My travel log will give a colorful glimpse of our family’s first ever weekend in New York City with practical tips for your own family’s Gotham Get-away.
Thursday, July 3rd - Start Spreading the News
Reunions are great, especially when you meet loved ones in some new exciting location. Such was the case over the 2008 Fourth of July weekend for the Sullivan Family (Bob, Rhonda, and Joanna) traveling to New York City to visit our eldest daughter, Elaina, during her storybook summer as a fashion intern at Kate Spade (KS) in Manhattan. (Picture an “Ugly Betty’, minus the ugly.)
Delta Airlines carried the three southern Sullivans safely and comfortably from Atlanta, Georgia’s massive Hartsfield-Jackson Airport (ATL) to the much smaller - but conveniently located - Newark, New Jersey Airport (EWR). Upon arrival, we caught a cab to our budget-wise hotel in Secaucus, NJ, a veritable “stones throw” from the island of Manhattan. Our cabbie, apparently the only NASCAR driver from Ghana, drove us to our hotel in a New York minute. Consequently, I could have missed some of the scenic beauty on the NJ side of the Hudson. To be fair to Newarkians, I did have my eyes closed most of the trip.
A Dollar Saved is a Dollar Earned
Our planned “family reunion” was to begin with the “something past-noon” arrival of our little fashion maven, Elaina, meeting us at the Hilton Garden Inn (HGI), Secaucus, NJ - our base of operations. This is a very nice hotel if your big city budget is not that big. While not directly on the island of Manhattan, the daily price (about half the typical cost of a New York hotel) makes the bus transit trips to and from the hotel well worth it.
We took a short and inexpensive bus trip departing from a bus stop located right in front of our hotel. I wore comfortable shoes and brought a backpack to store maps, cameras, snack and a water bottle or two. The 2:15 PM bus #190 took us through the Lincoln Tunnel under the Hudson River. The bus stopped in Times Square at the NJ Transit Station in Manhattan. Mental Picture: Envision a giant ant farm cube, the part of the ants played by myriad humans traveling here and there in the multi-level farm. We walked toward daylight only to find many more of the ants had spilled out and were roaming 42nd Street.
As the daughters (20 and 17) led the way through the milling crowd, a momentary flashback pictures them still as 7 and 4. I’m tempted for second to invoke the old “buddy-system” and command them to hold each others hands, but I squelch the paternal instinct. Instead, I bravely squeeze Rhonda’s hand for her/my reassurance. On we go.
Island Survival Rule #1 - Seek Food
I recalled reading that one of the first things you should do if you ever end up on an island is to locate a source of food. My keenly-honed survival instincts lead us to famous “Ray’s Pizza” on 7th Avenue. Bob gets the Itallian Sausage, Rhonda gets Ray's Special and adventurous Joanna gets the "white" pizza. Gastric Note: White pizza is edible only when covered with a lot of marinara sause. The Epicurean Elaina bows out and pops into the tres chic "bistro" on the corner and brings back a "twigs and branches bowl" (can you put the dressing on the side?) To each, her own! Full and refreshed, we hit the streets to see uptown Manhattan.
Island Survival Rule #2 - Seek Shelter
We continued northward until we approached the trees of Central Park. We turned right and passed Mickey Mantle’s Restaurant. A bit further east and we passed The Oak Bar, where I understand Frank Sinatra’s entourage would hang out till "The Wee Small Hours of the Morning". Just before the corner at 5th Avenue, we spotted a good place to stay if you’re "Home Alone and Lost in New York", The Plaza Hotel. Slightly intimidated, we nevertheless ascended the red carpeted stairs behind intrepid Elaina and passed through the elegantly chandeliered lobby. We stopped and spoke with Grace, the aptly-named hostess at the Palm Restaurant. Grace remembered Elaina from her late-night visit with some fashion friends after an upscale cosmetics event the previous week. Behind Grace in the center of the restaurant is a harpist, pleasantly strumming "My Funny Valentine". Everything seemed “pleasant” at The Plaza Hotel, clearly their intent. I tell myself that at the Hilton Garden Inn, I will get a perfectly pleasant complimentary breakfast in the morning, something the Plaza guests won’t. We took photos of some beautiful floral arrangements - which probably cost more than our combined Delta airfare – and we saunter out, pleasantly.
"Conspicuous Consumption Galore"
Outside on the sidewalk, our Gotham-guide, Elaina, paused and withdrew from her large purse a pair of Kate Spade sandals with hot pink seahorses on the top. “In this part of town”, she explained, “I’ve learned that store people size you up by looking down at your feet.” She buries her walking shoes into her large KS purse and we trotted over next door to Bergdorf Goodman (BG). [Unofficial BG’s Motto: “Our prices will melt the stripe off your Platinum Plus card while it's still in your purse.”] As we breeze through the store past a rack of $500 scarves, I watch more than one impeccably dressed sales associate smile politely and nod at Elaina. As the last Sullivan in the procession passed, their eyes raised to see who is wearing size 10 running shoes. Their perfunctory smile faded slightly when they get to me and my backpack. They quickly glanced at the next, more promising prospect. I reassure myself by remembering that “All that’s gold doesn’t glitter” and I speed up to catch up with the seahorses.
Tiffanys is a Diamond's Best Freind ......................I felt better once we left BG’s and we joined the sidewalk herd moving down 5th Avenue. Across the street, Louis Vuitton’s electra-color window display seductively gleamed at us as if to say, “Mortgage your house and I’ll make you a nice deal on a purse”. We ignore the implied offer and press onward. Next door, the stately house of Tiffany whispered demurely to us like Zsa Zsa Gabor. “Dahhhling, ve both know you vant me. Vy dun’t you come in.” The accent got us, so ve vent in. Needing a rest, I chose to let the ladies wander around without me. I parked myself inside at the front of the store on a green velvet bench to comfortably wait for the sparkley-eyed girls to return. When the girls returned we exited with the same net worth we walked in with, “Whew”!
Hey Donald! Sorry We Missed Ya
We then popped in to Trump Towers to say “Hey!” to “The Donald” and his current wife, but somehow we missed them. Feeling slightly snubbed, we changed direction and strolled northward, further into the “Upper East Side.” This area is, by some accounts, the most expensive residential property in New York, nay the Universe. If you walk along 5th Avenue far enough, you will come to the gargantuan Metropolitan Museum of Art (“the Met”). Still further and you come to the Frank Lloyd Wright-designed Guggenheim Art Museum (currently under renovation). Hint: You can walk into the Guggenheim free of charge and see the main lobby display, if you want to only get the sense of the place (and use the rest rooms).
I'm Late, I'm Late...
We continued our foot-tour by trekking through Central Park (The Park). Elaina detours briefly to show Joanna, a big Lewis Carroll fan, the Park’s brass sculpture of "Alice in Wonderland". This beautiful sculpture is just north of the toy sail boat pond seen in the movie, "Stuart Little". In The Park, Rhonda and I get momentarily acquainted with a park bench. Behind us I noticed a gathering group of women donning grass skirts for a Polynesian dance practice. You will see just about anything in “The Park”.
"IMAGINE" THAT
In a little while the family assembled again and we continued our now westward progress. We pass the gorgeous Bethesda Fountain and stop for a few pictures. Before leaving the Park into the Upper West Side, we hear 60’s music as we approach Strawberry Fields, a park tribute to John Lennon. The focal point of this 70’s Beatle shrine is a black and white tile mosaic circle with the word “IMAGINE” in the center. We saw some “fruits” in Strawberry Fields, but they were definitely not edible. Most of the shrine-dwellers appeared to be former flower children whose blossom had long since fallen off the stem. The most colorful of these was a 50-ish looking guy who had a hand-made cardboard sign which read: “Why lie, I need beer (…and love).” He got neither from us. Like I said, you’ll see just about anything in “The Park”.
If Walls Could Talk Leaving the Park, we pass by “The Dakota,” a posh behemoth residential facility where John Lennon once lived. The stately Dakota was so named because at the time of its construction - before the Dakota Territories became states - people mocked its remoteness on Manhattan as being constructed in the "Dakota Territories". This place is about a city block wide and has a drive-in motor car courtyard. It also has gas lamps which gives it an "old world" look.
"Now That's Italian"
Hungry again, we cross Columbus Street in search of a restaurant and reach Broadway, the longest street on Manhattan. We decide on Italian food and walk down to a place called Pomodoro’s with its bistro-style sidewalk seating. The owner, Peter, graciously seats us at the perfect sidewalk table under the awning of his restaurant. Soon, a generous plate of warm toasted foccacia bread was served with a side bowl of roasted garlic-infused olive oil and the saltiest green and black olives on the planet (this must help wine sales). Joanna had the Pomodoro (tomato) soup in a “bishop” bread bowl (Kelly Rippa spoke glowingly of this on Live with Regis and Kelly show), Elaina and Rhonda shared a salad for two and I had the mega-bowl of penne pasta with Italian sausage and portobello mushrooms. Dessert temptation is a hard thing to resist, so we share two: Tiramisu and Berries and Cream with a Cappacino. Yum! We thanked Peter for a fabulous meal and set off down Broadway.
"Trying to Get A HEAD"
We crossed the street to see the spectacular diamond-shaped lights at Lincoln Center. We passed several other impressive buildings as we headed south, the ABC Studios, the Trump International Hotel and the Time-Warner Towers, to name a few. It was dark so we headed further south on 8th Avenue and entered the uber-watted Times Square region. There, we noticed an enormous plastic head of Eddie Murphy, a movie promotion prop the size of a Ryder truck, in the median. People lined up to actually stick their head out of Murphy's nostriles. Yuck!
The day that started in Atlanta and ended in New York came to a close as we hopped a bus back to the Secaucus HGI, a good place to be if your home alone and lost in New Jersey.
Friday, July 4th : Happy Birthday America !
Having already seen parts of the northern side of NYC, we opted to see lower Manhattan. We had been told by our friendly HGI staff several good places to watch the 4th of July fireworks over the East River after dark. After a terrific, made-to-order egg-white omlette (complimentary with Hilton Rewards Points), the Sullivan clan caught the next bus to Times Square. There we opted to purchase the 2-day GrayLine Bus Tour package for seeing the various parts of city. [Caveat Emptor: Be cautious in dealing with the besmocked Bus Tour agents that that swarm at Times Square street corners. Know which Tour Option you are purchasing and get a clear explanation of the hop-on, hop-off rules.] This two-day transportation purchase worked out well for us in that we saw far more of the city than we would have otherwise been able to see traveling by foot alone.
Since it was slightly warm, we elected to get on the clear bubble-topped, double-decker bus and cool off while seeing the City. Out of Times Square, the Lower Manhattan Route took us passed The Hotel Pennsylvania, the phone number of which was made famous by the Glen Miller song entitled, “Pennsylvania 65000”. Across the street we saw the Madison Square Garden - OK, the building is “round”, but I always assumed it was square. We then experienced our own “Miracle on 34th Street” in that we went passed Macy’s (celebrating its 150th year) and did not buy a darn thing. Next, we passed the ever-impressive Empire State Building. The wait to the top is about an hour and it was hazy, so we passed on the Observation Deck tour. We then passed the Garment (Fashion) District where Elaina worked at KS. We also passed by Chelsea and the Greenwich Village areas and through Soho and Tribeca. We passed by Ground Zero, the current crater-like memorial to 9-11 and future home of Freedom Tower. Soon, our tour bus disgorged all its riders in the Financial District. A convenient Starbucks offered us light lunch fare and we refueled looking south at Lady Liberty from comfortable benches along the southern tip of Manhattan in Battery Park.
A Little Bit Too Much Bronzer
Heading northward on foot, we walked onto Wall Street, saw the New York Stock Exchange and nearby, the fortress-like, Federal Reserve Bank of New York. The festive sounds and smells of a street festival captured our attention en route to the South Street Seaport and nearby shops. There, Elaina and Joanna posed with a Remington-esque street performer. The seaport on the East River was crowded with holiday tourists, all of whom – it seemed - wanted to board a GrayLine bus. Eventually we boarded a bus and traveled past the Brooklyn Bridge, the Chinatown, Soho, the United Nations building, Rockefeller Center and back at Times Square.
We caught a smorgasbord dinner at a Whole Foods store (and restaurant) across from Union Square Park (a good people-watching place). After dinner, we strolled East toward the river. We were directed by New York’s Finest to an on-ramp onto the elevated FDR Drive where we, and a million of our freedom-loving friends, had a commanding view of the three fireworks barges anchored in the East River. Just as we got to the elevated FDR, the police discontinued letting anyone else go up on the ramp. Despite a slight mist in the air, the one-hour fireworks display was incredibly spectacular way to celebrate the nation‘s birthday. Afterward, we hoofed it back up to Times Square and caught our bus to the HGI. ?
Saturday, July 5th
"New York, I'm Glad I MET Ya"
The misty rain the next morning directed the family to see the Upper Manhattan sights from the comfort of the GrayLine bus. We saw a lot of famous movie and TV settings in this area: When Harry Met Sally, You’ve Got Mail and Seinfeld to name a few. We went through Harlem and circled back south on 5th past Daddy Warbucks’ mansion (Little Orphan Annie) just north of the Metropolitan Museum of Art. We toured the Met for a couple of hours while the sky clears above. We saw as much as we can of their ubiquitous rooms, corridors and halls full of priceless art pieces.
I Can't Believe I Ate the Whole Thing
Later that day we ate at the famous Carnegie Deli. I ordered the open-face Reuben. The truth is, the four of us could have tried to eat the Reuben that I ordered (it was humongous). It tased better than it looks.
Sandwich Psychology Note: Somewhere beneath the pastrami is a slice of rye bread with a severe inferiority complex.
Afterward, we strolled south and saw Rockefeller Center one more time before catching the bus to the Hilton. This art deco style building is truly beautiful, especially at night. This Freedom weekend, an artist's large metallic replica model of Rockefeller Center was on display in the Center’s courtyard. It was the perfect last impression of our amazing weekend in New York City.
Sunday, July 6th
Give My Regards to Broadway
Our final day together as a family were shared at the Hilton Garden Inn in Secaucus. At noon we catch a cab to EWR and flew back to Atlanta. In six short weeks our fashionable intern would return with a wealth of her own stories and a few handbags to boot.
Maria and I are headed to France! Follow our adventures (and misadventures!) right here. We leave January 9, 2009. We hope to update this blog throughout the trip, though this will be the first-ever blog for either of us, so who knows how it'll go! We'll also be trying to do a VoiceThread which you can check out at this address. It's empty now, but we hope to fill it with our comments, photos and videos. And please add your own comments to the blog and to the VoiceThread:
Before we left, Maria had asked me to tell her about all the things that would be different in France.So, as they occurred to me over the past few weeks, I told her about dinners that don’t start until 7 p.m. or later, cars that get parked on sidewalks and the fact that if you spot someone in Nikes you can be pretty sure they are American.But I forgot about the smell.
As we got off the plane and onto the jetway, I was struck by the smell of France.It should have smelled like exhaust from the plane, but it was distinctly the smell of France.I read somewhere that the nose can identify something like 10 times more smells than the brain can name and this is one of them.I’m sure you’ve had the experience of unexpectedly smelling something and subsequently being flooded by memories, even if you can’t describe the smell.There’s a definite element of perfume in this scent, but that’s the only piece I can specify.It’s just “Eau de France” and if they sold it everyone who ever came here would buy a bottle.
The flights over here went off without a hitch, in spite of snow in Detroit.We were really lucky that the airport only had about an inch of snow, but my cousin who lives two counties away was unable to get to the airport to meet us for dinner because there was much more snow where she lives.L
The hotel is the nicest I’ve ever been in in France.We’ve been upgraded to one of their best rooms just because no one else was booked in it.It’s “La Tour Eiffel” room and guess what we see from our window?Way cool!
Our first day here was spent largely in trying to catch up on sleep (Maria has been very successful at this, but not me.It is 2:30 a.m. as I write – from the bathroom!) and get our bearings, but we did get to go on a nighttime river cruise on the Seine.My French friends warned me that it would be “cold” but considering that we’ve had temps around 15 at home, I thought a daily high of 30 would be pleasant.Wrong!I don’t know what the temp was during the day yesterday, but we are really glad we packed long underwear.The boat was enclosed, but the walk there was rather frigid.
OK, I'm off to try to sleep!
Sunday, January 11 (at a much more respectable hour!)
(from Maria)
Today, we went to the cathedral of Notre Dame. It was all right.
We then went to Anne Frederique (Mom’s former host family’s daughter) and her husband, Nicolas’ apartment. Their apartment and cat were nice and we went on a chilly walk.
Mom and I also went up the Arc de Triomphe, 284 steps! But it was worth it. The view was spectacular and I got a cute diary from the gift shop.
Then we went to the modern art museum. I had to ask mom a lot, “Why is this art?” But some of it was cool.
It is 9:40 here and I’m going to sleep soon!
Au Revoir!
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
Yesterday was a marathon.I don’t know how we did it.
Once again, I was up for about three hours in the middle of the night Sunday night.It must be my age, because jet lag has never been this bad for me.I had a meeting with a woman at the Alliance Française at 10 a.m. and Maria came along and read a book while we discussed options for me bringing a group of students to Paris for an intensive study-abroad program.It was all very impressive but I fear the whole thing will be deemed too expensive by the powers-that-be in Madison who would need to approve it.
After changing into warmer clothes we headed for the Eiffel Tower.It had really been too cold to go up on the previous two days, but yesterday it was time to bite the bullet.Personally, I think the tower is nicer to look at than be in (same for the Arc de Triomphe and Notre Dame).But it is practically a requirement to go up your first time in Paris and Maria loved it.
Next we headed to the Louvre.I should say up front that I’m not a big fan of the Louvre.It’s just too blasted big!Honestly, it was cruel for someone to put so much art in one location that you need three months and a GPS (the maps are awful!) to view it all.But, I suppose, back in the 1600s when Louix XIV decided to leave the royal residence of Paris and build Versailles they had to do something with the building and low-income housing wasn’t an option at the time.Nonetheless, we went and checked off The Mona Lisa, the Venus de Milo, the Winged Victory and the Seated Scribe (which I’d never seen or heard of but Maria had).
I observed more of the décor of the galleries than ever before, which was pretty amazing.Much of the artwork is missed if you don’t look up (no doubt adding to that three-month figure!)Maria also did some sketches in the ancient Egyptian wing, at which point I almost fell asleep.
From there we headed to the Orangerie, which is my all-time favorite museum.It’s the home of two huge, round galleries specifically designed by Claude Monet to display eight of his largest paintings, les Nymphéas (the Waterlilies).I read that he wanted to create a peaceful retreat in the middle of the city and that was just what we needed.On the lower level are about eight rooms with other impressionist paintings and we noted a Renoir with a figure that bears a remarkable resemblance to Maria’s classmate, Ellie Knoll. If you know Ellie, what do you think?
After a quick trip back to the hotel and another change we went to dinner at a nicer restaurant that is rather knownin Paris, La Coupole.I head read in “Paris with Kids” that it was family-friendly so I thought it’d be a treat.Long story short, it was just a waste of money.When we return we’ll stick with the ordinary cafés and restaurant.
As I write this we are on a train headed to Pau, in the southwest of the country – where it promises to be a little warmer!The train ride is five hours and I couldn’t be happier to have all this time to just sitJ
(10:30 p.m., Lascazares)
We have done a 180 degree turn from Paris and are with Remi and Elisabeth in the southwest. They live in a beautiful house in the country with a farm right next door (I was warned that we might hear the rooster early tomorrow morning). I'll write more about this place tomorrow, but for now it's time to sleep.
Wednesday, January 14 (Maria)
I slept until about 10:00 and then we went to Lourdes. There was an underground cathedral. It was HUGE but too cold.
Right above it was a different cathedral and the main attraction of that was a cave that I went in right next to the cathedral where Mary appeared to a girl 18 times!
Also they had a spring of water that when Mary appeared, changed it from a mud puddle to holy water and they had faucets that had the water in it and I got have drink some. It’s supposed to heal so that was cool! I wonder if it works. I’m beginning to feel homesick thoughL.
(Julie)
Maria did a good job explaining our day (though she left out the fact that it is 50 degrees here :) ) so I won't recap. I will, however, explain why we are here. When I did my semester abroad in Strasbourg 17 years ago I lived with Remi and Elisabeth Bogner and their three children. We have stayed in touch ever since and Paul and I stayed with them when we came to France in 1995. When Remi retired in 2007 they moved here to the southwest. Their hospitality is wonderful (it always was) and it has been lots of fun catching up with them and recalling stories from my student days.
If you have not read "A Year in Provence" I highly recommend it for a good laugh as well as an accurate glimpse into French life. It's the story of a British ad exec who uproots his life and resettles in an old house in the south of France. The picture I had in my head from reading the description of that house matches Remi and Elisabeth's house perfectly, and from what they tell me, the stories of the madness of dealing with French subcontractors also match those from the book.
P.S. We've loaded some pictures on the VoiceThread. Click the link at the top of the blog.
Friday, January 16, 2009
We’re on a train headed back to Paris.Yesterday Rémi and Elisabeth took us to the Pic du Midi, one of the highest peaks in the Pyrenees.We took a cable car from a ski resort and had lunch at the summit, which is also home to a research center with high-powered telescopes.I can’t describe what this looks like – I’ll let the pictures speak for themselves (of course, as soon as we arrived I realized that I had left the memory card for my camera back at the house, so Maria and Elisabeth were the chief photographers.)
Back at the house we had dinner with Elisabeth’s mom, brother Michel, and cousin.It was Grandma’s birthday and Rémi’s feast day (the feast of St. Rémi) so it was a little party, though a bit sad since it was our last night.We enjoyed many animated discussions around their table about cranberries (unknown in France), American Girl dolls (also unknown, though Michel was fascinated by the store in New York when he saw it) and the proliferation of wild boars in France (Rémi and Michel hit one with the car.The insurance agent actually came out of her office to look for boar hairs to ascertain if that was truly how the damage was done.)
This morning we returned to Pau where I had a meeting with some people from the university there about establishing a study-abroad program there, which sounds very promising.We had a very nice stroll outside on the lovely green grass – no hats, no gloves, jackets unzipped.
Hi! It’s Maria and I’m going to tell you what happened other than a meeting. After dropping mom off, Remi, Elisabeth, and I, left for the castle of Pau where King Henry IV was born. We got there; only to find out they just closed and wouldn’t be opening again until I was on the train. So we went to lunch at a good pizzeria and went back to the castle to poke around outside and take pictures. I really liked the garden. Remi and Elisabeth were really nice to me and I thank them (Merci beaucoup!) I’ll find something to do for the rest of this boring ride. Bye!
Sunday, January 18
I can’t believe that today was our last day here!The time really flew by.
Yesterday was souvenir-shopping day.We also visited the Sainte Chapelle, famous for its amazing stained glass windows
, and strolled the Latin Quarter where we got this photo taken, which I think is the best of the trip.Then we went to the home of our friends Olivier and Karine Maccarone in one of the suburbs. (Don't you love it -- peanut butter and champagne!)We met them in 2007 when they were visiting our friends Holly and Kevin in Wausau.Olivier had been an exchange student with Kevin’s family in Appleton 20 years ago.They have two boys, Baptiste who is 8 and Nolann who is 5.It was fun to see how Maria, with her limited French, and Baptiste, with his limited English, managed to communicate and teach each other a bit. It was a wonderful evening that concluded with Olivier driving us back to our hotel via the Champs Elysées!We look forward to seeing them all again.
Today was all Versailles – 6 hours and countless kilometers of walking!I turn the keyboard over to Maria for the summary:
Hi! Today we went to Versailles as Mom said and it was so much walking. I took 109 photos. Is that enough? Well we went to a lot of bedchambers and here’s one of them. We also went into the famous hall of mirrors.
I don’t know what makes it famous but oh well, more pictures! We then went to the gardens which, like the castle, are too big, but they are very pretty. We also visited the queen's hamlet which is where the queen would go and play peasant. Here's me in the queen's hamlet. We also visited the king's and queen's "mini" castles. They were tiny but sweet.
This is our last post as we head to the airport at 11 a.m. tomorrow.Thanks so much for reading our blog.We enjoyed reading everyone’s responses – it made us feel not so far from home!I’ll continue to sharpen this blog with a few more photos and videos in the next week, mostly for my own desire to try to preserve everything in the relatively sure-fire security of the web.Check back in a week or so to see the finished product.Au revoir!
Wednesday, January 21st
We're back home now, where we're glad it has warmed up to 15 degrees F (-10 C), though it's hard to forget that when our plane took off it was 60 F (14 C) in Paris!
I'll call this last entry "Tidbits We Forgot to Mention Earlier" and it's going to be a hodgepodge. I'll start with a short list of things that were noticeably different to me from 13 years ago.
1. The French smoke MUCH less than they used to. Smoking in public places (including bars) became illegal a year ago, but they obviously made some significant progess long before that. I can count on one hand the times when I found myself smelling cigarette smoke.
2. There were way fewer dogs out on sidewalks, thus much less caca to try to not step in. This could be entirely due to the fact that it was winter, but it was still nice.
3. Parisians are friendlier. This could be entirely owing to the fact that I speak their language. But even with that, there were so many virtual strangers who wanted to engage in conversation, mostly to find out where we were from and details about our trip. Parisians don't have a reputation for their warmth, but it seems they deserve that less and less.
"Maria's Favorite Meal" -- la Raclette. Leave it to the French to take a simple baked potato and turn it into a chef d'oeuvre! To make this you use a special applicance that gets plugged in and set in the middle of the table (I'm so mad at myself for not taking a picture of this at Remi and Elisabeth's house:( ). Each person gets their own little frying pan into which they put a particular variety of cheese made just for this purpose as well as bacon and onion, according to their preference. While it melts you peel a potato and cut it up. When it's all melted you dump your toppings onto your potato, using a small wood spatula to scrape it clean. This is often served with deli meats and pickles on the side. Maria liked this so much that she ordered it at a restaurant in Paris, where I did get a photo.
This "appliance" was different and was heated with a flame, but you get the idea. There's a little handle that you tip up to facilitate the dumping. Incidentally, you use a different part of the appliance to grill food for a different type of meal, la pirouade (I know I'm spelling it wrong), which was what we had at Karine and Olivier's. I found one of these machines on the web and I'll be adding it to my birthday list.
"Moment of Greatest Linguistic Achievement" Outside the Louvre, I wanted someone to take a picture of Maria and I, so I approached a woman who had the air of waiting for someone and asked her in French if she could take our photo. She shook her head and said, "Espagnole". "OK," I thought, "I know enough Spanish to ask this." So I said, "Pueden" (yay for remembering to use the formal form!) and then I drew a blank. I wanted to say "mirar una photo" but I knew that was "look at a picture" so I just kept gesturing to my camera. Mercifully, she said, "Sacar una photo?" Yay for sign language! Wanting to prove that I really could speak her language, I added, "De nos dos, con la pyramida..." at which point I forgot how to say "behind" but she was saying "si, si" so we went for it. It wasn't until I loaded the photo that I noticed that her husband came along at just the right moment:
Well, I think it's time to wrap this up for good. I have to say that it was a more wonderful trip than I had hoped. Maria was an awesome travel companion, motoring through 10 hour days often with more energy than me. She was very bold about trying out her French whenever she could. I should add that on the plane home she said "Bonjour" to the flight attendant with such a good accent that the woman handed us customs forms for French citizens entering the U.S.!
I also want to say a special thank you to all of our friends in France. Getting to visit with Anne-Frederique, Nicolas, Remi, Elisabeth, Mamie, Bijou, Michel, Karine, Olivier, Baptiste and Nolann made this so much more than just a tourist junket. On ne peut pas attendre la prochaine fois qu'on peut se revoir! Merci mille fois!
Even though it was still raining the following day, Velma--what we dubbed our GPS’s voice--helped us reach the Chianti region, an hour away, and we toured the medieval Castello di Meleto--somewhat decrepit and in need of repair in areas, but a good glimpse at what these hilltop castles look like on the inside--and had a lovely wine tasting while chatting with tourists from So. California and Germany, as well as a U.S. military couple living in Naples. We purchased several bottles and then enjoyed the castle’s pretty gardens, the most romantic part of this location, (http://www.castellomeleto.it/tuscany-castle-siena-farmhouse-chianti.asp), before returning to our side of Tuscany for more grocery shopping and meal preparation—this time a fantastic chicken pasta in red pepper cream sauce—and wine before a crackling fire.
Firenze...
The next day we arose early and hopped a 7am commuter train in Montevarchi to Florence (a lovely way to enter and exit another big city that is difficult to navigate), and spent the entire day there. We saw Michelangelo’s David in the Academia (highly recommend you purchase tickets for the Academia and Uffizi like this—ticket lines can be murder, especially during high season, and you can circumvent some trauma by going to web site http://www.tickitaly.com/ ), and moved on to climb the winding Duomo (church) stairs for the most magnificent views in Firenze. While we found the churches of Rome and Venice (and elsewhere in Tuscany) more interesting and beautiful on the inside, this is an iconic church with the largest of dome ever built at the time (completed in 1436), and still the largest masonry dome. To be able to get close to her frescoes inside the dome was intriguing—you catch a glimpse of how the artists achieved scale—and then to climb to the top through tight stairways that resemble secret passageways (great for kids!), between the two layers of the dome, was a unique experience. For lunch we ate bad tourist pizza that did not remotely compare to our homemade version at the Odina, and moved on to the Uffizi for a brief Lay-Your-Eyeballs-On-Famous-Paintings tour, then walked Firenze’s streets.
One of Three Memorable Meals We Didn't Cook Ourselves...
Weary from our day of touring, we moved north to the famous Il Latini trattoria, which I had seen on Rachael Ray’s show and was convinced we had to try (6r Via del Palchetti; Tues-Sun 7:30-10:30, reservations possible by calling +39 55 210 0916, but be prepared to still be patient and wait—they’ll bring you a glass of wine after 7:45). We arrived at 7pm and waited outside with the crowds for it to open, like people at a zoo watching the staff eat family style underneath a hundred prosciutto ham hocks hanging from the ceiling, and probably making fun of the hungry tourists salivating outside. Everyone jockeys to get inside and then are seated family-style—we happily landed at a table for four, but reportedly, part of the fun is joining locals and other tourists at larger tables. Our waiter arrived, pointed to the house Chianti sitting in the center and poured our first glasses, then pointed to the hams, asking if we wanted antipasto. The waiters here are notorious for avoiding menus—the first time we went, we just looked at him, said in sign language and lame Ital-glish phrases that essentially boiled down to “bring us what you think is best, but make sure we get a couple of those steaks,” and then were treated to one of the finest meals of our whole trip—antipasto, house wine, foccacia, house wine, white bean soup, house wine, massive 3” thick bistecca alla fiorentina (split one or two!), house wine, and then cantucci con vin santo—dessert and dessert wine the waiter forced on us (okay, he just gestured toward a tray of golden liquids in dainty glasses and we, unable to stop grinning, just nodded). The maitre d’ came by, measured our bottle of house wine to see how much we had drunk, nodded with admiration, and scribbled out our bill . Once outside, we were glad to be stumbling back to a train vs. a car. We were fairly sober—just still miserably full-- by the time we hit our train stop and made the serpentine climb up the hills to our home away from home. Several antacids later we were blissfully back to sleep in our fine Odina beds. NOTE: We returned here for my 40th birthday a year later, (yeah, it was THAT good and memorable) and got even more food—next time, I’d just stick to antipasto, white bean soup, bistecca and dessert, despite how your waiter might push—the massive platter of roasted meats is just plain over the top, the house pasta is so-so, and those two additions really jacks up the bill. Trust me, you’ll get enough food! Check out the "bistecca" photo above with my husband's hand--that's just TWO steaks!
Sienese Pasta...
We slept in a bit the next day, then ventured farther afield, and made the 1.5 mile trip to Siena. It’s a not-to-be-missed medieval city, once a major competitor to Florence in terms of military might. “The Nine” (a governing body of nine elected officials from the most important families) once ruled here—you can see many of their old palazzos, right on Il Campo—a magnificent, shell-shaped piazza—with nine rays that were bricked in c.1430; but there are also vibrant family neighborhoods and lots of soccer going on. We hiked up the campanile for another birds’ eye view a la Firenze--this time of fantastic rolling green Tuscan hills, the old walls of the city and the tight quarters within. In the distance, you could see the zebra stripes of the fabulous city Duomo. We climbed down, toured the old Pubblico museum, gobbled dfown some fabulous pasta around the corner in a small trattoria, then moved on to spend a good amount of time in the ancient church. Most of the inlaid marble floors were uncovered (sometimes, they’re covered for protection) and there are ancient choir books viewable under glass in a side music room. Be sure to spend time checking out the carved pulpit, which took several sculptors years…
A Sword in the Stone...
Just outside Siena (by about an hour—pretty drive) is San Galgano, which features the roofless ruins of a 14th century Cistercian abbey and they say has a buried sword in a stone (that part of it was closed when we were there, but check it out on YouTube; http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-gioJ2scFDM ). The legend (which might have served as inspiration for Arthurian legend) is that St. Galgano, a crusader knight, came home from afar and promised to serve his God, and never to fight again—and then immediately sank his sword in the stone as a promise. It was San Galgano that supplied Siena with her clergy, and there was a large scriptorium here, where they laboriously created treasured copies of the Bible by hand. Even though we couldn’t see the sword in the stone (one of the hazards of traveling off-season), wandering the ghostly, quiet ruins and envisioning this elegant beauty in her heyday made San Galgano a worthwhile stop...and hungry for dinner at the Odina.
Tuscan Castle Ruins Hike...
The last day, we awakened to a bright, crisp morning, with sun streaming through our windows. Following the advice of our innkeeper, and the few-and-far-between small arrows nailed to trees, we hiked to the castle ruins above us, along narrow and winding forest trails that boar hunting truffles might favor, past small homes, circumventing olive groves…until it opened up and we could see the wide, verdant expanse of the valley below us, the rolling and heavily forested Chianti hills on the far side. You could almost see all the way to Siena. We could envision this castle lord surveying the acres below, watching the fog roll in and sock in the valley floor, then dissipate and perhaps reveal a troop of soldiers on horseback. Now there is little but rotting timbers and a few stone walls left, but it’s a trip back in time to visit—as well as a lovely view.
We packed up our things and regretfully departed the Odina and Toscana. Only the leftover pizza for our lunch en route to Venice made us feel better about leaving!
**CAR RENTALTIPS:
Renting a car out of Rome? Get a cab to the airport and rent from there—trust me, it’s MUCH less stressful than dealing with Rome’s confusing and congested roads!
People honk at you on the freeway if you’re going too slow, even if you’re in the slow lane. Ignore them. There are several speed-trap cameras between Rome and Tuscany, and arriving home to a ticket will be a bummer.
You can rent a car with GPS, but you might want to bring your own from home, already loaded with the Italian software and your principal locations. You’ll know how to use it from the get-go, and you’re certain to avoid time-consuming detours, which might save some trauma (although getting lost can be part of the fun—depends on your personalities). Just stow it away or carry it with you so it doesn’t get swiped. (Also stow away maps and other tourist paraphernalia that make your rental more of a target to thieves.)
If you’re driving like we were, only between Rome and Venice, know that dropping your rental car in Piazzale Roma (Venice) can be confusing; don’t park in the parking garage; park outside on the congested street, where it feels totally wrong, until you hear from the rental car guy where he wants the vehicle.
In early June 2008, we packed up our kids, (ages 13, 9 and 5) and went to Nevis, an island in the West Indies. If you're like most people I meet (and you might not be, because you're loyal BT readers and travelers), you're blinking twice and muttering, "Nevis? Where's that?" But I love that--going places few have discovered before me! (St. Kitts is easily seen from Nevis--she lies just beyond a channel that passes between the sister isles.)
How'd we settle on going to Nevis? A writer friend and his agent wife have been going there for years and are even thinking of relocating to the island. Listening to their starry-eyed description, with a hint of in-the-know secrecy, I knew my little "Pirates of the Caribbean" fanlets--typically land-locked in Colorado--would love it. They'd watched the movies and wondered about the clear waters. All of us had a difficult time imagining water warmer than the mountain lakes we typically frequent. And we all were dying for some down-time together as a family. Add to that a passion for family travel--we run a multigenerational website called FamilyTripster.com--and we decided Nevis would be our Idyllic Island answer.
We met people who were staying at the Four Seasons. While world-renowned and recommended by the Travel Channel's top 10 Caribbean resorts, we felt sorry for them. They had no car, so they had explored little of what we'd come to know as an amazing island, brimming with history. And the Four Seasons reportedly works hard at keeping her visitors on-campus; if you stay there, definitely find ways to venture out!
We chose to rent a villa, found via www.Nevis1.com , and it was perfect for our family of five. Since we went off-season, and had our own kitchen, we saved some serious buckaroos. With a private pool, a gardener who brought us mangoes, coconuts and teeny bananas, and the ability to walk 100 yards to the beach, and we felt like we were living a dream! The only thing that was missing: air conditioning. If I could get that villa, at that price, with air conditioning, I'd be back every year. (But I'm a person who likes her weather best at about 72 degrees. So, take what I say about the heat with a grain of salt. This is the Caribbean, after all! Heat is part of the equation.)
SATURDAY : We arrived on Saturday morning at the tiny Nevis airport. TIP: Try to get seats at the front of the plane to be first off--you'll get through customs fastest. That airport is sweltering! We were at the back of the bus, so we stood in line with sweat running down our faces for 30-40 minutes before we reached the counter. We were too excited, however, to let it get us down. Outside, our friendly driver, Marlon Brando (no, not that one; Nevis' rental car owner can be reached at #869.663.2013.) picked us up in his spacious van and delivered us to our villa, Coral Reef (http://www.nevis1.com/coral-reef-villa.html ), near Nesbit Plantation--which boasts one of the best snorkeling beaches on the island. He then brought us our rental car. (NOTE: You have to buy a $25 temporary driver's license. And they drive on the wrong side of the road--just keep chanting, "Left, LEFT, KEEP LEFT!!!")
Coming from high and dry Colorado, it took us days to adjust to the humidity, which hovered around 85% (temps ran 82 to 90 degrees). Eventually, we got adjusted--and even to the wild jungle noises at night. We kept all the windows open and ran every fan in the villa. And we jumped in our pool right before sleeping--and again as soon as we awakened. The best way to deal with the heat, is to beat it by one of your water options--pool, ocean or shower.
