Tag Archives: Europe

Austria ~ A Bone Chapel in Peaceful Hallstatt

cloudy Hallstatt. 6x4pg
Serene Hallstatt, Austria

In one of the most jaw-drop, gorgeous scenic landscapes anywhere in the world, you will find one of the most bizarre mortuaries.

The tiny town of Hallstatt (population 1,000) lies precariously perched on the side of a mountain. Little A-frame houses cling to the hillside as if magically suspended or stuck on with Velcro. Main Street rests at the base, along the shores of a shimmering blueberry colored lake resembling a fjord. A stone church with a tall pointed steeple seems  to teeter on the edge.

Skulls 6x4
Skulls in the Bone Chapel

Walk along Main Street which runs up and down like a staircase throughout the village (cars are not permitted during the day). Climb up to the Roman Catholic Church with a 16th-century gold altarpiece and cemetery with an eerie bone chapel. Compared to the Capuchin Cemetery in Rome (see my previous blog), the Hallstatt bone chapel is more a one room schoolhouse. Called a Beinhaus or charnel house, it crams in 1,200 skulls painted with floral designs and in some cases the name, date and cause of death.

You see, shortage of space in the graveyard limited the number of burial plots, so bodies were removed after decomposing for ten years to make room for the new. The practice makes sense when you see the territorial constraints. The bone chapel becomes a sacred place holding the history of the close-knit residents.
Most tourists come to Hallstatt to see the beauty of the setting and visit the salt mines. A nearby funicular whisks guests up to observation point with a storybook view. Then, they hike up a path to the mine entrance and don pajama-like jumpsuits. Group tours enter a tunnel and then progress deeper underground via fast wooden slides. This makes a fun adventure and eventually, you exit by straddling a small train.

Salt Mines
Down into the Salt Mines

Hallstatt rightfully calls itself Austria’s oldest town with evidence dating back to 400 BC. The name derives from the Celtic word “hall” meaning salt. Salt mines near the village have always provided the livelihood for the region, noted as a UNESCO World Heritage site.

Another fascinating attraction in the area is the Dachstein ice cave. To get to the cave, ride the gondola, then hike about twenty minutes to reach the tour entrance. Wildflowers abound, often creeping out of rocky ledges on the walkway. The alpine scene rates as truly spectacular and certainly worth the effort. Be forewarned: even in summer the temperature in the caves is cool enough to require a jacket.

Absolutely don’t miss the Reinanke trout fresh from the lake. The local fish is served on a slab and tastes luscious and buttery. In fact I’ll make a bold statement– Reinanke is the best fish I have ever eaten. I devoured it both nights we stayed in the Salzkammergut region.

Town Square Hallstatt 6x4
Hallstatt Town Square

After touring Vienna, the rustic outdoorsy charm of the area invigorated the soul and stimulated the senses. My family loved visiting Hallstatt in June. Can’t quite imagine stopping by the little hamlet in winter. Well, after all, I do live in Florida. But, if you know me, and given the chance, I’d go–wrapped in the warmest parka I could find.

Recalling a visit to the Strange Capuchin Cemetery in Rome

cemetery_of_capuchinsWith Halloween approaching, I thought I’d blog about a few of the eeriest places I’ve visited over the years. Without a doubt, the Capuchin Cemetery in Rome, Italy, takes the dubious honor.

You’ll find the cemetery, actually a crypt beneath the church of Santa Maria della Concezione dei Cappuccini (Immaculate Conception), on the Via Veneto near Palazzo Barbareni. The ghastly chamber reeks with decay and is divided into five tiny chapels linked via a dim passageway. The place is so weird, even Dan Browne skipped a mention in his book, Angels and Demons.

Within lies the final resting place for over 4,000 Capuchin friars who died between 1528 and 1870. Some were first buried elsewhere and then transferred here. The soil in the crypt was brought from Jerusalem. A few dozen skeletons remain intact, draped in hooded Franciscan habits. Large numbers of bones adorn the walls in complex decorative patterns; some resemble bas-reliefs, others hang from the ceiling as working light fixtures. One chapel overflows with countless leg bones and skulls.


The first room, known as the Crypt of the Resurrection, features a picture of Jesus raising Lazarus from the dead, framed by parts of a human skeleton. Visitors are encouraged to interpret the displays of funereal art as the Christian belief in resurrection and everlasting life.

A plaque in one of the chapels reads, in three languages, “What you are now, we once were; what we are now, you shall be.”

I honestly can’t describe the macabre, grotesque effect, albeit with a certain artistic merit. The unearthed skeletal array makes this sacred shrine more a ghoulish tourist attraction. One needs only a few minutes to see the place, if at all.

Lavender Fields of Provence

Lavender Fields of Provence
Lavender Fields of Provence

Imagine row after row of tiny, bud-like purple flowers majestically raising their heads from green shoots. Their stalks burst free from the hard-packed rusty brown earth. The surrounding soil is covered by limestone rocks, crunching under my feet as I walk through the field. Lavender plants wave in the breeze tickling my legs, just below my knees.

I listen carefully; the field buzzes with the sound of humming bees. No need to worry, these little critters don’t bother people. They are happy and content to flutter between the thousands of blossoms, bee nirvana. The insects produce what is called lavender honey and sometimes beekeepers place hives along the edges of a field.

Provence, a glorious region in the south of France, is home to legendary lavender fields. Wild plants have grown here since the Middle Ages. The climate and soil create perfect conditions for farming the herb. While the harvested flowers yield a sweet perfume scent, the cultivated fields send a softer aroma.

I see purple haze. Tourists and locals stop their cars, get out and stare at the mesmerizing scene. They bring cameras to photograph the visual joy, but the pictures don’t capture the ethereal essence. Being among the fields, in person, is like tasting fine wine. To fully experience the moment, you must immerse yourself.

Mid- August brings harvest time but similar to grapes, readiness depends on the seasonal weather. Lavender is hand-cut and left to dry for three days in the sun before being passed through a steam press. Nothing is wasted; leftovers from pressed flowers are used as fuel for the steam producing oven.

Honey, essential oils, perfume, soaps and dried flowers are end products of the crop. Lavender honey is said to help heal open wounds; the essential oil promotes calmness. Potpourri or lavender sachets help mask odors and chefs in France sprinkle the herb in many dishes.

The territory casts a magical spell with golden sunflower fields, precariously perched hillside towns, historic sites, in cities like Avignon, and a relaxed lifestyle made famous by Peter Mayle’s books. Tour de France fans know Provence as the home of Mount Ventoux. Photographers call it paradise for the diversity of nature, colors and vistas. Artists such as Van Gogh and Cezanne found Provence inspired their creative talents.

But I came for the lavender fields.