Where There is Wool, There's a Way

Something about 'historic woolmill' conjured up images of women in bonnets behind big, pedaled looms, metal brushes, spinning wheels, wooden equipment tucked into the corner of a bedroom. Perhaps I've visited one too many folk museums. The smell of machine oil, the nuts and bolts and auto mechanic feel surprised me. The Knockando Wool Mill is the last one of its kind, the oldest working wool mill in Britain. The Victorian machinery and make-do architecture are relics of not one bygone era, but many. A whole period of time, spanning generations, during which communities had a central place, a District Mill, where they could go to process their fleece.

These district mills were really no different than a local gristmill or dairy cooperative where farmers could come with their wheat, corn or milk and leave with flour, butter and cheese.  The shepherds would come with fleece and leave with knitting yarn, blankets and tweeds.  The link between agriculture and food production is obvious and well-traced.  In Scotland, the link with textiles was just as important and widespread.  In fact, the well known clan tartans, the different plaids to represent different families, began simply as the pattern of each community's mill.  Everyone in town wore the same tartan because all their fleece was processed at the same place.  "Knockando tweed [was]...rather coarse and scratchy but lasted forever."  

The very first district mills provided shepherds' wives with the two things they didn't have at home.  Enough water to waulk and wash the wool and enough space to dry it out.  Town records from the late 1700s list Knockando Wool Mill as "Waulk Mill," making its purpose obvious. 
Everything else was done at home - which is where my visions of looms in the bedrooms come from.  However, when machinery was designed that took care of the carding process - the combing of wool to open it up, essentially the same thing as teasing your hair - women welcomed it into their lives.  This task had traditionally fallen to the children and was a tedious and thankless job.

So Waulk Mill got a carding machine.  The same one that's still there today.  Knockando mill grew to fit whatever need the community had.  At different points in the early and mid 1800s,  documents list the mill as a wool dyeing place, a spinning operation.  More machines followed, all second hand, and attachments to the mill were built, ramshackle, to shelter them.   There was the Platt Mule, which could spin 250 threads at a time.  Built in 1872 and still going strong it's the oldest machine of its kind still in use in the United Kingdom.  Each generational owner put their mark on the place and once a machine was purchased, it was never replaced.  Only repaired.

The two behemoth Dobcross looms, dated 1896 and 1899, are also the oldest working ones of their kind.  We peaked at them through a doorway, this sculptural mass of everything that is masculine and feminine jumbled together to symbolize "work."  Visiting the mill was great because we were allowed to just poke around, go into different buildings, keep a safe difference delineated by ropes and read about what we were looking at on a provided laminated info sheet.  They were just two of the additions made by Duncan Smith, who took charge of the mill in 1863 and made advancements and changes for a good 40 years.  He extended buildings or sometimes just erected a roof in order to make space for a new machine, resulting in the meandering factory layout that's there today.

Between the two world wars, all the other district mills in Scotland vanished.  Somehow, Knockando survived and local farmers were bringing fleece here all the way until the 1960s.  Duncan Stewart was in charge by this point.  He switched over from water power to electricity and welcomed three young men from England who were interested in the old ways of doing things.  One of them was Hugh Jones, who wound up taking over for a retiring Stewart.  With no previous experience at all, he became a master and is still the head weaver at Knockando today.  The problem was that he had no customers and, as only one man with not even familial support, he struggled to maintain it all.  That's where the historic societies stepped in, the private donors and a BBC television show called "Restoration," which gave the cause an audience.

The mill's machines are undergoing some repairs right now, so we didn't see them in action.  Instead, we the got the nuts and bolts at rest, in repose. For the moment.  The smell of oil, bolts on the floor, tools, gloves.  Cardboard boxes filled with odds and ends, scribbled notes peppered the rooms.  Places like this are rare, survivors that are recognized as such at exactly the right time.  Like endangered species, the world comes to their rescue (hopefully).  Prince Charles (with Camilla, of course) came to the re-opening of Knockando Woolen Mill just over a month ago.  His Royal Highness restarted the water wheel, now fit with plaques naming some of the biggest donors.   It signaled that this mill, which has been processing wool since 1784, was back in business. 

