Precision is the order of the day.

"Enjoyed travelling with you on your soap journey," wrote Hui (not her real name) an old buddy of mine who had been most indulgent with me.

I started this soap-making hobby in November 2015 and it had been a captivating journey. Reason? Well, where do I begin? There's always something new to learn about the art. New mistakes to make, new problems to figure out, new lessons to learn, new solution to circumvent those problems. New theories, new frustrations when you research and read all sorts of absurd conclusions arrived at, by all sorts of soapers, who like me, hadn't the vaguest clue why soaps sometimes don't turn out right.

Yet the best part of the art is the moment of revelation. When the soap is cut or unmoulded, no two soaps are the same, in view of the variables that encompasses each batch.

Recently, we discovered the dreaded brown spots and oily patches. We deliberated over the issue, researched online and was intrigued by the myriad of conclusions, none of which although sounding logical could explain away our concerns.

It all boils down to one word. "Superfatting." This is a situation where excess oil in the soap mixture, having insufficient lye to react with during the saponification becomes suspended in the subsequent soap. This suspended oil adds a moisturizing effect to the soap and the recommended excess is between 3% to 5%. In a batch where the superfatting is excessive, the excess oil gets oxidized and brown spots or patches appear. The soap adopt a rancid smell and goes mushy when used.

So, precision is the order of the day. You want to get your oil and lye portion right.

Day 9 - Rhine Falls/Zurich

"Guten Morgen", Mr C hollered on the last morning of our tour. "This morning we will drive about 52 km to Zurich. Unfortunately, this being a Sunday, all the shopping area will be closed. As previously agreed, we will visit Schaffhausen instead."

Lake Zurich

The statue of Ganymede, Lake Zurich. According to Greek mythology, the handsome son of a king was kidnapped and taken up to the top of Mt Olympus. Hands raised, Ganymede pleads with Zeus, father of the gods (the eagle) to bear him up.

Zurich was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. As all the shops were closed, we had a spot of window shopping where I was drawn to the cows, none of which were purple and I mentioned purple because of this poem I knew as a kid.

THE PURPLE COW
I never saw a purple cow

I never hope to see one

But I can tell you anyhow

I'd rather see than be one.
-  Gelett Burgess

* the above poem was a popular nonsensical poem written by Burgess. It was followed a few years later by another, when an irate Burgess tried to quell its popularity.

Ah, yes, I wrote the "Purple Cow"
I'm Sorry, now, I wrote it
But I can tell you Anyhow
I'll Kill you if you Quote it!

And with that, we piled into the coach for the drive to Schaffhausen to look up the Rhine Falls.

Rhine Falls

And this is where our trip came to a memorable end. Thank you for reading.

Day 8 - Mt Titlis

"Guten Morgen!" Mr C barked on the morning of Day 8. Perceiving that it sounded different this morning, we looked up at him. 

"That's Good Morning in Swiss German, by the way. No more Bon Jono ya? This morning, we will drive 40 km to Engelberg and take a series of revolving cable cars to the top. We will return to this hotel tonight and check-out only tomorrow. However, I must remind everyone to bring along your passports. Do not leave them behind."

more rolling hills and green pasture

Flocks of sheep complete with shepherds roamed the green pasture near Engelberg. Suddenly, we came upon a curious sight.

THE COW PARADE

MOUNT TITLIS

As was customary, I checked with TripAdvisor before embarking on this part of the journey.

"The weather at Mt Titlis is unpredictable so dress in layers," offered Ms Whats-Her-Name.

Mt Titlis is 10000 feet above sea level, so do expect some altitude sickness. (Symptoms-headache/vomiting)  Come prepared." Mr Whatchamacallhim wrote. 

"Oh de-de-dear-dear," I lamented. "The highest point I've ever been to was about 5000 feet and I did remember having a modest headache. I'm sure I'll get altitude sickness up there. I'm sure of it. Whatever should I do?"

"We don't have to go up to the top, you know? We can always choose to stay behind at the foot of the mountain, walk around for a bit, or have some tea."  My Significant Other (bless his soul) assured me.

"Oh, don't worry about that. You'll be fine. Just keep yourself warm,"  said Hui (not her real name) who had been up Mt Titlis some years before.

"Pills for altitude sickness?" Mr GP blurted out looking a tad gobsmacked. "Flu jab? Why do you need those? Just relax. Go up there and enjoy yourself. Yes, yes. 10000 feet is nothing you can't handle. Don't worry."

Now Mr GP is well traveled and had been to so many places that you don't ask him where he's been to but where he hadn't, so I relaxed a notch or two and began to look forward to the trip.

But Mr C must have his two cents on the matter.

