from the Summer 1965 Soham Grammarian
FORTY FENLANDERS ON THE CONTINENT
Months of planning, minute organisation and timing were suddenly shattered when, with an explosion like a rifle shot, a sudden blinding of the German scenery and a final crash, we found that we were minus die Windschutzcheibe. It was a draughty ride from Bonn to Koblenz but there was slight compensation as it afforded opportunity to spend the next morning in the delightful grape-laden Mosel valley.
Telephone calls back to Cambridge brought a new windscreen on the morning plane to Mainz; a two hundred mile dash to collect it, and severe bullying of German garage-hands (once we had found anyone willing to miss the Saturday afternoon football), and we were off on our next day's programme - in the late evening!
An unexpected night on the road and a morning arrival in the Medieval heart of Innsbruck, at about the time we should have left it. More long distance telephone calls to other countries and the decision was made to spend the morning in the delightful sunshine and mountain scenery of the Inn valley.]
No Geographer has his education complete unless he has seen the dramatic, highly colourful needles of the Dolomites reaching far overhead and into the heavens. White glaciers pouring from the summits with puffs of angry cloud reluctantly nosing for ways into the next valley—a breathtaking experience.
Forty tired travellers arrived in what must be the most fantastic city in Europe, if not in the entire world. Not one of us having been before and not one really knowing what to do next. How do you swim, fully clothed and with a couple of suitcases, to your hotel at midnight? One of the girls in the party indicated her dismay with a timely faint!
The colour and splendour of Venice captivated every heart. A living stage-set of canals, palaces, gigantic churches and (together with every Italian city) artistry hand in hand with history on every front doorstep. We sailed up the Grand Canal, visited St. Mark's, and aretreated with the determination to come again. On through lovely old towns with Renaissance-sounding names such as Siena, Bologna and so to Florence, perhaps in itself the largest and most exciting museum in the world. Michelangelo sculpture on street corners, galleries of the most famous paintings in the world, evidence of the beauties of the 14th, 15th and 16th centuries in every church and palace, facade and tower. Every Italian city has its own horrifying traffic problem, but after a few days most of us learned to cross roads with a minimum of our attire left on an already distant vehicle; others just kept to the block, not daring to venture. Oh for the quiet canals and footpaths of Venice!
The Eternal City, or City of Infernal Din, as we learned to call Rome, greeted us with temperatures of 113°F. The first objective was St. Peter's Cathedral, with its art treasures and wide panoramic views for the hardy mountaineer brave enough to climb to the top of the dome—and its extensive museums and Sistine Chapel for those prepared to hike. Next, a rush to the ruined remains of Ancient Rome: temples, arches, arenas, columns—and cats. There followed an underworld visit to the Catacombs, then to the Appian Way and the Olympic city; a dip in the Mediterranean; a pleasant wander over the ancient seaport ruins and lovely Roman mosaic floors of Ostia; another excursion to the vast and serene ruins of a villa—once Hadrian's ; the Villa d'Este at Tivoli, with its gardens of sparkling fountains and haunting memories. With a last look at the Trevi Fountain and the Spanish Steps, we made our way to Pisa, where we spent the night in a luxury hotel on the safe side of the Tower. The view from the hotel doorway was nasty to those of us who may have had wine with our dinner!
Of the last three days, over the wooded Cisa Pass to industrial Milan, by the mist-covered Italian lakes, high through Switzerland and low through France, one's memory clings most dearly to the solemn beauty of the Simplon Pass. Pale blue and purple in their distant and mighty beauty are the mountains rising in every direction the eye can glimpse.
Forty weary but happy travellers returned safely to their homes, an artistic pilgrimage complete. P.J.A.
P.S. The party was made up of Mr. and Mrs. P. J. Askem, Mr. and Mrs. R. G. Bozeat, and seventeen boys from Soham Grammar School; Miss H. Stanyer, with seventeen girls from Ely High School; and Miss J. Firth, S.G.S. Nurse.
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