do not know whether or not it is in Philippe’s handwriting.

He did tell me that Manternachs are interred at Ernzen, not Larochette. I will visit there tomorrow – it is very close in this valley – Larochette quickly becomes Ernzen and then shortly one is in Soup and Heffingen. I also have Manternachs to call in Bissen, near Echternach. René does not know these people. They may provide another possible link.

After visiting with the family, I drove to Echternach for some sight seeing. Following the GPS instructions, I accidently took a right across the river into Germany. It was easy to turn around and return to Luxembourg, of course. I parked near the abbey of St. Willibrord. (This man brought relics of St. Stephen, the martyr, from Rome to Germany, thus bringing together the two churches.) The city is not large, so I walked around the city center. Since it was already late in the day, nearly 5:00 p.m. when I arrived, most places were closing, but I was able to see a bit of the church museum.

The church is a pilgrimage spot. Each whitsun season they have a dansante (dancing) procession through town to honor St. Willibrord and to pray for health – originally for a cure from the plague. The church itself was destroyed during WWII, but the people have rebuilt it following the same plan and adding some chapels. In its simplicity and sincerity, it felt like a holy place to me.Echternach basilica pictures

Afterwards, I walked around the center of town trying to find an Internet hotspot and a place to eat. I saw several, but the computer was in the car. I decided to stop somewhere else on the way home for Internet, though I did have tomato-rice soup and wienerschnitzel with french fries for supper at a little corner restaurant.

On the way home, I stopped in Larochette and asked if there was a place for Internet in town. Just across the street at a little bar, they had it. So ordering a Coke, I settled in to connect with the world. It did not go as well as I had hoped. In calling Eileen, I was able to connect twice, but by her response, I think that it must have sounded strange on her end. She hung up. Instead, I left messages for people and wrote emails. I did talk to Corinne (former student of Azurlingua) on Facebook – that was nice.

Now it is late and tomorrow is another adventure. Good day, Dear Reader. 

Day 86 lundi

            After breakfast, I showed Elisabeth and Guy the family information that I had, including Fr. Albert Manternach’s story of the family history. They did a phonebook and Internet search for anyone named Manternach in the area. There aren’t many, but possibly someone will know someone who shares some of our family history.

            Today the weather was beautiful and my plan was to visit the small villages of Beaufort, Medernach, the Larochette cemetery and Meysembourg chateau. The GPS did a fine job of directing me across the winding roads of the countryside. (It looks so much like Iowa and Wisconsin here!) I left after lunch.

            At Beaufort the Chateau of Torture greets one at the edge of town. Since it was such a lovely day, I decided to visit. This structure was begun in the late twelfth century; at some time in its history it gained a jail and hall of torture, but it also had a history of glory until the end of the seventeenth century.Beaufort castle/

            After this visit, I drove to the church, but it was not open and there was no cemetery near by. So I set the GPS to take me to Medernach.

            The church of Medernach was not hard to find. It was open. It was very plain on the outside, but inside they had retained a beautiful baroque-style altar and organ. Here I found a statue of St. Donatus. Outside there were garden plots with a few old headstones collected from the cemetery. Along the wall of the yard there were other headstones, but I did not see another cemetery in town.Pictures of Medernach church

            Next I set the GPS to find a Manternach in town. It was quite close to the church. Elisabeth had tried calling them this morning without an answer. The house was relatively new. I could hear a child’s voice emanating from inside. I rang the bell. A young woman with a friendly face answered the door. After greeting one another with “moyen”, I asked if she spoke any English. She said yes. I told her my story. She acknowledged that her friend George was not at home, but that his father René was interested in genealogy. She gave me his phone number, so that’s a call to make tomorrow.