"We will stop at Engelberg shortly to take the cable car up to the top. Now, remember this. We are going to be about 10000 feet above sea level where the oxygen level is low. So when you see the snow, don't go "Oh wow! Snow!" and go into an epiphany of sorts. Stay calm and you'll be fine."

Engelberg (from cable car)

360 degree revolving cable car going up (5 minutes trip)

So I stayed calm, remembering to take deep breaths. I did not gasp for want of oxygen and I most certainly did not vomit, or consider embarking on one.

The Glacier Cave was a 150 m long walkway which progressively descended some 20 m below the surface of the glacier. I took about 10 steps into its interior and feeling a little intimidated by the intrusive walls, backtracked, took some pictures and was completely satisfied by the experience.

It was time for lunch. We had our Cheese Fondue, which is really cheese melted in alcohol, a dipping for the bread. As far as taste goes, it's just an alcoholic cheesy sauce which did not impress me.

Cheese Fondue

Oh, by the by ..... While waiting for the food to be served, I had the luxury of time to sense or imagine (who could tell the difference?) some mild dizziness. The tables and chairs at the restaurant were floating buoyantly. Unfortunately, this did not have any dramatic effect.

Embroidery work

going down

We were back on the road and heading for Lucerne. (aka City of Lights) It was raining cats and dogs, hippopotamuses too.

LUCERNE

The dying Lion of Lucerne - carved into natural rock in memory of the 400 Swiss heroes who gave their lives at the Tuileries in Paris 1792. (The French Revolution)

Octagonal water tower was a watch tower in the 13th century. Later it became a jail and torture chamber.

Day 7 - Lugano/Lucerne

"Bon Jono!" Mr C yelped on Day 7. "Please check your passports before we leave Milan. Today we will drive 80 km to Lugano and 168 km to Lucerne. We will stop at the border so those of you with tax claims, please check to see that your forms are properly filled. At Lugano, we will visit the FoxTown Factory Stores. No lunch had been arranged for today, but you can grab a bite at any of the food outlet at FoxTown."

We drove past sleepy lake towns along the highway and what a wonderful sight to behold. No annoying bumper to bumper scenarios. Fresh air and a cool tranquility. The silence of complacence. (Not that I could hear the silence from inside the coach but - you know what I mean.) I thought this was a Haiku moment so...

a little white boat
in the middle of the lake
drifting lazily

o' sleepy lake-town

rolling hills, quiet waters
green pasture, beyond

me on board the boat

a book, a sandwich, an oar

no phones, no message

the moment, the thought
brought a smile upon my lips
fever forgotten

and with the passing
of the moment, of the thought
a vision appeared

small lake-town housewives
cackling chickens in the coop
exchanging gossips

two years down the road
the book, the sandwich, the oar
abandoned, ignored

another chicken
tongue wagging feverishly
joins the symphony

And with this unsavory thought, I pulled myself out of the reverie to marvel at my sick habit of ending pleasant thoughts with lurid ones.

LUGANO

Lake Lugano

Drinking fountain

The coach dropped us at Lake Lugano so we could stretch our legs. Souvenir (cow bells) were sold at a lakeside kiosk so I bought one which now hung over my front door. We walked towards some fruit stalls on the other side of the road. These fruits were not to be touched as was the practice here. You point at a particular fruit and the seller gathered them into a proper bag.

After a short break, we were taken to the FoxTown Factory Stores where the ladies disappeared into nooks and crevices. After what seemed like eternity, we were ushered back into the coach for the drive to Lucerne. And by the way, Lucerne kept reminding me of  LUCILLE by Kenny Rogers.

Rolling hills and green pasture, a farmhouse here, another there. Cows idling in green meadows, a picturesque view.

We were in the mountainous region so long tunnels were expected. These tunnels stretched endlessly and for a long while, there were no daylight at the end of the tunnel. I was beginning to feel claustrophobic so I stared at the LED display above the driver's head.

It told me the time and temperature which was 16°C. This temperature rose slowly but steadily one degree at a time until it peaked at 34°C. It was several minutes before the temperature slowly descended to 16°C which meant that we were about to exit the tunnel. And, dear me. I was beginning to imagine how distraught I'll be should we be assailed by a landslide at both ends of the tunnel. (Yes. Both ends of the tunnel. It always had to be the worst case scenario for the best dramatic effect.)

The sun was setting by the time we reached Lucerne.

We checked in at an ancient hotel. The reception was a tiny little cubicle accessed through a short flight of stairs. Those with extra large luggage who were sniffing condescendingly at our small ones struggled to lift them up the short stairs (my chortling moment, actually...) and in less time than it took to complete a chortle, the lobby was packed with tired travelers from at least another two coaches.

Mr C was annoyed. There was a problem with the late check-out arrangement previously confirmed through a booking agent. 