Nevis is like the Caribbean was fifty years ago, if I'm to believe my island-hopping and far-more-knowledgeable friends..."Authentic Caribbean" as per Conde Nast. Very low-key and relaxed, not a lot of tourists. Goats and chickens and donkeys run free-range and you have to watch out for them on the road. We had our eyes peeled for wandering animals and I squirmed in my seat, trying to get used to being a passenger on the wrong side of the road, and made our way to the grocery store for supplies. Prices are in Caribbean currency, but Visa and MasterCard are widely accepted. The nearest store was about 850' square, stocked like a city neighborhood grocery. All the meat was frozen, and there was not a lot of produce--more is available on the other side of the island. Still, we managed to buy about $300 in provisions.
Back at the villa, enough food in the fridge to last us a while, pina coladas in hand (rum is CHEAP!), we walked down to the beach for a quick dip. We explored many other beaches too, but the one 100 yards away--Nesbit--from us was definitely one of the best. 6 out of 7 days we swam and snorkeled there.
We returned to the villa, whipped up dinner, took our first post-dinner dip in the pool, then tried to sleep through what sounded like forty small boys with tin whistles pulling an all-nighter--but were really only tree frogs. We awakened at sunrise and wondered if we'd ever sleep during our "restful" vacation; after the second night, we had some hope; after the third, we realized we'd become accustomed to island sounds--a special victory.
SUNDAY : Two visits to Nesbit Beach to explore, snorkel and swim. My nine-year-old, haunted by a library book about sharks, didn't want to come in. I told her she must, to just try it, I'll be right there, that she'll love it. And she did. Within five minutes, she lifted a massive conch shell from the swirling sands, rising, victorious. She was officially addicted to her mask and snorkel from then on. We found if we started down the beach to the right, we could drift with the current and not go all the way to St. Kitts!
MONDAY : We met Jim Johnson ( http://www.walknevis.com) an island naturalist and guide, for an evening bonfire, marshmallow roast and to talk about what we were seeing, smelling and hearing--all foreign to us landlubbers, other than a vague recognition of the stars. Jim is a brilliant, wiry man with zero percent body fat (he climbs Nevis Peak at least a couple of times a week) and Coke-bottle glasses, a living whirr of information--he constantly spews a blend of trivia, scientific and historic facts, and tosses out quizzes, attempting to engage and educate you. He pointed out the Scorpion and Bear constellations to the kids and related mythology about each of them. The kids, exhausted after a full day of sun and swimming, barely absorbed one-third of what he said. Heck, we adults did little better. Still, we planned to meet him in the morning for a bamboo forest hike.
TUESDAY : We headed to Golden Rock Plantation (great place to spot monkeys!) to meet up with Jim for that hike. A young honeymooning couple cheerfully joined us and we tramped up the hill, through a native neighborhood, and then descended through the jungle. Jim, who has taught at the med school about native plants and their medicinal uses, pointed out flora and told us about their medicinal properties. We tasted key lime leaf and cinnamon, smelled lovely bath bush--evoking images of Victorian ladies soaking in cool tubs--and stopped to swing on jungle vines just like George, George, George of the you-know-where. My favorite parts were listening to the giant bamboo stands, which knock together and creak in eerie fashion, and walking the 17th century trail that the Spanish used to overtake the French in their foolishly low-lying fort. But I was hot. Really hot. So damp with sweat I might as well have been swimming. Later, I decided I had a touch of heatstroke. Luckily, my family fared much better. We passed by some sugar mill ruins and returned to Golden Rock, where we gulped down liquids and had a lovely lunch, overlooking the sea, far below us.
WEDNESDAY : We headed out to find Long Haul Bay (pictured with boat above), just around the corner from Nesbit, and supposedly boasting terrific snorkeling. We realized later we could've walked there, but we drove, and the only sign we saw was a faded "Long Haul Bay Development" plaque falling off the post--apparently a business development deal gone belly-up. It's typical of Nevis's beaches; very few are marked with signage; you just follow directions/your nose and brave rough, dirt roads. The beach was picturesque, but we failed to locate more than one natural reef--lovely with its white coral, but disappointing because there are few fish. We did, however, see a lobster pot among vast fields of sea grass just two feet below us, which was cool for the kids--they'd only seen lobsters in the tank at the gourmet grocery store at home. And we saw a family of monkeys in the trees along the road!
We went back to the villa for lunch and then went to the Alexander Hamilton museum, not worth a stop in our estimation (expensive for what you get)--just drive by to see from where our American forefather hailed. The afternoon was redeemed however, because we stopped at New River, on the southern end of the island, and wandered through the amazing 17th century sugar mill ruins. It's a not-to-be-missed stop. Nevis was once the #1 sugar producer in the Caribbean and a provisioning stop for trade ships and those heading to the U.S.--the soil seeps history from its pores. While this location offers one of the few identification signs we saw up by the road, there is no explanation signage down by the actual buildings. But history comes alive as you walk through it--we could visualize ships down by the wave-washed shore, men carrying supplies in and exports out, smoke tufting out the chimney of the mill...We wandered in and out and on top of many of the buildings. In the U.S., we would've been twenty feet away and behind a rope. The kids loved it and so did we!
THURSDAY : We rose and took our normal morning swim--a futile attempt to ward off the heat of the day. But we changed, packed up and went to Nevis Equestrian ( http://www.ridenevis.com/) for a horseback ride along the beach and beyond. It was girls-only, since my husband needed to stay with our son (he was too young to ride). They took off to pick up a picnic lunch from Deli by Wendy--a wonderful place for sandwiches and more.
It had been more than twenty years since I had been on a horse, and my nine-year-old had never been astride a saddle, but the horses were well behaved and the guide tied my daughter's horse to his. We crossed the road, then wound our way past Cay's Bay and Paradise Beach, beside some sumptuous, drool-worthy private abodes on the water, up past a school, where the kids waved at us, and then into the hills, were we saw nice suburbs and poorer neighborhoods too. It was a nice "real Nevis" peek rather than the sanitized vacationer view. After an hour and a half, however, I was saddle-sore and longing for the stables. Fortunately, they soon appeared.
The boys were waiting for us when we returned. We dismounted, then joined them in the car and headed out to Paradise Beach--a local favorite--for a picnic and swim. (To get there, turn beside the St. Thomas School playground and head toward the ocean.) On a beach exploration roll, we then went to Lover's Beach. (To get there, park by the highway just west of the airport and walk west of the shore. You can park closer, but you have to cross smelly high tide muck to get there--eewww, hardly romantic.) But this beach, like them all, is very worth a visit! Sun-soaked and weary, we returned to the vila.
Our eldest was feeling at home, so we got the kids settled with dinner and a video, and my husband and I escaped to a fabled beach bar, Sunshine's, for a sunset dinner and amazing drinks called Killer Bees. Warning: No more than one of these alcohol-laden doozies per hour! (To get there, turn at the faded and worn sign that says "Welcome to Pinney's Beach" and head toward the brightly colored stands to the left.) They start cooking at sunset and we watched them buy the lobster from a local fisherman an hour before we ate it. Tristan and Tessa, ex-pat American children at sea with their parents for a couple of years (or "until the money runs out"), sat down and chatted with us for half our evening, making us wonder why we left our own children behind. But we had enough Killer Bees in our system to thoroughly enjoy it all. We decided to bring our kids back the next night so they could know what a true "beach bar" was really like. We considered it educational...Okay, we considered it experiential, and I wanted another Killer Bee.
FRIDAY : Our last real day! Snort, sniff...We rose, took our dip, then headed down to what we were now calling "our beach." But this day, we walked farther, down to Harvey's Beach and an old grease pole where the girls tried to balance their way all the way to the end. I tried it and fell off half-way down, where it wasn't so deep, and sprained my ankle. Fortunately it wasn't anything that 4 Advil and an ice pack couldn't cure. But the girls couldn't get enough of the challenge. We stayed there for an hour. We returned to the villa, changed for dinner and went to Sunshine's, hoping to run across Tristan and Tessa again and introduce them to our kids, but they had shipped out, off to Antigua as planned, apparently. We moved on to the Gallipot for dinner, a pretty expensive stop for our family of five (about $225 for all of us). My husband and I noticed that most of the wines in Nevis are from South America and France--not many California varieties available.
SATURDAY : Our younger daughter awakened at 3 a.m. with a terrible ear ache--Swimmer's Ear, I guessed, that was rapidly turning into an infection. With two small plane trips to weather to reach our next island stop (Vieques) the next day, we had no choice. My husband took her to the tiny island hospital at 4 a.m. She was seen by a nurse on call, the only one in the building, who didn't charge to administer ear drops and arrange for her to see a doctor in the morning to get a prescription. What's a family vacation without a trip to the local medical establishment? For us, it was all part of the adventure. (But next time, we'll take over-the-counter ear drops and an antibiotic prescription "just in case.")
We packed up, gassed up, and cleaned up. Transition day! With luck, we hoped we'd be in our condo on Vieques by nightfall. And we were! But that's another story...
CONTINUED FROM VENICE, A GIRLFRIEND'S GUIDE, PART 3...
YOU REALLY, MUST GET FARTHER THAN THE RIALTO...EVEN OFF THE ISLAND!
There are some evening cruise boats that I think might be of interest/value, but I never tried one. Someone told me to hire a water taxi for an hour or two and have them give you a tour--I think that'd be lovely (probably about 180 Euros, if that's in your budget). Even to just see the Grand Canal and all the lovely palazzo facades at suset, glass of wine in hand, would be a lovely experience! I myself saw most of it in the back of a water bus...
You can venture pretty far via the vaporetti, even if you don't choose to get off. They're noisy, but you can see so much from the water! And you've paid for the pass; you might as well use it. Wait for a seat to open up outside if the weather is decent--or bundle up and embrace the cold!
--TORCELLO: You must go--it was my daughter's favorite stop and one of my top three. It's the birthplace of Venice, abandoned because of rising silt and malaria, but there's a thousand-year-old church, as well as ancient Roman artifacts, such as a governor's set of marble! And you'll see Isola di San Michele en route--an island dedicated solely to burial grounds. On the day we went, we could see the Italian Alps in the distance, across the water. (This excursion will take you a third to a half a day.) But hardly anyone I talk to who has been to Venice has seen it, and I think it's a loss to miss it. Off the beaten path and wonderfully intriguing. Watch the time, however; vaporetto stops are infrequent here, especially off-season.
--BURANO: Quick stop to lay your eyeballs on the brightly colored houses--it's right across from Torcello. Short on time? View it from the water or across the channel on Torcello and keep on moving.
--MURANO: They are all about the tourists here and and I don't like how they herd you off the vaporetto--we were led away from the museum I asked about, into a glassmaking expedition and then directly into the associated glass shop. It was all highly organized when I was there, with fifteen or twenty men all guiding the crowd to one location--like a Murano Glass Mafia. I kept wondering, "Do they take turns? Is tomorrow that guy's family's turn?" The glassmaking show is moderately entertaining if you've never seen glass hand-blown. My daughter loved it. I preferred the glass museum (when I finally got there--had no idea they made glass 2000 years ago!) and the ancient Santa Maria church at the center of town with more fantastic mosaic floors. We were on the hunt for one element for my novel research--mosaic floors that depict a peacock drinking from an urn, a classic pagan/Christian symbol, and this church gave us yet another example. But I purchased my glass souvenirs elsewhere. I couldn't shake the vultures-over-the-tourist-carrion feeling.
--SAN GIORGIO MAGGIORE: Hop the vaporetto over to the island you see across the lagoon, from just outside the Doge's Palace--San Giorgio. This place was toppled by an earthquake centuries ago, but was rebuilt in 1559, and is now a church/monastery you can visit. (A friend even scored a night's stay there for about $50! Alas, no web site...) And it gives you one of the finest views of classic Venice possible--from just off the Rialto's shore. The church is more impressive from the outside than the inside, other than the choir loft, but the view is worth a stop. And sometimes you can go up the campanile for an even better view--but both times we've been there, it was closed. Take your camera!
--LIDO: 1920s, more modern feel, beaches on the far side (although I wouldn't go just for that). You can rent a bike there, but arrive before siesta! Time short? I'd vote to skip it. Feels more like retro-California than Italy to me.
--GIUDECCA: Fun to walk through; more neighborhood-y
--CASTELLO: This is where Olivia and I stayed in an apartment. Walk the wide Via Guiseppe Garibaldi at about 5-5:30 to see families mingling, grandparents ooing and ahhing over babies, women with bad, drooping stockings buying grappa for their menfolk and then wearily sitting down to see who else is out and about, and frown at teens, skateboarding or roller-skating by. Not many families live in Venice anymore because they can't afford it--but here you can see the remnant. It will give you a totally different perspective.
TWO LAST BITS OF ADVICE...
GELATO. Every day. At least one scoop. Quit it. You're walking off the calories. You deserve it.
LANGUAGE: Learn the basics of polite society--yes, no, please, thank you, right, left, excuse me, good morning, good night. As with most foreign cities, you can get a good distance with a ready smile, hand signals and a cheat sheet of translated words.
Did I say I wanna go back? I do! I have a serious case of Venezia withdrawal now, writing this out. Enjoy, and arrivederci, my friend!
I've been to Venice three times--for several days as a couple, traveling with another couple in late 2004; a mother-daughter trip in 2005 (I'm a novelist and seized the opportunity to take my eleven-year-old with me on a research trip); and a third time in 2006 with my husband, all three of our children (ages 4, 9 and 12) and my parents as the third leg of a Roma-Toscana-Venezia adventure. I expected to like Venice. Instead, I fell in love. It is a fascinating city with amazing history and colorful characters. Don't rush through on a cruise excursion like some one-night stand--I beg you to spend the time to get to know this grand lady. She'll be a lifelong friend.
WHERE TO STAY....
We stayed at Hotel Al Ponte Mocenigo (www.alpontemocenigo.com) when we were there the first time. It was a newly opened, newly renovated hotel at the time, featuring reasonable prices and a lovely breakfast, and fun guys at the front desk, eager to help. Our friends ended up in a spacious but very red room that we dubbed "Redrum" (chanting it like they did on The Shining); ours was a tidy, narrow, golden affair with a window view of about 3 inches--all you could see except for the next door building. (We didn't care, though, because we were on the move from morning until night, eager to be out and about in this new, foreign place.) I know Al Ponte Mocenigo has other rooms--with at least one with a balcony over a canal--and now a sister hotel on the Grand Canal that has been well reviewed. If you're seeking a hotel room, I encourage you to check them out.
But if you heed my advice, and go for at least a week, check out ViewsonVenice.com (www.ViewsOnVenice.com) to see the various apartments for rent. We rented from them for our ten-day and four-day stays, in different parts of Venezia. You can shop and make some of your own meals to save money--or at least counterbalance any increased expense--and by setting up a "house" you really get to know her in a whole different way. We discovered portions of the city inhabited by real Venetians--gondoliers and hoteliers, waiters and dock workers. When you shop for food, you interact with grocers and street vendors. You get a feel for the cadence and rhythm of the city, from morning church bells calling people into mass to young men in soccer uniforms, messing around at night like it's a secondary team sport. On our return trip, Olivia and I stayed in Castello, a family neighborhood; on trip #3, because my parents were splitting the bill, we were able to afford four nights in a second floor palazzo apartment--right on the Grand Canal, just a short distance from the Rialto Bridge. Our view in either direction--seen in these two shots, above and below--was so heavenly we struggled to get psyched up to leave it! (NOTE: Apartments are typically rented like villas, from Saturday to Saturday, but if it's off-season, you're likely to be able to reserve it for fewer days. There might be an extra charge or increased daily rate when you rent for less than a week.)
WHEN TO GO...
We made our trips in November, March and May. Since then, I've spoken to other travelers who went in the Summer, all with mixed results. November and March were cold, fresh-air months and relatively less crowded times to be exploring the city. Bonus: It's off-season and hotel/apartment rates are lower. In May, things were heating up--both in number of people and the humidity factor.
WORDS TO THE WISE...
A friend of mine recently went to Venezia with her husband, and while he was stuck in Conventioneer meetings, this is what I suggested she think about/prepare for/do while there. It's a compilation of three travel journals, really. What I would tell anyone if they were heading out to see the city of the laguna...and what I wish I had known before I went! I hope you find it helpful too.
A Girlfriend's Guide to Venezia (an open letter)
Dear Jackie,
I am so jealous you get to go to Venice, and get enough time to see what captivates and enthralls so many. Most tourists are there for a day--or at most, three--but still don't "get" Venice. With your five days, I'm sure you'll do much better.
Unfortunately, your June visit might bring three plagues that may interrupt your enjoyment of this amazing city: (1) crowds; (2) heat; and (3) mosquitoes. The partial solutions? Rise early; take siesta with the locals (and let the tourists expend themselves); eat dinner late. When the shops close, you can walk much more freely! And Venezia is magical at night (be sure to return to St. Mark's Square by the light of the moon!)
Here's a list of suggestions and must-dos:
BEFORE YOU GO:
Before you go, buy a small, laminated map of Venice you can put in a pocket or purse, that includes vaporetto routes on the water and the outer islands of Torcello, Burano and Murano (the vaporetti are water buses). The No. 1 vaporetto line serves the Grand Canal--you'll be on and off it a lot.
While at the bookstore, pick up Berendt's City of Angels, an engaging read for someone about to get to know Venice--it will make you feel like you have the inside scoop on this complex city. Read it while you're there, or better yet, before you go! I stayed up half the night reading it in our Venetian apartment...the last thing I needed when combatting jet lag at the same time. My mom read it before we went and had to go see the rebuilt opera house, which burns down during the writing of that book. It's that sort or read--vivid, captivating.
Find out if your hotel room has air conditioning, a screen on the window, a fan, breezes off the water...so you can mentally prepare. Mosquitoes love to feast upon me; if they like you too, take a bottle of repellant (pack in suitcase so it doesn't get confiscated.) And personally, I would not stay in a place without air conditioning in the summer--particularly here. Between vaporetto noise and mosquitoes and heat, you might never get an hour's sleep in your $300/night hotel room or apartment without it. (Better yet, go during Spring or Fall and avoid both heat and bugs!)
Before you go, buy a small compass with a whistle you can wear around your neck. Venice is a very safe city, but there are pickpockets and you want to be free to wander and not freak out if you get lost. As a woman alone, you want to be even more careful. There are some very quiet corners of Venice, and some neighborhoods that I didn't want to linger in for long.
--Compass too dorky? During daylight hours, you can also note how the sun is hitting the buildings, get your bearings/direction on your map, and then head out using the sun as your "compass." --Ignore the street vendors selling knock-off purses and the like. I had one follow me for a block when I merely stopped to take a look. Ugh! Street-side artists were different, however.
SEE VENICE, A GIRLFRIEND'S GUIDE, PART 2 FOR THE DETAILS!
Arrive late to go up the campanile (the bell tower in St. Mark's Square), so you can see Venezia at sunset. It is incredibly beautiful and will help you get your bearings because you can see how the neighborhoods are laid out. The Rialto really does look like a big fish, sitting on a Giudecca platter.
Take a breath and absorb what architecture you’re seeing. A good guide book will help you differentiate between Baroque and Byzantine, as well as identify the various palazzos along the Grand Canal as you cruise by.
As I said earlier, Venezia was THE maritime power for many centuries, the hired sea-faring thugs for queens and kings and emperors and crusaders. Wander down to the Arsenale and peer into the vast boatyard from the bridge (inaccessible beyond that, as I understand it), and imagine ancient Venetiansbuilding and outfitting a battle-ready galleon in one or two days—reportedly, something they did to show off for visiting dignitaries. WHAT'S THAT? YOU WANNA EAT SOMETHING??
After all that walking, you’ll be HUNGRY. You can get pizza or Panini-to-go for a pretty good deal (keep in mind that Euro/USD exchange makes everything costly), then find a piazza/corner to sit down and enjoy your lunch. If you sit down inside the little restaurants, it will cost you more. Also, you might want to take dinner back to your room one or two nights if you’re trying to save some Euros and have someplace suitable to picnic. Walk the canalazzos (streets that line the canals), but try and find trattorias one or two streets back from the canal (in particular, the Grand Canal) to eat; you’ll save 10-25%. The farther you get from San Marco or the Rialto Bridge, the better the food….and the more you save! --The Castello district/Via Giuseppe Garibaldi has a couple of grocery stores too, or there’s a Co-Op near the end of the Grand Canal (near the Piazzale Roma stop). Bring a small, rolling suitcase or backpack so you can get your provisions back to your room without killing yourself --Floating fruit/veggie barge vendor in San Barnaba is interesting for a stop; be aware they do not like you touching the produce. You touch, you buy. Just take your chances on what looks best and don’t expect California-fresh. All produce is imported, for obvious reasons. --Even if you doubt you’ll be cooking your own fish dinner, cruise through the Rialto Fish Market, on most mornings, it will give you a visual for what all those fishermen are angling for each morning --We ate at the lovely Osteria Antico Giardinetto, a trattoria in the San Croce district. Wonderful, fresh food in an intimate atmosphere—and they had a tourist special that offered four courses. Usually, I like to avoid the tourist menu and dive into local fare, but this was hard to beat with gourmet presentation and tasty offerings. Take the San Stae vaporetto stop and make your way to Campo San Cassiano in the San Palo district. You’ll see two bridges—take the one to the right. Once you cross the bridge, the restaurant is at the end of the street on the left side. --If you really like fish and are not averse to fishy fish like sardines (I myself am a halibut and salmon kind of girl), you might try the Venetian version of tapas—small, finger-food hors d’oeuvres you purchase one by one and eat standing up beside tiny bars and swallow down with small glasses of wine. I wanted to try them, but I couldn’t get past the sardines. --Lots of trattorias open early to cater to the tourists—it’s an option if you want to beat some of the crowds and be free to roam the city at night—or if jet lag is getting the best of you --If there’s a popular restaurant you want to try, get a reservation a few days ahead; there’s only so much competition in a city this small and word spreads fast! --Harry’s Bar is on the Grand Canal near the San Marco Vallaresso stop, almost directly across from the Customs House—the point that marks the entrance to the Grand Canal. Pause for a famous Bellini (sparkling peach drink that isn’t my favorite, but you have to try one; maybe it’d taste better in the heat of summer) and share a plate of Carpaccio—thinly sliced beef with a light dusting of mayonnaise and lemon, created for a countess on a special diet. All the rich and famous traipse through here, from Hemingway to Helen Hunt, and the menu prices reflect that; I’d find an alternate location for dinner.
FULL STOMACH, HUNGRY SOUL...
The lesser known, less touristed churches are beautiful and offer a reprieve from the heat. My favorites: the 17th century San Pantalon, with its spectacular ceiling painted by Fumiani; Santa Maria della Salute, a church you’ll see time and again in films that feature Venice, and was built as thanksgiving to God for delivering the city’s people of the Black Plague of 1630; Santa Maria Gliriosa dei Frari, first built in 1250, rebuilt in the 15th century—and sporting great Venetian art and tombs, including a funky classical pyramid for the artist, Titian. --Remember, you can’t enter most churches with bare shoulders or shorts. A good walking skirt or capris, plus a long-sleeved shirt worn tied around the waist (and pulled on at the church entrance) would work. A GIRL NEEDS TO SHOP...
SHOPPING: I like the Accademia district for jewelry, glass and art. I think because the museum is here, it attracts the more artsy, upscale crowd. This is where I found my art glass for less than in the Rialto or on the island of Murano. Shopkeepers can UPS it home to you—or wrap it in bubble-wrap and and a box if you want to hand-carry it back. A fantastic necklace, a beautiful bowl or tray—very fun souvenirs and killer gifts to stow away for next Christmas. But I bought small lithographs from a street vendor at night beside the Bridge of Sighs—a wonderful memory in itself. STOP AND LISTEN TO THE MUSIC! YOU'RE ON VACATION!
MUSIC: This Vivaldi’s city (he was born and worked here in the 18th century). Purchase tickets for an evening concert (opera concerto—they sell tickets outside the Scuola Grande di San Teodoro and elsewhere) and sit 2/3 of the way back so you don’t have to see the musicians sweat in their period costumes—you can simply enjoy the magic and music. I swear if you close your eyes, you can imagine yourself a couple centuries back in time. At the concert we went to, the musicians were all females except for one prize male. There were some interesting dynamics transpiring between them all, delicious undercurrents of pride and irritation and teasing and laughter, and I was writing a whole novel in my head even as the “Four Seasons” filled the grand room.
While we’re on the subject of music, if you choose to sit in one of the outdoor bars on St. Mark’s Square, there will be a surcharge for the music. I think it’s better to wander by and enjoy them all from afar.
MISC ADVICE...
Don’t feed the pigeons or let them land on you. As a nurse, you know this isn’t cute and entertaining. It’s disgusting. Birds that make their nexts out of their own poop? Ugh. But watching others do it in front of San Marco is oddly fascinating.
Yes, you have to do a gondola ride. It’s like going to the pyramids and not getting on a camel. You simply must embrace it. And it’s a dying art—fewer and fewer master gondoliers; one one boatyard left in the city (and our gondolier said that boatswain is reported to be the son of the last master—and not as good in craftsmanship). Totally touristy, but worth the cost for the experience, to know you’ve “done the real one” every time you see that cheesy Vegas gondola ride advertising on TV. It’ll be about 100-120 Euros for about a 45 minute ride. Take a bottle of wine and paper cups (yes, it’s allowed, but ask the gondolier before you board) and oolala…I wanna go back!
SEE VENICE, A GIRLFRIEND’S GUIDE, PART 4 FOR DETAILS ON THE OUTER ISLANDS & THE END OF THIS REPORT…
Over an Italian dinner, we discussed it with our new friends in hushed undertones, hardly believing that we were giving voice to such a scheme. Could the four of us really leave behind our combined seven children and escape for a tour of Italia? Could we afford it? Where would we go? Would we do well, traveling together as couples? Within twenty-four hours, we had agreed to go; within forty-eight, we were researching our options on the Net.
Rome is Fabulous...but Tuscany is Even Better!
Having never been to Italy before—and since I am a novelist and needed some research time in several key cities for a medieval trilogy I was writing—we elected to canvas it from (near) bottom to top, and purchased open-jawed tickets that allowed us to begin in Rome, move on to Tuscany (via car) for the bulk of our time, then head north to Venice. Rome was captivating, enthralling, overwhelming with her layers of history. We walked five to six miles a day and reveled in the sites. But we all breathed a sigh of relief once we negotiated the aggressive traffic and were en route to Tuscany. (**Renting a car? See bottom of article, PART 2, for tips.)
Half an hour outside Rome, the countryside began to resemble more of what we had in our mind as iconic Tuscany—rolling green hills, umber-colored homes, towering Juniper. Even from the freeway, we could make out the hill towns that we would soon be exploring. En route north toward Arezzo, where we had found our agriturismo to rent, a picturesque town perched high on a hill called to us, and we quickly agreed to stop and do some brief exploration. It was Orvieto, home of a wonderfully decorated church, a sleepy village and a nice piazza where we purchased a glass of Chianti, a wild boar sandwich on crusty bread, and sat outside to watch the children and pigeons at play. A thin autumn sun shone down on us, and we periodically grinned at one another and said, “Can you believe this? We’re in Italy!” like the silly, giddy, delighted tourists we were. (I swear we became more cool in time, but never ceased to be lost in a sense of wonderment at being someplace so beautiful and unique.) Later it was Montepulciano, home of excellent wines and a quintessential hilltop town, that called to us to stop, with beautiful views, charming cobblestone streets, but was sadly, largely closed because of siesta. We moved on.
Finding a Home Away from Home...
Darren and I were the Internet researchers pre-trip, and we looked at countless villas to rent. Two of the best sites are http://www.tuscandream.com and http://www.florencevillas.com. (Agriturismi are country farmhouses or villas that are typically rented by the week, Saturday to Saturday.) But given that we were traveling off-season (November), we contacted several owners to see if they’d rent to us for five nights instead of the prescribed seven—and cut us a deal, no less. The one that rose to the top was the Odina--a name that still invokes dreamy sighs and long stares out the window (www.odinait.net), and was a delicious enough experience that we returned with our children and parents a year later! North of Arezzo, high in the Pratomagno Hills, nestled among olive groves, overlooking the Casentino valley, just above Loro Ciufenna, was our huge, luxurious home away from home.
Off-season, we rented the big house (Roseto), giving us two bedrooms to spare, but we really wanted the big, eat-in kitchen, massive living room with fireplace, and a wood-burning pizza oven outside—a Primary Tuscany Objective. We wanted to Move In In Italy--at least for a time--to get the feel of the place, a solid sense of life there, and the Odina allowed that. We made every meal we had—other than a memorable meal in Florence (more to follow), shopping at the grocery store with the locals.
Grocery Shopping Tips:
Making your own food whenever possible saves lots of Euros. We shopped in several small stores in towns we went through. This Eastern part of Tuscany is far less touristed, so be ready for people who speak no English—part of the fun! But there are also a growing number of larger stores in the bigger towns (look for “Co-op” signs—one in Montevarchi). Some things to be aware of:
Get the item # on veggies and fruits, weigh and tag them, while still in produce dept.
Chianti is cheap in Tuscany for obvious reasons—stock up! (A NYC waiter later recommended a bottle I’d loved in Tuscany, with a price tag of $55. I couldn't go for it, knowing I had paid $10 for the same bottle six months prior; if you find a local in the wine aisle who speaks a little English, ask what is best and a value these days.
Stores are closed on Sundays; Saturday night shopping can be a killer. If you’re arriving to check into your agriturismo/villa on a Saturday, plan to be shopping by Saturday at lunchtime to avoid the madness.
We made pizza twice in our wood-burning stove, sacrificing several to the pizza gods before we got it down. Here’s what you need to know, if you want to try your hand at it:
Woodburning Pizza Oven Ingredients/Directions:
INGREDIENTS:
Purchase several frozen pizza dough balls, flour, lots of fresh mozzarella, parmesan, fresh basil, and whatever else you like on your pizza, plus a rich, canned tomato sauce (so much easier to find here than in the U.S.!) that you add basil and oregano to, (or a ready-made pizza sauce, if you can find one). We liked Italian sausage, red onion and red bell peppers on our pizza, but we also did a ham and onion that was quite tasty. Salami and pepperoni are other obvious ingredients. (Don’t forget to buy red wine and salad makings while you’re at the store too—it’s a winding, hilly haul from the Odina! Also baggies to store leftovers.)
DIRECTIONS:
Start a couple of hours before you want to eat.
Build big, hot fire in center of stove and let it burn down to coals; drink red wine while you wait.
Move coals to edge of oven floor, about 8-12” away from where your pizza will be, so they line it.
Drink more red wine if you have to wait for it to settle down a bit. Throw in some flour to dust the bottom and then place a tester crust inside to get the hang of cooking in a wood-burning oven.
Partially close up the oven to allow even heat to stay inside but also allow some air flow. Check it every 2-3 minutes and spin if some parts of the crust are getting done faster, sip more red wine while observing Tuscan sunset, but don’t forget to continue to check.
If crust is bubbling at any time, poke it with a fork.
If all is going well, slide your first pizza in. (We put our pizzas on the back of a floured cookie sheet and wax paper to build and transfer to oven—remember to put flour underneath or it will stick to everything and all will be lost!)
Pour more red wine and toast with your friends (“Cin-Cin” (pronounced “cheen-cheen”) or “alle salute” are the standard Tuscan toasts) as you eagerly await your imminent dinner. (Wanna get really fancy? Lay this on your dinner companions: “Cento di questi giorri”—“May you live a hundred years.”)
I’d love to live a hundred years if I could ever afford to return to the Odina in the Summer and enjoy her lovely pool, and take in her wonderful gardens and views in a different season, but fortunately, we were ready to embrace the moody, damp weather of autumn. Loving being in our own little Italian oasis, we elected to stay put the next day, sleep in, read, and recover from our whirlwind Roman touring and a touch of lingering jet lag. That evening—more luscious Chianti and a delightful Chicken Piccata (lemon and capers), courtesy of my amazing chef of a husband.
Earlier this year my wife and I along with four of our kids, ages 14 – 25, spent the third week of June in Firenze (Florence), Italy. This was my first trip to Italy, my wife’s third, and our planning started a year ago. Eventually we decided to rent two apartments right on the Piazza Della Signoria. The apartments were OK, nothing elaborate, but the location was wonderful. We were right in the middle of Firenze, and we could feel the life pulsing from the piazza. All of the city’s sites were within a twenty minute walk of the apartment. The idea behind the apartment was that we would not be bound to have every meal out and the mornings could be a casual, slow awakening for our tribe. This worked for everyone - they slept in while I rose early and explored on foot as the city awakened.
I savored my self-appointed role as the advance scout. The streets were empty except for the street cleaners with their brooms of twigs (just like a witch’s broom), a centuries-old design which was perfect for brushing the uneven paving stones. Vendors were pushing carts heavily loaded with wares to their street market locations. One morning I encountered an open-backed Panda utility truck as it clunked along a narrow lane, its only cargo a pile of empty straw covered Chianti bottles that had been collected from the sidewalks in front of shuttered restaurants. I’m not sure if they were destined to be recycled or taken back to the winery for refilling. The aroma from bakeries and pasticceria filled the streets with temptation as the city slowly came alive with businessmen and women seeking their biscotti and morning cappuccino. Each day I explored in a different direction, and returned with neighborhood breakfast specialties and inspiration for the days’ outing if all the stars were aligned correctly.
One morning I crossed the Arno River and head uphill towards the Piazzale Michelangelo for a postcard-perfect view of the city. From the front of the Uffizi Gallery I made a left onto Via Della Ninna which after a short walk turned into the Via Dei Neri. Walking just one or two blocks away from any attraction in Firenze makes a huge difference in feeling. The tourist crowds thin out and the true character of the surrounding streets can be felt. The Via Dei Neri turned out to be one of our favorite streets, with its small trattorias that brought tables out onto the street on the weekends. The Taverna de’Neri offers exceptional food, good value, and a congenial owner. On our second visit, the owner related that she had seen our children the previous day buying gelato across the street. Gelateria dei Neri offers several flavors of soy-based gelati, for the lactose intolerant, which was not easy to find in Firenze. Every flavor looked delicious but be sure to ask for a sample of the chocolate pistachio with red pepper flakes before you get a whole scoop: it’s a hot spicy gelato! Posted on the walls of the shop are snapshots of Gelateria dei Neri cups in front of famous sites the world over that patrons have sent back to the store for the staff's enjoyment. Farther down the lane you’ll find shops that feature the handicrafts of local artisans.
If you stayed straight on Via dei Neri you would eventually be one block from Chiesa di Santa Croce. But I turned right when I reached Via Del Benci and crossed the Arno River on Ponte Alle Grazie. The vantage point from this bridge offers wonderful views of the Ponte Vecchio, Firenze crew teams practicing their strokes and local residents sunbathing and swimming along the banks of the river. The Oltrarno (other side of the Arno) neighborhood is off the beaten track, with a very laid back feel, and it has been home to craftsman and artists for centuries. My nose led me to a tiny bakery on Via Di San Niccolo - my backpack wasn't large enough to hold all the treats I wanted to buy. My special find was a small breakfast panini with ricotta cheese and sardines.
This part of the city still has portions of the medieval defensive wall visible from many angles. The steep climb to Piazzale Michelangelo starts at the ancient Porta San Miniato gate. Upon exiting the gate a right turn would have lead me up a lane that followed the curve of the ancient wall, to the renaissance era Forte Di Belvedere and the rear entrance to Giardino di Boboli. But I continued straight on Via del Monte Alle Croci until I veered left to the Michelangelo stairs, a short but steep and shaded approach to the piazza at the top. Halfway up I found the Colonia Felina Protetta #3, a protected area that provides shelter, food and water for stray cats. I saw an elderly woman calling them for their morning treats. My determined pace up the stairs was rewarded with a fantastic panoramic view of Firenze and all its Renaissance glory below. At the east end of the piazzale I gazed into the surrounding countryside covered with the cypress trees that Tuscany is known for. There were many places just off the piazza to rest and dine. This is a great vantage point to watch the sunset over Firenze later in the day. At this point if exhaustion has set in you can hop onto the number 12 or 13 bus for the trip back into Firenze. But don’t turn back now: the find of the day is just a little farther up the road away from the Piazza. It’s the quest to explore and look around each corner that let me to the Basilica Di San Miniato. It was not on the city map I was using, just off the edge, not visible. But from the road where I was standing a series of footpaths that wound a little farther uphill looked intriguing and begged for further exploration. Eventually the walk revealed high stone walls. I found a hole in the hedgerow, and upon exiting this rabbit hole I was at the base of stairs that revealed the magnificent, geometrically patterned, green and white marble façade of the Basilica Di San Miniato, dedicated to St. Minias, Firenze’s first martyr. He was thrown to the lions in 250 A.D. but they refused to devour him; unfortunately this reprieve was short lived, and he was later beheaded by order of the emperor. Legend says he then tucked his head under his arm, crossed the Arno River and walked up the hill to the site of the Basilica. There has been a church on the site since the Eighth century, remnants of which can still be seen in the crypt, the high altar which contains the Saint's relics. Construction for this Romanesque church was started in 1013 and is very unique, with the choir raised above the crypt. The center of the church is highlighted by a free standing intricate Cappella del Crocefisso (Chapel of the Crucifix) added in 1448. The pavement in the centre of the Basilica includes marble inlays representing the signs of the zodiac and symbolic animals. The walls contain many faded but still beautiful frescoes from the 13th and 14th century. Up the stairs in one of the side chapels, I eventually found the coin box for the interior lights. It was worth a Euro to illuminate the treasures otherwise hidden in dim shadows. During the siege of Firenze in 1530 the Basilica and its Benedictine monastery were surrounded with fortified defensive walls designed by Michelangelo and used as an artillery post by the defenders of the city. These walls now enclose a pleasant cemetery with many unique headstones and mausoleums. One monument featured the sculpted portrait of the deceased wearing his fedora. The shop outside the Basilica sells liqueurs, honey and tisanes made by the Olivetan order of Benedictine monks that have occupied the Basilica's monastery since 1373. As I rested at the top of the stairs to admire and absorb the view towards Forte Di Belvedere and Firenze beyond, I thought it was absolutely spectacular.
I headed home carrying a breakfast of breadsticks and pastries for the late sleepers, only to return later in the day with them in tow. We took the less strenuous route to the top in the afternoon - the #13 bus to the summit, where we all enjoyed this adventure together. The Piazzale Michelangelo and the Basilica are wonderful destinations, and I heartily recommend spending a half day of your time at this extraordinary vantage point in Firenze.
Remember that map I made you purchase? You'll be glad for it, but it's mostly good for vaporetti routes, BIG streets, bridges and landmarks. The streets are nearly impossible to navigate via map--too many twists and turns and intersections by canal or bridge (and some have two names!). Signs are few and far between, anyway. So if you know your general direction, and check a couple of times on your compass or map to see you're generally heading in the right direction, you'll be more free to follow the flow of traffic and enjoy the city. It's an island; you can't get too lost. And you'll feel more like a Venetian, strolling along!