            From Medernach, I returned to Larochette. The cemetery is near the edge of town. I was able to park across from it. This was good because there was a open air market for clothes going on in the middle of town and I did not want to get caught in traffic. The visit to the cemetery was worthwhile: I found two Manternach gravesites, one of which was of the time period near the end of the 19^th century. So there must be someone who continues to take care of them. My other observation is that the names on the tombstones are very familiar. I am remembering so many people that I knew in Bellevue and St. Donatus and other places, too, of course. Then I walked toward the center of town where all the people were milling about. There were skirts, jeans, tops and shoes everywhere. It didn’t seem that a lot of people were buying even though the prices were good.Larochette cemetery

            From here I made my way to the Meysembourg chateau. This was not as productive. I visited because Elisabeth has told the story of the house. A man built the gigantic house for his wife. Many poor farmers lived in the area. The man gave them loans with high interest rates that they could not pay back, so many immigrated to the United States. The house is now for sale, but it does not have a successful history despite the beautiful valley it sits in. I could not get close to the house, and the GPS wanted me to turn into a field, but I did not.Meysembourg photos

I found the local church with its little graveyard, but that did not yield any family connections. So I headed back to Larochette, through Heffingen and back to the B&B, quite tired after the trekking and relaxed by the warm sun.

That’s all that the day offered. Tomorrow is another adventure, possibly to the towns of Manternach and Echternach. Off to bed for a good night’s rest, Dear Reader. Sleep well.

Days 84, 85 samedi et dimanche de le Pâque

Pictures of the going away party, train travel, and first days in Luxembourg

            Friday evening I left Michele’s place at 7 p.m. having not yet heard from Wei-Wei who wanted to walk me to the station. As I was saying my good-byes to Michele, Wei-Wei called: she was on the bus and would arrive “immediately.” I told her that I would wait two minutes, and then I had to start walking. The bus did not come, so I began walking slowly so that Wei-Wei might catch up with me. At the corner a Moroccan man wanted to talk: he was a draggeur. After several “jamais” (never) from me, we parted ways. And I continued to the station.

            The train was not yet there and I had almost a half hour wait for the departure time, so I scanned the crowd for Wei-Wei. There she was! She was so thoughtful to want to see me off. I was having a hard time wrapping my mind around “last” time things, so it was very nice to have Wei-Wei there. The train arrived and my bags were heftily weighed down, so I need to work my way to the car. We said “good-bye.”

            The car was directly in front of the door, so after checking the ticket, I made my way up the stairs, one bag at a time, to my couchette. Since it was a second-class ticket, there were six sleeping places in the cabin. Mine was in the middle – not on the bottom, not on top. There was a young man who greeted us as we departed Nice. I explained to him that I did not know where to put my bag. (I had placed it unattended at the end of the car in the spot for bicycles.) He brought it back to my cabin and tucked it away underneath the window, behind the ladder. I felt better.

At Nice, I was alone, but by the time we had stopped about four times, all the spots were taken. My first cabin-mate and I kept the lights on in the cabin until 9 p.m.  After that the other four people entered in the dark, but they managed getting settled quite well. I did not watch a clock because I knew that my stop in Luxembourg City was well after the sun was up. There were plenty of interruptions of sleep from the noticeable changing speeds of the train, people coming and going through the car, as well as the berth being a little uncomfortable that I really only catnapped through the night. By the time we stopped in Nancy and Metz, I was alone again, and I had part of the breakfast that I had packed – hard-boiled eggs, carrot sticks, and butter cookies.

The train arrived in Luxembourg just after 9:30. The young man from the train assisted me with my big bag as I descended from the train, and he directed me to the elevator. I was with another woman who I followed through the station to another elevator that brought us up on the street. Now I was outside the station, and I looked for Elisabeth and Guy, my hosts for the next week, first there, then inside. There they were holding a placard with my name on it. We first had coffee across the street in a hotel coffee shop.

Then Guy gave me a tour of Luxembourg City through the old town and to the airport to the car rental. That’s when I realized that my directions did not seem to indicate that the EuropCar desk was at the airport. I hauled out the papers; no, back in town, actually, just behind the train station. Oh well, Guy was very nice about that. We found the office, and Elisabeth and Guy waited for me so that they could lead me to their bed and breakfast.

At the first stoplight, the manual transmission car stalled. It always takes me a little bit of time to adjust to the feel of a new car. Gratefully Elisabeth was with me and we were on our way again soon. The landscape is very much like the wooded areas of eastern Iowa. I can see why my Manternach ancestors made their home in Iowa. At the house, there is a driveway that would require me to back up or down as there is no room to turn around by the house – with the experiences of the car so far, I didn’t feel ready for that, so Elisabeth invited me to park in her spot at the end of the lane.