"I will have to see your manager please, to express my anger and whatever..." snapped Mr C irritably while the two receptionist held their expressionless countenance.

It would have been dramatic if a bitter fight had ensued leaving everyone in bandages and bruises more brutal than words could express, certainly something to write home about, but alas, Mr C was a gentleman and civility was the order of the day.

Dinner was served at the hotel by culinary interns, one of whom came from our parts of the world. That did not make the meal more palatable.

Day 6 - Verona/Milan

"Bon Jono," Mr C called out on the morning of Day 6. "Once again, I'll ask you to check your passports. Make sure they're where they are. Today, we will drive 120 km to Verona, take a look at Juliet's Balcony, then drive another 165 km to Milan. No lunch arrangement in Verona so you are free to eat wherever you please. This is a good time to laze at the open air cafe with coffee and pizzas. And if you prefer something a little more familiar, there is a McDonald's  at Piazza Bra."

Our hotel was at the outskirt of mainland Venice, a brilliant decision, said Mr C because we were able to avoid the early morning peak hour as we eased out of Venice for Verona.

After the city tax was dealt with, the coach was parked outside the city center. We walked the remaining distance across a bridge and beyond until behold! ~~~ We saw the first century Roman Arena.

VERONA

Verona Arena (built of pink tinged marble)
a Roman amphitheater in Piazza Bra
now used for the annual Verona Music Festival
Internationally famous for large scale Opera Performances

Neoclassical style Palace, now Town Hall. Built by architect Barbieri. Originally served the Hapsburgs (Austria) as military barracks.

Piazza Bra
view from Palazzo Barbieri
(It was raining cats and dogs.)

Everyone headed for the block of buildings at the background of the above picture. We looked at a map on the street surface near a junction, made a turn here, a turn there and arrived at a passage between two graffitied walls

JULIET'S BALCONY Beyond the graffitied walls was Juliet's Balcony. Yes. We are talking about the Juliet from Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet. Juliet's Balcony House belonging to Cappelleti

A bronze statue of Juliet stood beneath the balcony, it's breasts, particularly bright from years of molestation by gullible tourists. It appears that unmarried people who touches Juliet's statue will find the love of their life. Everyone was packed like sardines in a tin, so without further exploration, we beat a hasty retreat.

Shop-lots filled with branded goods lined both sides of the narrow alley. We headed for the flea market and lunch. Then, what do you know? It began to rain cats and dogs, hippopotamuses too. We took refuge at the  Palazzo Barbieri and watched Mr C run around like a headless chicken until the entire group was gathered for the long drive to Milan.

MILAN

Milan

Leonardo da Vinci

GALLERIA VITTORIO EMANUELE II

One of the world's oldest shopping mall, housed within a 4 storey double arcade and named after Victor Emmanuel II,  the first king of the Kingdom of Italy. The galleria connects The Duomo di Milano (church) and The Scala Theatre.

The ladies went in for the kill but woe ... Woe is Me! The intense heat from the previous day coupled with the deep fried squid served at lunch in Venice had given me a sore throat which went ballistic. The shivers came and I was in a foul mood. 

I stood at a quiet corner outside a Louis Vuitton outlet  to observe the revelry within the Galleria. A group of young people dressed in red T-shirts stirred up a ruckus somewhere in the middle. They were carrying the Star of David flag and prayer shawls.

Walking resolutely along the passages were Chinese men and women, dressed smartly, pulling cabin luggage filled with (someone whispered) hard currency. What they do with their hard currency was no business of mine but I resented the way they cleared their throats and emptied its content into open trashcans, especially when I'm feverish. Did I mention I was in a foul mood?

My head was heavy. We spotted a McDonald's outlet in the distance and headed there for some tea and rest. Four years ago, McDonald's was prevented from renewing its tenancy at the Galleria, after 20 years of occupancy. The restaurant contended that they were the only tenant to be denied the right of first refusal on its new lease and that the public tender to replace them was unfair. So they sued the landlord - City of Milan - for €24 million, in damages alleging that the loss of the lease will deprive McDonald's of €6 million per year in sales. During its last few hours of operation, the restaurant offered free food and drinks to over 5000 customers. The McDonald's restaurant was replaced with the Galleria's second Prada Store. McDonald's renounced its suit against the City of Milan after receiving the opportunity to open a new restaurant in a nearby area.

And at this outlet, we sipped our tea and watch the world go by. I was flushed with fever and almost reluctantly swallowed half a paracetamol.

Duomo di Milano (dedicated to St Mary of the Nativity), seat of the Archbishop of Milan. Took nearly six centuries to complete. Located at Piazza del Duomo

The sun was sinking fast and I was exhausted by the day's tour so without looking to the left or right, we walked towards the rendezvous point. It was a long wait as some of the ladies were not done shopping. Did I mention I was in a foul mood?