VAPARETTO (WATER BUS) DETAILS...
Buy a Venice Card with your vaporetti pass (at the Piazzala Roma or Rialto station, or better yet, online before you go at http://www.hellovenezia.com .) When I arrived to buy 72 hour passes for seven of us, I had to have a heap of Euros--almost every one we had--because they don't take credit cards. Buy it before you go online! Vaporetti TIPS:
--TIP #1: Watch what direction that vaporetto is going out of the stop ahead; it will tell you which floating "terminal" you want. There are usually two landing stages/terminals--one for each direction on the route. --TIP #2: Keep your vaporetto pass in a neck wallet with your passport. If you lose it, you have to purchase a new one--no recourse. --TIP #3: You must validate your ticket with a date stamp by sticking it into a brightly colored machine, about shoulder high, on most docks. Big fines if you're caught without it. And when we last went, it was teeny-tiny--very easy to lose. We had to buy a replacement when my daughter's flitted away in the wind. --TIP #4: There is a board/sign at the front of each boat that gives you the route/line number and the stops so you can keep track of where you are, just like a bus or metro. Don't get caught in the back of a crowded vaporetto; if your stop is coming up, move toward the open, standing area so you can readily exit.
You can get from the airport to the Rialto via the vaporetto system (although the Venice Card and pass doesn't cover this portion; extra fee). Or you can walk down to the airport docks (about the equivalent of five blocks) and take a water taxi for 90 Euros (2007 rate). This is an other-worldly and convenient way to enter the city, and they can bring you to a stop close to your hotel or apartment--especially wonderful when towing luggage.
Sigh! You've arrived and can move around!
NOW...ON WHAT TO DO:
The Venice Card will gain you free or less expensive access to the vaporetti, museums and public toilets. You can choose the culture version if you want to enter lots of places for less/free, or the transportation version if you're mostly interested in just walking around, absorbing the city from the outside. The culture version lets you enter lots of places for less/free, one of which is the delightful Ca’ Rezzonico on the Grand Canal; go check it out because it will give you a sense of what it might be like to live in one of these grand palaces on the water. Be sure to go all the way to the top piano (floor) and look out the windows. Many of Venice's old guard/money live on the top pianos of the old palazzos and rent out the rest.
Take time to visit a couple of the scuola buildings--they have amazing art and big cavernous rooms that might give you a reprieve from the heat (and they draw far fewer tourists). For centuries all workmen in all trades were associated with these guilds--sort of fraternities or unions. Some were charitable institutions. To see their meeting places helps you understand some of Venezia's deep history and view some amazing artists you might never have heard of. I particularly liked Scuola Grade di San Rocco, and Scuola di San Giorgio degli Schiavoni. These grand old meeting halls often have big mirrors you can hold and see the amazing paintings on the ceilings--without having to look up the Italian word for "chiropractor" later.
THE EARLY BIRD GETS THE YOU-KNOW-WHAT:
Arrive early (or get in line before they open) to experience the Big 3: Shop on the Rialto Bridge, see the Doge's Palace (Palazzo Ducale), and tour St. Mark's (San Marco) Basilica. --The RIALTO BRIDGE and immediate vicinity offers some of the best glass shopping anywhere--but be aware that you can probably find the same pieces in other parts of the city for less. It's also great to people watch--Venetians and tourists intermingling in the boats below. --SAN MARCO: Wander the basilica, slowly, looking up and down. Pay the extra few Euros to go upstairs and go everywhere they allow--it'll take another hour--but you can see the original bronze horses sacked from Constantinople (reproductions outside); the mosaic ceiling up close (giving you a better idea of the massive amount of work involved); relics from the first church that stood her, and much more in the recesses and quiet corners. There are pieces here that are more than seven hundred years old. This is an OLD city--part of knowing her is to take the time to digest that fact, and seeing some of these artifacts helped me. --PALAZZO DUCALE: The doge was the duke of Venice, the big man, the head cheese, and Venice was once a huge, international maritime power. My favorite parts of his palace are the Sala dello Scudo, with walls covered with maps of the world and two giant 18th century globes in the center; the Sala del Maggior Consiglio, a massive meeting hall for the Great Council that will take your breath away; and the Bridge of Sighs that leads down into the dungeon where Casanova (and many others) were held—look for the graffiti displays.
SEE VENICE, A GIRLFRIEND’S GUIDE, PART 3 FOR MORE DETAILS…
Okay, so if you’ve read my other BT journals, you know I’ve had some pretty terrific trips. But part of traveling is learning how to negotiate challenges and finding your way through difficulty, even when things don’t fall together exactly as you had envisioned. I call it Travel Head. With TH, you don’t get mired in frustration and disappointment; you look for the next best option to help keep you moving forward. Without TH, you might find yourself in a bad situation, or even a completely ruined holiday, because you can’t see the good among the bad.
Granted, by the time I reached French soil, I was fried. Mentally, I’d just taken care of pretty much every administrative detail in leading my three children, spouse and parents through Rome, Tuscany and Venice for twelve days. The day before, my four-year-old threw up on a vaparetto in Venice and was obviously suffering from a bout of stomach flu. Emotionally, I was worn out from being the anchor point for six unique personalities, and stressed and suffering from SMG (Severe Mom Guilt), certain that I’d just committed my husband to the international equivalent of a gulag: a seventeen hour flight home as a “single parent,” with three children (4, 9, and 12) who might all have the flu by this time. In my darkest visionings, Tim even had it. Ugh.
But I had gotten as far as Italy, and had some research to do in a neighbor to her north, Provence, for a medieval trilogy I was writing. And in my era, the pope wasn’t home in Roma, he was in Avignon. I simply had to get there if I was to do a half-decent job of writing the book. So with my hubby’s blessing and air kisses to all my family (I didn't want to get sick either!), off I went. But I didn't get very far. There was a strike at the airport in Venice so I was bussed two hours away to catch another puddle jumper flight to Marseilles. I had no idea what was transpiring with my folks, heading back to CA, or my immediate family, heading home to CO. My international cell phone suddenly wasn’t working. And after all that intense time together, I was suddenly feeling very, very alone. Cut off.
For all the time I’d put into planning our multi-gen trip to Italy, I had little more than a small guide book, car and hotel reservation for my five days in Provence. Oh, and did I mention, Je ne comprends pas Francais? (Probably lame French right there…pieced together from back of guide book.) Not the most auspicious of beginnings. But, I thought, I am a confident woman who has traveled solo before…the world is becoming flat…I can get pretty far with a smile and pleasant attitude. So, having made it to the airport bordering the arid, white-washed, rugged rocks of the Cote d’Azur, and with the help of a businessman who spoke great English and made me purchase a Michelin map, I motored out of the airport parking lot and onto my next adventure.
NOTE: I made a critical mistake in not spending one more minute checking out the car before I pulled out; they had brought the car to the front of the office for me. Mirrors, instruments all seemed in order. But it wasn’t until I was entering the medieval city of Avignon—picture narrow, winding, walled, cobblestone streets and tons of people—that I realized I couldn’t put the car in reverse. My husband and father had been driving in Italy; I knew they had to choke up on the clutch in some way that was new to both of them, and it hadn’t been easy. But that wasn’t working. (Worse, I knew the address of my hotel, but I wasn’t exactly sure how to get to it or where I was supposed to park—great info to nab before YOU go.)
At Last…Avignon
I drove around the city a couple of times, then, taking a deep breath, plunged inward, praying I wouldn’t end up entering a one-way street, going the wrong way, with no way to reverse, and a bunch of people yelling in French at me. I'm a fiction writer, so yeah, I could just see the whole thing playing out, which made it all the worse. I decided to park underneath the Palais des Papes, leave my luggage behind and scout out the small city on foot. A kindly man in the parking garage showed me how to find the button and choke up to get the car in reverse, and suddenly I was breathing much more easily. I’m sure he walked away muttering about the stupid, blond American behind him, but I didn’t care…Capability of placing my car in reverse meant a special kind of freedom.
My hotel, the lovely 19th C. Hotel de l’Horloge (http://en.federal-hotel.com/hotel-information_hotel-de-l-horloge_4122.htm) two blocks from the Palais des Papes, and perched on the edge of the picturesque, 15th Century Place de L’Horloge, popped into view. Happy my luck seemed to be changing, I checked in and then went back to the garage to retrieve my bag. (Apparently, you can park nearby, but I wasn’t moving my rental if I could help it.) I asked the friendly man at the front desk where I could grab a simple meal—“All I need is a bowl of soup and glass of wine,”—suddenly having difficulty imagining anything but a long, hot soak in the tub.
He directed me to the simple, touristy restaurant next door, which I wouldn't recommend but was perfect for me that night. And in a cool, traveler’s luck moment, I ended up sitting next to a couple from the U.S.;the middle-aged man was a writer, researching the letters of some medieval noble, having gained amazing access to them for the week. Fluent in French, he was all set to begin transcribing in a dark, musty room while his wife tooled about. Wishing him luck, and fired up over my own research, I moved back upstairs to my third floor hotel room, ran a hot bath and fell to sleep, blissfully happy to be settled and secure for the night.
Fort? Palace?…Umm…We’ll Call it the “Fortace,” Palais des Papes
The first item on my research list was to spend time, ad nauseum—you really don’t want to hang with me when I’m on a research bent--in the gothic Palais des Papes (http://www.sacred-destinations.com/france/avignon-palais-des-papes.htm), a colossal structure built 1334-1352. I spent six hours there, but a couple hours would give you a good sense of it. I rented the audio guide—something I’d do with kids, should I ever return with my own. It allows people to explore at their own pace, repeat information they might not have heard the first time, and skip what they find disinteresting. But this is a massively interesting building and of my Top Three stops in Provence. Majestic, barrel-vaulted rooms, 14th century frescoes, quiet cloisters, idyllic courtyards, crisp meeting halls, and fearsome crenellations that make it as much a fortress as a castle. Here in Avignon, the papacy was housed, when Rome proved too politically dangerous—and France proved her political pull. The papacy eventually returned to Rome, but in the meantime, this ancient city exploded with growth.
Conveniently situated on the edge of the Rhone, and built atop Roman ruins, Avignon had always been a major trade center, and with the pope and his court ensconced here, it became a major pilgrimage/political stop. It is estimated that over 100,000 people moved in, because of the commerce the court generated. Consequently, the city became unbearable (imagine 100K people and no appropriate sewage system…ahem) and most of the nobles moved across the 11th century Pont St. Benezet bridge (still partially there!), to the sweeter-smelling Villeneuve-les –Avignon. From this side of the Rhone, you can gain an amazing view of the towering Rocher des Domes (the cliff face that abuts the palais; outstanding gardens and views from up there too), as well as the palace.
My hotel offered a fantastic, broad-spectrum breakfast, served until 10am (a real boon for families—also, the hotel has a “family room” that can accommodate families traveling together; ask about it). And I had gnoshed on French bread and cheese as a snack, but as the afternoon drew to a close and they booted me out of the Palais des Papes (only open until 5ish in the spring), I scouted for a nice, cozy place to grab dinner, off the touristy plazas. Gambling on one with five tables and no visible sign, I settled in, and managed to order a small dinner salad with figs and loup au fenouil—sea bass cooked in white wine and fennel. Two men sitting next to me struck up a conversation in halting English, obviously intrigued that I was out on my own, told me the three “must-sees” of the area, and afterward, directed me to an Internet café down the street.
I wandered the warmly lit, cobblestone street and found my Internet café, where I would frequent twice a day afterward, hungry for news of my family and of home. Turned out, my family had made it, safe and sound, with no further flu repercussions. I sighed audibly enough to draw the attention of the guy at the next computer, officially relieved of SMG. He gave me a puzzled smile and then returned to his own cybertalk. I returned to my hotel for another hot bath, and a glass of spicy Chateauneuf-du-Pape. (But of course…the pope had his own vineyards! Curiously, the vines grow out of the rockiest soil you’ve ever seen but produce a special grape.)
Zee Pont du Gard
The next day, I headed out to the Pont du Gard. Irritatingly, Disney uses this bridge as an example of their new family trips (seen that pic of the cute kid in the kayak beside an ancient Roman aqueduct? I’d wager that’s here.) It irritates me because it was my discovery first. Okay, not really my discovery first—it’s been here for 2000 years, but you know what I mean. I want real travelers to experience this place—not just another massive tourist group. The Pont du Gard was one #2 of my Top Three favorite stops; not only is it fun to wander the ancient, mortarless, limestone structure (later made into a bridge) and see the pretty hillsides and river, it has a pretty fantastic museum (kid-friendly with some interactive exhibits). The aqueduct’s remains can be seen in many places throughout the Bouches-des-Rhone, but here, it’s most spectacular. Once, this aqueduct carried 4.4 million gallons daily, across 31 miles, to quench the thirst of Nimes. Guess those Roman dudes knew a thing or two. Spending some time there, studying the engineering feat, brings home the brilliance of that once-great society.
Les Baux: Land of Dante’s Inferno
I left the Pont and found D986, heading to Les Baux-de-Provence, another Top Three stop. Provence was drier than I expected after the lush spring green of Tuscany; more arid, feeling sun-baked and wind-swept everywhere I went. Les Baux, an incredible castle carved out of a rocky spur in the climbing Alpilles, above the beautiful Valley Fontaine, has views that reach across to the Camargue—the wetlands to the south. This place gets TONS of tourists in the summertime, so be sure to go early if that’s when you’re in the vicinity. But do stop and wander her streets, and don’t get so distracted by the shopping (Provence has better pottery than Tuscany!) or the crepes (served by uptight, rude waitresses apparently sick to death of tourists) that you miss the citadel. Not much remains of the castle, beyond carved dovecotes and the half-domes of ancient, grand, 10th century rooms, but you can imagine the Lords of Les Baux, fierce warriors, as well as the originators of the Courts of Love—think troubadours, poets, singing. They have life-size models of medieval warfare weaponry all about, which would be great for kids to see, but from what I could gather, no docents/anyone to explain them unless you come during Tourist Hell Season. Speaking of hell, across from Les Baux, the eerie, white-washed caves are said to have inspired the visiting Dante to write his tale of impurity, sin and damnation. I’ll admit it…I stared at them and shivered. But maybe it was the 50 MPH winds on a 45 degree day.
I returned to Avignon for some sort of beef and red wine dish, with a touch of orange peel and lots of onions (oo la la!) and landed a small van tour to St. Remy-de-Provence the next day. Two women I had met up with had told me they had just spent three days in Marseilles, unwinding a terrible robbery incident that had left one with a knife wound on her arm and face, and I decided to stick with a small group.
WARNING: I guess this is a common scheme. The women were bird-watching near La Camargue; amazing flamingoes there! A man approached them, told them they had a flat tire and offered to help them change it (they later figured out he had slashed it himself). He changed the tire, threw the slashed tire into the trunk, then before they could quite believe it, moved to the driver’s seat and took off. That’s where it would end for most people, but one of these women jumped in with him, determined to not let him get away with passport, purse, keys, luggage, rental car, everything! She was very lucky to not have been hurt worse. After slashing her arm and face, he pushed her out of the car, and they still ended up trying to figure it all out in Marseilles. A terrible way to spend precious vacation days and money…always be aware of those who might be preying upon you! I’m not saying you want to always be looking over your shoulder and miss what’s ahead; I’m saying just be smart. Aware. Read up on what the specialty of thieves is ahead of you—some things remain the same, country to country (pickpockets) but many countries develop their own special brand of crime.
The Stars of St. Remy
Our group wasn’t a tourist group per se—you already know how I feel about that—more seven travelers (2 Brits, 2 Americans plus me, 2 French) who were heading in the same direction…and didn’t care to drive. The driver stopped in several small towns, then returned for us a couple hours later. It was a great way to scout out a few more stops! But St. Remy, birthplace of 16th c. Nostradamus (which I happened to wander by—outer wall of the avenue Hoche), 1889 recovery retreat for Vincent Van Gogh (after he mutilated his ear; and this was where he painted “Starry Night”), is special. This is a village known for her spices and arts. I had the driver drop me in Glanum, the 400-10 BC. Greco-Roman ruins about a mile outside the city (there’s an especially cool triumphal arch memorializing Caesar’s conquest of the Greeks and Gaul and a mausoleum), and then made my way inward, stopping for a croissant and coffee and watching a bunch of old men in berets play some sort of leather ball and pin game. I stumbled into a photographer’s studio, one I recognized from some US publishers’ book covers; turns out he was a Romanian ex-pat now living in St. Remy “because of the air, the light, the people.” I wanted to buy one of the ethereal prints in his dusty, lonely studio, but couldn’t justify the $1500 price tag at the end of a seventeen day, sucky Euro-to-USD-exchange rate trip. But I still think about “Man Under Big Blue Sky” and muse over contacting him, seeing if it’s still hanging on the wall, just waiting for me.
But this girl had just about gotten what she needed from Provence this time ‘round. After another night in the charming hotel, a walk around the entire city wall of Avignon, and a few museum stops, I had collected enough details of the history, visuals and general feel of the place. I was ready to head home and reunite with my family. And get started on that novel…
I’ll look forward to returning to Provence in the future and seeing some sights I missed this time—I’d love to go in the spring and see the fields of purple lavender—or take in Orange, with her Roman ruin treasures. I met several moms from Atlanta, traveling with their preteen daughters, who had taken the speed train from Paris down to Provence for a few days, a lovely option for those wishing to expand their understanding of this country. Maybe I’ll do that with my own daughters someday soon.
What’s to hold me back? Next time, I’ll even be able to put my car rental in reverse…from the start. :-)
My grandma always said that the women in our family were born wearing gypsy shoes, so it doesn’t surprise me that the love of travel has passed on to my children. I married a man who loves to wander, too, so in June of 2008, six of us from our blended family headed for Italy. After we visited Rome and Florence, we ended our 2 week trip with a few days on the beautiful Amalfi coast. My husband Craig and I, as well as our kids Angela, Jack, Sandra and Ian (in ascending order, ages 14-25) rented a manual transmission minivan as we were leaving Florence and headed south on the autostratas A1 and A3, into even more heat and sunshine than the country's unusual heat wave had already afforded us.
After exiting the autostrata in Caiano, we found our Mapquest directions for Italy left something to be desired. Fortunately we knew that in order to reach our hotel in the little town of Ravello, we needed to head uphill. We climbed up and over the beautiful, steep and rugged Lattani Mountain range, second gear all the way, before we then began the descent to the seacoast. Twenty-five map steps and 40 kilometers later, after too many hairpin turns to count, terrorized by speeding Vespas and wood trucks loaded with logs for the ovens of the local trattorias, we finally crossed over the mountain range. Switchback curves aren't nearly as fun in a minivan as they are in a sports car. Take my word for it. Although the greater size of the minivan, necessary to accommodate the 6 of us with luggage for two weeks, turned out to be an advantage, as its height also provided dizzying, terrifying and absolutely spectacular views over the guardrails.
We knew we were getting close to our destination when we had to make a sudden stop in the middle of the road to yield to a herd of goats. Tourists that we are, we grabbed our cameras and hung out the windows to get the shot, while the goatherd gave us his best contemptuous stare over his designer sunglasses.
We had reserved rooms in Alborgo Torello, a lovely small hotel in Ravello. (http://www.alborgotorello.com - "Al Borgo Torello is a completely renovated building enchanting position where our guests can admire the incomparable view of the Amalfi Coast, from the peacefulness of our garden.") Finding it online wasn't nearly as challenging as finding it in real life. After several stops to ask for help, we ended up dead-ending on a very narrow farm road. The farmer, his daughter and son-in-law were nice enough to help us through a 15 point turn maneuver without landing us in a ditch, or crunching the fenders on that beast of a van. We finally found the entrance with the help of a local teenage girl, who simply looked up from where she was standing, pointed at the building on the hill right in front of us, and said, "There." Oh, no wonder we didn't recognize it! It really isn't a hotel as such; it is a renovated home that dates back centuries, and it is now a 4 room inn with spectacular views of the coastal village of Minori. Roberto, the most congenial owner, has decorated the interior of his alborgo with beautiful ceramics from Ceramiche D'Arte, the business owned by his brother-in-law Pascal. If you go to one of their shops in Ravello and say, "Roberto sent me" you get a big welcome and a very fair deal on their gorgeous ceramics. Yes, of course we bought some! (Ravello Limoni Blue, in case you’re curious.) http://www.ceramichedarte.com/
After a day of hair-raising driving adventures, we were eager to get out of that van and into our hotel. Alas, in a simple parallel parking maneuver, Craig introduced the rear fender of the van to the neighbor’s stone wall. I then became the designated driver for the remainder of the trip, since I have been driving manual transmission vehicles since I was a pup. (Thanks, Dad.) The first order of business, after hauling our bags up the 18 irregular stone steps to the front door, was to cool off for a few minutes in the highly efficient air conditioning, and then head to the town center of Ravello, and the Piazza Duomo.
We visited Ravello just days before the town’s famous Music Festival, and we were able to watch some of the preparations while avoiding the crowds. The soundstage was being erected at Villa Rufulo one night as we were having dinner at The Garden Hotel’s restaurant, an outdoor café that overlooked the concert site. The stage actually hung off the cliff, providing concert-goers with a fantastic visual backdrop of the Mediterranean Ocean to complement the music. We enjoyed a delightful dinner with lots of fresh seafood, and the waiter presented our check accompanied by glasses of limoncello liqueur for everyone. Don’t let the stuff fool you – it’s not the innocent glass of lemonade it seems. There was a lot of giggling at the table once we all polished off those drinks.
On other visits to the village, we strolled about the piazza mingling with the local families, and eavesdropped on brides planning destination weddings in Amalfi. We agonized over which ceramics pattern to buy. We explored every little alley, footpath, and stairway we could find, and were rewarded with spectacular views, hidden gardens, vineyards, and ancient churches. Each night we straggled back to the inn, a mere shadow of the enthusiastic party that had departed that morning. Then after a good night’s sleep, we reassembled in the garden for a fabulous breakfast, served by the unfailingly charming Roberto. He provided cup after cup of cappuccino, which was a delicious accompaniment to the fresh croissants, fruit, cheese, coffeecake, and yogurt unlike anything we had ever eaten in America. As we enjoyed our meal each morning, shaded by an ancient olive tree, we admired the view of the village of Torello, and the surrounding lemon groves.
We appreciated the fact that we were staying in a neighborhood, rather than a more touristy place, as it afforded us a chance to observe daily life. One morning the harvesters were out in full force, picking the huge lemons, piling them into large plastic crates, and then hauling them out of the groves on their backs with only pieces of foam to cushion their muscles. Another morning, we heard an odd clip-clopping sound, and hurried to the garden rail to discover its source. We were amazed to see a small mule train descending the steps on the hillside just below our garden. Each animal was carrying metal saddlebags loaded with renovation debris. The builders used mules since large construction vehicles would not have been able to pass through the narrow passageways. This struck us as such a contrast to the tower cranes being used to erect high-rise buildings, less than a mile away. On our adventure trips back and forth to Amalfi, we quickly learned that the traffic signals seemingly without reason in the middle of nowhere indicated when the road became a one way. If the light turned red in our direction, that meant that several dozen compact cars, buses and scooters piloted by hell-bent-for-leather drivers were headed our way on the narrow road, so we needed to stay put until we got the green signal. This could take a while, as we learned when the truckful of workers in front of us unloaded, and stretched out on the grass for a cigarette and cellphone break.
Amalfi is a sparkling, very popular resort town, and 95 degree temperatures didn't keep the crowds away. There were hordes of smiling tourists strolling, shopping, eating, lounging, sweating, picture-taking, sunbathing. We parked the kids at the beach for only 10 euros per person per day, umbrella and lounge chair included, and headed into town to explore. Craig is really good with directions, so I trudged along after him, whining and threatening heatstroke, as we hiked through streets filled with shops and churches. The side streets were purposely designed in convoluted configurations, in order to confuse invading pirates in centuries past. On one of these crooked little streets, I had to stop and ask myself what century I was in, as I watched an elderly woman lower a basket on a rope from her third story window, to the bread delivery person who stood waiting below. A few steps farther along, we came across a playful group of choirboys, looking angelic in their robes as they ran past. We were also joined in our walk by a friendly little dog-about-town (see picture below), who kept us company for a while, graciously accepted a drink of water from the kids' cupped hands, and escorted us back to our parking spot at the end of the afternoon.
Eventually we found ourselves in a small tunnel, which led under the Duomo di Sant'Andrea and out into the Piazza Duomo, with its many cafes and wonderful fountain. We quickly learned that fountains in Italy are meant to be used - everyone splashed some water on their faces, refilled their plastic drinking bottles, and paused for a few moments' rest on the ledge. We drank the water from nearly every fountain we came upon, in Rome, Florence, and the Amalfi Coast, and experienced no problems with it whatsoever.
Our agenda for day 3 included a boat ride. From Amalfi, one can ride the passenger ferry east to Salerno or west to Positano, Capri, and Sorrento. We opted for the half-hour ride to Positano. The short cruise offered us an opportunity to see the imposing coastline as the invaders did centuries ago. Ruins of ancient watchtowers still dot the coast, and the engineering feat of the archways and tunnels of the strada statale (state road) number 163 are visible in many places from the water.
The ferry landing in Positano is in the center of town, next to the Spiaggia Grande. From the beach, the town quickly rises up the hillside. The peaks of the surrounding mountains are often hidden in the clouds. The walking tour of each town begins in the Piazza Duomo – the cathedral plaza. Every town has one, and Positano was no exception. We quickly learned that Craig’s obsession with exploring every nook and cranny paid off in terms of finding lower prices the farther we traveled away from the beach.
Via Del Mulini is the central shopping street in Positano, and it heads uphill, away from the beach. A lovely stretch of this narrow walled street is shaded by a trellis of bright pink bougainvillea, and both sides are lined with vendors selling handcrafted jewelry, artwork, and snacks.
We explored a side alley filled with restaurants, little clothing shops, and shoemaker stalls as small as closets. Here the leatherworkers sit out front, making the sandals according to the measurements they have just taken from the customer who was walking by. At the top of the lane, we refreshed ourselves with the best Italian ice in existence, purchased from a vendor with a pushcart, who made our treat fresh on the spot using the local lemons.
From this point, the faint of heart (or weary of feet) can catch a bus back to Amalfi, instead of the ferry. The bus stops briefly, so the tourist who hesitates is left behind.
The beachfront is lined with outdoor restaurants, and the air is filled with delicious smells. Frequent refreshment stops are mandatory, especially when traveling with four young people. We enjoyed a fabulous seafood pizza, and the kids discovered the delight of caffe fredo, strong, sweet iced coffee. The beachfront is also a popular spot for local artists to set up their easels to capture the beautiful surroundings.
By mid-afternoon, our entire party was sweaty and exhausted, so we headed back to Amalfi. The ferry ride was refreshing, but it didn’t take much walking to get overheated again. So Jack and I decided to get the van, while the others stopped for a quick swim at the beach favored by the locals. This was a simple pebbly beach, without an admission charge, where you swam amidst the boats and luxury yachts moored in the harbor. Craig and a couple of the kids stayed behind at the beach, thereby missing the epic battle of the parking gate and the faulty token.
When we arrived in Amalfi, we parked at the wharf area, in a pay parking lot. When we entered, we received a token. Upon exit, we needed to first drop the token into the payment machine, and pay the exorbitant fee demanded. We would then receive another token, to be deposited into the machine at the exit. This would signal the gate to rise, and we could then roll merrily along toward home. Except things didn’t go quite according to plan.
Maybe it was because the token sat in the hot car all day, and it was overcooked. Maybe it was because Jack dropped the token, and I had to move the car so he could retrieve it without melting his kneecaps. Whatever the reason, that payment machine deemed my particular token as unacceptable. No matter how many times we dropped it in the slot, no matter how much spin we put on it, or how hard we smacked it into that machine, it wouldn’t register. Instead of connecting with the inner workings that would then announce the precise total of arms and legs we owed for a day’s parking fee, my token instead fell uselessly into the coin return slot time and again.
Something that must be understood regarding small town life in Italy: every happening is a community event. Therefore, every passer-by or driver waiting to use the machine after us felt compelled to offer advice or condolences on our dilemma. Finally the two gentlemen seated just past the obstinately unmoving exit gate decided it was time for them to weigh in. They had nothing to do with the parking concession; they owned the little alimentari right next door. But they were clearly more experienced with this accursed machine than Jack and I were, so we let them have the obligatory seventeen tries at getting the token to perform properly. No luck.
They helpfully suggested that we call the help number posted on the machine. Great idea, except we had no cell phone. Besides, we doubted our conversational Italian would cover this particular topic. Reluctantly, our rescuers used their phone to make the call. Ah, someone would be along presently.
Twenty minutes later, our rescuers had not yet arrived. Craig and the girls had, however, wondering why we had failed to meet them as arranged. Craig’s refreshing swim was soon a distant memory as we continued to wait in the baking hot parking lot. Our heroes made another phone call to the rescue crew. Soon, soon. We continued to melt.
After another eternity, a couple of guys wearing municipal-logo shirts zoomed up on a scooter. They too tried their hand at the token game, and then after a lengthy discussion with our champions, the deli guys, who insisted we not be charged for parking because of the grievous inconvenience we had suffered in the parking inferno, the officials used their override gizmo to raise the gate, and waved us through with a flourish.
Back to the alborgo, and the beds placed so invitingly in front of the air conditioners. Had we been at home, we would at this point have refused to budge from the comfort of our cool room and crisp sheets. But this was Italy – who could waste time resting? We could rest when we got old. Back into the van, back to the piazza in Ravello. There were parking machines to battle with, side streets to be explored, cafes at which to linger. La dolce vita awaited – andiamo!
Fewer and fewer WW II veterans are returning to Normandy now - that momentous day in history, when the tide of war changed, is far in the past and most of those who fought to overcome Hitler and his monstrous ideas have joined their fallen hero-friends in the hereafter. But we can still travel there to wonder at their tremendous courage and sacrifice and to pray that the world will never again allow such a thing to recur. I don't know why I did not grasp the pathos when, as a teenager, I visited Normandy with my WWII veteran father, but, returning with my retired US Naval officer husband, almost 40 years later, it moved me deeply.
Normandy is full of reminders of war juxtaposed in peacefilled settings. We began our journey through history at the pilgrimage town of Lisieux, at the beautiful 20c. Basilique of St. Therese, where incredible modern mosaics depict the message of a young girl who, in her simple understanding of faith and prayer, "the little way," influenced many and was named a saint by the Catholic church. St. Therese is the patron saint of France and this tribute to her life was well worth our time.
After a quick tailgate lunch, we proceeded to the fascinating medieval town of Bayeux. Since most of the fighting occurred along the coast, many of the historic timber-framed and renaissance buildings still stand in this charming town. It is not hard to spend an entire day or two strolling and visiting sites. We began at the UNESCO registered "memories of the world," Bayeux Tapestry. Embroidered in the 11th c., it depicts in great detail (58 scenes) the adventures of William, ("the Conqueror") Duke of Normandy, who, in 1066 set off to conquer England (and succeeded!) The tapestry runs the 70 m. length of a dark corridor (you do the math, I was an English major!) Thankfully, the admission price includes a hand-held English interpretation wand that allows you to move at your own pace to appreciate each scene. They even have guides for children. Even in our video action-packed age, who would not be fascinated by this peek into medieval life? ....My photos do not do this justice!
Since we prefer picturesque lodgings, we chose to spend two nights at LeCornu Bed and Breakfast, Place de Gaulle, in Bayeux. Smiling and helpful Christelle LeCornu showed us up the narrow staircase to our charming and comfortable garret room overlooking the park. (We parked on the street.) In the evening, we entered the "cave" where Francois, our host and the farmer-producer, treated us to a Calvados (apple brandy) tasting. Apples are the signature crop of Normandy and Calvados is a great way to get your "apple a day!" At breakfast, also in the cave, we were able to taste the various apple jellies and juices as well. The lovely bottles and jars we chose from their inventory made wonderful souvenirs and gifts (but remember, they must fit in your checked luggage when returning to the US.)
Well rested, we set out for the nearby Musee Memorial de la Bataille de Normandie. We purchased the Normandy Pass which saves some euros on other sites. The exhibits and films in this museum are very well done and give a comprehensive overview of the Normandy campaigns which began on June 6 (D Day) and ended August 29, 1944. While Dan and Bill were most interested in the battle paraphenalia, Joanne and I found the displays about the French Maquis (resistance) fascinating. The British Cemetary is nearby.
The next stop was the Arromanche 360; a circular theater located on the formidable cliffs overlooking the seaside town of Arromanches. We stood mesmerized as black and white photos of the battle flashed around us, accompanied by the sickening sound of artilliary fire. It was a powerful presentation that brought home the incredible courage and horror that Allied troops experienced there. After we regained our composure, we walked down the steep sidewalk to the town. From that perspective we had another panoramic view of the windswept wide expanses of beach only littered now with the remains of concrete cassons that the British troops, soon after the invasion, moored as an artificial port. Once on the beach, Dan, my historian/engineer, became our interpreter of all we surveyed...it is very helpful to travel with those of varying expertise and insight!
After a brief respite, we drove on to Omaha Beach .......
Indonesia is one of the most exotic destinations on earth. Stretching from Southeast Asia to Australia, this country contains thousands of islands and is the fourth most populated country on earth. Hundreds of languages are spoken. Whether you want relaxation, adventure, history, or culture, you will find it here in Indonesia. Also, the dollar still goes far here. One of the most popular destinations in Indonesia is Bali, which is where my journey begins. On the right, women prepare temple offerings in Bali.
September 4 to 7 After losing a day crossing the dateline, I joined my friend Frances for a few days on the beaches of Bali. There are many beautiful beaches and resorts along the coast of southern Bali, and many people never venture past these relaxing shores. Along with the beaches, southern Bali contains spectacular Hindu temples. One of the most dramatic temples is Tanah Lot. Part of the temple complex is on a rock island out at sea and is accessible only during low tide. Near the temple at Uluwatu, you can see traditional Balinese dancers perform in an amphitheater set on cliffs high above the sea. The dance, Kecak Ramanyan, is performed at sunset and includes not only the more familiar masked women and men of the Balinese dance, but many men in a trance chorus, which originated during times of epidemic to ward off disease. One performer appears as Sita Hanoman, a white monkey with magical powers who dances in a fire. Perhaps taking their cue from the white monkey dancer, the long-tailed macaque monkeys around the Uluwatu temple are the most aggressive you'll encounter in Bali, especially the alpha males who have to be chased away from tourists by guards with long sticks. That is only partly successful. I watched one monkey pluck the sunglasses off an unwary tourist.
September 8 to 15 After my introduction to Bali, I boarded a traditional Indonesian sailing ship for a week of diving The ship was sailing again after the former captain fell overboard and drowned on the previous journey. We headed for the islands of Indonesia east of Bali. Indonesia is the earth's center of marine biodiversity with more species than anywhere else. Diving here is not for the beginner, however, with tricky and swift currents at many of the dive sites, but well worth it. Many strange and wonderful creatures make their homes in the crystal clear waters off Indonesia, but our ultimate creature was a land-based reptile: the Komodo dragon, earth's largest land-based reptile. When we arrived at Komodo National Park, our tour guide told us we were in luck. If we had been there earlier, we wouldn't have seen any dragons. It had been breeding season, and the dragons were in hiding. Now the dragons were back, hungry and looking for meals and what better lunch than some slow, two-legged tourists? The Komodo dragon is one of the nastiest hunters on earth. Although it can kill small prey quickly, it reserves a special death for larger animals such as the native buffalo, deer, and (gulp) people. A single bite from the dragon infects the larger prey with the over sixty types of bacteria that live in its mouth. The dragon can smell its prey up to five miles away and simply waits for the prey to become too sick to continue. Then the dragon moves in and feasts on the helpless vicitim. For safety the people on this island live in houses on stilts. Even dragon children are not safe. While small, they must hide in trees to escape their cannibalistic parents. A dragon female guards her eggs and creates false nests to keep hungry males away. The dragons blend in with the bush--I was surprised by one--and the guide carries a long yoked stick to deal with the dragon. The guide simply pushed the dragon's head the other way, and it forgets what had its interest, such as me.
September 16 to 19 After sailing back to Bali, I settled into my hotel in Ubud in central Bali. Ubud is a royal cultural center with a palace, a monkey sanctuary and several temples. After a stroll along Monkey Forest Road with its shops and restaurants, I caught up with my friend Frances, who had an intriguing proposition for me. Frances worked for a charity, the WINS Project USA, that provides educational opportunities for poor children in Bali. How would I like to meet Emon, the eight-year old boy whose education I was sponsoring? She introduced me to her driver Rai, and we headed off to the countryside near Bangli. Rai knows Bali well but still had to stop and ask directions to the remote village where Emon lived about twenty times. Passing rice terraces sculpted into hillsides, we arrived in the village which was centered by the local temple. Although poor, the people keep the village streets spotlessly clean. Rai asked for the compound of Emon's family. Typical of rural Balinese culture, about seventy members of Emon's family live together in the walled compound. Members of the male line stay together while women move to other compounds when they marry. Emon's father welcomed us to the compound and invited us in for a traditional coconut drink. I had gifts for Emon but knew that Balinese tradition required that I present the gifts to the father who would give the gifts to Emon later. Emon's mother had died leaving the father with responsibility for four young children. Emon was very shy and somewhat reluctant to leave his village. So Komang, his older brother who is all of eleven, accompanied us on our road trip. Komang's education is also supported by the foundation. Our first stop was Emon's school where we met his teachers and schoolmates. In Bali, they say school is free (until the sixth grade) but education is expensive. Our donations provide for many of the expenses the parents would be expected to pay and also provides for enrichment activities such as computer classes and English lessons. Teachers and students both wear uniforms. The children were excited to see us, and one teacher said Frances and I were probably the first Americans the school children had ever seen.