The inn is delightful. I have a suite of rooms all set out prettily and comfortably. After unpacking a few things and eating the remainder of my breakfast foods, a nap seemed to be the wisest course of action for the first part of the afternoon. The bed was so comfortable and the house so quiet that I slept for over an hour. About 3 p.m. I knew that I had to get up for the rest of the day. Elisabeth offered to lead me into Larochette to the supermarket as well as to an ATM. After picking up a few things for lunches or suppers for the week, we parted.

When I parked the car near the bank, I strolled around the plaza to the church, which was being cleaned in preparation for the Saturday night service, and to the office of tourism. Finding that the Chateau, a dominant site from below, was open until 6 p.m., I decided to make a visit. When I parked the car in the lot, thunder was rolling, but I decided to take my chances and enter the site. This must have been a magnificent place in its time (14^th century) built right into the rocks at the top of a mountainous bluff by 5 noble families of the area. The views of Larochette were spectacular. The ruins had many stories to tell. I took lots of pictures, but they cannot begin to give a sense of the natural grandeur that was emphasized by what must have been grand structures. One of the manors has been restored. That building alone must have provided work and lodging for many people. Excavations are continuing at the site. There was only one sign that told people not to climb on the walls – other than that, there was much to explore for all ages.

Now to see if I can find my way back to the inn: The GPS does not want to recognize the address, but as long as I can remember and learn the way that is better anyway. It was no time at all until I was back. I made a simple supper of soup and a sandwich, watched TV in French, German and Luxembourgish, was falling asleep by 8:30, waking up at 9:15 and headed to bed.

I don’t remember turning over at all during the night. I saw that it was light, checked the time – it was just 6:20 a.m. Being in my first real bed since coming to France, I saw no reason to get up until the alarm went off at 7:40 a.m.  By then I was aware of some delicious smells coming from downstairs.

Elisabeth had breakfast ready for me at 9:00 at the dining table. There was sliced ham, cheese slices, pastries – the cutest was especially for Easter, a danish shaped like a bunny with chocolate covered ears and tail and a raisin for its eye. I saw that there was a bell to call Elisabeth. I tapped it once, never being too bold. But I should have given it a series of taps so that she could hear it. Next time. About 9:15, Elisabeth came in with tea and a soft-boiled egg. It was a sumptuous breakfast.

Easter Mass was especially nice at the nearby church. The town of Heffingen is less than a ten-minute walk up the hill. The church was easy to spot. I arrived a little after 10 a.m. The musicians were gathering. I spent some time studying the little hymnal which contained mostly German prayers and songs, but a little section of French, too. By the time Mass started at 10:45, a good number of people had arrived, but the church was not crowded. This was too bad, because the musicians did a fine job with the program. The priest was of Nigerian origin. He alternated between German and French. The Gospel was read in German by one of the parishioners. The short homily given by the pastor was both in German and French. For the Eucharistic Prayer, everyone stood until the acclamation then they sat until after the Lamb of God. The only thing that all were invited to sing was the recessional hymn. The number for the song was projected above the altar. By the time I found the page, I was able to join in on the second verse. All in all, the musicians made it a very nice celebration. It was also good to see that families hung around for a while afterwards chatting.

I made my way to the cemetery across the street to look at the names on the tombstones. Very few plots seemed older than 1940. Later I asked Guy about it. He explained that generally a plot is kept about 30 years. When there is no one left to tend the plot, the remains are removed and someone else may purchase it. This does not give me much hope for finding Manternach gravestones, especially from the time of my ancestors who departed in the late 19^th century.

After a short walk around town, I headed back to the inn. By now the sun was very warm and I was dressed too warmly in my suit. After a bit of a cool-down in my room, I joined Elisabeth and Guy, who had invited me to their Easter celebration with family (their daughter Margret) and friends, at the pond behind the house for “pies.” The pie was quiche Lorraine and a meat pie of Alsace-Lorraine origin, which I had. The salad was delicious, too. Afterwards we had two delicious treats: cheesecake and a chocolate cake with coffee flavored with vanilla, cinnamon and chocolate. Friends stopped by throughout the afternoon. At the very last we had home languages of German, French, Luxembourgish, Portuguese and English. It was quite the international celebration – a most enjoyable day.

It doesn’t seem that I will be able to call family via Skype today because my computer is not talking to the Wi-Fi at the house just yet. Hopefully in a few days I’ll be able to make it work. Thinking of you, Dear Reader.