Grace Grimaldi née Kelly

Grace Kelly made eleven films, won an Academy Award and then retired from acting to become Her Serene Highness the Princess of Monaco. Her husband, Rainier III, was dubbed “The Builder Prince,” so it’s no surprise that after her tragic death, he erected shrines to his late wife all over the principality. This was undoubtedly done in tribute and as a way for Monacans to remain connected to their princess – but I would be shocked if he wasn’t also thinking of the tourist draw. The Princess Grace rose garden, where this statue stands, is perhaps the prettiest Grace Kelly attraction.
There is a 'Princess Grace Trail" set up around the country, marking significant locations in her life as princess with large information panels and photographs. Where she was greeted by 20,000 people upon arrival for her wedding. Where she cut a ribbon at the opening of this or that. None of them are terribly interesting or offer any incite into her daily life in Monaco, but they are a draw nonetheless. Tour groups walk from one point to the next, snatching up postcards with photos from her Hollywood days - something that’s pretty ironic, considering that her movies are banned in Monaco, a law set into place by Rainier right after the wedding and which remains in place today.
Her grave is the third biggest tourist attraction in Monaco, after the palace and the Monte Carlo. Tourists circle around the very pretty cathedral near the palace, waiting for their glimpse of Grace Kelly. For a lot of people, she’s the reason they even know that Monaco is its own country with its own royal family. If Grace Kelly had married the prince of Liechtenstein, I’m sure more people would be able to point to it on a map. But that was the whole point. Most people believe that Prince Rainier chose her to increase tourism to his little-known and (at the time) cash-strapped country. Mission accomplished.
To free her from her MGM contract, Prince Rainier gave the movie studio exclusive access and distribution rights to their wedding. Like I said, that Rainier was a thinker. The only acting work she was allowed, once princess, were narrations of charity documentaries and the basic theatricality of her royal duties. Nonetheless, a theater was named after her, as well as a foundation to support emerging artists. The Princess Grace Theater is one of the quainter buildings on Port Hercule.
For the record, Princess Grace never actually changed her last name to Grimaldi. She remained Grace Kelly until the end. No matter how hard Prince Rainier tried to erase her former life from her public profile, she remains Grace Kelly, the Hollywood icon first and foremost and The Princess of Monaco, secondarily. Even if she did provide Monaco with the heir it needed in order not to fall back under the French rule (true fact), it simply is not her best known role. But glamor is part of Monaco's cachet, right? And what could possibly be more glamorous than a movie star princess.

Here Comes the (Princess) Bride

Everyone loves a wedding - especially a royal wedding. While the nuptials of Prince Albert II and Charlene Wittstock may not have been the marriage of the century, decade or even year (shout out to Will and Kate) it was definitely a big one for Monegasques. An exhibit called "L'Histoire du Mariage Princier" is currently on display at the Oceanographic Museum and advertised on buses and buildings throughout Monaco.
The other day, as we walked, Merlin casually began to whistle "Here Comes the Bride." "It's a catchy tune!" he explained. I blame the royal wedding. Though it happened two months ago, signs of the event are still ever present. Commemorative stamps, banners, signs offering congratulations are posted in storefront windows. For the record: if I were ever caught whistling "Here Comes the Bride," I would never ever live it down.
Art galleries take a little more liberty with their window tributes. Some opt for more artistic portraits of the couple, as opposed to the same old official shot. Others really get creative. The new princess is a former Olympic swimmer from South Africa, hence, her above depiction as a mermaid with the South African flag painted tail.
Prince Albert II, himself also an Olympian, is very passionate about environmental causes. So, naturally, the royal wedding car was a hybrid Lexus (a LS600hL Laundolat, to be precise) specially designed for the occasion. It not only has this nifty polycarbonate roof which allows you to see the pretty, pretty princess without any wind screwing up her hair, but it was also able to complete the entire tour using only electric power. It helps that the tour wasn't too great a distance.
Of course, what everyone really wants to see is the dress. Here's the Armani creation beside Albert's carabinieri uniform. It was really cool to walk up the staircase at the museum and see these in the center of a room decorated with oceanic curios. I'd say it went with the theme of "wedding within the context of Monaco and the globe." It was regal and quirky at the same time, just like the microstate itself.
Also on display were the invitations, Alain Ducasse created menus (using only sustainable fish, of course), the ringbearer's pillow and the wedding favors. For said favors, it appears that Albert and Charlene went for traditional with a royal twist: Jordan almonds wrapped in tulle... in a monogrammed porcelain box on a bed of pearls.
The main thing, here, is that Monaco now has a princess - and everyone loves a princess. "Princess Charlene" may not have as nice of a ring to it as "Princess Grace," but I'm sure she'll do fine all the same. As long as she produces an heir.