Rai then drove us toward Galung Batur, Bali's second most active volcano. He suggested lunch at a restaurant on a cliff overlooking the volcano and the lake at its base. During the drive, Rai chatted with the boys in Balinese and learned that this was the first time the boys would eat in a restaurant. The normal diet consists of rice, some homegrown vegetables, a little fish and more rice. Little Emon's eyes grew wide at the array of food at the buffet, and he filled his plate twice. I couldn't believe such a small boy could hold so much food! Rai also introduced Emon to his first soda pop. The traditionally dressed waitresses asked Rai about us. When they found out that we assisted with the boys' education, they each personally expressed their thanks to us for helping the boys. Frances whispered to me that the assitance I provide to Emon may be as much as his father earns in a year. The waitresses prepared special desserts for the boys to take home. We passed a coffee plantation on the way home, and Rai stopped so that we could buy the boys their first cups of cocoa. After all that lunch, Emon gulped down two cups! He was also fascinated by the Asian Palm Civet, a cat-like animal that produces a rare coffee called Kopi Luwak. The production of this coffee starts when the civet eats (then passes) the coffee bean whole. (Good, but not worth sixty dollars for a small bag and the thought of how its made.) We returned to the family compound where Emon and Komang told of their adventures. After many thanks, Frances had Rai stop at a center for disabled children, some of whom also receive educational assistance through the foundation. Frances introduced me to a small boy in a wheelchair who is taking computer classes to help him secure a better economic future. We also met a girl who had lived on the floor of her house for two years until the center found her the money for a wheelchair. The physical therapist was there that day, and women cradled disabled infants while waiting their turn. The therapist was helping a young boy with crippled legs who had received special shoes and a wheelchair from the center. I ended that day with a greater appreciation of what life had given me. I was glad I could share with others even in a small way. One person can make a difference in the life of another.
After that emotional visit, Rai suggested something for the spirit. How about a temple I could actually enter? Most temples on Bali are closed to outsiders, but Gunung Kawi still welcomes visitors. There is one catch, however. Gunung Kawi's entrance is 200 steps down (and then up) a very steep hillside. I knew I couldn't complain as I watched women descend the steps with elaborate offerings of fruit, rice and flowers balanced on their heads. The temple at Gunung Kawi is adjacent to the candi shrines carved in the rock. The candi shrines were built during the eleventh century to honor King Anak Wungsu and his wives. Inside the Hindu temple, women placed offerings on the shrines of the divine deities, such as Barong, the deity of order, harmony, and health. I met one of the elderly women who are highly respected as offering experts or tukang banten. A priest chanted. A family prayed. It was a peaceful and colorful place and worth each of the four hundred steps.
Indonesia is not a place that came to mind when I thought of a trip. But for me it became a journey of adventure, of the heart, and, unexpectedly, one of the great trips of my life.
To be clear: I have a bit of a coffee problem. It's more of a macchiatto problem, really, but I'm splitting hairs. I drink at least one really good macchiatto every day, if it can be arranged. And it almost always can be.
Anyway, my friends know about the issue; the people I work with, for the most part, know about it; my family is well aware. I'll travel miles for a really good macchiatto. I do it way too often.
The folks at Joe coffee in New York City, where I show up virtually every day, certainly know it too.
Still, it was a little disconcerting when I walked into Ritual Coffee Roasters in The Mission district of San Francisco on a recommendation from the coffee gurus at Joe-- this is some 3,000 miles away from my home-- and heard someone behind me say, quizzically: "Steve?" I turned around a little slowly, because it threw me off.
"Do you drink a lot of coffee at Joe? In New York City?" he asked.
I mean, not really. I drink a lot of macchiattos . But I've learned not to argue about it.
It turns out he used to work at Joe, and although I didn't recognize him-- well, he knew me. I was just rationalizing the whole thing to myself (it's a small world, he got my last name wrong, etc...) and explaining it all to a friend who had accompanied me when I heard someone behind me say, quizzically: "Steve?"
I turned around slowly, again, to find someone I knew well: A barrista who had served me a macchiatto only a few days prior, back at Joe in New York City. He was in town to learn more about coffee drinks, and had landed at SFO only hours before me. Needless to say, he was a little stunned to see me standing there, the whole landmass of the United States behind me, ordering the exact same drink I always do. The fact that he was the second person in about thirty seconds to be shocked by it struck me as something it was going to be very, very hard for me to rationalize.
We talked for a little bit, the barrista and I. I asked him where else I could get really good espresso drinks in San Francisco, and he directed me to an employee who knew a ton about San Fran coffees. We talked beans, roasting, foam, drink balance-- until he squinted at me suspiciously and said: "Are you in coffee?"
Turns out I have a huge problem with coffee. Just huge.
But If My Problems Can Help Others...
Well, then I’ll take one for the team.
The upshot of all the questions was that I learned a lot about great espresso drinks in San Francisco. Over the next two days, I spent most of my time tracking down good macchiattos, lattes, and espresso shots all over town, usually on the recommedations of experts. I did my fair share of "yelp-ing" too ( Yelp ), to see where the locals-in-the-know frequented. Then I went and tested all of them .
The best-made espresso drinks, I think, exhibit all the marks of careful preparation: They are nice to look at, often feature an appealing milk or foam pattern on the surface, and are prepared by hand with carefully chosen beans. You should see your barrista shake out and tamp down the grind, and you should see them froth the milk and take their time pouring/ladling it in. It can take 5 minutes or more to get your drink in a place that does it right, but it's worth the wait. Coffee shops that throw your espresso in a paper cup after pressing a few buttons (and dumping a ton of milk on it) aren't working very hard, and are probably producing mediocre, if consistent, drinks. You know who you are...
Ritual Coffee Roasters, in the Mission district of San Francisco, is pretty well known amongst the coffee cognoscenti. Ask at good places in New York, and they'll mention it. So I made it my first stop. I ordered a macchiatto with two shots of espresso (a double macchiatto). The barrista immediately informed me that they always serve it that way: “No need to specify.” I took this is a good sign; I like a little pretension in my barristas. At least they care.
My friend ordered a latte. A few minutes later we had the drinks back at the table. I took a few photos of the latte (see photo 1, top right), focusing on the presentation of the drink: A leaf pattern I’ve seen a lot, but it’s not easy to pour. Overall, it was a great drink, and I managed to make my way to Ritual two more times during the four-day trip. The macchiatto, for the record, was very good too. You should know, though, that Ritual is a young-ish crowd, and it's apparently de rigeur to come with the newest apple computer and a healthy dose of political correctness. On one occasion I asked for a bottled water, but the woman at the cash register really thought it would be better if I just used the common fountain. I looked at her closely; she wasn’t about to change her mind. So the vibe's probably not for everyone, but if you can get past it the people are generally friendly, the staff is professional, and the coffee drinks are top-notch.
The guy I had quizzed about coffee liked Blue Bottle Coffee up in the Hayes Valley, and then mentioned a newcomer as an afterthought-- 4 Barrel, which he said had opened up in an alleyway in the Mission, just a few blocks away from where we were chatting. I had heard a lot of good things about Blue Barrel already from some online research, and from some friends in town-- so I grabbed a cab and headed there next.
There are two locations for Blue Bottle Coffee , it turns out: One they’ve taken to calling a ‘kiosk,’ and another that’s a more traditional café. I visited the former, located on Linden Street, a small alley between Octavia and Gough streets in the Hayes Valley district. I’m not sure the word ‘kiosk’ describes it, really—it’s more like an urban garage and there’s an adjacent outdoor counter. If you take your espresso drinks to stay, you can cozy up in Italian style and savor your cup while standing at the outdoor bar, but most people seemed to order take-away. The storefront draws some pretty huge lines, and you have to love espresso drinks to think it all makes sense. I took a friend and it was about five minutes to get to the front of the line, and another five or so to get the macchiatto and latte we’d ordered
The macchiatto was beautiful (I'm SO sorry I talk about coffee this way. Really.) Photo 2, above and left-aligned, is a picture of the macchiatto from straight above, taken at the standing-room bar. The pattern on the top is not as complex, or as appealing, as the leaf pattern on the latte from Ritual (again, photo 1, top). But honestly I get sick of the leaf pattern—this macchiatto looked less artificial to me, like something crafted by a person with no need to show off. And the taste was tremendous. Still, it was my friend's Blue Bottle latte that took the crown as the best espresso drink in San Francisco. Photo 3, to the right, is that very latte, poured with just enough milk and foam to give it a super-rich taste, without ever becoming cloying. I'm serious! It was really really good-- with a nutty aftertaste, and subtle hints of treebark, sawgrass, saddle leather, wild basil, and thrice-whittled bamboo. So that last part I'm not so serious about. It was just plain good, and I’m not sure I can explain why, exactly.
And Then, a Real Alleyway
Despite being tucked away in an alley, and despite serving from what looks like a coverted garage, Blue Bottle feels civilized. The staff is laid-back (it's San Francisco...), the service is good, the storefront is well-preserved, the outside counter is clean and appealing.
4 Barrel's (see Coffee Geek’s announcement ) in an alley too, but it's doing something different altogether. It took me about ten minutes to locate the store; I finally spotted a handmade sidewalk sign in black magic marker-- just the words '4 Barrel' and an arrow pointing down a long, truly urban alleyway. I could see that the alley terminated at a brick wall, and that a homeless man was reconstituting his shopping cart back there. About twenty feet in front of that, a few people seemed to be milling around aimlessly, and one, at least, appeared to be cradling an espresso cup.
So I headed for that. And that, it turned out, was 4 Barrel.
The storefront, if you can call it that (it's still under construction), was more than a little ramshackle. After studying it for few minutes, and taking some photos, I concluded that it was probably the back entrance of an artist's loft; if I'm wrong I'm happy to hear about it in the comments below.
There was no one in line at the time, and only a few customers on hand, so I ordered my typical macchiatto and had it in my hands pretty quickly. When I turned around to figure out what to do now that I had my drink, I noticed two freestanding chairs sitting against the alley wall. I grabbed one, settled the macchiatto on the only truly flat space on the curbside, and snapped a few photos (photo 4, to the left) before drinking it. I didn’t put the cigarette butts in the gutter for effect; they were just there-- and I felt, as I depressed the shutter button, that the photo would probably capture the weirdness that was 4 Barrel. So, there it is… I drank the macchiatto (which was excellent, by the way), and a few more stragglers made their way down the alley. We all sat around taking in the oddness of it all, shifting our seats on the curb, talking to each other a little-- and feeling, I think, a little bad about the homeless guy still packing up nearby. For the record, he didn't seem to mind a bit. I finished my macchiatto, pondered the question of where to put the dirty espresso cup, decided I should leave it back at the counter—and walked back down the alleyway into San Francisco proper.
Do I recommend 4 Barrel? Yes, definitely. But I probably wouldn’t go after dark (it seems to close early anyway), and if a little dirt makes you tense—you should skip it .
Like Espresso Drinks, but Not Obsessed?
If you have a need for a good, solid espresso drink in the morning, or you have the desire to try one without too much wandering, Peet’s is a good bet. Many years ago, Peet’s was a small, local newcomer to the coffee scene (it started in Berkeley in 1966). In the years since, it’s become a pretty big chain, but unlike some chains I won’t name it still takes making coffee seriously—and the results are still good.
I went to the Peet’s on Market Street to see how they stack up. As usual, I ordered a macchiatto with two shots of espresso. The barrista asked me whether I was taking it to go or wanted it to stay; it’s always a good sign when the barrista cares about the way you want to drink it. The photo to the right is the macchiatto from Peet’s. You can see it’s not quite as aesthetically interesting as the drinks from the previous three coffee houses, which doesn’t affect taste, but says something about preparation. And it was just a little bitter, to my taste, although it mellowed as the foam dissolved in the macchiatto. Still, it’s a good drink overall, and you can find a Peet’s in most neighborhoods in San Francisco, and in tons of surrounding towns, too.
Tips
>> I like Yelp.com to find good food and drink in towns I don’t know very well. It’s a free service, unlike Zagat’s-- and its unique system of rewarding good reviewers tends to produce accurate assessments.
>> When looking for good espresso, make sure the barrista isn’t just pressing buttons. You should see the barrista tamp down the ground beans, “pull” the shots, and add the milk and/or foam-- all with some degree of care and attention.
>> If you can order twenty ounces of coffee at the place, get out.
Yes, you read that correctly. It is possible to explore Alaska without a cruise ship! My wife Cathy and I retired on the same day in the spring of 2008 and several weeks later we headed for Alaska. A year prior we had begun researching every possible mode of transportation, including large and small cruise ships. We researched cruises first because it was the only mode of Alaska travel we had heard of. Cruise lines and travel agents do a great job of advertising all over the media. Most of our friends who had ever visited Alaska went via cruise ships and liked the experience.
According to the latest (2006/2007) figures from the Alaska Visitor Statistics Program, 40% of Alaska travel is by air primarily on business, 54% of visitors who come for vacations and pleasure travel by cruise ship. 1% travel by ferry and 4% by highway. An interesting statistic is that of those travelling by ferry, 60% are repeat travelers whose first trip was by cruise ship. This last statistic is revealing. Hang on to it; you'll see why later.
Cruise ships typically are like fancy hotels. They are a great experience as a treat, especially if the primary reason for your trip is to enjoy the ship. Our reason for going to Alaska was to experience the scenery, small towns, rainforests, Denali National Park and the abundant forms of wildlife. It seemed to us that the ship would detract from our freedom to explore rather than enhance it. Furthermore, we tend to avoid crowds of tourists and get as far away from them as we can. Maybe that's just us.
We found that there are only three ways to explore the "Inside Passage" of Alaska. If you look on a map that is where you find the small towns of Ketchikan, Sitka, Juneau, Haines, Skagway and others. The only public highway in the Inside Passage is the Alaska Highway Ferry System. That whole section of the state consists of islands, so if you're going anywhere it is by water or by sea plane.
We began to wonder about this ferry thing and so we looked it up on the internet by visiting the Alaska Marine Highway System website: www.dot.state.ak.us/amhs/
Much to our pleasant surprise, the ferry boats were not what we expected. Here in Ohio a ferry boat is a little, dumpy barge with cars on it. The Alaskan ferries are like small cruise ships with multiple decks and one or two lower decks for vehicles. The ferries travel the southeast Inside Passage and all over coastal Alaska. They have cabins for those who want them on overnight trips, beautiful observation lounges, good restaurant facilities, small gift shop, internet connections, lounges, spacious decks and naturalist programs. They do not have crystal chandeliers, gambling casinos, grand staircases, professional entertainers or five star cuisine. If you would put on a tux and bow tie, someone would rightfully throw you overboard. The cabins are small but clean and comfortable. Nobody is going to create a towel elephant and leave it on your bed with a couple gourmet chocolates. So if you have always fantasized about putting on a pair of expensive sunglasses and pretending to be a celebrity gracefully floating down the grand staircase on Love Boat, the ferry is not the place to do it.
Cathy and I were sold. We could travel Alaska on our own terms and schedule. We would fly into Seattle and board the ferry at nearby Bellingham. We decided to start the grueling, time consuming planning and booking process by calling the Alaska Marine Highway since it would be our first stop. On an evening eight months beforehand, we called the toll free phone number. A very pleasant and helpful agent talked with us and told us that besides scheduling the ferry she could also book our entire trip! After we picked ourselves up off the floor and inhaled smelling salts, we asked her how much the service would cost. "Oh, nothing," she said, "I am an employee of the state of Alaska. That's what we do." Ninety minutes later our trip was planned. Cathy and I looked at each other in utter amazement. What we thought would take eight months took ninety minutes. During that phone conversation, the agent asked us what towns and attractions we wanted to see and made very valuable suggestions. Without her help we would have wasted time seeing things that are duplicates or missed attractions we didn't know about. She asked us what kind of lodging we preferred and we told her bed and breakfasts. She recommended how much time we should spend at each town in order to enjoy the town and its attractions.
Our actual trip was even more fantastic than we had imagined. We were on foot and public transportation were successful most of the time in avoiding the human floods of cruise ship tourists. We spent time in the towns of Ketchikan, Juneau, Sitka, Skagway, Fairbanks, Denali National Park and Anchorage. We were in Alaska 20 days. When we visited Denali, we stayed at the Back Country Lodge, which is way back in the center of the park and away from the populated entrance. We saw wildlife all over Alaska including humpback whales, eagles, sea otters, harbor seals, black bears, grizzly bears, moose, caribou, foxes and wolves. We didn't see one of each; we saw hundreds.
In the towns we would sometimes encounter people who were travelling by cruise ship and get into conversations with them. We noticed that most of these conversations were amusingly similar and went something like this:
THEY: "So what cruise ship are you on?"
US: "We're not on a cruise ship." (At this point THEY appeared somewhat confused.)
THEY: "Then how in heaven's name are you getting around?"
US: "By ferry."
THEY: "Oh, then, you're DRIVING."
US: "No, we're on foot."
THEY: (silence...with the look a dog gives you when it's confused - cocking the head from one side to the other)
Then, of course, we would relieve their confusion and discuss how we were travelling. In every case, the people told us they were unaware anyone could travel Alaska like that and expressed the wish that they had known before booking a cruise. I asked them why they felt that way and they said they would have preferred the freedom of choices and not feeling "herded" as they did on a cruise.
Earlier I mentioned to hang on to the statistic that 60% of the independent travellers using the ferry system had previously taken a cruise. My guess is that they came on the cruise and while in Alaska talked to someone like us and found that they could control their own vacation. So they returned on their own to more fully experience Alaska to its fullest. The cruise had given them a preview sampling taste of the gourmet experience that is Alaska. Our advice is to skip the sampling and go for the main course.
Sipping a Beagle beer at the Banana Bar in Ushuaia,Leigh and I contemplate the trip ahead. If everything we've heard about the Drake Passage is true, we figure this may be our last pint for quite a while.
We're about to board the M/V Professor Molchanov for a 10-day adventure cruise to Antarctica, and the formidable weather of the Southern Ocean is on our minds. Unimpeded by land, the Atlantic, Pacific and Indian oceans all mingle in a circumpolar maelstrom of waves, current and wind. It can be rough — very rough, according to the guidebooks and blogs of previous Antarctic voyagers. Nearly everyone gets seasick during the crossing, we read. Alcohol may not be the best idea, but despite the warnings, we chug the last of our brews and head for the pier.
Our short stay in Ushuaia has been exceedingly pleasant. Ana, Marcello and the rest of the staff at the Posada del Fin del Mundo have made us feel completely at home. On the first day, we share the cozy breakfast nook with several researchers who just returned from Antarctica. We eagerly listen to their stories, hardly believing that soon we'll be floating among icebergs.
The gritty little harbor town puts on a clean frock for tourists, dressing up its main street with shiny souvenir stands, electronic shops and internet cafés. But what we enjoy the most is hanging out with the many well-behaved and friendly dogs that each patrol a section of sidewalk. Every morning, there's a parade of canines outside the posada, all wearing collars and purposefully trotting down the street toward some unknown destination or rendezvous. We befriend an especially cute mutt living just down the street for our lodge. He runs the length of his fenced-in yard each time we walk down Rivadavia to reach the waterfront.
Toothy crags decorated with ice form a dramatic backdrop. There's even a small ski area at the Martial Glacier, near the head of a heavily forested drainage just a few miles from downtown. Lupines, Shasta daisies and rose bushes are still blooming in the surprisingly warm maritime climate. Strolling the commercial district and residential neighborhoods, we find a pleasing hodgepodge of houses, from tiny wooden A-frames reminiscent of Icelandic huts, to new wood-framed homes built with brightly painted corrugated metal.
The local history museum tells the story of the early explorers who first traveled these waters in their quest to circumnavigate the globe: Sir Francis Drake, Captain James Cook and Ferdinand Magellan are all among the notables who sailed the maze of fjords and headlands of the archipelago at the tip of South America.
After sending a few postcards, we visit a waterfront fishmonger to buy portions of seafood salad studded with chunks of apple. It's made from king crabs. The spiny, long-legged denizens of deep southern ocean waters are starting to move south closer to Antarctic shorelines as currents and water temperatures shift under the influence of climate change. It’s a first taste, literally, of what we’re going to learn about how global warming is affecting Antarctica, and especially the Antarctic Peninsula, where temperatures have warmed five times faster than the rest of the planet during the past few decades.
Drake Passage
Our first day at sea is mellow. We make good speed, heading almost due south and averaging 12 knots, with huge albatrosses and petrels swerving and swooping alongside to keep us company. Trying out a borrowed 300 millimeter lens keeps me busy for hours, as I try to steady myself, while keeping the horizon straight and focusing on the speeding birds at the same time. Finally, I manage to snap a half-way decent shot of a petrel skimming so close to the cobalt-blue water that it's wingtip touches the surface.
"Mr. Drake is sleeping," says Russian Captain Nikolay Parfenyuk. "He is not hungry today. Mrs. Drake is saying, hello to all of you," the captain jokes.
The Molchanov is a Finnish-built ice-hardened vessel previously used by Russia's polar research program. The ship is now leased to Oceanwide Expeditions for tourist expeditions on both ends of the Earth. In most conditions, the bridge is open to passengers, so we're able watch Parfenyuk and his crew of officers plot a course through the Southern Ocean and scan the radar screen for errant icebergs.
The swell increases during the second night, tossing a few chairs around our cabin. Evelin Lieback, the ship's doctor, hands out motion-sickness patches to several passengers, and a number of places remain empty in the dining room during the evening meal. Leigh and I don't succumb to the dizziness at all. Instead, we enjoy the rocking and rolling in our comfortable berth and take in the exhilarating spray of wind and sea foam as often as we can.
But by noon the next day, it's smooth sailing once again. Just as the kitchen crew starts serving desert, expedition leader Jan Belger says whales have been sighted. We all drop our forks and rush on deck, marveling as the gentle giants flash their dorsals and blow clouds of mist into the gold-tinted sunset. Fin whales are the second-largest cetaceans. Males in the southern hemisphere grow up to 88-feet long and weigh 70 to 80 tons.
The Molchanov is full for the voyage, 52 passengers in all, with a large contingent of jolly Dutch. There are a few Germans, a couple of Israelis, a well-traveled couple from South Africa and some Brits. the passel of Americans includes eight from our own home state of Colorado as well as a few Midwesterners. One young traveler from California is making the most of the recent economic malaise, using his severance package to finance a world trip, including the jaunt to Antarctica, booked last-minute in Ushuaia at a significant discount.Two of the experienced guides are Dutch, the third is a French biologist, and our cooks are Malaysian, so the good ship is bit like a floating United Nations.
Convergence
The big milestone for this part of the trip is the Antarctic Convergence, where cold water flowing northward from Antarctica mixes with warmer water from the adjacent oceans. The turbulent upwelling is zone of high biological productivity, where phytoplankton nurtures vast swarms of krill, which in turns is food for whales and seabirds. The convergence is part of a circumpolar current — the world's largest, carrying 130 million cubic meters of water per second, or 100 times the volume of all the world's rivers combined. The current delineates a discrete body of water and a unique ecologic region. In 2000, the International Hydrographic Organization designated the waters south of the current as the Southern Ocean.
It's still a productive life zone, but increased solar ultraviolet radiation through the Antarctic ozone hole in recent years has reduced phytoplankton productivity by as much as 15 percent and damaged the DNA of some fish. Illegal, unreported, and unregulated fishing has depleted stocks of some species unique to the area, including Patagonian and Antarctic toothfish, sold commercially as Chilean sea bass.
There are also concerns about how climate change might affect the circumpolar current, which is known to be important to regulating the world's climate, but those potential impacts are poorly understood.
Antarctic Sound
South of the convergence zone, the sea is still. The ship slows to maneuver between giant ice floes and we awaken to a magical world of icebergs tinged lipstick-pink and tangerine-orange by a spectacular Antarctic sunrise. Only a few passengers are awake and perched on the bow of the Molchanov to watch a group of penguins arch through the water like mini-dolphins. They're powerful swimmers, using their wings to propel themselves under water with flying motions.
"They're trying to fly," says expedition leader Jan Belgers. Even though the birds gave up the sky for the deep sea eons ago, they still have some genetic memory of what it must be like to soar through the air, Belgers explains.
Later, we spot a pod of orcas cruising between the fantastically sculpted bergs. Leopard seals lounge on flat floes, looking fat and happy after feasting on this year's crop of penguin chicks.
Paulet Island
Our first landing in Antarctica is on Paulet Island, a small circular chunk of volcanic rock that's home to a major adelie penguin colony during the Austral spring and early summer. In early March (late summer in the southern hemisphere) the penguins are mostly gone but the remains of their rookery, in the form of pungent pink guano, was still evident. The acrid smell wafts across the water as we approach the shore in Zodiacs and getting across the beach to the uplands involved a hike through the smelly turf.
A few straggling adelies remained, along with dozens of fur seals lounging on ice floes and along the beach, along with a group of blue-eyed shags, the only members of the cormorant family to venture to Antarctica proper.
We hiked to the remains of a stone hut that served as shelter for Captain Carl Anton Larsen and the crew of his ship, the Antarctic. Larsen, a whaler, was exploring the region in 1903 when his ship was trapped and crushed in the ice offshore, leading to one of the many epic stories of polar survival. Part of Larsen's party traveled over the ice by sledge seeking rescue. Eventually, all the men but one were rescued by an Argentine vessel. A simple wooden cross set back from the beach marks the grave of Ole Kristian Wennersgaard, a 22-year-old sailor who died on the island in pursuit of science and exploration.
Dundee Island
Although more and more people are visiting Antarctica these days (up to 40,000 annually), it's still a remote tourism location compared to other hot spots on the global travel circuit. Our second stop is at Petrel Cove along the shore of Dundee Island. It's part of a group of islands known collectively as Graham Land, closer to South America than any other part of Antarctica. It was named by Scottish whalers in 1893 and served as the take-off point for American pilot Lincoln Ellsworth when he made the first trans-Antarctic flight in 1935.
When we got back to Summit County, I did some research on Petrel Cove to try and find out how many people have been there. A list maintained by a group that monitors environmental impacts shows that, during the past 15 years, only two commercial trips with a total of 107 visitors have landed at the remote site.
A few metal buildings, painted rust-red, are left over from an Argentinian settlement. Although it was supposedly a science station, our expedition leaders dismissively calls it a political site, established to help the South American country bolster territorial claims in Antarctica.
Under existing international law, the continent belongs to nobody and is managed for the purposes of scientific research through a consultative process. Still, several countries, including the United States, maintain that they have the right to exercise those claims in the future. With potential for vast reserves of precious resources, including offshore oil and gas, some observers think it's only a matter of time before some countries try to assert some level of sovereignty.
Hundreds of fur seals, along with a few Weddell seals, lounge on a broad beach covered with red seaweed. Clumps of miniature icebergs melt in the warm days of late summer. A large glacier on the island appears to be in retreat, crumbling at our feet. It feels like just a few days since the last ice age ended.
Brown Bluff and Deception Island
Setting foot on mainland Antarctica is a big step for some of the Molchanov's passengers, who are visiting their seventh, and final, continent. The brown basalt rocks are part of an unusual geologic formation called a Tuya, formed when a volcano erupts beneath a continental ice sheet. Whether it's our seventh continent or not, we all agree it's the most spectacular site so far. Ice floes fill the bay for as far as we can see, and the curved beach is densely populated by friendly gentoo penguins and ornery fur seals, who protect their turf by grunting and lunging awkwardly when a tourist wanders too close.
The next day we visit Deception Island, anchoring in a small cove near the crumbling ruins of a whaling station. The bay is almost completely encircled by glacier-draped ridges, with only a half-mile wide opening to the sea. It's one of the few places in the world where an ocean-going vessel can sail into the water-filled hollow of a caldera, the collapsed center of a volcano. The ice on the slopes is colored black with the ash and soot of the most recent eruption which was just a few decades ago. Geologists keep a close watch on the island to monitor for potential eruptions in the future.
The rotting sheds and rusted metal tanks that once stored whale oil are grim reminders of a not-so-distant past, when men slaughtered tens of thousands of the giant mammals at sea, then dragged them to the stations to be rendered for oil, flayed for meat and carved up for their by-products, including baleen to make combs and corsets. Thankfully, Antarctic waters have been designated as a refuge for whales. Several species that were hunted to near extinction are making a comeback.
We hike up to the rim of the caldera and across the ash-covered glacier to reach a chinstrap penguin colony at Bailey Head. On moss-covered ground, improbably distant from the sea, thousands of the birds are molting. In some places, the feathers have piled so deep it reminds us of drifts of snow back in our hometown of Frisco, Colorado. We're amazed that the waddling birds can climb this far up a steep mountainside. At first glance, they look like precariously balanced bowling pins, but on closer observation, we see that they're sure-footed and steady walkers.
South Shetlands
Our last day in Antarctic waters is spent around the South Shetland Islands. In the morning it's drizzly and cold when we stop at Half Moon Island, where fur seals rule the beach. A chinstrap penguin rookery thrives in on the rocky crags above the beach.
Penguins are the iconic species of the frozen continent, but the simple and prolific food chain in the Antarctic region is under the gun from global warming. In the last half century, winter temperatures on the Antarctic Peninsula — the skinny spit of land sticking up toward South America — have climbed five times faster than the global average. Polar conditions have given way to a moist maritime climate, with huge impacts for the birds and mammals of the region, all of which depend on krill for sustenance.
Krill, a Norwegian word for "small fry," refers to tiny shrimp-like crustaceans found in great abundance in Antarctic waters. The krill feeds on tiny free-floating plants called phytoplankton. In turn, the krill is eaten in mass quantities by whales, sea birds, seals and penguins.
But changing wind patterns linked to global warming are altering the system. Researchers in the area are documenting changes in the distribution and density of phytoplankton in the ocean around the Antarctic Peninsula. In the March 13 edition of the journal Science, Rutgers University biologists reported that those changes may help explain declines of some penguin species in the area. Some of their research is documented in a paper, available online at www.sciencemag.org/cgi/content/abstract/323/5920/1470.
Adelie penguin populations, adapted to a colder climate, are declining. Warmer-weather chinstrap penguins have become more numerous and displaced adelies in some parts of the peninsula and on surrounding islands. The research is based on satellite images showing changes in ocean color, temperature, sea ice distribution and wind. It's supported by data collected at surface by University of Hawaii researchers who are currently working in the seas around the peninsula and maintaining a blog of their voyage at http://uhmanoa-antarctic-research.blogspot.com/.
A final landing on Aitcho Island gives us a glimpse of an elephant seal and a close-up look at hundreds of bleached whale bones littering the beach. A giant petrel is feeding chicks in a nest, and fur seals frolic on mossy ground. Our time in Antarctica is nearly done. Climbing the ladder from the Zodiac on to the Molchanov one last time, we stow our gear and prepare for the voyage home.
My journey to Indonesia was part of a year-long solo trek to 14 countries and other than my starting off point, a few ideas of places I wanted to see, I let the journey unfold as the year progressed.With two close friends who helped steer me to interesting places they had been, and with Internet sites such as Budget Travel, I had the resources I needed and more often than not I would find deals I couldn’t pass up.I rarely make reservations - there is always one room at the inn, one seat in the theater or on the plane, or in this case, one place left on a 7- day cruise aboard a 100’ schooner traveling the unforgettable islands of the eastern part of the Indonesian archipelago.
My journey on the Ombak Putih began on September 4th. I was the first to arrive on the ship and I was elated by the thought of sailing for a whole week. I didn't know any of the other passengers and I was equally excited about making new friends and relationships. Traveling solo has its p- and downsides.I find that I tend to make new friends easier as a solo traveler than when I travel with others – I am forced out of my comfort zone having to strike up conversation with others if I want to have any sort of companionship for that particular moment or day.
Shortly after I arrived, two other couples joined me at the deck. Joyce and Gary were from San Louis Obispo, CA where Joyce is a travel agent and Gary teaches electrical engineering at California Polytechnic University.Tina and Darren were from London celebrating their honeymoon.Tina is a HR specialist and Darren is a database engineer. Four other passengers where suppose to join us however one broke her leg, another got malaria in Burma and the final couple were to meet us two days later on September 6th.We were elated; we essentially had the entire ship to ourselves.
Now this was my first time traveling by sea and I was a little nervous about being sick. Much to my surprise it had the opposite effect on me. I felt alive, healthy and at ease with the rocking of the ship. It was this magnificent feeling that would continue throughout the week.
As we went to our rooms, I was thrilled.I only paid one-half of the listed price for a single passenger, and wasn’t guaranteed my own room, in fact had been told I would be sharing a room.With the mishaps of the unfortunate passengers who had to forego this trip, my week was a steal.My room was quite large for what I had expected.I had the luxury of a queen bed, private bath and what seemed to me to be a large room for a ship this size.My first call to action was to get some sun - out came the pink bikini and I hoisted myself on deck with a good book as we set sail.
Our first stop that afternoon was in eastern Bali. We were taken by water taxi to a small community where the village fathers had preserved the 17th century village. They had historic design guidelines and no new building or renovation could deviate from the original. Quite amazing, this was the first community I had encountered in Indonesia that had placed any restriction on building development. The village was charming and at the end of it there was a school and a 300-year-old Banyan tree. After the village we went to the old capital of Bali. The capital was where the royal family of Bali ended their lives at the hands of the Dutch at the beginning of the 20th century. The Dutch had sent troops to take the capital by force. The King and his family unwilling to surrender walked into the lines of the Dutch army in 1906 and were immediately killed.From this tragic incident, the Dutch lost control of their colonies and were finally forced out of Indonesia by 1946.At the capital city we toured the Royal Palace and the Hall of Justice. Both were quite interesting, but the Hall of Justice was the most intriguing. It was built in the 16th century and acted as the place where the high priests would sentence criminals.While it was the belief that criminals would face their ultimate punishment after death, the high priests sentenced them to the same fate during life.So if you were caught stealing, your hands would be cut off, if you were caught in some sort of devious sexual crime then bad things would happen to your private parts, if you killed someone, you would be killed and so forth. It seemingly kept crime down.
We left the capital city and we stopped at a sacred bat cave.The cave was thick with bat guano and while it was most interesting, we quickly made our offerings and headed back to the ship. It was around 4:00 pm and we got back in time for a little more sun and a cocktail.It was a beautiful night to watch the sunset. There is something called the Indonesian haze and most of the journey it was with us. This meant that as the sun hit the horizon one could no longer see the sun. Tonight however was different and the sunset was magnificent. Around 7:00 pm dinner was served and while I don't remember what I had, all the food was terrific and I ate and ate and ate on the journey.
Every morning I would wake up around 5:30am so I could catch the sunrise. I got on the upper deck of the ship and did a little yoga, meditated and waited for the sun. The sun rose around 6:00 am-6:15 am. Spectacular is the only word I know to describe the feeling of waking up, being the only one on deck (other than the captain) and watching the sun rise as the ship sailed in this vast strip of water. This morning I was fortunate to see flying fish. Now this was a first for me and they were incredible! Wow, they can fly for such a long way and it is fun to listen to them as they flutter on the water, just beautiful creatures.
Today (day 2), we toured western Lombock. We started around 8:30 am at a weaving center, a small out of the way place that had only one weaver working. We saw how the traditional cloth is both dyed and woven. It is interesting because the cotton is dyed in a pattern first so when the weaver begins, the pattern is already known and she works with the pattern and cotton to ensure it is woven correctly. The older woman working the only loom on that day was so pleased to show us how she worked. She was even more gratified when we gave her 100 Indonesian rupiahs which was about $2.00, probably a week’s worth of wages.
Throughout my travels I get a kick out of interesting places to pee. The weaving center was certainly the most utilitarian and will be added to the most unique places from my journey. It was a small room (a little privacy) with a concrete floor and a drain. Not as exciting as the communal toilet in Vietnam, but what was funny was that after I went the drain flowed to where a man was dying the cotton for weaving – needless to say, I didn't buy any materials!
After our weaving stop, Franz our Dutch tour guide, took us through the streets of Lombock, the streets most tourists would never see, to show us a particular village where every man is a blacksmith. This was so fascinating. In each area there were small 10x10 cubicles where men would be squatting around a pit and hammering some metal.In each section there were blacksmiths working on different products. In one area, all the men were making nails in another area all the men were making horseshoes. It was fascinating that in each section the men worked on different implements. It reminded me of the old market in Hanoi, Vietnam where one street was dedicated to a specific product such as bamboo,metal, shoes, etc.
Off again where we were whisked away to the summer palace of the king. We toured around in the hot sun and then we arrived at a small hotel for lunch and swimming. We came to a place where there were natural springs and so after a cold beer and a large wonderful lunch, I jumped in and it was colder than expected, but it felt great after an extremely hot morning.
Back on the boat we picked up our newest traveling companions, our third and final couple, Gillian and Mike.Mike had been the New Zealand ambassador to Indonesia for the past four years and his wife Gillian is a linguist. What a wonderful couple it certainly added to the conversations and gave the trip a new depth.
Tonight we had the most spectacular sunset. We were able to see the tallest mountain, Mt. Agung in this part of Indonesia. It is the most holy of the mountains to the Indonesians and sits perfectly in the west. So as the sun set, the colors were magnificent and illuminated the mountain with reds, yellows and even later with indigos and greens. It seemed that the setting sun gave off the light of a magical rainbow and presented us with the most magnificent sunset she could produce.
At dinner that evening I had the good fortune to sit with Mike, Gillian and Franz. Our conversation was stimulating talking of politics, Indonesia, religion, and the world in general. I instantly liked and admired Gillian.She is intelligent, quick witted and has an amazing amount of spunk. The conversation was delightful and it made me think the rest of the night how I wanted more knowledge, more conversations like the one we had this evening and it gave me every reason to continue my quest as a life long learner and explorer.
The evening was enhanced further as the stars began to come out. The Southern Cross appeared first and then the rest of the stars came out and presented us with an incredible show.I felt as if I was in a planetarium. For this was the first time I had ever witnessed the sky at such depth. There was more depth to the universe than I could imagine. I could clearly see how civilizations could construct magnificent structures that were reflections of perfect planetary alignments. With nothing competing with the sky, the formations are easily recognizable – the Southern Cross, Scorpio, the Big Dipper, and on and on and on. I gazed for a couple of hours and had the good fortune of seeing a shooting star.This was a terrific day.
Day 3 we began our journey touring a crater lake that was formed 10,000 years ago from a large volcano eruption that occurred over 100km away.The lake became a saltwater lake at that time because of the typhoon that was created from the eruption and hurled salt water into the crater.We climbed to the lake and found flying fish as well as other saltwater creatures. This lake is considered sacred and many people journey here to bathe and leave rocks hanging in the trees. Most leave a rock tied to the tree and make a wish. So we followed suit. All of us hung our rock and made silent wishes. What a delightful way to start the day. Afterwards we journeyed to the next island over to snorkel and water ski. I snorkeled for an hour and it was wonderful and then I went skiing. Now I had not done this in 15 years, so I was unsure if I could. Oh, what the heck, so I put on the skis and made it up the first time! It was great fun, but after three times I was exhausted. I tried to teach Darren and Tina how to do it, but they were not so successful – I think it was the teacher!
The rest of the day was spent reading on the deck, chatting and napping. We were on our way to Komodo Island a journey that was 14 hours away. We sailed all night and reached the island of Komodo early the next morning. This is the only place where the famous Komodo dragons still live in the wild. The whole island is a national park, so designated in 1907 and it is also home to over 150 different birds. We arrived, day 4, on the island around 7:00 am and began our guided journey through the park. A guide is required because there have been tourists killed by the dragons on the island. We quietly trekked around and about a half hour into our journey we saw our first dragon basking in the sun. It was wonderful watching this creature and the enormous tail makes no one doubt the ferocity of this creature.
