Whatchawearing
Your Subtitle text
Europeanvaction1979/22
My father was in the USAF. We spent nearly nine years in Europe. We lived in Greece, Italy and England. Every few years my Grandparents would come to visit. When they did, we were off for a five week journey across Europe. My grandmother kept a journal of our travels. Recently while cleaning out a closet, my Mother came across the journals. The memories came flying back! I decided to share these journels with you. Each day I will post a chapter as she has written them. I hope you enjoy reading these as much as I did.
The first Journal was in 1979. We lived in Hellenikon Greece.
Salzburg
Funny Costumes
Wooden Chute
Underground Lake
page 49
Day 22-Saturday, June 16 1979
Dawn came, and with it more cold rain. We sat huddled over hot chocolate in the crowded tent making our plans for the day, deciding to take the salt mine tour especially on this rainy day when it mattered little whether we were on or under earth.
At the AFRC Billeting Office we obtained tickets. Waiting for the next tour, we lunched at the snack bar and patronized the Bavarian shop where I was able to buy more souvenirs.
Tourists flock to the salt mines like migrating birds. As we strolled the outside, waiting for our bus number to be called, we counted a dozen or more big-windowed buses parked in the parking lot. Tour directors were herding 'their' people in all directions like so many school children on a field trip.
The most unusual feature is, perhaps, the Salt Miner's work costume we each had to don before entering the mine. Baggy pants - white for ladies, black for gents - black tunics, and black hats made us look as if we were going to a masquerade. Even babes in arms had outfits scaled down to almost their size. All were given leather aprons, and as the miners do, we strapped them on hind-side finding out later what purpose they served.
Aside from the fact that we had an opportunity to take very funny candid shots of each other, the suits served the practical purpose of preserving our personal clothing from dampness and added extra warmth, for the mines are 45 degrees all year round.
After the first shock of seeing everyone else in these funny costumes, we straddled an elongated wagon affair, somewhat resembling a stretched out, padded sawhorse mounted on wheels, and had a group picture taken. On the contraption we were drawn into the mine's darkened tunnel feeling like the Seven Dwarfs and singing, "Hi-Ho, Hi-Ho, it's off to work we go." The ride came to an abrupt end inside a huge, cathedral-like, rocky cavernous hole.
From here we went whooping down a steep, one hundred foot, highly-polished wooden chute that for thrills compared to any amusement park giant slide. Now we
page 50
understood how important the leather aprons were - they gave protection to our rear ends from the heat generated by friction going down at fast speeds.
A guide explained all the interesting details concerning the salt formations and how the salt was mined. We were led through dark rock tunnels, lit occasionally by a dim overhead bulb, to a museum. Here we saw illuminated samples of different salt. The variance in the rocks, electrically lighted from behind, caused an unusual display quite unexpected after the dim grayness of the rest of the mine.
We arrived at the edge of a vast and darkened subterranean lake. The lake, itself, encircled by twinkling lights, is an abandoned sink work, containing brine. The lights reflected the wrinkled stone ceiling and glittered with salt crystals like some immense canopy of sequined fabric.
A somewhat resigned boatman piloted us across the still waters, past areas where crystal ceiling swung low to the water. With this atmosphere and surroundings it seemed a voyage to the very birthplace of the Alps.
The tour ended with another quick slide down 120 feet to the waiting 'saw horse' train which, for the return ride, shot us out into the daylight at a tremendously rapid speed. All in all, the hour long tour was not only educational, it was fun.
For supper we splurged and dined in the warm sheltered comfort of the Lake Chiemsee Hotel where the atmosphere was elegant although the attire was casual. "For the Love of Benji" was provided free for campers and hotel guests and since it was filmed in Greece, we found it interesting for that, if not for the plot.
A crying baby in a nearby tent kept us awake that night. Jan quipped, "Park that baby outside the gate and pick it up in the morning." This was in reference to a silly rule that we had been informed would be enforced the next day by the camp director. He wanted all cars parked outside the tent area at night. The laughter from Jan's statement subsided as we snuggled deeper under sleeping bags and blankets for a long winter's nap while the constant patter of rain kept up its relentless steady flow.