Castle Hunting: Schloss Vaduz

It would be wrong to claim that Liechtenstein is stuck in time – this is a country dominated by exclusive banks and modern sports cars. Still, it could serve as the archetype for the imaginary kingdoms of micro-state Europe. It is little more than a valley and a few dramatic peaks, it’s inhabitants number only 35,000, the tractors have license plates and the land is ruled by a prince who validates or negates all laws and taxes. That prince – H.S.H Hans-Adam II von und zu Liechtenstein – lives in Vaduz castle on a hillside above the capital town of Vaduz. It isn’t a magnificent castle, but it has an interesting history and it is visible from most of the country. Also, there aren’t many castles that can claim to be the functional and permanent residence of a ruling monarch. Rebecca claims that it’s the most politically important castle in Europe, but that seems like hyperbole. This is, after all, the sixth smallest country on earth.
Liechtenstein’s castle has been mostly ceremonial since the 1870’s, when the country’s army was disbanded (after their last military engagement – the Austro-Prussian War in 1866 – all of Liechtenstein’s 80 troops returned home alive, and brought with them one extra soldier, who is often described as “an Italian friend”). The fortification fell into general disrepair over the decades, serving as a prison and then a garrison in advance of the army’s dissolution. For a few years, it actually served as a tavern, before being completely abandoned in 1896. In 1905, though, the ruling prince began extensive repairs. In 1938, much spiffed-up, it became the permanent residence of the ruling princes of Liechtenstein, which is its current function.
There is a stub of an older, ruined castle higher up on the hill, about an hours steep walk from Schloss Vaduz. It is called Burgruine Schalun or Wildschloss Vaduz, and very little of it remains. Built in the 12th and 13th centuries, it was a more secure fortification above the increasingly residential castle downhill. Eventually its remoteness proved more of an impediment to its survival than its defenses, as it survived for several centuries until the royals decided that it was too inconvenient to keep up. Today, it isn't even mentioned in Liechtenstein's tourist information, even though they are relatively starved for things to mention.
When we walked up to Wildschloss, a family was roasting ears of corn on a small heap of coals. They asked, very courteously, if we “needed any fire.” We didn’t, but it was still very nice of them to ask. A map of the castle’s original walls was posted on a signboard, showing how much bigger the structure once was. It was difficult to see any trace of masonry on the brushy slopes, and only the one stump of tower rose preserved from the earth.
The surviving Schloss Vaduz is the evolutionary embodiment of a fortress that was first documented in 1322. It’s main tower dates from the 12th century, and remained largely intact over the years. It was initially a stand-alone defensive structure with an auxiliary fortified house just adjacent, but circling walls were built along the knoll eventually. After partial destruction during the Swabian wars, the castle was expanded and refurbished in the 16th century, when both round tower-keeps were added.
Vaduz sits on a well-maintained plot of meadowland, flanked by closed gardens and kept very private by the prince. It is possible to walk right up to the walls and in the pastureland above, but the building itself and formal gardens are closed to the public. The castle is said to have some 160 rooms, which seems like more than its walls could possibly hold, but it might be deceptively small from the rear. There certainly aren’t many windows or visible chimneys; I can’t imagine that Hans-Adams really spends too much of his time here. Still, it’s nice to think that countries like this continue to exist, where the ruling prince lives in a castle on the hill and surveys his lands from the ramparts.

Oh Duchess, My Duchess

Above are Henri and Maria Teresa, the Grand Duke and Duchess of Luxembourg. Henri is the heir to the throne and Maria Teresa is a Cuban-born commoner he met in college. We didn't actually meet the royal couple. This is simply a google image. However, we saw their faces everywhere - displayed in store windows, on postcards, etc. Walking around Luxembourg city you saw Duchess Maria Teresa's Cuban influence immediately.
Okay, to be honest, Brussels and Amsterdam both had as many Cuban or Hispanic inspired bars and restaurants. Each had as many Che t-shirts as a shop on St. Marks Place. I was just much more aware of it because of the lovely Maria Teresa (and my Cuban relatives back home).
Went went to this place to try out their mojitos (which were pretty awful) and found the walls lined with cuban cigar boxes and portraits of Che and Fidel. The free tortilla chips and salsa seemed a little misguided, though.
This "Brasserie-Restaurant" was actually a tapas bar that we wound up visiting twice. We were easily the youngest patrons by about twenty years and, aside from the lovely older woman preparing the food, I was the only female in the place. The waiter was a thin, balding Spaniard with a handle-bar moustache who first addressed us in French, then English and spoke to other customers in Luxembourgish, and the cook in Spanish.

That seems to be the norm here. At any given time, you will hear Luxembourgish, French and German being spoken in a single conversation. All three are official languages of this tiny country. You may also hear some English, Italian and Spanish. There is a big Portuguese population here and about 60% of its banking industry is foreign. Almost every Luxembourger is at least bilingual, usually tri.

The Grand Duke and his Cuban Grand Duchess exemplify this diverse country perfectly.