We continued and saw beautiful orioles and cockatoos. This was the first time I had ever seen cockatoos in the wild. I so wished I had brought binoculars so I was thankful when Mike pulled out his. In fact I somewhat controlled them from that point on. No one else was as enthusiastic about the birds as I was, so I felt lucky having them for the day. We eventually saw seven more dragons, a great day according to tour guide, Franz. He said the most he had ever seen at one time was seven. So to see eight, we all felt quite fortunate.We saw other wildlife – wild boar, horses, deer and squirrels throughout the park.The dragons eat wild horses, deer, and boar, apparently their appetite for deer means they eat about one every day.
We were off and headed to a rough sailing area where the bay and the Indian Ocean meet. The waves and current were quite strong and we could see how a smaller boat would have a difficult time navigating this part of the journey. We did stop about an hour later at a beach that is called in Indonesian the "red beach". It is dubbed this name because of the abundance of red coral that exists here. The beach was the prettiest I had ever seen. The sand was so soft and it was pink because of the red coral. Absolutely breath-taking. We snorkeled for about an hour and it was the best snorkeling I had ever done. A wonderful array of soft and hard corals, incredible colors like you see in a book, and the fish were abundant and varied. I saw lion fish, cattle fish, a sting ray, parrot fish, angel fish and more.
We made our final stop that day at another beach where we snorkeled and swam. This was our beach dinner night and Mike and Gillian's last night with us. Oh what fun. We water-skied again and this time Mike was able to get up and it was fun watching him ski. The crew began setting up for our romantic dinner on the beach and the rest of us watched the sunset and then had a most enjoyable evening. The crew had a large barbecue for us that included shrimp/prawns, squid, steak, tuna fish and chicken. Wonderful! We all enjoyed dinner and enjoyed watching as the night came upon us. Around 9:00 pm the Ombak Putih's band, made up of members of the crew, serenaded us. We danced, laughed and joined in when there was a familiar tune. It was a beautiful evening, one which I desired companionship to share it with, but I was certainly thankful for those around me.
We sailed that evening to Bima. Unfortunately, Mike and Gillian had to leave Indonesia.The new Ambassador was coming in a day and it was against the rules to have two Ambassadors from the same country in Indonesia at the same time.We said our good-byes and left early for the very intense local Bima market. I have been to many local markets around the world, so I didn't expect anything different than what I had already seen, but I was mistaken.Franz took us to the section of the market where the chicken spinner was located. Now this was the most disgusting but ingenious thing I have ever seen. First the chicken spinner (man in charge of spinning) cuts the chicken's throat, which is still alive, the chicken is then placed in a boiling pot. After a couple of minutes the very alive, very stunned chicken is then thrown into a spinner and all of itsfeathers come off. The chicken is then kept alive until a buyer can be found. Now, I was grossed out by this, sick to my stomach and vowing to become a vegetarian. On the other hand, I thought this was a cleaver way to de-feather a chicken. No time is spent plucking the chicken and it reminded me of a 1950s commercial about a new fandangle washing machine.As we continued our journey through the market there were pungent smells of fish, spices and other aromas lingering in the thick hot morning air.
Our next stop was a village just 15 minutes from the Bima market known for its traditional dances. Upon our arrival the entire village (about 70) assembled for us and demonstrated five traditional dances that are done around harvesting time. The women of the village danced first.These dances were about planting the rice, how it is harvested and processed. The women were wonderful, warm and friendly and eager to show their traditions to us. The next dance was the sword and stick dance.
This was performed by two men and quite engaging. We had to step back in order not to be hit by the sword or bamboo stick. The final dance was the most anticipated. It was called the head-banger dance. It was fascinating. Two men with two young boys next to each of them would dance around. One of the men would stop and get into a stance (the young boy would as well -–kind of a protégée) and the other man would then charge and bang the man in the stance with his head - forehead to forehead. Wild. After the men each did that, the medicine man of the village joined in. The medicine man then took it upon himself to head-bang the men together. So what you have is two men at one side of the stage and the medicine man at the other. The medicine man then charged the two men, who had their ears touching each other and their foreheads in such a position that the medicine man's head hit the two men's head at the same time. It was crazy and all I could think of was “boy that must hurt,” it gave me chills.
As we were leaving Bima, Joyce asked that we stop at an elementary school. We did and this was such fun. The school superintendent was so pleased at our arrival. He assembled all of the classes, about 75 students, in one room and had them sing songs for us. Wow, all I could think of was where else would this happen? Most of the teachers were women and they were so friendly. I caught many of them laughing and pointing at me, so I wasn't sure what was being said. I knew it was not malicious, but I was curious. At the end of our tour at the school, one of the women who had been pointing and laughing came up to me and said how beautiful I was. She remarked that she and the other teachers thought I was pretty and she wanted me to know that. I was touched and it made me feel so good, what a lovely thing to say to someone.
We left Bima that afternoon and began to sail back. Our final full day would be stopping in East Lombock and then we would head back to Bali. It took most of the day and evening to sail to Lombock, so the rest of the day was spent on the deck reading, getting sun and enjoying another lovely sunset. We arrived the following morning (day 5) in Lombock. Darren and Tina decided to take the canoe and play on the water and beaches for the day and Gary, Joyce and I went with Franz to the villages of East Lombock. Here we toured the villages where the women hand-make pottery. They create the pottery in a very primitive way, all by hand and it turns out beautifully.
Because it is dried in the sun, it is more brittle than pottery fired in a kiln. After this village, we went to a village where they weave bamboo, rattan and grass. The array of baskets, purses, placemats, bowels and more were astonishing. Beautiful, so wish I had room in my backpack. I had a great time here. Several of the women pulled me to their house and sat me on the floor and taught me how to weave the bamboo. They also piled the floor full of things they had made and I was an instant customer!
We left and went to the next village where the women weave beautiful cloth. We saw women of all ages weaving all on the porches of their homes. The looms sit on their laps and run parallel to the ground. They spend their entire lives weaving, every day for hours at end. It was amazing, hard work and many were in need of glasses. These are the poorest villages we had seen and you could tell by looking at the children who were terribly skinny and had potbellies, a sure sign of malnutrition. Our final stop that day was at a village where traditional dance is taught to the children. This village, aside from farming, had no other way of producing income. Unlike the pottery, weaving and cloth making, this village was the poorest of the poor. They are working with UNICEF on ways to teach the villagers other skills and helping them capture some of the tourist dollars by performing their traditional dances.
Back on the ship for our final evening, the entire crew of 15 had dinner with us. It was great fun as the captain cut the conical shaped rice and we all dug in. We gave the crew their tips and then had a kissing line with Tina, Joyce and myself. A “French” kiss – one kiss on each cheek was given and for some of the crew it seemed that they were more pleased with this than with their tips.
What an incredible week, great adventures, wonderful people and a sense of peace. It was magical to be on the water, watch the incredible simplicity of life that I take for granted – the sunrise, sunset and stars. How easy life really is, and how easily I forget. This was a great way to add perspective to my life. Sailing slows one down a little and forces you to go with the wind, so to speak. I was able to see a part of the world few outsiders see and increase my sense of place in the world and continue to build my respect for others, and truly understand how very lucky I am to have the good fortune to travel.
Lessons learned from an intrepid traveler:
1. I need take an astronomy class. I never realized how much I didn't know about the sky and how much I wanted to learn about it.
2. Buy things from the villagers. If only a small amount every dollar or rupiah counts to them. I purchased a few things, how could I not sitting on the floor surrounded by beautiful gifts with women smiling ear to ear.
3. Get up everyday and enjoy the sunrise. You can always take a nap or go back to sleep. Stop at the end of the day and enjoy the sunset.
4. Learn to dive not matter what your ears think. I have never learned to dive because my ears won't pop. I get vertigo after about 10m. Gary and Joyce are about 60 and avid divers. Gary had the same problem, and refused to let it stop him. I will now try and figure out how to do the same.
5. Learn to sail. My next class after astronomy will be how to sail.
6. Get to know the crew! These guys were wonderful. Most of them are in their 20s and married living away from their family for up to six months at a time. They are charming, warm and so sincere. I stayed up late a couple of nights drinking the local alcohol ARAK (icky) and dancing with them.
7. Start a murder mystery novel with the other passengers. When we were on Komodo Island Gillian and I created the beginnings of a murder mystery involving the crew, passengers and very colorful tour guide!
On the eve of our trip to Egypt, I thought an entry in the blog would be appropriate. Tomorrow I embark on the trip of a lifetime with my partner, Brad and his mom, Nancy. This trip has been in the works for several months and we are all equally excited to see what Egypt has in store for us.
We leave on one of those ridiculously early flights. So early in fact that you wonder whether it makes sense to go to bed. It is 6:18 PM and if I went to bed right now and by right now I mean fell asleep typing this entry, I would get less than 8 hours of sleep. Yikes! I am hoping my inevitable exhaustion will keep me asleep at the right times during our flights tomorrow. We leave from LAX and head to Chicago, on to Frankfurt and then into Cairo. The whole ordeal takes 28 hours, end-to-end.
Like many travelers, we have gone budget in the past to extend our time away from home. But this trip is different. We splurged and upgraded the flights to First and Business class. I am hoping the extra coin pays off with fully flat sleeper seats and edible food. I have this vision I will arrive in Cairo refreshed and energetic. Ready to take on the day! I will snap a photo when we land and let you be the judge.
Until my next stable internet connection--Bill
Guten Morgen von Frankfurt!We are more than half way through our journey to Cairo.Just four hours left in the air, but about two hours to kill in the airport.Brad and I ducked into the Lufthansa lounge and I thought I should post a quick update while I had the chance.
Brad’s mom made a friend on the plane and is downstairs dispensing motherly advice to Alesandra, a Polish exchange student returning home after spending time with a family in Minnesota.This is one of the simple pleasures of travel.You have the opportunity to interact with people you would never come across in any other part of your life.
If you have not been, Frankfurt airport suffers from severe over signage.In an effort to direct the weary travel in the right direction, they have gone too far.It is easily one of the most confusing places to pass through.Throw in jet lag, a language barrier and confusing signs and you have a travel recipe for disaster.As we slowly made our way through the airport, I was struck by one of the signs.I have included a picture.I am not sure what this says to you, but to me it screams, “GET OUT!THERE IS SOMETHING HORRIBLE RIGHT BEHIND YOU!”It elicits an immediate sense of panic.I actually feel sorry for the poor little stick man running for his life.But, perhaps this is what the German sign makers intended.Either way, their exits are clearly marked.
I am a travel snob.I will admit it.It is a condition I don’t wish to fix or hide.Nothing makes me happier than an upgrade to First class.
As I mentioned, we upgraded to First/Business for this trip, and let me tell you, it was worth every penny!I have included a picture from Lufthansa’s brand new Business class cabin.These little pods make into fully flat sleeper seats and are actually comfortable.You slide down into the plastic cocoon and the arm rests drop away giving you a 6’4” bed.A slice of heaven in the sky!Add on to that unlimited champagne and a 12” personal video screen and I kind of don’t care where we are going.“Captain, circle the globe until the champagne runs dry or we run out gas.Which ever comes first.”
We made it!After 26 hours of travel, we are in Cairo.Landing at the airport is the perfect visual introduction to the country and the city.As you descend into the desert, you can see the struggle the Ciarenes have had in building this city.Not only is it a harsh climate, but Cairo is one of the most polluted cities in the world.They wage a daily war to claim their "Paris on the Nile" back from the land.The skyline is dotted with modern structures, pockets of fertile farmland and the minarets of the cities’ mosques.This is all set sharply in context with the pyramids of Giza looming just outside the city wall. They sit like grand old gentleman keeping a watchful eye on their beloved city.
Our tour company met us at the airport and whisked us through customs.We were deposited in a minivan and started the drive to our hotel.You have not properly risked your life until you have driven the streets of Cairo.I have been to some dodgy places, but nothing beats the traffic and lack of order like the highways in this city.Add to the mix people riding camels in downtown Cairo and the chaos is complete.
As the sun is setting on our first day in Cairo, I am thrilled to be on this adventure.This photo is from our balcony at Sofitel Le Sphinx hotel.In the distance I can hear the muezzin’s call to prayer for the faithful gathering in the cities mosques and I am struck by how truly exotic this city feels.One guide book I read said Cairo is a tough city, but if you love her, she will love you back.Right now, Cairo and I are in strong like.
Our second day in Cairo was spent exploring the city.The day started at the great pyramids.There are three in total for the Kings Khufu, Khafre and Menkaure.The oldest one dates back as
far as 2570 B.C.The shape of the pyramid is attributed to the Egyptian’s worship of the sun god Ra.The idea being when the King was buried in the pyramid (tomb), his spirit would ascend through the top to join Ra in the sky.Egyptologists do not share a consensus on how the pyramids were constructed.Some say an internal structure was first built to support the weight of the pyramid.Others say aliens may have been involved.Either way, they are immense structures that would challenge today’s best structural engineers.
From the pyramids we traveled down a small road to the elegant Sphinx.The head is of a man, symbolizing intelligence, and the body a lion, indicating great power and strength.The Sphinx is the guardian of all royal tombs.It is referred to as the timeless Sphinx, since no one can document the exact time period in which it was built.The nose has been missing for hundreds of years and some attributed this to a battle fought on site by Napoleon.More probable, is the theory that a band of rebels in the area used to play target practice with the Sphinx and one of them clearly had a good shot.
The day ended with shopping at a local bazaar and a chat around the hookah in a café.Tomorrow is an early day.We head to Luxor to start our Nile cruise and a visit to the Pillars of Karnack.
I want to make it clear I am not complaining about being on vacation.With that said, I am tired!In the four days I have been away from home, I have slept less than 5 hours per night.We have seen amazing sites, but a little break from the early morning schedule would be appreciated.
Today we got up at 1:30 AM and left the hotel about an hour later to make the drive to Cairo’s domestic airport.The airport was a site to behold.It mainly serves Luxor and Aswan, two tourist destinations.The check-in and security process was absolute bedlam.I wish I had taken a picture of the scene, but it was wall to wall people in a very tight space.The security consisted of an x-ray machine circa 1982 that beeped for every single person in line.I pushed down any fear I had by deciding it was good when it beeped and bad if it was silent.Once we made it through security, we stood for a few minutes in the packed departure hall before some man shouted out our flight number.The PA system either did not work or never existed.The whole thing was like a terrible travel movie.The only thing missing was the requisite chicken running loose to complete the scene.
We landed in Luxor and made a short drive from the airport to our boat, The King Ramses of the Nile.We went through a lottery system to assign rooms.Brad picked our number and got us one of the worst rooms on the boat.I know this was not his fault, but he feels bad and I am going to use it to my advantage for as long as I can!Our room is at eye level with the water, which gives one the sensation of drowning.We are next to the engine room, so as I type this I can feel our walls shaking.It also smells like gasoline down here.I have decided if I can’t take the smell or the noise, I can just light a match and take care of the whole boat in about 10 seconds!
After a snack and a break, we headed off to the Pillars of Karnack.I was not sure what to expect from this site.From the parking lot, it looked like two large sandstone walls with sphinx statues lining the entrance.However, once I walked past this area I was blown away by the sheer size and beauty of this temple.
The Pillars of Karnack (or as Brad likes to refer to them, “The Pillars of Johnny Carson”), date back to as early as 1920 B.C.The complex consists of various temples and obelisks dedicated to the Theban gods and pharaohs.The main structure is the Temple of Amun, which is the largest religious building ever built.The scale is grand and reminds me (in a good way) of what I imagine the set of an Indian Jones movie to look like.It even included scaffolding and workers restoring the ancient scenes carved in the sandstone walls.
For many this is the high light of a trip to Egypt and I have to say I agree.An additional bonus specific to our trip was seeing Ben Stiller and Chris Rock.I was not quick enough to snap a picture of Chris, but I did get a good one of Ben enjoying some history.
This morning we had a bit of a break and a chance to sleep in.We toured a small temple in the town of Esna.We spent the rest of the day on the river cruising through a picturesque landscape of rugged desert mountains in the distance and lush Palm Trees and farmland along the Nile.It was absolutely peaceful.We have also been playing cut-throat Uno with some of our shipmates to pass the time.
In the late afternoon we arrived in the port of Edfu.We traveled by horse drawn carriage to The Temple of Horus. As the sun was setting, we had the privilege of viewing this spectacular place in the most beautiful light.Construction for the Temple of Horus was started in 246 B.C.It was dedicated to the cult following the falcon god.This temple structure is considered by Egyptologists to be the best preserved in Egypt.
We arrived this morning in the city of Aswan.This is one of the most southern points you can cruise to on the Nile, because of the great Aswan damn built by the British.The town is a bustling city with about 2 million residents.The Nile is wide at this point and contains many granite islands, which the Egyptians used to quarry to build their temples.
Abu Simbel is on the agenda today.This is one of the most visited sites in all of Egypt.It lies in a remote part of the country in the western desert about 40 KM from the border of Sudan.To get to Abu Simbel, we took a short bus ride to the Aswan airport and boarded a plane.As many of you know, I am an avid traveler for business and pleasure.I don’t get scared flying, but between you and me, this experience was a little scary.
We get to the airport and Sam, our tour guide; let us know we were flying Memphis Air and not Egypt Air.Egypt Air was dicey, so I imagined Memphis Air might be just a notch below them.He goes on to tell us they don’t assign seats.Neither does Southwest, so I don’t give this detail another thought.Then Sam continues by sharing we will get a boarding card in the airport and it won’t have our name on it or maybe anyone’s name in our group.Memphis Air just hands you a boarding card and as long as you have one, no problem.This sounds sketchy, but I am a seasoned traveler, so I go with the flow.
We passed through airport security and receive our boarding cards.I have been renamed by Memphis Air and should now be referred to as Monica.We board a small bus and head out on the tarmac to our plane.From the outside it looks like a relatively new MD-80, however, from the inside it is another story.The interior of the plane is a wreck.Dirty ceiling (which makes you wonder, “How did the ceiling get dirty?”), walls and torn seats.If Memphis Air ever revamped their fleet, this plane would be a prime candidate for the “before” photo.Since there are no assigned seats, I made my way to the back of the plane and found a seat next to an Egyptian woman who appeared to be a tour guide.Right before takeoff, one of the flight attendants signaled to her and she proceeded to the front of the plane and entered the cockpit.The door closed and the plane started down the runway.I am not sure what that was about and I probably do not want to know.As we tore down the runway, I can see the wall next to me expand and contract as the cabin is pressurized.I say a small pray and hope for the best.
Since I am typing this blog, I am sure you can guess we made it.We landed at a tiny airport and boarded a bus to Abu Simbel.The site of Abu Simbel sits squarely in the desert, but has a water front view of Lake Nasser.This is the largest manmade lake in the world.From the entrance, it is difficult to tell what makes Abu Simbel a point of interest.From the backside of the structure, it looks like a large stone and sand hill, but as you work your way around, it is impossible to prepare for the awesome temple built into the rocky hillside.
Abu Simbel contains two temples one to Ramses II and the other to Hathor, the bovine goddess.Both were built between 1244 and 1274 B.C.King Ramses built this temple in a remote area to firmly assert his reign of power had no limits.His temple is impressive with four statues of himself flanking the entrance.To the right of his temple, stands a smaller structure, but no less impressive.This was dedicated to Hathor and King Ramses’ wife, Queen Nefetari.Nefetari is believed to be the most beautiful queen in Egyptian history.The other noteworthy fact is the statues of Nefetari and Ramses are the same height.As was the custom in this time, the King would always be larger than his wife.Ramses was rumored to be so in love with Nefetari he saw her as his equal.There is further evidence to this idea inside her temple.There is a wall carving showing King Ramses kneeling before his Queen.
Of all the sites we have toured to date, I think Abu Simbel was by far my favorite.The scale of the temple and the setting alongside beautiful Lake Nasser made for an ideal experience.After the tour, we went back to the airport and boarded the same plane back to Aswan.On this flight, Monica was renamed Mrs. Nancy.
At the end of our first day in Aswan, we sailed the Nile in a Felucca.A Felucca is a traditional sailboat used in the Nile river valley.The weather has been absolutely beautiful and today was no exception.There was a light breeze on the water and the temperature was a balmy 80 degrees.Our captain and crew sang us a traditional Nubian song as the sun set behind the mausoleum of Aga Khan.This was a perfect moment in time.The only thing that could have made it better would have been a cold drink with a lot of ice!
Last month my husband and I brought our three children, aged 13, 12, and 4, on our first European vacation. It was a simply fantastic trip. Thanks for reading!
FRIDAY Our first day in London was a little rough. The flight over was great - very smooth, comfortable ride, Will slept most of the time. Everyone around him on the plane thought he was so cute when we were taking off and he said, "We're goin' up! We're goin' UP!" Funny, though, they were not as impressed upon landing, when he shouted, "We're goin' down! We're goin' DOWN!!" But anyway, we landed at Heathrow at 6:10am London time, which for us translated into 1:10 in the morning, our time. Of course we could not check-in to our hotel until 3pm, but they did store our bags for us so we could do some exploring. We call it, Extremely Tired Zombie Americans Take On London. We did a lot, though, including the National Gallery, where we saw several famous works of art - including DaVinci's Virgin of the Rocks, Van Eyck's The Arnolfini Marriage, and Van Gogh's Sunflowers. We found an outdoor cafe in Victoria Embankment Park, where for our first English meal, Jack ordered the "American Breakfast." This was basically just eggs, bacon, hash browns and toast, and, for some reason, baked beans, which I have honestly never been given with breakfast in an American restaurant. Our room still not ready, we wandered across the Jubilee Bridge to the southbank of the Thames. There we boarded the London Eye, a rather big ferris wheel type observation ride. We really enjoyed the ride, and when our pod reached the top, we were able to see a beautiful panoramic view of the city. For dinner, we wandered into a quaint little English market (imagine, if you will, a 7-11), grabbed a loaf of bread, a jar of peanut butter, and yes, because we are on vacation and all, some jelly. All-in-all, a great first day.
SATURDAY Today was a gorgeous day - plenty of sunshine, temps in the 70s. We are having a little trouble getting rolling in the morning, although I am not surprised - it takes me a good five days to get used to DST, which is only an hour different than what we are used to! We found a little Italian coffee shop called Costa right around the corner, which is exactly next door to a little American coffee shop called Starbucks, which is twenty yards away from another little American coffee shop called Starbucks, which is next to another... well, you get the picture. We fueled up on blueberry muffins and massimo (not grande, massimo!) mocha lattes and headed for Waterloo Pier on the Thames. Here we caught our double-decker boat for a tour of the Thames and the city of London. It was the perfect day for it. Our first stop was Greenwich and the Royal Observatory. We walked through a beautiful park and up a hill to the Observatory, where we walked on the Prime Meridian and stood in both the Western and Eastern hemispheres, and sychronized our watches to the Greenwich Mean Time clock. After lunch (at a Mexican restaurant, of course) we headed back to the boat for the trip back. We disembarked at Westminster Pier and walked around Parliment, Big Ben, and Westminster Abbey before heading for St. James Park and Buckingham Palace. All in all it was a good little explore of the city and helped us get our bearings a bit.
SUNDAY We are getting a little better with this morning thing. We hit Costa again for breakfast then made our way down to the Tube. We seemed to navigate things pretty well, people were asking us for help, poor souls... we rode the tube to Tower Hill where we found the infamous Tower of London. William the Conqueror built the White Tower in 1077, and his successors expanded it. It served most famously as a prison and execution site - this is where Anne Boleyn and Lady Jane Grey (among others) met the chopping block. It's most recent prisoner was Rudolf Hess, one of Hitler's henchmen in WWII. Today the Crown Jewels are housed here. We took a tour led by a Yeoman Warder, aka Beefeater, then explored a bit on our own - seeing the Crown Jewels, Traitors Gate, Tower Green, and the towers that imprisoned Princess Elizabeth, Sir Walter Raleigh, and the two young princes kidnapped during the War of Roses in 1483.
After exploring the Tower, we headed back to our tube stop and decided to explore a different area of the city. We walked from our hotel in Trafalgar Square to Leicester Square, which can best be described as the Theater District, and on to Piccadilly Circus, which is pretty much Times Square without the really tall skyscrapers. We tried to avoid it, but we somehow ended up in the Trocadero, a huge, garish mall-slash-arcade place. The kids eyes lit up just as John's and mine started to glaze over. They of course went right for those "claw" games, where you try to manuever the claw to pick up some prize and drop it in the hole so you can get it. And this claw machine had iPODS in it! Now, any of you who have been to Gators with us know that we tell the kids EVERY TIME that they would do better flushing their money down the toilet, they can't win those games. And you also know that EVERY TIME Jack comes back a winner. Well, he wasn't as lucky this time. Leah, on the other hand... hello, little purple ipod shuffle!
MONDAY Today we decided to go total tourist and get tickets for the double-decker tour bus. We are so glad we did - we saw all of London, and were able to "hop-on, hop-off" at any stop. Our first hop-off was to St. Paul's Cathedral, an amazingly beautiful church in the city. The cathedral was destroyed in the Great Fire of 1666, and rebuilt by Christopher Wren. It's dome stands 365 feet high. After St. Paul's we rode through West London, past 10 Downing Street, Kensington Gardens & Palace, the Marble Arch, Hyde Park, and so many other sights. Our next stop was Harrod's, the immense department store where rumor has it, you can buy anything you want. Ronald Reagan once asked if he could buy an elephant. The Harrod's employee did not miss a beat and replied, "Asian or African, sir?" We decided against purchasing any wild animals this time, but we did spend some time in the toy department and bought some fudge on the way out! We got back on the bus, and then we saw a celebrity, so we jumped off to have our picture taken with... Justin Timberlake! He was pretty cool, but seemed a little, distant. Stiff. Waxy. We also saw some of his waxy friends at Madame Tussaud's. After hitting the Beatles Shop (across the street from the Rolling Stones Shop), and searching for Abbey Road (we didn't find it), we finished the evening at a true English pub, The Sherlock Holmes, where we (well, some of us) ate fish & chips and mushy peas. And tea.
TUESDAY Our last day in London. Buckingham Palace does the Changing of the Guard ceremony on odd days this month, and as luck would have it, today is April 29! We made our way down the Mall to the Palace, every now and then dodging raindrops. We waited outside the wrought iron gates, along with what may have been every other tourist in London. Gotta do it, though! Right on time, the Guards, accompanied by the Horse Guards and the band, march down the street and through the Palace gates. After much pomp, circumstance, and rifle-twirling, they were on their way out again. We walked from the Palace gates through the beautiful St. James Park and on to Westminster Abbey.
If all I did on this entire trip was walk through Westminster Abbey, it would have absolutely been worth every minute and every penny. It is literally the most staggeringly beautiful place I have ever seen. I cannot even begin to describe it. Photography is not allowed inside, and believe it or not I am grateful for that because no photo that I could have taken would do justice to what I remember it to be. I am very drawn to English history and to walk through the halls of this place and actually touch the tomb of Queen Elizabeth was indescribable. We also beheld the final resting places of many others, including Mary, Queen of Scots; Anne of Cleves; Henry V; Henry VII and Elizabeth of York; Edward the Confessor; Geoffrey Chaucer, Charles Dickens; Rudyard Kipling; George Handel; Sir Laurence Olivier; Charles Darwin and Sir Issac Newton. And that was how I wanted to remember London, so we walked across Westminster Bridge to the South Bank and had a great lunch at Giraffe, a funky restaurant with a motto I can believe in. Then we headed back to the hotel to do laundry and pack up. Early morning wake-up call tomorrow, when we board the Eurostar and head to the Chunnel for Paris!
WEDNESDAY Today was another adventure - we boarded the Eurostar at St. Pancras Station in London and headed for Paris! It was an excellent way to go. Fast, smooth ride, breakfast served at our seats... we just sat back, relaxed, and watched the French countryside roll by. We disembarked at Marne La Vallee-Chessy, the station serving Disneyland Paris, and made our way to the hotel. After checking in, we walked around Disney Village, ate dinner at Rainforest Cafe, and hit the hotel pool, complete with water slides and screaming children. Mon Dieu, are we back in Orlando?
Cheers, London! You surpassed my expectations - we shall meet again.
Bonjour, Paris!
THURSDAY Happy May Day to all!
May Day (May 1) is a holiday celebrated in many parts of the world, including France. There is no school, no work, and lots of places are closed. Guess what lots and lots of people decided to do today, on their day off? Yes. They came to Disneyland Paris.
We had fun, though, despite the crowds and intermittent rain. We visited one of the two parks today - Disneyland. It is set up a lot like Magic Kingdom, with several "lands" spoking out from the castle in the middle. Here we saw Sleeping Beauty's castle rather than Cinderella's, complete with a fire-breathing dragon in the basement. We saw some familiar sights: Big Thunder Railroad, the Carousel, Buzz Lightyear, Space Mountain; and some new ones: Pinnochio's Voyage ride, and an Indiana Jones roller coaster.
It was a nice, relaxing day - tomorrow we hit the City of Lights!
FRIDAY After a pleasant French breakfast at our hotel, we ventured to the RER station to catch the train into the city. Everything went smoothly and we disembarked at Charles de Gaulle Etoille. The very first thing we saw as we walked up the stairs from the underground was the amazingly immense Arc de Triomphe. This became our starting point as we made our way down the Champs-Elysees, which is the grandest boulevard in Paris - the beautiful tree-lined street is littered with high-end shopping and outdoor cafes. Perfect for high-heeled women in mini-skirts walking with their little poodles! We wandered down to the Seine, where we boarded a batobus - a hop-on, hop-off glass walled & ceilinged tour boat. We cruised down the river and back again, fi nally hopping off at Tour Eiffel. We walked around it, enjoying the many different views. I always kind of thought it was just a really big erector set, but it really is beautiful. The whole area surrounding the Tower is a park, with lots of green grass, gorgeous flowers and blooming trees. The only disappointing thing was the line to get in. It was as if every line at every Disney ride had converged to make one Super Line and take over the world. So we took some pictures and got on with our lives.
We walked around a bit searching for lunch, and found a cafe back on the Champs-Elysees. We ate some sandwiches on baguettes (Leah had a croissant and a pain du chocolat). We strolled through Nike Paris and then found the hugest Hagen-Daas shop ever, and got some ice cream. We then decided to call it a day and head back to our hotel. We will be back tomorrow for more sightseeing! Hope all is well with all you yanks over in the New World.
SATURDAY Today we made our way back into Paris. First on our list to visit today was Notre Dame. We walked through the beautiful cathedral and around the outside. We did not get up into the tower, though (see yesterday's post regarding the lines).
We then took a stroll through the city, over the river and past the Sorbonne to Luxembourg Gardens. We found a little shop that made baguette sandwiches, paninis and crepes - so we got some lunch and had a little picnic in the park. Then a French policewoman yelled at everyone to get off the grass so we moved the picnic to a bench.
After lunch we headed back to the river where we got back on the batobus and cruised around the river to the Louvre. The museum is amazing. We saw the Venus di Milo and The Mona Lisa, but the most impressive art was the building's architecture!
After the Louvre we headed back to the hotel. Tomorrow we plan to get in to the city a little later, so we can be there in the evening and see why they call Paris the City of Lights!
SUNDAY We covered a lot of ground today. And I have the blisters on my feet to prove it! We got in to the hotel after midnight, so I'm afraid this will be a short post... I will try to add to it later on.
We had a relatively late breakfast and headed for the city around
11:30am. We took the train to PereLaChaise Cemetery, wandered around, got a fantastic real French lunch in Place d'Gambetta, hopped on the Metro and visited the Centre Pompidou (where I finally got up high enough to see an awesome panoramic view of Paris), got some nutella crepes and glace, then walked about 100 miles through the city, along the river, and finally crashed on the Champ du Mars in front of the Tour Eiffel in time for sunset (which, strangely enough, is not until 9:15pm here) and to see the tower light up - which is every bit as magical as they say. It was a great last day in Paris. Tomorrow we do the last Disney park and then Tuesday it is back stateside!
MONDAY Back to Disneyland! Today we visited the other Disney park, Walt Disney Studios. A lot like MGM in Orlando, but much smaller. We (some of us) did Rockin' Roller Coaster, the Backlot Tour, Flying Carpets over Agrabah (like Dumbo), Cars Rally (like teacups, but in cars from the movie), and the Cinamagique and Animagique shows. We also rode on Crush's Coaster, a roller coaster ride based on the turtles from Finding Nemo. Disneyland Paris is the only WDW park that has this ride, so it was new to us! The guys went first and convinced Leah and I to try it, they said it was so much fun. They lie. Actually, Leah loved it, and I agree it was very well done. That's all I will say about that.
Will got to meet a lot of characters, he got a kick out of them and enjoyed posing.
TUESDAY Today we head home. We have had an outstanding 12 days in Europe, and I think we are all ready to return to reality for awhile. At least until our next adventure!
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A Big Weekend in the Big Apple
My travel log will give a colorful glimpse of our family’s first ever weekend in New York City with practical tips for your own family’s Gotham Get-away.
Thursday, July 3rd - Start Spreading the News
Reunions are great, especially when you meet loved ones in some new exciting location. Such was the case over the 2008 Fourth of July weekend for the Sullivan Family (Bob, Rhonda, and Joanna) traveling to New York City to visit our eldest daughter, Elaina, during her storybook summer as a fashion intern at Kate Spade (KS) in Manhattan. (Picture an “Ugly Betty’, minus the ugly.)
Delta Airlines carried the three southern Sullivans safely and comfortably from Atlanta, Georgia’s massive Hartsfield-Jackson Airport (ATL) to the much smaller - but conveniently located - Newark, New Jersey Airport (EWR). Upon arrival, we caught a cab to our budget-wise hotel in Secaucus, NJ, a veritable “stones throw” from the island of Manhattan. Our cabbie, apparently the only NASCAR driver from Ghana, drove us to our hotel in a New York minute. Consequently, I could have missed some of the scenic beauty on the NJ side of the Hudson. To be fair to Newarkians, I did have my eyes closed most of the trip.
A Dollar Saved is a Dollar Earned
Our planned “family reunion” was to begin with the “something past-noon” arrival of our little fashion maven, Elaina, meeting us at the Hilton Garden Inn (HGI), Secaucus, NJ - our base of operations. This is a very nice hotel if your big city budget is not that big. While not directly on the island of Manhattan, the daily price (about half the typical cost of a New York hotel) makes the bus transit trips to and from the hotel well worth it.
We took a short and inexpensive bus trip departing from a bus stop located right in front of our hotel. I wore comfortable shoes and brought a backpack to store maps, cameras, snack and a water bottle or two. The 2:15 PM bus #190 took us through the Lincoln Tunnel under the Hudson River. The bus stopped in Times Square at the NJ Transit Station in Manhattan. Mental Picture: Envision a giant ant farm cube, the part of the ants played by myriad humans traveling here and there in the multi-level farm. We walked toward daylight only to find many more of the ants had spilled out and were roaming 42nd Street.
As the daughters (20 and 17) led the way through the milling crowd, a momentary flashback pictures them still as 7 and 4. I’m tempted for second to invoke the old “buddy-system” and command them to hold each others hands, but I squelch the paternal instinct. Instead, I bravely squeeze Rhonda’s hand for her/my reassurance. On we go.
Island Survival Rule #1 - Seek Food
Island Survival Rule #2 - Seek Shelter
We continued northward until we approached the trees of Central Park. We turned right and passed Mickey Mantle’s Restaurant. A bit further east and we passed The Oak Bar, where I understand Frank Sinatra’s entourage would hang out till "The Wee Small Hours of the Morning". Just before the corner at 5th Avenue, we spotted a good place to stay if you’re "Home Alone and Lost in New York", The Plaza Hotel. Slightly intimidated, we nevertheless ascended the red carpeted stairs behind intrepid Elaina and passed through the elegantly chandeliered lobby. We stopped and spoke with Grace, the aptly-named hostess at the Palm Restaurant. Grace remembered Elaina from her late-night visit with some fashion friends after an upscale cosmetics event the previous week. Behind Grace in the center of the restaurant is a harpist, pleasantly strumming "My Funny Valentine". Everything seemed “pleasant” at The Plaza Hotel, clearly their intent. I tell myself that at the Hilton Garden Inn, I will get a perfectly pleasant complimentary breakfast in the morning, something the Plaza guests won’t. We took photos of some beautiful floral arrangements - which probably cost more than our combined Delta airfare – and we saunter out, pleasantly.
"Conspicuous Consumption Galore"
Outside on the sidewalk, our Gotham-guide, Elaina, paused and withdrew from her large purse a pair of Kate Spade sandals with hot pink seahorses on the top. “In this part of town”, she explained, “I’ve learned that store people size you up by looking down at your feet.” She buries her walking shoes into her large KS purse and we trotted over next door to Bergdorf Goodman (BG). [Unofficial BG’s Motto: “Our prices will melt the stripe off your Platinum Plus card while it's still in your purse.”] As we breeze through the store past a rack of $500 scarves, I watch more than one impeccably dressed sales associate smile politely and nod at Elaina. As the last Sullivan in the procession passed, their eyes raised to see who is wearing size 10 running shoes. Their perfunctory smile faded slightly when they get to me and my backpack. They quickly glanced at the next, more promising prospect. I reassure myself by remembering that “All that’s gold doesn’t glitter” and I speed up to catch up with the seahorses.
Tiffanys is a Diamond's Best Freind ......................
I felt better once we left BG’s and we joined the sidewalk herd moving down 5th Avenue. Across the street, Louis Vuitton’s electra-color window display seductively gleamed at us as if to say, “Mortgage your house and I’ll make you a nice deal on a purse”. We ignore the implied offer and press onward. Next door, the stately house of Tiffany whispered demurely to us like Zsa Zsa Gabor. “Dahhhling, ve both know you vant me. Vy dun’t you come in.” The accent got us, so ve vent in. Needing a rest, I chose to let the ladies wander around without me. I parked myself inside at the front of the store on a green velvet bench to comfortably wait for the sparkley-eyed girls to return. When the girls returned we exited with the same net worth we walked in with, “Whew”!
Hey Donald! Sorry We Missed Ya
I'm Late, I'm Late...
We continued our foot-tour by trekking through Central Park (The Park). Elaina detours briefly to show Joanna, a big Lewis Carroll fan, the Park’s brass sculpture of "Alice in Wonderland". This beautiful sculpture is just north of the toy sail boat pond seen in the movie, "Stuart Little". In The Park, Rhonda and I get momentarily acquainted with a park bench. Behind us I noticed a gathering group of women donning grass skirts for a Polynesian dance practice. You will see just about anything in “The Park”.
"IMAGINE" THAT
If Walls Could Talk
Leaving the Park, we pass by “The Dakota,” a posh behemoth residential facility where John Lennon once lived. The stately Dakota was so named because at the time of its construction - before the Dakota Territories became states - people mocked its remoteness on Manhattan as being constructed in the "Dakota Territories". This place is about a city block wide and has a drive-in motor car courtyard. It also has gas lamps which gives it an "old world" look.
"Now That's Italian"
Hungry again, we cross Columbus Street in search of a restaurant and reach Broadway, the longest street on Manhattan. We decide on Italian food and walk down to a place called Pomodoro’s with its bistro-style sidewalk seating. The owner, Peter, graciously seats us at the perfect sidewalk table under the awning of his restaurant. Soon, a generous plate of warm toasted foccacia bread was served with a side bowl of roasted garlic-infused olive oil and the saltiest green and black olives on the planet (this must help wine sales). Joanna had the Pomodoro (tomato) soup in a “bishop” bread bowl (Kelly Rippa spoke glowingly of this on Live with Regis and Kelly show), Elaina and Rhonda shared a salad for two and I had the mega-bowl of penne pasta with Italian sausage and portobello mushrooms. Dessert temptation is a hard thing to resist, so we share two: Tiramisu and Berries and Cream with a Cappacino. Yum! We thanked Peter for a fabulous meal and set off down Broadway.
"Trying to Get A HEAD"
We crossed the street to see the spectacular diamond-shaped lights at Lincoln Center. We
passed several other impressive buildings as we headed south, the ABC Studios, the Trump International Hotel and the Time-Warner Towers, to name a few. It was dark so we headed further south on 8th Avenue and entered the uber-watted Times Square region. There, we noticed an enormous plastic head of Eddie Murphy, a movie promotion prop the size of a Ryder truck, in the median. People lined up to actually stick their head out of Murphy's nostriles. Yuck!
The day that started in Atlanta and ended in New York came to a close as we hopped a bus back to the Secaucus HGI, a good place to be if your home alone and lost in New Jersey.
Friday, July 4th : Happy Birthday America !
Having already seen parts of the northern side of NYC, we opted to see lower Manhattan. We had been told by our friendly HGI staff several good places to watch the 4th of July fireworks over the East River after dark. After a terrific, made-to-order egg-white omlette (complimentary with Hilton Rewards Points), the Sullivan clan caught the next bus to Times Square. There we opted to purchase the 2-day GrayLine Bus Tour package for seeing the various parts of city. [Caveat Emptor: Be cautious in dealing with the besmocked Bus Tour agents that that swarm at Times Square street corners. Know which Tour Option you are purchasing and get a clear explanation of the hop-on, hop-off rules.] This two-day transportation purchase worked out well for us in that we saw far more of the city than we would have otherwise been able to see traveling by foot alone.
A Little Bit Too Much Bronzer
Heading northward on foot, we walked onto Wall Street, saw the New York Stock Exchange and nearby, the fortress-like, Federal Reserve Bank of New York. The festive sounds and smells of a street festival captured our attention en route to the South Street Seaport and nearby shops. There, Elaina and Joanna posed with a Remington-esque street performer. The seaport on the East River was crowded with holiday tourists, all of whom – it seemed - wanted to board a GrayLine bus. Eventually we boarded a bus and traveled past the Brooklyn Bridge, the Chinatown, Soho, the United Nations building, Rockefeller Center and back at Times Square.
Saturday, July 5th
"New York, I'm Glad I MET Ya"
The misty rain the next morning directed the family to see the Upper Manhattan sights from the comfort of the GrayLine bus. We saw a lot of famous movie and TV settings in this area: When Harry Met Sally, You’ve Got Mail and Seinfeld to name a few. We went through Harlem and circled back south on 5th past Daddy Warbucks’ mansion (Little Orphan Annie) just north of the Metropolitan Museum of Art. We toured the Met for a couple of hours while the sky clears above. We saw as much as we can of their ubiquitous rooms, corridors and halls full of priceless art pieces.
Later that day we ate at the famous Carnegie Deli. I ordered the open-face Reuben. The truth is, the four of us could have tried to eat the Reuben that I ordered (it was humongous). It tased better than it looks.
Sandwich Psychology Note: Somewhere beneath the pastrami is a slice of rye bread with a severe inferiority complex.
Afterward, we strolled south and saw Rockefeller Center one more time before catching the bus to the Hilton. This art deco style building is truly beautiful, especially at night. This Freedom weekend, an artist's large metallic replica model of Rockefeller Center was on display in the Center’s courtyard. It was the perfect last impression of our amazing weekend in New York City.
Sunday, July 6th
Give My Regards to Broadway
Our final day together as a family were shared at the Hilton Garden Inn in Secaucus. At noon we catch a cab to EWR and flew back to Atlanta. In six short weeks our fashionable intern would return with a wealth of her own stories and a few handbags to boot.
Lost in Francelation
Maria and I are headed to France! Follow our adventures (and misadventures!) right here. We leave January 9, 2009. We hope to update this blog throughout the trip, though this will be the first-ever blog for either of us, so who knows how it'll go! We'll also be trying to do a VoiceThread which you can check out at this address. It's empty now, but we hope to fill it with our comments, photos and videos. And please add your own comments to the blog and to the VoiceThread:
http://voicethread.com/share/249813/
Sunday January 11 (2:30 a.m.)
Before we left, Maria had asked me to tell her about all the things that would be different in France. So, as they occurred to me over the past few weeks, I told her about dinners that don’t start until 7 p.m. or later, cars that get parked on sidewalks and the fact that if you spot someone in Nikes you can be pretty sure they are American. But I forgot about the smell.
As we got off the plane and onto the jetway, I was struck by the smell of France. It should have smelled like exhaust from the plane, but it was distinctly the smell of France. I read somewhere that the nose can identify something like 10 times more smells than the brain can name and this is one of them. I’m sure you’ve had the experience of unexpectedly smelling something and subsequently being flooded by memories, even if you can’t describe the smell. There’s a definite element of perfume in this scent, but that’s the only piece I can specify. It’s just “Eau de France” and if they sold it everyone who ever came here would buy a bottle.
The flights over here went off without a hitch, in spite of snow in Detroit. We were really lucky that the airport only had about an inch of snow, but my cousin who lives two counties away was unable to get to the airport to meet us for dinner because there was much more snow where she lives. L
The hotel is the nicest I’ve ever been in in France. We’ve been upgraded to one of their best rooms just because no one else was booked in it. It’s “La Tour Eiffel” room and guess what we see from our window? Way cool!
Our first day here was spent largely in trying to catch up on sleep (Maria has been very successful at this, but not me. It is 2:30 a.m. as I write – from the bathroom!) and get our bearings, but we did get to go on a nighttime river cruise on the Seine. My French friends warned me that it would be “cold” but considering that we’ve had temps around 15 at home, I thought a daily high of 30 would be pleasant. Wrong! I don’t know what the temp was during the day yesterday, but we are really glad we packed long underwear. The boat was enclosed, but the walk there was rather frigid.
OK, I'm off to try to sleep!
Sunday, January 11 (at a much more respectable hour!)
(from Maria)
Today, we went to the cathedral of Notre Dame. It was all right.
We then went to Anne Frederique (Mom’s former host family’s daughter) and her husband, Nicolas’ apartment. Their apartment and cat were nice and we went on a chilly walk.
Mom and I also went up the Arc de Triomphe, 284 steps! But it was worth it. The view was spectacular and I got a cute diary from the gift shop.
Then we went to the modern art museum. I had to ask mom a lot, “Why is this art?” But some of it was cool.
It is 9:40 here and I’m going to sleep soon!
Au Revoir!
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
Yesterday was a marathon. I don’t know how we did it.
Once again, I was up for about three hours in the middle of the night Sunday night. It must be my age, because jet lag has never been this bad for me. I had a meeting with a woman at the Alliance Française at 10 a.m. and Maria came along and read a book while we discussed options for me bringing a group of students to Paris for an intensive study-abroad program. It was all very impressive but I fear the whole thing will be deemed too expensive by the powers-that-be in Madison who would need to approve it.
After changing into warmer clothes we headed for the Eiffel Tower. It had really been too cold to go up on the previous two days, but yesterday it was time to bite the bullet. Personally, I think the tower is nicer to look at than be in (same for the Arc de Triomphe and Notre Dame). But it is practically a requirement to go up your first time in Paris and Maria loved it.
Next we headed to the Louvre. I should say up front that I’m not a big fan of the Louvre. It’s
just too blasted big! Honestly, it was cruel for someone to put so much art in one location that you need three months and a GPS (the maps are awful!) to view it all. But, I suppose, back in the 1600s when Louix XIV decided to leave the royal residence of Paris and build Versailles they had to do something with the building and low-income housing wasn’t an option at the time. Nonetheless, we went and checked off The Mona Lisa, the Venus de Milo, the Winged Victory and the Seated Scribe (which I’d never seen or heard of but Maria had).
From there we headed to the Orangerie, which is my all-time favorite museum. It’s the home of two huge, round galleries specifically designed by Claude Monet to display eight of his largest paintings, les Nymphéas (the Waterlilies). I read that he wanted to create a peaceful retreat in the middle of the city and that was just what we needed. On the lower level are about eight rooms with other impressionist paintings and we noted a Renoir with a figure that bears a remarkable resemblance to Maria’s classmate, Ellie Knoll. If you know Ellie, what do you think?
After a quick trip back to the hotel and another change we went to dinner at a nicer restaurant that is rather known in Paris, La Coupole. I head read in “Paris with Kids” that it was family-friendly so I thought it’d be a treat. Long story short, it was just a waste of money. When we return we’ll stick with the ordinary cafés and restaurant.
As I write this we are on a train headed to Pau, in the southwest of the country – where it promises to be a little warmer! The train ride is five hours and I couldn’t be happier to have all this time to just sitJ
(10:30 p.m., Lascazares)
We have done a 180 degree turn from Paris and are with Remi and Elisabeth in the southwest. They live in a beautiful house in the country with a farm right next door (I was warned that we might hear the rooster early tomorrow morning). I'll write more about this place tomorrow, but for now it's time to sleep.
Wednesday, January 14 (Maria)
I slept until about 10:00 and then we went to Lourdes. There was an underground cathedral. It was HUGE but too cold.
Right above it was a different cathedral and the main attraction of that was a cave that I went in right next to the cathedral where Mary appeared to a girl 18 times!
(Julie)
Maria did a good job explaining our day (though she left out the fact that it is 50 degrees here :) ) so I won't recap. I will, however, explain why we are here. When I did my semester abroad in Strasbourg 17 years ago I lived with Remi and Elisabeth Bogner and their three children. We have stayed in touch ever since and Paul and I stayed with them when we came to France in 1995. When Remi retired in 2007 they moved here to the southwest. Their hospitality is wonderful (it always was) and it has been lots of fun catching up with them and recalling stories from my student days.
If you have not read "A Year in Provence" I highly recommend it for a good laugh as well as an accurate glimpse into French life. It's the story of a British ad exec who uproots his life and resettles in an old house in the south of France. The picture I had in my head from reading the description of that house matches Remi and Elisabeth's house perfectly, and from what they tell me, the stories of the madness of dealing with French subcontractors also match those from the book.
P.S. We've loaded some pictures on the VoiceThread. Click the link at the top of the blog.
Friday, January 16, 2009
We’re on a train headed back to Paris. Yesterday Rémi and Elisabeth took us to the Pic du Midi, one of the highest peaks in the Pyrenees. We took a cable car from a ski resort and had lunch at the summit, which is also home to a research center with high-powered telescopes. I can’t describe what this looks like – I’ll let the pictures speak for themselves (of course, as soon as we arrived I realized that I had left the memory card for my camera back at the house, so Maria and Elisabeth were the chief photographers.)
This morning we returned to Pau where I had a meeting with some people from the university there about establishing a study-abroad program there, which sounds very promising. We had a very nice stroll outside on the lovely green grass – no hats, no gloves, jackets unzipped.
Hi! It’s Maria and I’m going to tell you what happened other than a meeting. After dropping mom off, Remi, Elisabeth, and I, left for the castle of Pau where King Henry IV was born. We got there; only to find out they just closed and wouldn’t be opening again until I was on the train. So we went to lunch at a good pizzeria and went back to the castle to poke around outside and take pictures. I really liked the garden.
Remi and Elisabeth were really nice to me and I thank them (Merci beaucoup!) 
I’ll find something to do for the rest of this boring ride. Bye!
Sunday, January 18
I can’t believe that today was our last day here! The time really flew by.
Yesterday was souvenir-shopping day. We also visited the Sainte Chapelle, famous for its amazing stained glass windows , and strolled the Latin Quarter where we got this photo taken, which I think is the best of the trip.
Then we went to the home of our friends Olivier and Karine Maccarone in one of the suburbs. (Don't you love it -- peanut butter and champagne!)
We met them in 2007 when they were visiting our friends Holly and Kevin in Wausau. Olivier had been an exchange student with Kevin’s family in Appleton 20 years ago. They have two boys, Baptiste who is 8 and Nolann who is 5. It was fun to see how Maria, with her limited French, and Baptiste, with his limited English, managed to communicate and teach each other a bit. It was a wonderful evening that concluded with Olivier driving us back to our hotel via the Champs Elysées! We look forward to seeing them all again.
Today was all Versailles – 6 hours and countless kilometers of walking! I turn the keyboard over to Maria for the summary:
Hi! Today we went to Versailles as Mom said and it was so much walking. I took 109 photos. Is that enough? Well we went to a lot of bedchambers and here’s one of them.
We also went into the famous hall of mirrors.
I don’t know what makes it famous but oh well, more pictures! We then went to the gardens which, like the castle, are too big, but they are very pretty. We also visited the queen's hamlet which is where the queen would go and play peasant. Here's me in the queen's hamlet. 
We also visited the king's and queen's "mini" castles. They were tiny but sweet.
This is our last post as we head to the airport at 11 a.m. tomorrow. Thanks so much for reading our blog. We enjoyed reading everyone’s responses – it made us feel not so far from home! I’ll continue to sharpen this blog with a few more photos and videos in the next week, mostly for my own desire to try to preserve everything in the relatively sure-fire security of the web. Check back in a week or so to see the finished product. Au revoir!
Wednesday, January 21st
We're back home now, where we're glad it has warmed up to 15 degrees F (-10 C), though it's hard to forget that when our plane took off it was 60 F (14 C) in Paris!
I'll call this last entry "Tidbits We Forgot to Mention Earlier" and it's going to be a hodgepodge. I'll start with a short list of things that were noticeably different to me from 13 years ago.
1. The French smoke MUCH less than they used to. Smoking in public places (including bars) became illegal a year ago, but they obviously made some significant progess long before that. I can count on one hand the times when I found myself smelling cigarette smoke.
2. There were way fewer dogs out on sidewalks, thus much less caca to try to not step in. This could be entirely due to the fact that it was winter, but it was still nice.
3. Parisians are friendlier. This could be entirely owing to the fact that I speak their language. But even with that, there were so many virtual strangers who wanted to engage in conversation, mostly to find out where we were from and details about our trip. Parisians don't have a reputation for their warmth, but it seems they deserve that less and less.
"Maria's Favorite Meal" -- la Raclette. Leave it to the French to take a simple baked potato and turn it into a chef d'oeuvre! To make this you use a special applicance that gets plugged in and set in the middle of the table (I'm so mad at myself for not taking a picture of this at Remi and Elisabeth's house:( ). Each person gets their own little frying pan into which they put a particular variety of cheese made just for this purpose as well as bacon and onion, according to their preference. While it melts you peel a potato and cut it up. When it's all melted you dump your toppings onto your potato, using a small wood spatula to scrape it clean. This is often served with deli meats and pickles on the side. Maria liked this so much that she ordered it at a restaurant in Paris, where I did get a photo.
This "appliance" was different and was heated with a flame, but you get the idea. There's a little handle that you tip up to facilitate the dumping. Incidentally, you use a different part of the appliance to grill food for a different type of meal, la pirouade (I know I'm spelling it wrong), which was what we had at Karine and Olivier's. I found one of these machines on the web and I'll be adding it to my birthday list.
"Moment of Greatest Linguistic Achievement" Outside the Louvre, I wanted someone to take a picture of Maria and I, so I approached a woman who had the air of waiting for someone and asked her in French if she could take our photo. She shook her head and said, "Espagnole". "OK," I thought, "I know enough Spanish to ask this." So I said, "Pueden" (yay for remembering to use the formal form!) and then I drew a blank. I wanted to say "mirar una photo" but I knew that was "look at a picture" so I just kept gesturing to my camera. Mercifully, she said, "Sacar una photo?" Yay for sign language! Wanting to prove that I really could speak her language, I added, "De nos dos, con la pyramida..." at which point I forgot how to say "behind" but she was saying "si, si" so we went for it. It wasn't until I loaded the photo that I noticed that her husband came along at just the right moment:
Well, I think it's time to wrap this up for good. I have to say that it was a more wonderful trip than I had hoped. Maria was an awesome travel companion, motoring through 10 hour days often with more energy than me. She was very bold about trying out her French whenever she could. I should add that on the plane home she said "Bonjour" to the flight attendant with such a good accent that the woman handed us customs forms for French citizens entering the U.S.!
I also want to say a special thank you to all of our friends in France. Getting to visit with Anne-Frederique, Nicolas, Remi, Elisabeth, Mamie, Bijou, Michel, Karine, Olivier, Baptiste and Nolann made this so much more than just a tourist junket. On ne peut pas attendre la prochaine fois qu'on peut se revoir! Merci mille fois!
Tuscan Pizza and Chianti (and
Continued from Tuscan Pizza, PART 1...
Even though it was still raining the following day, Velma--what we dubbed our GPS’s voice--helped us reach the Chianti region, an hour away, and we toured the medieval Castello di Meleto--somewhat decrepit and in need of repair in areas, but a good glimpse at what these hilltop castles look like on the inside--and had a lovely wine tasting while chatting with tourists from So. California and Germany, as well as a U.S. military couple living in Naples. We purchased several bottles and then enjoyed the castle’s pretty gardens, the most romantic part of this location, (http://www.castellomeleto.it/tuscany-castle-siena-farmhouse-chianti.asp), before returning to our side of Tuscany for more grocery shopping and meal preparation—this time a fantastic chicken pasta in red pepper cream sauce—and wine before a crackling fire.
The next day we arose early and hopped a 7am commuter train in Montevarchi to Florence (a lovely way to enter and exit another big city that is difficult to navigate), and spent the entire day there. We saw Michelangelo’s David in the Academia (highly recommend you purchase tickets for the Academia and Uffizi like this—ticket lines can be murder, especially during high season, and you can circumvent some trauma by going to web site http://www.tickitaly.com/ ), and moved on to climb the winding Duomo (church) stairs for the most magnificent views in Firenze.
While we found the churches of Rome and Venice (and elsewhere in Tuscany) more interesting and beautiful on the inside, this is an iconic church with the largest of dome ever built at the time (completed in 1436), and still the largest masonry dome. To be able to get close to her frescoes inside the dome was intriguing—you catch a glimpse of how the artists achieved scale—and then to climb to the top through tight stairways that resemble secret passageways (great for kids!), between the two layers of the dome, was a unique experience. For lunch we ate bad tourist pizza that did not remotely compare to our homemade version at the Odina, and moved on to the Uffizi for a brief Lay-Your-Eyeballs-On-Famous-Paintings tour, then walked Firenze’s streets.
Weary from our day of touring, we moved north to the famous Il Latini trattoria, which I had seen on Rachael Ray’s show and was convinced we had to try (6r Via del Palchetti; Tues-Sun 7:30-10:30, reservations possible by calling +39 55 210 0916, but be prepared to still be patient and wait—they’ll bring you a glass of wine after 7:45). We arrived at 7pm and waited outside with the crowds for it to open, like people at a zoo watching the staff eat family style underneath a hundred prosciutto ham hocks hanging from the ceiling, and probably making fun of the hungry tourists salivating outside. Everyone jockeys to get inside and then are seated family-style—we happily landed at a table for four, but reportedly, part of the fun is joining locals and other tourists at larger tables. Our waiter arrived, pointed to the house Chianti sitting in the center and poured our first glasses, then pointed to the hams, asking if we wanted antipasto. The waiters here are notorious for avoiding menus—the first time we went, we just looked at him, said in sign language and lame Ital-glish phrases that essentially boiled down to “bring us what you think is best, but make sure we get a couple of those steaks,” and then were treated to one of the finest meals of our whole trip—antipasto, house wine, foccacia, house wine, white bean soup, house wine, massive 3” thick bistecca alla fiorentina (split one or two!), house wine, and then cantucci con vin santo—dessert and dessert wine the waiter forced on us (okay, he just gestured toward a tray of golden liquids in dainty glasses and we, unable to stop grinning, just nodded).
The maitre d’ came by, measured our bottle of house wine to see how much we had drunk, nodded with admiration, and scribbled out our bill . Once outside, we were glad to be stumbling back to a train vs. a car. We were fairly sober—just still miserably full-- by the time we hit our train stop and made the serpentine climb up the hills to our home away from home. Several antacids later we were blissfully back to sleep in our fine Odina beds. NOTE: We returned here for my 40th birthday a year later, (yeah, it was THAT good and memorable) and got even more food—next time, I’d just stick to antipasto, white bean soup, bistecca and dessert, despite how your waiter might push—the massive platter of roasted meats is just plain over the top, the house pasta is so-so, and those two additions really jacks up the bill. Trust me, you’ll get enough food! Check out the "bistecca" photo above with my husband's hand--that's just TWO steaks!
We slept in a bit the next day, then ventured farther afield, and made the 1.5 mile trip to Siena. It’s a not-to-be-missed medieval city, once a major competitor to Florence in terms of military might. “The Nine” (a governing body of nine elected officials from the most important families) once ruled here—you can see many of their old palazzos, right on Il Campo—a magnificent, shell-shaped piazza—with nine rays that were bricked in c.1430; but there are also vibrant family neighborhoods and lots of soccer going on.
We hiked up the campanile for another birds’ eye view a la Firenze--this time of fantastic rolling green Tuscan hills, the old walls of the city and the tight quarters within. In the distance, you could see the zebra stripes of the fabulous city Duomo. 
We climbed down, toured the old Pubblico museum, gobbled dfown some fabulous pasta around the corner in a small trattoria, then moved on to spend a good amount of time in the ancient church. Most of the inlaid marble floors were uncovered (sometimes, they’re covered for protection) and there are ancient choir books viewable under glass in a side music room. Be sure to spend time checking out the carved pulpit, which took several sculptors years…
Just outside Siena (by about an hour—pretty drive) is San Galgano, which features the roofless ruins of a 14th century Cistercian abbey and they say has a buried sword in a stone (that part of it was closed when we were there, but check it out on YouTube; http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-gioJ2scFDM ). The legend (which might have served as inspiration for Arthurian legend) is that St. Galgano, a crusader knight, came home from afar and promised to serve his God, and never to fight again—and then immediately sank his sword in the stone as a promise. It was San Galgano that supplied Siena with her clergy, and there was a large scriptorium here, where they laboriously created treasured copies of the Bible by hand. Even though we couldn’t see the sword in the stone (one of the hazards of traveling off-season), wandering the ghostly, quiet ruins and envisioning this elegant beauty in her heyday made San Galgano a worthwhile stop...and hungry for dinner at the Odina.
The last day, we awakened to a bright, crisp morning, with sun streaming through our windows. Following the advice of our innkeeper, and the few-and-far-between small arrows nailed to trees, we hiked to the castle ruins above us, along narrow and winding forest trails that boar hunting truffles might favor, past small homes, circumventing olive groves…until it opened up and we could see the wide, verdant expanse of the valley below us, the rolling and heavily forested Chianti hills on the far side. You could almost see all the way to Siena. We could envision this castle lord surveying the acres below, watching the fog roll in and sock in the valley floor, then dissipate and perhaps reveal a troop of soldiers on horseback. Now there is little but rotting timbers and a few stone walls left, but it’s a trip back in time to visit—as well as a lovely view.
We packed up our things and regretfully departed the Odina and Toscana. Only the leftover pizza for our lunch en route to Venice made us feel better about leaving!
**CAR RENTALTIPS:
Authentic Caribbean--Nevis, We
How'd we settle on going to Nevis? A writer friend and his agent wife have been going there for years and are even thinking of relocating to the island. Listening to their starry-eyed description, with a hint of in-the-know secrecy, I knew my little "Pirates of the Caribbean" fanlets--typically land-locked in Colorado--would love it. They'd watched the movies and wondered about the clear waters. All of us had a difficult time imagining water warmer than the mountain lakes we typically frequent. And we all were dying for some down-time together as a family. Add to that a passion for family travel--we run a multigenerational website called FamilyTripster.com--and we decided Nevis would be our Idyllic Island answer.
We met people who were staying at the Four Seasons. While world-renowned and recommended by the Travel Channel's top 10 Caribbean resorts, we felt sorry for them. They had no car, so they had explored little of what we'd come to know as an amazing island, brimming with history. And the Four Seasons reportedly works hard at keeping her visitors on-campus; if you stay there, definitely find ways to venture out!
We chose to rent a villa, found via www.Nevis1.com , and it was perfect for our family of five. Since we went off-season, and had our own kitchen, we saved some serious buckaroos. With a private pool, a gardener who brought us mangoes, coconuts and teeny bananas, and the ability to walk 100 yards to the beach, and we felt like we were living a dream! The only thing that was missing: air conditioning. If I could get that villa, at that price, with air conditioning, I'd be back every year. (But I'm a person who likes her weather best at about 72 degrees. So, take what I say about the heat with a grain of salt. This is the Caribbean, after all! Heat is part of the equation.)
SATURDAY : We arrived on Saturday morning at the tiny Nevis airport. TIP: Try to get seats at the front of the plane to be first off--you'll get through customs fastest. That airport is sweltering! We were at the back of the bus, so we stood in line with sweat running down our faces for 30-40 minutes before we reached the counter. We were too excited, however, to let it get us down. Outside, our friendly driver, Marlon Brando (no, not that one; Nevis' rental car owner can be reached at #869.663.2013.) picked us up in his spacious van and delivered us to our villa, Coral Reef (http://www.nevis1.com/coral-reef-villa.html ), near Nesbit Plantation--which boasts one of the best snorkeling beaches on the island. He then brought us our rental car. (NOTE: You have to buy a $25 temporary driver's license. And they drive on the wrong side of the road--just keep chanting, "Left, LEFT, KEEP LEFT!!!")
Coming from high and dry Colorado, it took us days to adjust to the humidity, which hovered around 85% (temps ran 82 to 90 degrees). Eventually, we got adjusted--and even to the wild jungle noises at night. We kept all the windows open and ran every fan in the villa. And we jumped in our pool right before sleeping--and again as soon as we awakened. The best way to deal with the heat, is to beat it by one of your water options--pool, ocean or shower.
Back at the villa, enough food in the fridge to last us a while, pina coladas in hand (rum is CHEAP!), we walked down to the beach for a quick dip. We explored many other beaches too, but the one 100 yards away--Nesbit--from us was definitely one of the best. 6 out of 7 days we swam and snorkeled there.
We returned to the villa, whipped up dinner, took our first post-dinner dip in the pool, then tried to sleep through what sounded like forty small boys with tin whistles pulling an all-nighter--but were really only tree frogs. We awakened at sunrise and wondered if we'd ever sleep during our "restful" vacation; after the second night, we had some hope; after the third, we realized we'd become accustomed to island sounds--a special victory.
SUNDAY : Two visits to Nesbit Beach to explore, snorkel and swim. My nine-year-old, haunted by a library book about sharks, didn't want to come in. I told her she must, to just try it, I'll be right there, that she'll love it. And she did. Within five minutes, she lifted a massive conch shell from the swirling sands, rising, victorious. She was officially addicted to her mask and snorkel from then on. We found if we started down the beach to the right, we could drift with the current and not go all the way to St. Kitts!
MONDAY : We met Jim Johnson ( http://www.walknevis.com) an island naturalist and guide, for an evening bonfire, marshmallow roast and to talk about what we were seeing, smelling and hearing--all foreign to us landlubbers, other than a vague recognition of the stars. Jim is a brilliant, wiry man with zero percent body fat (he climbs Nevis Peak at least a couple of times a week) and Coke-bottle glasses, a living whirr of information--he constantly spews a blend of trivia, scientific and historic facts, and tosses out quizzes, attempting to engage and educate you. He pointed out the Scorpion and Bear constellations to the kids and related mythology about each of them. The kids, exhausted after a full day of sun and swimming, barely absorbed one-third of what he said. Heck, we adults did little better. Still, we planned to meet him in the morning for a bamboo forest hike.
TUESDAY : We headed to Golden Rock Plantation (great place to spot monkeys!) to meet up with Jim for that hike. A young honeymooning couple cheerfully joined us and we tramped up the hill, through a native neighborhood, and then descended through the jungle. Jim, who has taught at the med school about native plants and their medicinal uses, pointed out flora and told us about their medicinal properties. We tasted key lime leaf and cinnamon, smelled lovely bath bush--evoking images of Victorian ladies soaking in cool tubs--and stopped to swing on jungle vines just like George, George, George of the you-know-where. My favorite parts were listening to the giant bamboo stands, which knock together and creak in eerie fashion, and walking the 17th century trail that the Spanish used to overtake the French in their foolishly low-lying fort. But I was hot. Really hot. So damp with sweat I might as well have been swimming. Later, I decided I had a touch of heatstroke. Luckily, my family fared much better. We passed by some sugar mill ruins and returned to Golden Rock, where we gulped down liquids and had a lovely lunch, overlooking the sea, far below us.
We went back to the villa for lunch and then went to the Alexander Hamilton museum, not worth a stop in our estimation (expensive for what you get)--just drive by to see from where our American forefather hailed. The afternoon was redeemed however, because we stopped at New River, on the southern end of the island, and wandered through the amazing 17th century sugar mill ruins. It's a not-to-be-missed stop. Nevis was once the #1 sugar producer in the
Caribbean and a provisioning stop for trade ships and those heading to the U.S.--the soil seeps history from its pores. While this location offers one of the few identification signs we saw up by the road, there is no explanation signage down by the actual buildings. But history comes alive as you walk through it--we could visualize ships down by the wave-washed shore, men carrying supplies in and exports out, smoke tufting out the chimney of the mill...We wandered in and out and on top of many of the buildings. In the U.S., we would've been twenty feet away and behind a rope. The kids loved it and so did we!
THURSDAY : We rose and took our normal morning swim--a futile attempt to ward off the heat of the day. But we changed, packed up and went to Nevis Equestrian ( http://www.ridenevis.com/) for a horseback ride along the beach and beyond. It was girls-only, since my husband needed to stay with our son (he was too young to ride). They took off to pick up a picnic lunch from Deli by Wendy--a wonderful place for sandwiches and more.
It had been more than twenty years since I had been on a horse, and my nine-year-old had never been astride a saddle, but the horses were well behaved and the guide tied my daughter's horse to his. We crossed the road, then wound our way past Cay's Bay and Paradise Beach, beside some sumptuous, drool-worthy private abodes on the water, up past a school, where the kids waved at us, and then into the hills, were we saw nice suburbs and poorer neighborhoods too. It was a nice "real Nevis" peek rather than the sanitized vacationer view. After an hour and a half, however, I was saddle-sore and longing for the stables. Fortunately, they soon appeared.
The boys were waiting for us when we returned. We dismounted, then joined them in the car and headed out to Paradise Beach--a local favorite--for a picnic and swim. (To get there, turn beside the St. Thomas School playground and head toward the ocean.) On a beach exploration roll, we then went to Lover's Beach. (To get there, park by the highway just west of the airport and walk west of the shore. You can park closer, but you have to cross smelly high tide muck to get there--eewww, hardly romantic.) But this beach, like them all, is very worth a visit! Sun-soaked and weary, we returned to the vila.
Our eldest was feeling at home, so we got the kids settled with dinner and a video, and my husband and I escaped to a fabled beach bar, Sunshine's, for a sunset dinner and amazing drinks called Killer Bees. Warning: No more than one of these alcohol-laden doozies per hour! (To get there, turn at the faded and worn sign that says "Welcome to Pinney's Beach" and head toward the brightly colored stands to the left.) They start cooking at sunset and we watched them buy the lobster from a local fisherman an hour before we ate it. Tristan and Tessa, ex-pat American children at sea with their parents for a couple of years (or "until the money runs out"), sat down and chatted with us for half our evening, making us wonder why we left our own children behind. But we had enough Killer Bees in our system to thoroughly enjoy it all. We decided to bring our kids back the next night so they could know what a true "beach bar" was really like. We considered it educational...Okay, we considered it experiential, and I wanted another Killer Bee.
FRIDAY : Our last real day! Snort, sniff...We rose, took our dip, then headed down to what we were now calling "our beach." But this day, we walked farther, down to Harvey's Beach and an old grease pole where the girls tried to balance their way all the way to the end. I tried it and fell off half-way down, where it wasn't so deep, and sprained my ankle. Fortunately it wasn't anything that 4 Advil and an ice pack couldn't cure. But the girls couldn't get enough of the challenge. We stayed there for an hour. We returned to the villa, changed for dinner and went to Sunshine's, hoping to run across Tristan and Tessa again and introduce them to our kids, but they had shipped out, off to Antigua as planned, apparently. We moved on to the Gallipot for dinner, a pretty expensive stop for our family of five (about $225 for all of us). My husband and I noticed that most of the wines in Nevis are from South America and France--not many California varieties available.
We packed up, gassed up, and cleaned up. Transition day! With luck, we hoped we'd be in our condo on Vieques by nightfall. And we were! But that's another story...
Venice: Part 4 (A Girlfriend's
CONTINUED FROM VENICE, A GIRLFRIEND'S GUIDE, PART 3...
YOU REALLY, MUST GET FARTHER THAN THE RIALTO...EVEN OFF THE ISLAND!
There are some evening cruise boats that I think might be of interest/value, but I never tried one. Someone told me to hire a water taxi for an hour or two and have them give you a tour--I think that'd be lovely (probably about 180 Euros, if that's in your budget). Even to just see the Grand Canal and all the lovely palazzo facades at suset, glass of wine in hand, would be a lovely experience! I myself saw most of it in the back of a water bus...
You can venture pretty far via the vaporetti, even if you don't choose to get off. They're noisy, but you can see so much from the water! And you've paid for the pass; you might as well use it. Wait for a seat to open up outside if the weather is decent--or bundle up and embrace the cold!
--TORCELLO: You must go--it was my daughter's favorite stop and one of my top three. It's the birthplace of Venice, abandoned because of rising silt and malaria, but there's a thousand-year-old church, as well as ancient Roman artifacts, such as a governor's set of marble! And you'll see Isola di San Michele en route--an island dedicated solely to burial grounds. On the day we went, we could see the Italian Alps in the distance, across the water. (This excursion will take you a third to a half a day.) But hardly anyone I talk to who has been to Venice has seen it, and I think it's a loss to miss it. Off the beaten path and wonderfully intriguing. Watch the time, however; vaporetto stops are infrequent here, especially off-season.
--MURANO: They are all about the tourists here and and I don't like how they herd you off the vaporetto--we were led away from the museum I asked about, into a glassmaking expedition and then directly into the associated glass shop. It was all highly organized when I was there, with fifteen or twenty men all guiding the crowd to one location--like a Murano Glass Mafia. I kept wondering, "Do they take turns? Is tomorrow that guy's family's turn?" The glassmaking show is moderately entertaining if you've never seen glass hand-blown. My daughter loved it. I preferred the glass museum (when I finally got there--had no idea they made glass 2000 years ago!) and the ancient Santa Maria church at the center of town with more fantastic mosaic floors. We were on the hunt for one element for my novel research--mosaic floors that depict a peacock drinking from an urn, a classic pagan/Christian symbol, and this church gave us yet another example. But I purchased my glass souvenirs elsewhere. I couldn't shake the vultures-over-the-tourist-carrion feeling.
--LIDO: 1920s, more modern feel, beaches on the far side (although I wouldn't go just for that). You can rent a bike there, but arrive before siesta! Time short? I'd vote to skip it. Feels more like retro-California than Italy to me.
--GIUDECCA: Fun to walk through; more neighborhood-y
--CASTELLO: This is where Olivia and I stayed in an apartment. Walk the wide Via Guiseppe Garibaldi at about 5-5:30 to see families mingling, grandparents ooing and ahhing over babies, women with bad, drooping stockings buying grappa for their menfolk and then wearily sitting down to see who else is out and about, and frown at teens, skateboarding or roller-skating by. Not many families live in Venice anymore because they can't afford it--but here you can see the remnant. It will give you a totally different perspective.
TWO LAST BITS OF ADVICE...
GELATO. Every day. At least one scoop. Quit it. You're walking off the calories. You deserve it.
LANGUAGE: Learn the basics of polite society--yes, no, please, thank you, right, left, excuse me, good morning, good night. As with most foreign cities, you can get a good distance with a ready smile, hand signals and a cheat sheet of translated words.
Did I say I wanna go back? I do! I have a serious case of Venezia withdrawal now, writing this out. Enjoy, and arrivederci, my friend!
Venice: A Girlfriend's Guide (
WHERE TO STAY....
We stayed at Hotel Al Ponte Mocenigo (www.alpontemocenigo.com) when we were there the first time. It was a newly opened, newly renovated hotel at the time, featuring reasonable prices and a lovely breakfast, and fun guys at the front desk, eager to help. Our friends ended up in a spacious but very red room that we dubbed "Redrum" (chanting it like they did on The Shining); ours was a tidy, narrow, golden affair with a window view of about 3 inches--all you could see except for the next door building. (We didn't care, though, because we were on the move from morning until night, eager to be out and about in this new, foreign place.) I know Al Ponte Mocenigo has other rooms--with at least one with a balcony over a canal--and now a sister hotel on the Grand Canal that has been well reviewed. If you're seeking a hotel room, I encourage you to check them out.
But if you heed my advice, and go for at least a week, check out ViewsonVenice.com (www.ViewsOnVenice.com) to see the various apartments for rent. We rented from them for our ten-day and four-day stays, in different parts of Venezia. You can shop and make some of your own meals to save money--or at least counterbalance any increased expense--and by setting up a "house" you really get to know her in a whole different way. We discovered portions of the city inhabited by real Venetians--gondoliers and hoteliers, waiters and dock workers. When you shop for food, you interact with grocers and street vendors. You get a feel for the cadence and rhythm of the city, from morning church bells calling people into mass to young men in soccer uniforms, messing around at night like it's a secondary team sport. On our return trip, Olivia and I stayed in Castello, a family neighborhood; on trip #3, because my parents were splitting the bill, we were able to afford four nights in a second floor palazzo apartment--right on the Grand Canal, just a short distance from the Rialto Bridge. Our view in either direction--seen in these two shots, above and below--was so heavenly we struggled to get psyched up to leave it! (NOTE: Apartments are typically rented like villas, from Saturday to Saturday, but if it's off-season, you're likely to be able to reserve it for fewer days. There might be an extra charge or increased daily rate when you rent for less than a week.)
WHEN TO GO...
We made our trips in November, March and May. Since then, I've spoken to other travelers who went in the Summer, all with mixed results. November and March were cold, fresh-air months and relatively less crowded times to be exploring the city. Bonus: It's off-season and hotel/apartment rates are lower. In May, things were heating up--both in number of people and the humidity factor.
WORDS TO THE WISE...
A friend of mine recently went to Venezia with her husband, and while he was stuck in Conventioneer meetings, this is what I suggested she think about/prepare for/do while there. It's a compilation of three travel journals, really. What I would tell anyone if they were heading out to see the city of the laguna...and what I wish I had known before I went! I hope you find it helpful too.
A Girlfriend's Guide to Venezia (an open letter)
Dear Jackie,
I am so jealous you get to go to Venice, and get enough time to see what captivates and enthralls so many. Most tourists are there for a day--or at most, three--but still don't "get" Venice. With your five days, I'm sure you'll do much better.
Unfortunately, your June visit might bring three plagues that may interrupt your enjoyment of this amazing city: (1) crowds; (2) heat; and (3) mosquitoes. The partial solutions? Rise early; take siesta with the locals (and let the tourists expend themselves); eat dinner late. When the shops close, you can walk much more freely! And Venezia is magical at night (be sure to return to St. Mark's Square by the light of the moon!)
Here's a list of suggestions and must-dos:
BEFORE YOU GO:
Before you go, buy a small, laminated map of Venice you can put in a pocket or purse, that includes vaporetto routes on the water and the outer islands of Torcello, Burano and Murano (the vaporetti are water buses). The No. 1 vaporetto line serves the Grand Canal--you'll be on and off it a lot.
While at the bookstore, pick up Berendt's City of Angels, an engaging read for someone about to get to know Venice--it will make you feel like you have the inside scoop on this complex city. Read it while you're there, or better yet, before you go! I stayed up half the night reading it in our Venetian apartment...the last thing I needed when combatting jet lag at the same time. My mom read it before we went and had to go see the rebuilt opera house, which burns down during the writing of that book. It's that sort or read--vivid, captivating.
Find out if your hotel room has air conditioning, a screen on the window, a fan, breezes off the water...so you can mentally prepare. Mosquitoes love to feast upon me; if they like you too, take a bottle of repellant (pack in suitcase so it doesn't get confiscated.) And personally, I would not stay in a place without air conditioning in the summer--particularly here. Between vaporetto noise and mosquitoes and heat, you might never get an hour's sleep in your $300/night hotel room or apartment without it. (Better yet, go during Spring or Fall and avoid both heat and bugs!)
Before you go, buy a small compass with a whistle you can wear around your neck. Venice is a very safe city, but there are pickpockets and you want to be free to wander and not freak out if you get lost. As a woman alone, you want to be even more careful. There are some very quiet corners of Venice, and some neighborhoods that I didn't want to linger in for long.
--Compass too dorky? During daylight hours, you can also note how the sun is hitting the buildings, get your bearings/direction on your map, and then head out using the sun as your "compass."
--Ignore the street vendors selling knock-off purses and the like. I had one follow me for a block when I merely stopped to take a look. Ugh! Street-side artists were different, however.
SEE VENICE, A GIRLFRIEND'S GUIDE, PART 2 FOR THE DETAILS!
Venice: Part 3 (A Girlfriend's
CONTINUED FROM VENICE, PART 2...
BUT SOMETIMES IT'S GOOD TO BE FASHIONABLY LATE...
Take a breath and absorb what architecture you’re seeing. A good guide book will help you differentiate between Baroque and Byzantine, as well as identify the various palazzos along the Grand Canal as you cruise by.
As I said earlier, Venezia was THE maritime power for many centuries, the hired sea-faring thugs for queens and kings and emperors and crusaders. Wander down to the Arsenale and peer into the vast boatyard from the bridge (inaccessible beyond that, as I understand it), and imagine ancient Venetians building and outfitting a battle-ready galleon in one or two days—reportedly, something they did to show off for visiting dignitaries.
WHAT'S THAT? YOU WANNA EAT SOMETHING??
After all that walking, you’ll be HUNGRY. You can get pizza or Panini-to-go for a pretty good deal (keep in mind that Euro/USD exchange makes everything costly), then find a piazza/corner to sit down and enjoy your lunch. If you sit down inside the little restaurants, it will cost you more. Also, you might want to take dinner back to your room one or two nights if you’re trying to save some Euros and have someplace suitable to picnic. Walk the canalazzos (streets that line the canals), but try and find trattorias one or two streets back from the canal (in particular, the Grand Canal) to eat; you’ll save 10-25%. The farther you get from San Marco or the Rialto Bridge, the better the food….and the more you save!
The lesser known, less touristed churches are beautiful and offer a reprieve from the heat. My favorites: the 17th century San Pantalon, with its spectacular ceiling painted by Fumiani; Santa Maria della Salute, a church you’ll see time and again in films that feature Venice, and was built as thanksgiving to God for delivering the city’s people of the Black Plague of 1630; Santa Maria Gliriosa dei Frari, first built in 1250, rebuilt in the 15th century—and sporting great Venetian art and tombs, including a funky classical pyramid for the artist, Titian.
--The Castello district/Via Giuseppe Garibaldi has a couple of grocery stores too, or there’s a Co-Op near the end of the Grand Canal (near the Piazzale Roma stop). Bring a small, rolling suitcase or backpack so you can get your provisions back to your room without killing yourself
--Floating fruit/veggie barge vendor in San Barnaba is interesting for a stop; be aware they do not like you touching the produce. You touch, you buy. Just take your chances on what looks best and don’t expect California-fresh. All produce is imported, for obvious reasons.
--Even if you doubt you’ll be cooking your own fish dinner, cruise through the Rialto Fish Market, on most mornings, it will give you a visual for what all those fishermen are angling for each morning
--We ate at the lovely Osteria Antico Giardinetto, a trattoria in the San Croce district. Wonderful, fresh food in an intimate atmosphere—and they had a tourist special that offered four courses. Usually, I like to avoid the tourist menu and dive into local fare, but this was hard to beat with gourmet presentation and tasty offerings. Take the San Stae vaporetto stop and make your way to Campo San Cassiano in the San Palo district. You’ll see two bridges—take the one to the right. Once you cross the bridge, the restaurant is at the end of the street on the left side.
--If you really like fish and are not averse to fishy fish like sardines (I myself am a halibut and salmon kind of girl), you might try the Venetian version of tapas—small, finger-food hors d’oeuvres you purchase one by one and eat standing up beside tiny bars and swallow down with small glasses of wine. I wanted to try them, but I couldn’t get past the sardines.
--Lots of trattorias open early to cater to the tourists—it’s an option if you want to beat some of the crowds and be free to roam the city at night—or if jet lag is getting the best of you
--If there’s a popular restaurant you want to try, get a reservation a few days ahead; there’s only so much competition in a city this small and word spreads fast!
--Harry’s Bar is on the Grand Canal near the San Marco Vallaresso stop, almost directly across from the Customs House—the point that marks the entrance to the Grand Canal. Pause for a famous Bellini (sparkling peach drink that isn’t my favorite, but you have to try one; maybe it’d taste better in the heat of summer) and share a plate of Carpaccio—thinly sliced beef with a light dusting of mayonnaise and lemon, created for a countess on a special diet. All the rich and famous traipse through here, from Hemingway to Helen Hunt, and the menu prices reflect that; I’d find an alternate location for dinner.
FULL STOMACH, HUNGRY SOUL...
--Remember, you can’t enter most churches with bare shoulders or shorts. A good walking skirt or capris, plus a long-sleeved shirt worn tied around the waist (and pulled on at the church entrance) would work.
A GIRL NEEDS TO SHOP...
SHOPPING: I like the Accademia district for jewelry, glass and art. I think because the museum is here, it attracts the more artsy, upscale crowd. This is where I found my art glass for less than in the Rialto or on the island of Murano. Shopkeepers can UPS it home to you—or wrap it in bubble-wrap and and a box if you want to hand-carry it back. A fantastic necklace, a beautiful bowl or tray—very fun souvenirs and killer gifts to stow away for next Christmas. But I bought small lithographs from a street vendor at night beside the Bridge of Sighs—a wonderful memory in itself.
STOP AND LISTEN TO THE MUSIC! YOU'RE ON VACATION!
MUSIC: This Vivaldi’s city (he was born and worked here in the 18th century). Purchase tickets for an evening concert (opera concerto—they sell tickets outside the Scuola Grande di San Teodoro and elsewhere) and sit 2/3 of the way back so you don’t have to see the musicians sweat in their period costumes—you can simply enjoy the magic and music. I swear if you close your eyes, you can imagine yourself a couple centuries back in time. At the concert we went to, the musicians were all females except for one prize male. There were some interesting dynamics transpiring between them all, delicious undercurrents of pride and irritation and teasing and laughter, and I was writing a whole novel in my head even as the “Four Seasons” filled the grand room.
While we’re on the subject of music, if you choose to sit in one of the outdoor bars on St. Mark’s Square, there will be a surcharge for the music. I think it’s better to wander by and enjoy them all from afar.
MISC ADVICE...
Don’t feed the pigeons or let them land on you. As a nurse, you know this isn’t cute and entertaining. It’s disgusting. Birds that make their nexts out of their own poop? Ugh. But watching others do it in front of San Marco is oddly fascinating.
Yes, you have to do a gondola ride. It’s like going to the pyramids and not getting on a camel. You simply must embrace it. And it’s a dying art—fewer and fewer master gondoliers; one one boatyard left in the city (and our gondolier said that boatswain is reported to be the son of the last master—and not as good in craftsmanship). Totally touristy, but worth the cost for the experience, to know you’ve “done the real one” every time you see that cheesy Vegas gondola ride advertising on TV. It’ll be about 100-120 Euros for about a 45 minute ride. Take a bottle of wine and paper cups (yes, it’s allowed, but ask the gondolier before you board) and oolala…I wanna go back!
SEE VENICE, A GIRLFRIEND’S GUIDE, PART 4 FOR DETAILS ON THE OUTER ISLANDS & THE END OF THIS REPORT…
Tuscan Pizza and Chianti (and
Over an Italian dinner, we discussed it with our new friends in hushed undertones, hardly believing that we were giving voice to such a scheme. Could the four of us really leave behind our combined seven children and escape for a tour of Italia? Could we afford it? Where would we go? Would we do well, traveling together as couples? Within twenty-four hours, we had agreed to go; within forty-eight, we were researching our options on the Net.
Rome is Fabulous...but Tuscany is Even Better!
Having never been to Italy before—and since I am a novelist and needed some research time in several key cities for a medieval trilogy I was writing—we elected to canvas it from (near) bottom to top, and purchased open-jawed tickets that allowed us to begin in Rome, move on to Tuscany (via car) for the bulk of our time, then head north to Venice. Rome was captivating, enthralling, overwhelming with her layers of history. We walked five to six miles a day and reveled in the sites. But we all breathed a sigh of relief once we negotiated the aggressive traffic and were en route to Tuscany. (**Renting a car? See bottom of article, PART 2, for tips.)
Half an hour outside Rome, the countryside began to resemble more of what we had in our mind as iconic Tuscany—rolling green hills, umber-colored homes, towering Juniper. Even from the freeway, we could make out the hill towns that we would soon be exploring. En route north toward Arezzo, where we had found our agriturismo to rent, a picturesque town perched high on a hill called to us, and we quickly agreed to stop and do some brief exploration. It was Orvieto, home of a wonderfully decorated church, a sleepy village and a nice piazza where we purchased a glass of Chianti, a wild boar sandwich on crusty bread, and sat outside to watch the children and pigeons at play. A thin autumn sun shone down on us, and we periodically grinned at one another and said, “Can you believe this? We’re in Italy!” like the silly, giddy, delighted tourists we were. (I swear we became more cool in time, but never ceased to be lost in a sense of wonderment at being someplace so beautiful and unique.) Later it was Montepulciano, home of excellent wines and a quintessential hilltop town, that called to us to stop, with beautiful views, charming cobblestone streets, but was sadly, largely closed because of siesta. We moved on.
Finding a Home Away from Home...
Darren and I were the Internet researchers pre-trip, and we looked at countless villas to rent. Two of the best sites are http://www.tuscandream.com and http://www.florencevillas.com. (Agriturismi are country farmhouses or villas that are typically rented by the week, Saturday to Saturday.) But given that we were traveling off-season (November), we contacted several owners to see if they’d rent to us for five nights instead of the prescribed seven—and cut us a deal, no less. The one that rose to the top was the Odina--a name that still invokes dreamy sighs and long stares out the window (www.odinait.net), and was a delicious enough experience that we returned with our children and parents a year later! North of Arezzo, high in the Pratomagno Hills, nestled among olive groves, overlooking the Casentino valley, just above Loro Ciufenna, was our huge, luxurious home away from home.
Grocery Shopping Tips:
Making your own food whenever possible saves lots of Euros. We shopped in several small stores in towns we went through. This Eastern part of Tuscany is far less touristed, so be ready for people who speak no English—part of the fun! But there are also a growing number of larger stores in the bigger towns (look for “Co-op” signs—one in Montevarchi). Some things to be aware of:
We made pizza twice in our wood-burning stove, sacrificing several to the pizza gods before we got it down. Here’s what you need to know, if you want to try your hand at it:
Woodburning Pizza Oven Ingredients/Directions:
INGREDIENTS:
Purchase several frozen pizza dough balls, flour, lots of fresh mozzarella, parmesan, fresh basil, and whatever else you like on your pizza, plus a rich, canned tomato sauce (so much easier to find here than in the U.S.!) that you add basil and oregano to, (or a ready-made pizza sauce, if you can find one). We liked Italian sausage, red onion and red bell peppers on our pizza, but we also did a ham and onion that was quite tasty. Salami and pepperoni are other obvious ingredients. (Don’t forget to buy red wine and salad makings while you’re at the store too—it’s a winding, hilly haul from the Odina! Also baggies to store leftovers.)
I’d love to live a hundred years if I could ever afford to return to the Odina in the Summer and enjoy her lovely pool, and take in her wonderful gardens and views in a different season, but fortunately, we were ready to embrace the moody, damp weather of autumn. Loving being in our own little Italian oasis, we elected to stay put the next day, sleep in, read, and recover from our whirlwind Roman touring and a touch of lingering jet lag. That evening—more luscious Chianti and a delightful Chicken Piccata (lemon and capers), courtesy of my amazing chef of a husband.
SEE TUSCAN PIZZA AND CHIANTI, PART 2...
Just off the Map in Florence
Earlier this year my wife and I along with four of our kids, ages 14 – 25, spent the third week of June in Firenze (Florence), Italy. This was my first trip to Italy, my wife’s third, and our planning started a year ago. Eventually we decided to rent two apartments right on the Piazza Della Signoria. The apartments were OK, nothing elaborate, but the location was wonderful. We were right in the middle of Firenze, and we could feel the life pulsing from the piazza. All of the city’s sites were within a twenty minute walk of the apartment. The idea behind the apartment was that we would not be bound to have every meal out and the mornings could be a casual, slow awakening for our tribe. This worked for everyone - they slept in while I rose early and explored on foot as the city awakened.
I savored my self-appointed role as the advance scout. The streets were empty except for the street cleaners with their brooms of twigs (just like a witch’s broom), a centuries-old design which was perfect for brushing the uneven paving stones. Vendors were pushing carts heavily loaded with wares to their street market locations. One morning I encountered an open-backed Panda utility truck as it clunked along a narrow lane, its only cargo a pile of empty straw covered Chianti bottles that had been collected from the sidewalks in front of shuttered restaurants. I’m not sure if they were destined to be recycled or taken back to the winery for refilling. The aroma from bakeries and pasticceria filled the streets with temptation as the city slowly came alive with businessmen and women seeking their biscotti and morning cappuccino. Each day I explored in a different direction, and returned with neighborhood breakfast specialties and inspiration for the days’ outing if all the stars were aligned correctly.
One morning
If you stayed straight on Via dei Neri you would eventually be one block from Chiesa di Santa Croce. But I turned right when I reached Via Del Benci and crossed the
This part of the city still has portions of the medieval defensive wall visible from many angles. The steep climb to Piazzale Michelangelo starts at the ancient Porta San Miniato gate. Upon exiting the gate a right turn would have lead me up a lane that followed the curve of the ancient wall, to the renaissance era Forte Di Belvedere and the rear entrance to Giardino di Boboli. But I continued straight on Via del Monte Alle Croci until I veered left to the Michelangelo stairs, a short but steep and shaded approach to the piazza at the top. Halfway up I found the Colonia Felina Protetta #3, a protected area that provides shelter, food and water for stray cats. I saw an elderly woman calling them for their morning treats. My determined pace up the stairs was rewarded with a fantastic panoramic view of Firenze and all its Renaissance glory below. At the east end of the piazzale I gazed into the
It’s the quest to explore and look around each corner that let me to the Basilica Di San Miniato. It was not on the city map I was using, just off the edge, not visible. But from the road where I was standing a series of footpaths that wound a little farther uphill looked intriguing and begged for further exploration. Eventually the walk revealed high stone walls. I found a hole in the hedgerow, and upon exiting this rabbit hole I was at the
I headed home carrying a breakfast of breadsticks and pastries for the late sleepers, only to return later in the day with them in tow. We took the less strenuous route to the top in the afternoon - the #13 bus to the summit, where we all enjoyed this adventure together. The Piazzale Michelangelo and the Basilica are wonderful destinations, and I heartily recommend spending a half day of your time at this extraordinary vantage point in Firenze.
Venice: Part 2 (A Girlfriend's
CONTINUED FROM VENICE, PART 1…
NAVIGATING THE CITY...
VAPARETTO (WATER BUS) DETAILS...
Buy a Venice Card with your vaporetti pass (at the Piazzala Roma or Rialto station, or better yet, online before you go at http://www.hellovenezia.com .) When I arrived to buy 72 hour passes for seven of us, I had to have a heap of Euros--almost every one we had--because they don't take credit cards. Buy it before you go online! Vaporetti TIPS:
--TIP #1: Watch what direction that vaporetto is going out of the stop ahead; it will tell you which floating "terminal" you want. There are usually two landing stages/terminals--one for each direction on the route.
--TIP #2: Keep your vaporetto pass in a neck wallet with your passport. If you lose it, you have to purchase a new one--no recourse.
--TIP #3: You must validate your ticket with a date stamp by sticking it into a brightly colored machine, about shoulder high, on most docks. Big fines if you're caught without it. And when we last went, it was teeny-tiny--very easy to lose. We had to buy a replacement when my daughter's flitted away in the wind.
--TIP #4: There is a board/sign at the front of each boat that gives you the route/line number and the stops so you can keep track of where you are, just like a bus or metro. Don't get caught in the back of a crowded vaporetto; if your stop is coming up, move toward the open, standing area so you can readily exit.
You can get from the airport to the Rialto via the vaporetto system (although the Venice Card and pass doesn't cover this portion; extra fee). Or you can walk down to the airport docks (about the equivalent of five blocks) and take a water taxi for 90 Euros (2007 rate). This is an other-worldly and convenient way to enter the city, and they can bring you to a stop close to your hotel or apartment--especially wonderful when towing luggage.
Sigh! You've arrived and can move around!
NOW...ON WHAT TO DO:
The Venice Card will gain you free or less expensive access to the vaporetti, museums and public toilets. You can choose the culture version if you want to enter lots of places for less/free, or the transportation version if you're mostly interested in just walking around, absorbing the city from the outside. The culture version lets you enter lots of places for less/free, one of which is the delightful Ca’ Rezzonico on the Grand Canal; go check it out because it will give you a sense of what it might be like to live in one of these grand palaces on the water. Be sure to go all the way to the top piano (floor) and look out the windows. Many of Venice's old guard/money live on the top pianos of the old palazzos and rent out the rest.
Take time to visit a couple of the scuola buildings--they have amazing art and big cavernous rooms that might give you a reprieve from the heat (and they draw far fewer tourists). For centuries all workmen in all trades were associated with these guilds--sort of fraternities or unions. Some were charitable institutions. To see their meeting places helps you understand some of Venezia's deep history and view some amazing artists you might never have heard of. I particularly liked Scuola Grade di San Rocco, and Scuola di San Giorgio degli Schiavoni. These grand old meeting halls often have big mirrors you can hold and see the amazing paintings on the ceilings--without having to look up the Italian word for "chiropractor" later.
THE EARLY BIRD GETS THE YOU-KNOW-WHAT:
--The RIALTO BRIDGE and immediate vicinity offers some of the best glass shopping anywhere--but be aware that you can probably find the same pieces in other parts of the city for less. It's also great to people watch--Venetians and tourists intermingling in the boats below.
--PALAZZO DUCALE: The doge was the duke of Venice, the big man, the head cheese, and Venice was once a huge, international maritime power. My favorite parts of his palace are the Sala dello Scudo, with walls covered with maps of the world and two giant 18th century globes in the center; the Sala del Maggior Consiglio, a massive meeting hall for the Great Council that will take your breath away; and the Bridge of Sighs that leads down into the dungeon where Casanova (and many others) were held—look for the graffiti displays.
SEE VENICE, A GIRLFRIEND’S GUIDE, PART 3 FOR MORE DETAILS…
Mom on the Run: Provence
Okay, so if you’ve read my other BT journals, you know I’ve had some pretty terrific trips. But part of traveling is learning how to negotiate challenges and finding your way through difficulty, even when things don’t fall together exactly as you had envisioned. I call it Travel Head. With TH, you don’t get mired in frustration and disappointment; you look for the next best option to help keep you moving forward. Without TH, you might find yourself in a bad situation, or even a completely ruined holiday, because you can’t see the good among the bad.
Granted, by the time I reached French soil, I was fried. Mentally, I’d just taken care of pretty much every administrative detail in leading my three children, spouse and parents through Rome, Tuscany and Venice for twelve days. The day before, my four-year-old threw up on a vaparetto in Venice and was obviously suffering from a bout of stomach flu. Emotionally, I was worn out from being the anchor point for six unique personalities, and stressed and suffering from SMG (Severe Mom Guilt), certain that I’d just committed my husband to the international equivalent of a gulag: a seventeen hour flight home as a “single parent,” with three children (4, 9, and 12) who might all have the flu by this time. In my darkest visionings, Tim even had it. Ugh.
For all the time I’d put into planning our multi-gen trip to Italy, I had little more than a small guide book, car and hotel reservation for my five days in Provence. Oh, and did I mention, Je ne comprends pas Francais? (Probably lame French right there…pieced together from back of guide book.) Not the most auspicious of beginnings. But, I thought, I am a confident woman who has traveled solo before…the world is becoming flat…I can get pretty far with a smile and pleasant attitude. So, having made it to the airport bordering the arid, white-washed, rugged rocks of the Cote d’Azur, and with the help of a businessman who spoke great English and made me purchase a Michelin map, I motored out of the airport parking lot and onto my next adventure.
NOTE: I made a critical mistake in not spending one more minute checking out the car before I pulled out; they had brought the car to the front of the office for me. Mirrors, instruments all seemed in order. But it wasn’t until I was entering the medieval city of Avignon—picture narrow, winding, walled, cobblestone streets and tons of people—that I realized I couldn’t put the car in reverse. My husband and father had been driving in Italy; I knew they had to choke up on the clutch in some way that was new to both of them, and it hadn’t been easy. But that wasn’t working. (Worse, I knew the address of my hotel, but I wasn’t exactly sure how to get to it or where I was supposed to park—great info to nab before YOU go.)
At Last…Avignon
My hotel, the lovely 19th C. Hotel de l’Horloge (http://en.federal-hotel.com/hotel-information_hotel-de-l-horloge_4122.htm) two blocks from the Palais des Papes, and perched on the edge of the picturesque, 15th Century Place de L’Horloge, popped into view. Happy my luck seemed to be changing, I checked in and then went back to the garage to retrieve my bag. (Apparently, you can park nearby, but I wasn’t moving my rental if I could help it.) I asked the friendly man at the front desk where I could grab a simple meal—“All I need is a bowl of soup and glass of wine,”—suddenly having difficulty imagining anything but a long, hot soak in the tub.
He directed me to the simple, touristy restaurant next door, which I wouldn't recommend but was perfect for me that night. And in a cool, traveler’s luck moment, I ended up sitting next to a couple from the U.S.; the middle-aged man was a writer, researching the letters of some medieval noble, having gained amazing access to them for the week. Fluent in French, he was all set to begin transcribing in a dark, musty room while his wife tooled about. Wishing him luck, and fired up over my own research, I moved back upstairs to my third floor hotel room, ran a hot bath and fell to sleep, blissfully happy to be settled and secure for the night.
Fort? Palace?…Umm…We’ll Call it the “Fortace,” Palais des Papes
I wandered the warmly lit, cobblestone street and found my Internet café, where I would frequent twice a day afterward, hungry for news of my family and of home. Turned out, my family had made it, safe and sound, with no further flu repercussions. I sighed audibly enough to draw the attention of the guy at the next computer, officially relieved of SMG. He gave me a puzzled smile and then returned to his own cybertalk. I returned to my hotel for another hot bath, and a glass of spicy Chateauneuf-du-Pape. (But of course…the pope had his own vineyards! Curiously, the vines grow out of the rockiest soil you’ve ever seen but produce a special grape.)
Zee Pont du Gard
Les Baux: Land of Dante’s Inferno
I returned to Avignon for some sort of beef and red wine dish, with a touch of orange peel and lots of onions (oo la la!) and landed a small van tour to St. Remy-de-Provence the next day. Two women I had met up with had told me they had just spent three days in Marseilles, unwinding a terrible robbery incident that had left one with a knife wound on her arm and face, and I decided to stick with a small group.
WARNING: I guess this is a common scheme. The women were bird-watching near La Camargue; amazing flamingoes there! A man approached them, told them they had a flat tire and offered to help them change it (they later figured out he had slashed it himself). He changed the tire, threw the slashed tire into the trunk, then before they could quite believe it, moved to the driver’s seat and took off. That’s where it would end for most people, but one of these women jumped in with him, determined to not let him get away with passport, purse, keys, luggage, rental car, everything! She was very lucky to not have been hurt worse. After slashing her arm and face, he pushed her out of the car, and they still ended up trying to figure it all out in Marseilles. A terrible way to spend precious vacation days and money…always be aware of those who might be preying upon you! I’m not saying you want to always be looking over your shoulder and miss what’s ahead; I’m saying just be smart. Aware. Read up on what the specialty of thieves is ahead of you—some things remain the same, country to country (pickpockets) but many countries develop their own special brand of crime.
The Stars of St. Remy
Our group wasn’t a tourist group per se—you already know how I feel about that—more seven travelers (2 Brits, 2 Americans plus me, 2 French) who were heading in the same direction…and didn’t care to drive. The driver stopped in several small towns, then returned for us a couple hours later. It was a great way to scout out a few more stops! But St. Remy, birthplace of 16th c. Nostradamus (which I happened to wander by—outer wall of the avenue Hoche), 1889 recovery retreat for Vincent Van Gogh (after he mutilated his ear; and this was where he painted “Starry Night”), is special. This is a village known for her spices and arts. I had the driver drop me in Glanum, the 400-10 BC. Greco-Roman ruins about a mile outside the city (there’s an especially cool triumphal arch memorializing Caesar’s conquest of the Greeks and Gaul and a mausoleum), and then made my way inward, stopping for a croissant and coffee and watching a bunch of old men in berets play some sort of leather ball and pin game. I stumbled into a photographer’s studio, one I recognized from some US publishers’ book covers; turns out he was a Romanian ex-pat now living in St. Remy “because of the air, the light, the people.” I wanted to buy one of the ethereal prints in his dusty, lonely studio, but couldn’t justify the $1500 price tag at the end of a seventeen day, sucky Euro-to-USD-exchange rate trip. But I still think about “Man Under Big Blue Sky” and muse over contacting him, seeing if it’s still hanging on the wall, just waiting for me.
I’ll look forward to returning to Provence in the future and seeing some sights I missed this time—I’d love to go in the spring and see the fields of purple lavender—or take in Orange, with her Roman ruin treasures. I met several moms from Atlanta, traveling with their preteen daughters, who had taken the speed train from Paris down to Provence for a few days, a lovely option for those wishing to expand their understanding of this country. Maybe I’ll do that with my own daughters someday soon.
What’s to hold me back? Next time, I’ll even be able to put my car rental in reverse…from the start. :-)
Born with Gypsy Shoes: Family
My grandma always said that the women in our family were born wearing gypsy shoes, so it doesn’t surprise me that the love of travel has passed on to my children. I married a man who loves to wander, too, so in June of 2008, six of us from our blended family headed for Italy. After we visited Rome and Florence, we ended our 2 week trip with a few days on the beautiful Amalfi coast. My husband Craig and I, as well as our kids Angela, Jack, Sandra and Ian (in ascending order, ages 14-25) rented a manual transmission minivan as we were leaving Florence and headed south on the autostratas A1 and A3, into even more heat and sunshine than the country's unusual heat wave had already afforded us.
We knew we were getting close to our destination when we had to make a sudden stop in the middle of the road to yield to a herd of goats. Tourists that we are, we grabbed our cameras and hung out the windows to get the shot, while the goatherd gave us his best contemptuous stare over his designer sunglasses.
We had reserved rooms in Alborgo Torello, a lovely small hotel in Ravello. (http://www.alborgotorello.com - "Al Borgo Torello is a completely renovated building enchanting position where our guests can admire the incomparable view of the Amalfi Coast, from the peacefulness of our garden.")
After a day of hair-raising driving adventures, we were eager to get out of that van and into our hotel. Alas, in a simple parallel parking maneuver, Craig introduced the rear fender of the van to the neighbor’s stone wall. I then became the designated driver for the remainder of the trip, since I have been driving manual transmission vehicles since I was a pup. (Thanks, Dad.) The first order of business, after hauling our bags up the 18 irregular stone steps to the front door, was to cool off for a few minutes in the highly efficient air conditioning, and then head to the town center of Ravello, and the Piazza Duomo.
We visited Ravello just days before the town’s famous Music Festival, and we were able to watch some of the preparations while avoiding the crowds. The soundstage was being erected at Villa Rufulo one night as we were having dinner at The Garden Hotel’s restaurant, an outdoor café that overlooked the concert site. The stage actually hung off the cliff, providing concert-goers with a fantastic visual backdrop of the Mediterranean Ocean to complement the music. We enjoyed a delightful dinner with lots of fresh seafood, and the waiter presented our check accompanied by glasses of limoncello liqueur for everyone. Don’t let the stuff fool you – it’s not the innocent glass of lemonade it seems. There was a lot of giggling at the table once we all polished off those drinks.
Each night we straggled back to the inn, a mere shadow of the enthusiastic party that had departed that morning. Then after a good night’s sleep, we reassembled in the garden for a fabulous breakfast, served by the unfailingly charming Roberto. He provided cup after cup of cappuccino, which was a delicious accompaniment to the fresh croissants, fruit, cheese, coffeecake, and yogurt unlike anything we had ever eaten in America. As we enjoyed our meal each morning, shaded by an ancient olive tree, we admired the view of the village of Torello, and the surrounding lemon groves.
We appreciated the fact that we were staying in a neighborhood, rather than a more touristy place, as it afforded us a chance to observe daily life. One morning the harvesters were out in full force, picking the huge lemons, piling them into large plastic crates, and then hauling them out of the groves on their backs with only pieces of foam to cushion their muscles.
Amalfi is a sparkling, very popular resort town, and 95 degree temperatures didn't keep the crowds away. There were hordes of smiling tourists strolling, shopping, eating, lounging, sweating, picture-taking, sunbathing.
Eventually we found ourselves in a small tunnel, which led under the Duomo di Sant'Andrea and out into the Piazza Duomo, with its many cafes and wonderful fountain. We quickly learned that fountains in Italy are meant to be used - everyone splashed some water on their faces, refilled their plastic drinking bottles, and paused for a few moments' rest on the ledge. We drank the water from nearly every fountain we came upon, in Rome, Florence, and the Amalfi Coast, and experienced no problems with it whatsoever.
The ferry landing in Positano is in the center of town, next to the Spiaggia Grande. From the beach, the town quickly rises up the hillside. The peaks of the surrounding mountains are often hidden in the clouds.
The walking tour of each town begins in the Piazza Duomo – the cathedral plaza. Every town has one, and Positano was no exception. We quickly learned that Craig’s obsession with exploring every nook and cranny paid off in terms of finding lower prices the farther we traveled away from the beach.
Via Del Mulini is the central shopping street in Positano, and it heads uphill, away from the beach. A lovely stretch of this narrow walled street is shaded by a trellis of bright pink bougainvillea, and both sides are lined with vendors selling handcrafted jewelry, artwork, and snacks.
We explored a side alley filled with restaurants, little clothing shops, and shoemaker stalls as small as closets.
From this point, the faint of heart (or weary of feet) can catch a bus back to Amalfi, instead of the ferry. The bus stops briefly, so the tourist who hesitates is left behind.
By mid-afternoon, our entire party was sweaty and exhausted, so we headed back to Amalfi. The ferry ride was refreshing, but it didn’t take much walking to get overheated again. So Jack and I decided to get the van, while the others stopped for a quick swim at the beach favored by the locals. This was a simple pebbly beach, without an admission charge, where you swam amidst the boats and luxury yachts moored in the harbor. Craig and a couple of the kids stayed behind at the beach, thereby missing the epic battle of the parking gate and the faulty token.
When we arrived in Amalfi, we parked at the wharf area, in a pay parking lot. When we entered, we received a token. Upon exit, we needed to first drop the token into the payment machine, and pay the exorbitant fee demanded. We would then receive another token, to be deposited into the machine at the exit. This would signal the gate to rise, and we could then roll merrily along toward home. Except things didn’t go quite according to plan.
Maybe it was because the token sat in the hot car all day, and it was overcooked. Maybe it was because Jack dropped the token, and I had to move the car so he could retrieve it without melting his kneecaps. Whatever the reason, that payment machine deemed my particular token as unacceptable. No matter how many times we dropped it in the slot, no matter how much spin we put on it, or how hard we smacked it into that machine, it wouldn’t register. Instead of connecting with the inner workings that would then announce the precise total of arms and legs we owed for a day’s parking fee, my token instead fell uselessly into the coin return slot time and again.
Something that must be understood regarding small town life in Italy: every happening is a community event. Therefore, every passer-by or driver waiting to use the machine after us felt compelled to offer advice or condolences on our dilemma. Finally the two gentlemen seated just past the obstinately unmoving exit gate decided it was time for them to weigh in. They had nothing to do with the parking concession; they owned the little alimentari right next door. But they were clearly more experienced with this accursed machine than Jack and I were, so we let them have the obligatory seventeen tries at getting the token to perform properly. No luck.
They helpfully suggested that we call the help number posted on the machine. Great idea, except we had no cell phone. Besides, we doubted our conversational Italian would cover this particular topic. Reluctantly, our rescuers used their phone to make the call. Ah, someone would be along presently.
Twenty minutes later, our rescuers had not yet arrived. Craig and the girls had, however, wondering why we had failed to meet them as arranged. Craig’s refreshing swim was soon a distant memory as we continued to wait in the baking hot parking lot. Our heroes made another phone call to the rescue crew. Soon, soon. We continued to melt.
After another eternity, a couple of guys wearing municipal-logo shirts zoomed up on a scooter. They too tried their hand at the token game, and then after a lengthy discussion with our champions, the deli guys, who insisted we not be charged for parking because of the grievous inconvenience we had suffered in the parking inferno, the officials used their override gizmo to raise the gate, and waved us through with a flourish.
Back to the alborgo, and the beds placed so invitingly in front of the air conditioners. Had we been at home, we would at this point have refused to budge from the comfort of our cool room and crisp sheets. But this was Italy – who could waste time resting? We could rest when we got old. Back into the van, back to the piazza in Ravello. There were parking machines to battle with, side streets to be explored, cafes at which to linger. La dolce vita awaited – andiamo!
Freedom Is Not Free - Normandy
Normandy - Part II of Souvenirs of France
Fewer and fewer WW II veterans are returning to Normandy now - that momentous day in history, when the tide of war changed, is far in the past and most of those who fought to overcome Hitler and his monstrous ideas have joined their fallen hero-friends in the hereafter. But we can still travel there to wonder at their tremendous courage and sacrifice and to pray that the world will never again allow such a thing to recur. I don't know why I did not grasp the pathos when, as a teenager, I visited Normandy with my WWII veteran father, but, returning with my retired US Naval officer husband, almost 40 years later, it
moved me deeply.
Normandy is full of reminders of war juxtaposed in peacefilled settings. We began our journey through history at the pilgrimage town of Lisieux, at the beautiful 20c. Basilique of St. Therese, where incredible modern mosaics depict the message of a young girl who, in her simple understanding of faith and prayer, "the little way," influenced many and was named a saint by the Catholic church. St. Therese is the patron saint of France and this tribute to her life was well worth our time.
After a quick tailgate lunch, we proceeded to the fascinating medieval town of Bayeux. Since most of the fighting occurred along the coast, many of the historic timber-framed and renaissance buildings still stand in this charming town. It is not hard to spend an entire day or two strolling and visiting sites. We began at the UNESCO registered "memories of the world," Bayeux Tapestry. Embroidered in the 11th c., it depicts in great detail (58 scenes) the adventures of William, ("the Conqueror") Duke of Normandy, who, in 1066 set off to conquer England (and succeeded!) The tapestry runs the 70 m. length of a dark corridor (you do the math, I was an English major!) Thankfully, the admission price includes a hand-held English interpretation wand that allows you to move at your own pace to appreciate each scene. They even have guides for children. Even in our video action-packed age, who would not be fascinated by this peek into medieval life? ....My photos do not do this justice!
Since we prefer picturesque lodgings, we chose to spend two nights at LeCornu Bed and Breakfast, Place de Gaulle, in Bayeux. Smiling and helpful Christelle LeCornu showed us up the narrow staircase to our charming and comfortable garret room overlooking the park. (We parked on the street.) In the evening, we entered the "cave" where Francois, our host and the farmer-producer, treated us to a Calvados (apple brandy) tasting. Apples are the signature crop of Normandy and Calvados is a great way to get your "apple a day!" At breakfast, also in the cave, we were able to taste the various apple jellies and juices as well. The lovely bottles and jars we chose from their inventory made wonderful souvenirs and gifts (but remember, they must fit in your checked luggage when returning to the US.)
The next stop was the Arromanche 360; a circular theater located on the formidable cliffs overlooking the seaside town of Arromanches. We stood mesmerized as black and white photos of the battle flashed around us, accompanied by the sickening sound of artilliary fire. It was a powerful presentation that brought home the incredible courage and horror that Allied troops experienced there. After we regained our composure, we walked down the steep sidewalk to the town. From that perspective we had another panoramic view of the windswept wide expanses of beach only littered now with the remains of concrete cassons that the British troops, soon after the invasion, moored as an artificial port. Once on the beach, Dan, my historian/engineer, became our interpreter of all we surveyed...it is very helpful to travel with those of varying expertise and insight!
After a brief respite, we drove on to Omaha Beach .......
Locks and low tides at St. Pierre du Pont
Omaha Beach - yellow flowers, thorns - rope ladders of rangers climbed cliffs
Mont St Michel
Utah Beach -
Indonesia: Dragons, Diving, an
September 4 to 7 After losing a day crossing the dateline, I joined my friend Frances for a few days on the beaches of Bali. There are many beautiful beaches and resorts along the coast of southern Bali, and many people never venture past these relaxing shores. Along with the beaches, southern Bali contains spectacular Hindu temples. One of the most dramatic temples is Tanah Lot. Part of the temple complex is on a rock island out at sea and is accessible only during low tide.
Near the temple at Uluwatu, you can see traditional Balinese dancers perform in an amphitheater set on cliffs high above the sea. 
The dance, Kecak Ramanyan, is performed at sunset and includes not only the more familiar masked women and men of the Balinese dance, but many men in a trance chorus, which originated during times of epidemic to ward off disease. One performer appears as Sita Hanoman, a white monkey with magical powers who dances in a fire. Perhaps taking their cue from the white monkey dancer, the long-tailed macaque monkeys around the Uluwatu temple are the most aggressive you'll encounter in Bali, especially the alpha males who have to be chased away from tourists by guards with long sticks. That is only partly successful. I watched one monkey pluck the sunglasses off an unwary tourist.
September 16 to 19 After sailing back to Bali, I settled into my hotel in Ubud in central Bali. Ubud is a royal cultural center with a palace, a monkey sanctuary and several temples. After a stroll along Monkey Forest Road with its shops and restaurants, I caught up with my friend Frances, who had an intriguing proposition for me. Frances worked for a charity, the WINS Project USA, that provides educational opportunities for poor children in Bali. How would I like to meet Emon, the eight-year old boy whose education I was sponsoring? She introduced me to her driver Rai, and we headed off to the countryside near Bangli.
Rai knows Bali well but still had to stop and ask directions to the remote village where Emon lived about twenty times. Passing rice terraces sculpted into hillsides, we arrived in the village which was centered by the local temple. Although poor, the people keep the village streets spotlessly clean. Rai asked for the compound of Emon's family. Typical of rural Balinese culture, about seventy members of Emon's family live together in the walled compound. Members of the male line stay together while women move to other compounds when they marry. 
Emon's father welcomed us to the compound and invited us in for a traditional coconut drink. I had gifts for Emon but knew that Balinese tradition required that I present the gifts to the father who would give the gifts to Emon later. Emon's mother had died leaving the father with responsibility for four young children. Emon was very shy and somewhat reluctant to leave his village. So Komang, his older brother who is all of eleven, accompanied us on our road trip. Komang's education is also supported by the foundation. Our first stop was Emon's school where we met his teachers and schoolmates. In Bali, they say school is free (until the sixth grade) but education is expensive. Our donations provide for many of the expenses the parents would be expected to pay and also provides for enrichment activities such as computer classes and English lessons. Teachers and students both wear uniforms. The children were excited to see us, and one teacher said Frances and I were probably the first Americans the school children had ever seen.
Rai then drove us toward Galung Batur, Bali's second most active volcano. He suggested lunch at a restaurant on a cliff overlooking the volcano and the lake at its base.
During the drive, Rai chatted with the boys in Balinese and learned that this was the first time the boys would eat in a restaurant. The normal diet consists of rice, some homegrown vegetables, a little fish and more rice. Little Emon's eyes grew wide at the array of food at the buffet, and he filled his plate twice. I couldn't believe such a small boy could hold so much food! Rai also introduced Emon to his first soda pop. The traditionally dressed waitresses asked Rai about us. When they found out that we assisted with the boys' education, they each personally expressed their thanks to us for helping the boys. 
Frances whispered to me that the assitance I provide to Emon may be as much as his father earns in a year. The waitresses prepared special desserts for the boys to take home. We passed a coffee plantation on the way home, and Rai stopped so that we could buy the boys their first cups of cocoa. After all that lunch, Emon gulped down two cups! He was also fascinated by the Asian Palm Civet, a cat-like animal that produces a rare coffee called Kopi Luwak. The production of this coffee starts when the civet eats (then passes) the coffee bean whole. (Good, but not worth sixty dollars for a small bag and the thought of how its made.) We returned to the family compound where Emon and Komang told of their adventures. After many thanks, Frances had Rai stop at a center for disabled children, some of whom also receive educational assistance through the foundation. Frances introduced me to a small boy in a wheelchair who is taking computer classes to help him secure a better economic future. We also met a girl who had lived on the floor of her house for two years until the center found her the money for a wheelchair. The physical therapist was there that day, and women cradled disabled infants while waiting their turn. The therapist was helping a young boy with crippled legs who had received special shoes and a wheelchair from the center. I ended that day with a greater appreciation of what life had given me. I was glad I could share with others even in a small way. One person can make a difference in the life of another.
After that emotional visit, Rai suggested something for the spirit.
How about a temple I could actually enter? Most temples on Bali are closed to outsiders, but Gunung Kawi still welcomes visitors. There is one catch, however. 
Gunung Kawi's entrance is 200 steps down (and then up) a very steep hillside. I knew I couldn't complain as I watched women descend the steps with elaborate offerings of fruit, rice and flowers balanced on their heads. The temple at Gunung Kawi is adjacent to the candi shrines carved in the rock. The candi shrines were built during the eleventh century to honor King Anak Wungsu and his wives. Inside the Hindu temple, women placed offerings on the shrines of the divine deities, such as Barong, the deity of order, harmony, and health. I met one of the elderly women who are highly respected as offering experts or tukang banten. A priest chanted. A family prayed. It was a peaceful and colorful place and worth each of the four hundred steps.
Indonesia is not a place that came to mind when I thought of a trip. But for me it became a journey of adventure, of the heart, and, unexpectedly, one of the great trips of my life.
San Fran: Best. Coffee. Ever.
So I've Got a Little Problem
To be clear: I have a bit of a coffee problem. It's more of a macchiatto problem, really, but I'm splitting hairs. I drink at least one really good macchiatto every day, if it can be arranged. And it almost always can be.
Anyway, my friends know about the issue; the people I work with, for the most part, know about it; my family is well aware. I'll travel miles for a really good macchiatto. I do it way too often.
The folks at Joe coffee in New York City, where I show up virtually every day, certainly know it too.
Still, it was a little disconcerting when I walked into Ritual Coffee Roasters in The Mission district of San Francisco on a recommendation from the coffee gurus at Joe-- this is some 3,000 miles away from my home-- and heard someone behind me say, quizzically: "Steve?" I turned around a little slowly, because it threw me off.
"Do you drink a lot of coffee at Joe? In New York City?" he asked.
I mean, not really. I drink a lot of macchiattos . But I've learned not to argue about it.
It turns out he used to work at Joe, and although I didn't recognize him-- well, he knew me. I was just rationalizing the whole thing to myself (it's a small world, he got my last name wrong, etc...) and explaining it all to a friend who had accompanied me when I heard someone behind me say, quizzically: "Steve?"
I turned around slowly, again, to find someone I knew well: A barrista who had served me a macchiatto only a few days prior, back at Joe in New York City. He was in town to learn more about coffee drinks, and had landed at SFO only hours before me. Needless to say, he was a little stunned to see me standing there, the whole landmass of the United States behind me, ordering the exact same drink I always do. The fact that he was the second person in about thirty seconds to be shocked by it struck me as something it was going to be very, very hard for me to rationalize.
We talked for a little bit, the barrista and I. I asked him where else I could get really good espresso drinks in San Francisco, and he directed me to an employee who knew a ton about San Fran coffees. We talked beans, roasting, foam, drink balance-- until he squinted at me suspiciously and said: "Are you in coffee?"
Turns out I have a huge problem with coffee. Just huge.
But If My Problems Can Help Others...
Well, then I’ll take one for the team.
The upshot of all the questions was that I learned a lot about great espresso drinks in San Francisco. Over the next two days, I spent most of my time tracking down good macchiattos, lattes, and espresso shots all over town, usually on the recommedations of experts. I did my fair share of "yelp-ing" too ( Yelp ), to see where the locals-in-the-know frequented. Then I went and tested all of them .
Ritual Coffee Roasters, in the Mission district of San Francisco, is pretty well known amongst the coffee cognoscenti. Ask at good places in New York, and they'll mention it. So I made it my first stop. I ordered a macchiatto with two shots of espresso (a double macchiatto). The barrista immediately informed me that they always serve it that way: “No need to specify.” I took this is a good sign; I like a little pretension in my barristas. At least they care.
My friend ordered a latte. A few minutes later we had the drinks back at the table. I took a few photos of the latte (see photo 1, top right), focusing on the presentation of the drink: A leaf pattern I’ve seen a lot, but it’s not easy to pour. Overall, it was a great drink, and I managed to make my way to Ritual two more times during the four-day trip. The macchiatto, for the record, was very good too. You should know, though, that Ritual is a young-ish crowd, and it's apparently de rigeur to come with the newest apple computer and a healthy dose of political correctness. On one occasion I asked for a bottled water, but the woman at the cash register really thought it would be better if I just used the common fountain. I looked at her closely; she wasn’t about to change her mind. So the vibe's probably not for everyone, but if you can get past it the people are generally friendly, the staff is professional, and the coffee drinks are top-notch.
The guy I had quizzed about coffee liked Blue Bottle Coffee up in the Hayes Valley, and then mentioned a newcomer as an afterthought-- 4 Barrel, which he said had opened up in an alleyway in the Mission, just a few blocks away from where we were chatting. I had heard a lot of good things about Blue Barrel already from some online research, and from some friends in town-- so I grabbed a cab and headed there next.
There are two locations for Blue Bottle Coffee , it turns out: One they’ve taken to calling a ‘kiosk,’ and another that’s a more traditional café. I visited the former, located on Linden Street, a small alley between Octavia and Gough streets in the Hayes Valley district. I’m not sure the word ‘kiosk’ describes it, really—it’s more like an urban garage and there’s an adjacent outdoor counter. If you take your espresso drinks to stay, you can cozy up in Italian style and savor your cup while standing at the outdoor bar, but most people seemed to order take-away. The storefront draws some pretty huge lines, and you have to love espresso drinks to think it all makes sense. I took a friend and it was about five minutes to get to the front of the line, and another five or so to get the macchiatto and latte we’d ordered
And Then, a Real Alleyway
Despite being tucked away in an alley, and despite serving from what looks like a coverted garage, Blue Bottle feels civilized. The staff is laid-back (it's San Francisco...), the service is good, the storefront is well-preserved, the outside counter is clean and appealing.
4 Barrel's (see Coffee Geek’s announcement ) in an alley too, but it's doing something different altogether. It took me about ten minutes to locate the store; I finally spotted a handmade sidewalk sign in black magic marker-- just the words '4 Barrel' and an arrow pointing down a long, truly urban alleyway. I could see that the alley terminated at a brick wall, and that a homeless man was reconstituting his shopping cart back there. About twenty feet in front of that, a few people seemed to be milling around aimlessly, and one, at least, appeared to be cradling an espresso cup.
So I headed for that. And that, it turned out, was 4 Barrel.
The storefront, if you can call it that (it's still under construction), was more than a little ramshackle. After studying it for few minutes, and taking some photos, I concluded that it was probably the back entrance of an artist's loft; if I'm wrong I'm happy to hear about it in the comments below.
Do I recommend 4 Barrel? Yes, definitely. But I probably wouldn’t go after dark (it seems to close early anyway), and if a little dirt makes you tense—you should skip it .
Like Espresso Drinks, but Not Obsessed?
If you have a need for a good, solid espresso drink in the morning, or you have the desire to try one without too much wandering, Peet’s is a good bet. Many years ago, Peet’s was a small, local newcomer to the coffee scene (it started in Berkeley in 1966). In the years since, it’s become a pretty big chain, but unlike some chains I won’t name it still takes making coffee seriously—and the results are still good.
Tips
>> I like Yelp.com to find good food and drink in towns I don’t know very well. It’s a free service, unlike Zagat’s-- and its unique system of rewarding good reviewers tends to produce accurate assessments.
>> When looking for good espresso, make sure the barrista isn’t just pressing buttons. You should see the barrista tamp down the ground beans, “pull” the shots, and add the milk and/or foam-- all with some degree of care and attention.
>> If you can order twenty ounces of coffee at the place, get out.
ALASKA WITHOUT A CRUISE SHIP
Bob and Cathy Smith
According to the latest (2006/2007) figures from the Alaska Visitor Statistics Program, 40% of Alaska travel is by air primarily on business, 54% of visitors who come for vacations and pleasure travel by cruise ship. 1% travel by ferry and 4% by highway. An interesting statistic is that of those travelling by ferry, 60% are repeat travelers whose first trip was by cruise ship. This last statistic is revealing. Hang on to it; you'll see why later.
Cruise ships typically are like fancy hotels. They are a great experience as a treat, especially if the primary reason for your trip is to enjoy the ship. Our reason for going to Alaska was to experience the scenery, small towns, rainforests, Denali National Park and the abundant forms of wildlife. It seemed to us that the ship would detract from our freedom to explore rather than enhance it. Furthermore, we tend to avoid crowds of tourists and get as far away from them as we can. Maybe that's just us.
We found that there are only three ways to explore the "Inside Passage" of Alaska. If you look on a map that is where you find the small towns of Ketchikan, Sitka, Juneau, Haines, Skagway and others. The only public highway in the Inside Passage is the Alaska Highway Ferry System. That whole section of the state consists of islands, so if you're going anywhere it is by water or by sea plane.
We began to wonder about this ferry thing and so we looked it up on the internet by visiting the Alaska Marine Highway System website: www.dot.state.ak.us/amhs/
Much to our pleasant surprise, the ferry boats were not what we expected. Here in Ohio a ferry boat is a little, dumpy barge with cars on it. The Alaskan ferries are like small cruise ships with multiple decks and one or two lower decks for vehicles. The ferries travel the southeast Inside Passage and all over coastal Alaska. They have cabins for those who want them on overnight trips, beautiful observation lounges, good restaurant facilities, small gift shop, internet connections, lounges, spacious decks and naturalist programs. They do not have crystal chandeliers, gambling casinos, grand staircases, professional entertainers or five star cuisine. If you would put on a tux and bow tie, someone would rightfully throw you overboard. The cabins are small but clean and comfortable. Nobody is going to create a towel elephant and leave it on your bed with a couple gourmet chocolates. So if you have always fantasized about putting on a pair of expensive sunglasses and pretending to be a celebrity gracefully floating down the grand staircase on Love Boat, the ferry is not the place to do it.
Cathy and I wer
e sold. We could travel Alaska on our own terms and schedule. We would fly into Seattle and board the ferry at nearby Bellingham. We decided to start the grueling, time consuming planning and booking process by calling the Alaska Marine Highway since it would be our first stop. On an evening eight months beforehand, we called the toll free phone number. A very pleasant and helpful agent talked with us and told us that besides scheduling the ferry she could also book our entire trip! After we picked ourselves up off the floor and inhaled smelling salts, we asked her how much the service would cost. "Oh, nothing," she said, "I am an employee of the state of Alaska. That's what we do." Ninety minutes later our trip was planned. Cathy and I looked at each other in utter amazement. What we thought would take eight months took ninety minutes. During that phone conversation, the agent asked us what towns and attractions we wanted to see and made very valuable suggestions. Without her help we would have wasted time seeing things that are duplicates or missed attractions we didn't know about. She asked us what kind of lodging we preferred and we told her bed and breakfasts. She recommended how much time we should spend at each town in order to enjoy the to
wn and its attractions.
Our actual trip was even more fantastic than we had imagined. We were on foot and public transportation were successful most of the time in avoiding the human floods of cruise ship tourists. We spent time in the towns of Ketchikan, Juneau, Sitka, Skagway, Fairbanks, Denali National Park and Anchorage. We were in Alaska 20 days. When we visited Denali, we stayed at the Back Country Lodge, which is way back in the center of the park and away from the populated entrance. We saw wildlife all over Alaska including humpback whales, eagles, sea otters, harbor seals, black bears, grizzly bears, moose, caribou, foxes and wolves. We didn't see one of each; we saw hundreds.
In the towns we would sometimes encounter people who were travelling by cruise ship and get into conversations with them. We noticed that most of these conversations were amusingly similar and went something like this:
THEY: "So what cruise ship are you on?"
US: "We're not on a cruise ship." (At this point THEY appeared somewhat confused.)
THEY: "Then how in heaven's name are you getting around?"
US: "By ferry."
THEY: "Oh, then, you're DRIVING."
US: "No, we're on foot."
THEY: (silence...with the look a dog gives you when it's confused - cocking the head from one side to the other)
Then, of course, we would relieve their confusion and discuss how we were travelling. In every case, the people told us they were unaware anyone could travel Alaska like that and expressed the wish that they had known before booking a cruise. I asked them why they felt that way and they said they would have preferred the freedom of choices and not feeling "herded" as they did on a cruise.
Earlier I mentioned to hang on to the statistic that 60% of the independent travellers using
the ferry system had previously taken a cruise. My guess is that they came on the cruise and while in Alaska talked to someone like us and found that they could control their own vacation. So they returned on their own to more fully experience Alaska to its fullest. The cruise had given them a preview sampling taste of the gourmet experience that is Alaska. Our advice is to skip the sampling and go for the main course.
Antarctic adventure
Penguins ... but no polar bears!
Sipping a Beagle beer at the Banana Bar in Ushuaia,Leigh and I contemplate the trip ahead. If everything we've heard about the Drake Passage is true, we figure this may be our last pint for quite a while.
We're about to board the M/V Professor Molchanov for a 10-day adventure cruise to Antarctica, and the formidable weather of the Southern Ocean is on our minds. Unimpeded by land, the Atlantic, Pacific and Indian oceans all mingle in a circumpolar maelstrom of waves, current and wind. It can be rough — very rough, according to the guidebooks and blogs of previous Antarctic voyagers. Nearly everyone gets seasick during the crossing, we read. Alcohol may not be the best idea, but despite the warnings, we chug the last of our brews and head for the pier.
The gritty little harbor town puts on a clean frock for tourists, dressing up its main street with shiny souvenir stands, electronic shops and internet cafés. But what we enjoy the most is hanging out with the many well-behaved and friendly dogs that each patrol a section of sidewalk. Every morning, there's a parade of canines outside the posada, all wearing collars and purposefully trotting down the street toward some unknown destination or rendezvous. We befriend an especially cute mutt living just down the street for our lodge. He runs the length of his fenced-in yard each time we walk down Rivadavia to reach the waterfront.
The local history museum tells the story of the early explorers who first traveled these waters in their quest to circumnavigate the globe: Sir Francis Drake, Captain James Cook and Ferdinand Magellan are all among the notables who sailed the maze of fjords and headlands of the archipelago at the tip of South America.
After sending a few postcards, we visit a waterfront fishmonger to buy portions of seafood salad studded with chunks of apple. It's made from king crabs. The spiny, long-legged denizens of deep southern ocean waters are starting to move south closer to Antarctic shorelines as currents and water temperatures shift under the influence of climate change. It’s a first taste, literally, of what we’re going to learn about how global warming is affecting Antarctica, and especially the Antarctic Peninsula, where temperatures have warmed five times faster than the rest of the planet during the past few decades.
Drake Passage
Our first day at sea is mellow. We make good speed, heading almost due south and averaging 12 knots, with huge albatrosses and petrels swerving and swooping alongside to keep us company. Trying out a borrowed 300 millimeter lens keeps me busy for hours, as I try to steady myself, while keeping the horizon straight and focusing on the speeding birds at the same time. Finally, I manage to snap a half-way decent shot of a petrel skimming so close to the cobalt-blue water that it's wingtip touches the surface.
"Mr. Drake is sleeping," says Russian Captain Nikolay Parfenyuk. "He is not hungry today. Mrs. Drake is saying, hello to all of you," the captain jokes.
The swell increases during the second night, tossing a few chairs around our cabin. Evelin Lieback, the ship's doctor, hands out motion-sickness patches to several passengers, and a number of places remain empty in the dining room during the evening meal. Leigh and I don't succumb to the dizziness at all. Instead, we enjoy the rocking and rolling in our comfortable berth and take in the exhilarating spray of wind and sea foam as often as we can.
But by noon the next day, it's smooth sailing once again. Just as the kitchen crew starts serving desert, expedition leader Jan Belger says whales have been sighted. We all drop our forks and rush on deck, marveling as the gentle giants flash their dorsals and blow clouds of mist into the gold-tinted sunset. Fin whales are the second-largest cetaceans. Males in the southern hemisphere grow up to 88-feet long and weigh 70 to 80 tons.
For more information on the ecology of fin whales visit the IUCN Red List web site.
The Molchanov is full for the voyage, 52 passengers in all, with a large contingent of jolly Dutch. There are a few Germans, a couple of Israelis, a well-traveled couple from South Africa and some Brits. the passel of Americans includes eight from our own home state of Colorado as well as a few Midwesterners. One young traveler from California is making the most of the recent economic malaise, using his severance package to finance a world trip, including the jaunt to Antarctica, booked last-minute in Ushuaia at a significant discount.Two of the experienced guides are Dutch, the third is a French biologist, and our cooks are Malaysian, so the good ship is bit like a floating United Nations.
Convergence
The big milestone for this part of the trip is the Antarctic Convergence, where cold water flowing northward from Antarctica mixes with warmer water from the adjacent oceans. The turbulent upwelling is zone of high biological productivity, where phytoplankton nurtures vast swarms of krill, which in turns is food for whales and seabirds. The convergence is part of a circumpolar current — the world's largest, carrying 130 million cubic meters of water per second, or 100 times the volume of all the world's rivers combined. The current delineates a discrete body of water and a unique ecologic region. In 2000, the International Hydrographic Organization designated the waters south of the current as the Southern Ocean.
There are also concerns about how climate change might affect the circumpolar current, which is known to be important to regulating the world's climate, but those potential impacts are poorly understood.
Antarctic Sound
South of the convergence zone, the sea is still. The ship slows to maneuver between giant ice floes and we awaken to a magical world of icebergs tinged lipstick-pink and tangerine-orange by a spectacular Antarctic sunrise. Only a few passengers are awake and perched on the bow of the Molchanov to watch a group of penguins arch through the water like mini-dolphins. They're powerful swimmers, using their wings to propel themselves under water with flying motions.
"They're trying to fly," says expedition leader Jan Belgers. Even though the birds gave up the sky for the deep sea eons ago, they still have some genetic memory of what it must be like to soar through the air, Belgers explains.
Paulet Island
Our first landing in Antarctica is on Paulet Island, a small circular chunk of volcanic rock that's home to a major adelie penguin colony during the Austral spring and early summer. In early March (late summer in the southern hemisphere) the penguins are mostly gone but the remains of their rookery, in the form of pungent pink guano, was still evident. The acrid smell wafts across the water as we approach the shore in Zodiacs and getting across the beach to the uplands involved a hike through the smelly turf.
A few straggling adelies remained, along with dozens of fur seals lounging on ice floes and along the beach, along with a group of blue-eyed shags, the only members of the cormorant family to venture to Antarctica proper.
We hiked to the remains of a stone hut that served as shelter for Captain Carl Anton Larsen and the crew of his ship, the Antarctic. Larsen, a whaler, was exploring the region in 1903 when his ship was trapped and crushed in the ice offshore, leading to one of the many epic stories of polar survival. Part of Larsen's party traveled over the ice by sledge seeking rescue. Eventually, all the men but one were rescued by an Argentine vessel. A simple wooden cross set back from the beach marks the grave of Ole Kristian Wennersgaard, a 22-year-old sailor who died on the island in pursuit of science and exploration.
Dundee Island
Although more and more people are visiting Antarctica these days (up to 40,000 annually), it's still a remote tourism location compared to other hot spots on the global travel circuit. Our second stop is at Petrel Cove along the shore of Dundee Island. It's part of a group of islands known collectively as Graham Land, closer to South America than any other part of Antarctica. It was named by Scottish whalers in 1893 and served as the take-off point for American pilot Lincoln Ellsworth when he made the first trans-Antarctic flight in 1935.
When we got back to Summit County, I did some research on Petrel Cove to try and find out how many people have been there. A list maintained by a group that monitors environmental impacts shows that, during the past 15 years, only two commercial trips with a total of 107 visitors have landed at the remote site.
A few metal buildings, painted rust-red, are left over from an Argentinian settlement. Although it was supposedly a science station, our expedition leaders dismissively calls it a political site, established to help the South American country bolster territorial claims in Antarctica.
Under existing international law, the continent belongs to nobody and is managed for the purposes of scientific research through a consultative process. Still, several countries, including the United States, maintain that they have the right to exercise those claims in the future. With potential for vast reserves of precious resources, including offshore oil and gas, some observers think it's only a matter of time before some countries try to assert some level of sovereignty.
Brown Bluff and Deception Island
Setting foot on mainland Antarctica is a big step for some of the Molchanov's passengers, who are visiting their seventh, and final, continent. The brown basalt rocks are part of an unusual geologic formation called a Tuya, formed when a volcano erupts beneath a continental ice sheet. Whether it's our seventh continent or not, we all agree it's the most spectacular site so far. Ice floes fill the bay for as far as we can see, and the curved beach is densely populated by friendly gentoo penguins and ornery fur seals, who protect their turf by grunting and lunging awkwardly when a tourist wanders too close.
The rotting sheds and rusted metal tanks that once stored whale oil are grim reminders of a not-so-distant past, when men slaughtered tens of thousands of the giant mammals at sea, then dragged them to the stations to be rendered for oil, flayed for meat and carved up for their by-products, including baleen to make combs and corsets. Thankfully, Antarctic waters have been designated as a refuge for whales. Several species that were hunted to near extinction are making a comeback.
South Shetlands
Our last day in Antarctic waters is spent around the South Shetland Islands. In the morning it's drizzly and cold when we stop at Half Moon Island, where fur seals rule the beach. A chinstrap penguin rookery thrives in on the rocky crags above the beach.
Penguins are the iconic species of the frozen continent, but the simple and prolific food chain in the Antarctic region is under the gun from global warming. In the last half century, winter temperatures on the Antarctic Peninsula — the skinny spit of land sticking up toward South America — have climbed five times faster than the global average. Polar conditions have given way to a moist maritime climate, with huge impacts for the birds and mammals of the region, all of which depend on krill for sustenance.
Krill, a Norwegian word for "small fry," refers to tiny shrimp-like crustaceans found in great abundance in Antarctic waters. The krill feeds on tiny free-floating plants called phytoplankton. In turn, the krill is eaten in mass quantities by whales, sea birds, seals and penguins.
But changing wind patterns linked to global warming are altering the system. Researchers in the area are documenting changes in the distribution and density of phytoplankton in the ocean around the Antarctic Peninsula. In the March 13 edition of the journal Science, Rutgers University biologists reported that those changes may help explain declines of some penguin species in the area. Some of their research is documented in a paper, available online at www.sciencemag.org/cgi/content/abstract/323/5920/1470.
Adelie penguin populations, adapted to a colder climate, are declining. Warmer-weather chinstrap penguins have become more numerous and displaced adelies in some parts of the peninsula and on surrounding islands. The research is based on satellite images showing changes in ocean color, temperature, sea ice distribution and wind. It's supported by data collected at surface by University of Hawaii researchers who are currently working in the seas around the peninsula and maintaining a blog of their voyage at http://uhmanoa-antarctic-research.blogspot.com/.
Check out the Posada del Fin del Mundo at www.posadafindelmundo.com.ar/.
Information on Antarctic voyages with Oceanwide Expeditions is at www.oceanwide-expeditions.com/.
Sailing the eastern Indonesian
My journey to Indonesia was part of a year-long solo trek to 14 countries and other than my starting off point, a few ideas of places I wanted to see, I let the journey unfold as the year progressed. With two close friends who helped steer me to interesting places they had been, and with Internet sites such as Budget Travel, I had the resources I needed and more often than not I would find deals I couldn’t pass up. I rarely make reservations - there is always one room at the inn, one seat in the theater or on the plane, or in this case, one place left on a 7- day cruise aboard a 100’ schooner traveling the unforgettable islands of the eastern part of the Indonesian archipelago.
My journey on the Ombak Putih began on September 4th. I was the first to arrive on the ship and I was elated by the thought of sailing for a whole week. I didn't know any of the other passengers and I was equally excited about making new friends and relationships. Traveling solo has its p- and downsides. I find that I tend to make new friends easier as a solo traveler than when I travel with others – I am forced out of my comfort zone having to strike up conversation with others if I want to have any sort of companionship for that particular moment or day.
Shortly after I arrived, two other couples joined me at the deck. Joyce and Gary were from San Louis Obispo, CA where Joyce is a travel agent and Gary teaches electrical engineering at California Polytechnic University. Tina and Darren were from London celebrating their honeymoon. Tina is a HR specialist and Darren is a database engineer. Four other passengers where suppose to join us however one broke her leg, another got malaria in Burma and the final couple were to meet us two days later on September 6th. We were elated; we essentially had the entire ship to ourselves.
Now this was my first time traveling by sea and I was a little nervous about being sick. Much to my surprise it had the opposite effect on me. I felt alive, healthy and at ease with the rocking of the ship. It was this magnificent feeling that would continue throughout the week.
As we went to our rooms, I was thrilled. I only paid one-half of the listed price for a single passenger, and wasn’t guaranteed my own room, in fact had been told I would be sharing a room. With the mishaps of the unfortunate passengers who had to forego this trip, my week was a steal. My room was quite large for what I had expected. I had the luxury of a queen bed, private bath and what seemed to me to be a large room for a ship this size. My first call to action was to get some sun - out came the pink bikini and I hoisted myself on deck with a good book as we set sail.
Our first stop that afternoon was in eastern Bali. We were taken by water taxi to a small community where the village fathers had preserved the 17th century village. They had historic design guidelines and no new building or renovation could deviate from the original. Quite amazing, this was the first community I had encountered in Indonesia that had placed any restriction on building development. The village was charming and at the end of it there was a school and a 300-year-old Banyan tree. After the village we went to the old capital of Bali. The capital was where the royal family of Bali ended their lives at the hands of the Dutch at the beginning of the 20th century. The Dutch had sent troops to take the capital by force. The King and his family unwilling to surrender walked into the lines of the Dutch army in 1906 and were immediately killed. From this tragic incident, the Dutch lost control of their colonies and were finally forced out of Indonesia by 1946. At the capital city we toured the Royal Palace and the Hall of Justice. Both were quite interesting, but the Hall of Justice was the most intriguing. It was built in the 16th century and acted as the place where the high priests would sentence criminals. While it was the belief that criminals would face their ultimate punishment after death, the high priests sentenced them to the same fate during life. So if you were caught stealing, your hands would be cut off, if you were caught in some sort of devious sexual crime then bad things would happen to your private parts, if you killed someone, you would be killed and so forth. It seemingly kept crime down.
We left the capital city and we stopped at a sacred bat cave. The cave was thick with bat guano
and while it was most interesting, we quickly made our offerings and headed back to the ship. It was around 4:00 pm and we got back in time for a little more sun and a cocktail. It was a beautiful night to watch the sunset. There is something called the Indonesian haze and most of the journey it was with us. This meant that as the sun hit the horizon one could no longer see the sun. Tonight however was different and the sunset was magnificent. Around 7:00 pm dinner was served and while I don't remember what I had, all the food was terrific and I ate and ate and ate on the journey.
Every morning I would wake up around 5:30am so I could catch the sunrise. I got on the upper deck of the ship and did a little yoga, meditated and waited for the sun. The sun rose around 6:00 am-6:15 am. Spectacular is the only word I know to describe the feeling of waking up, being the only one on deck (other than the captain) and watching the sun rise as the ship sailed in this vast strip of water. This morning I was fortunate to see flying fish. Now this was a first for me and they were incredible! Wow, they can fly for such a long way and it is fun to listen to them as they flutter on the water, just beautiful creatures.
Today (day 2), we toured western Lombock. We started around 8:30 am at a weaving center, a small out of the way place that had only one weaver working. We saw how the traditional cloth is both dyed and woven. It is interesting because the cotton is dyed in a pattern first so when the weaver begins, the pattern is already known and she works with the pattern and cotton to ensure it is woven correctly. The older woman working the only loom on that day was so pleased to show us how she worked. She was even more gratified when we gave her 100 Indonesian rupiahs which was about $2.00, probably a week’s worth of wages.
Throughout my travels I get a kick out of interesting places to pee. The weaving center was certainly the most utilitarian and will be added to the most unique places from my journey. It was a small room (a little privacy) with a concrete floor and a drain. Not as exciting as the communal toilet in Vietnam, but what was funny was that after I went the drain flowed to where a man was dying the cotton for weaving – needless to say, I didn't buy any materials!
After our weaving stop, Franz our Dutch tour guide, took us through the streets of Lombock, the streets most tourists would never see, to show us a particular village where every man is a blacksmith. This was so fascinating. In each area there were small 10x10 cubicles where men would be squatting around a pit and hammering some metal. In each section there were blacksmiths working on different products. In one area, all the men were making nails in another area all the men were making horseshoes. It was fascinating that in each section the men worked on different implements. It reminded me of the old market in Hanoi, Vietnam where one street was dedicated to a specific product such as bamboo, metal, shoes, etc.
Off again where we were whisked away to the summer palace of the king. We toured around in the hot sun and then we arrived at a small hotel for lunch and swimming. We came to a place where there were natural springs and so after a cold beer and a large wonderful lunch, I jumped in and it was colder than expected, but it felt great after an extremely hot morning.
Back on the boat we picked up our newest traveling companions, our third and final couple, Gillian and Mike. Mike had been the New Zealand ambassador to Indonesia for the past four years and his wife Gillian is a linguist. What a wonderful couple it certainly added to the conversations and gave the trip a new depth.
Tonight we had the most spectacular sunset. We were able to see the tallest mountain, Mt. Agung in this part of Indonesia. It is the most holy of the mountains to the Indonesians and sits perfectly in the west. So as the sun set, the colors were magnificent and illuminated the mountain with reds, yellows and even later with indigos and greens. It seemed that the setting sun gave off the light of a magical rainbow and presented us with the most magnificent sunset she could produce.
At dinner that evening I had the good fortune to sit with Mike, Gillian and Franz. Our conversation was stimulating talking of politics, Indonesia, religion, and the world in general. I instantly liked and admired Gillian. She is intelligent, quick witted and has an amazing amount of spunk. The conversation was delightful and it made me think the rest of the night how I wanted more knowledge, more conversations like the one we had this evening and it gave me every reason to continue my quest as a life long learner and explorer.
The evening was enhanced further as the stars began to come out. The Southern Cross appeared first and then the rest of the stars came out and presented us with an incredible show. I felt as if I was in a planetarium. For this was the first time I had ever witnessed the sky at such depth. There was more depth to the universe than I could imagine. I could clearly see how civilizations could construct magnificent structures that were reflections of perfect planetary alignments. With nothing competing with the sky, the formations are easily recognizable – the Southern Cross, Scorpio, the Big Dipper, and on and on and on. I gazed for a couple of hours and had the good fortune of seeing a shooting star. This was a terrific day.
Day 3 we began our journey touring a crater lake that was formed 10,000 years ago from a large volcano eruption that occurred over 100km away. The lake became a saltwater lake at that time because of the typhoon that was created from the eruption and hurled salt water into the crater. We climbed to the lake and found flying fish as well as other saltwater creatures. This lake is considered sacred and many people journey here to bathe and leave rocks hanging in the trees. Most leave a rock tied to the tree and make a wish. So we followed suit. All of us hung our rock and made silent wishes. What a delightful way to start the day. Afterwards we journeyed to the next island over to snorkel and water ski. I snorkeled for an hour and it was wonderful and then I went skiing. Now I had not done this in 15 years, so I was unsure if I could. Oh, what the heck, so I put on the skis and made it up the first time! It was great fun, but after three times I was exhausted. I tried to teach Darren and Tina how to do it, but they were not so successful – I think it was the teacher!
The rest of the day was spent reading on the deck, chatting and napping. We were on our way to Komodo Island a journey that was 14 hours away. We sailed all night and reached the island of Komodo early the next morning. This is the only place where the famous Komodo dragons still live in the wild. The whole island is a national park, so designated in 1907 and it is also home to over 150 different birds. We arrived, day 4, on the island around 7:00 am and began our guided journey through the park. A guide is required because there have been tourists killed by the dragons on the island. We quietly trekked around and about a half hour into our journey we saw our first dragon basking in the sun. It was wonderful watching this creature and the enormous tail makes no one doubt the ferocity of this creature.
We continued and saw beautiful orioles and cockatoos. This was the first time I had ever seen cockatoos in the wild. I so wished I had brought binoculars so I was thankful when Mike pulled out his. In fact I somewhat controlled them from that point on. No one else was as enthusiastic about the birds as I was, so I felt lucky having them for the day. We eventually saw seven more dragons, a great day according to tour guide, Franz. He said the most he had ever seen at one time was seven. So to see eight, we all felt quite fortunate. We saw other wildlife – wild boar, horses, deer and squirrels throughout the park. The dragons eat wild horses, deer, and boar, apparently their appetite for deer means they eat about one every day.
We were off and headed to a rough sailing area where the bay and the Indian Ocean meet. The waves and current were quite strong and we could see how a smaller boat would have a difficult time navigating this part of the journey. We did stop about an hour later at a beach that is called in Indonesian the "red beach". It is dubbed this name because of the abundance of red coral that exists here. The beach was the prettiest I had ever seen. The sand was so soft and it was pink because of the red coral. Absolutely breath-taking. We snorkeled for about an hour and it was the best snorkeling I had ever done. A wonderful array of soft and hard corals, incredible colors like you see in a book, and the fish were abundant and varied. I saw lion fish, cattle fish, a sting ray, parrot fish, angel fish and more.
We made our final stop that day at another beach where we snorkeled and swam. This was our beach dinner night and Mike and Gillian's last night with us. Oh what fun. We water-skied again and this time Mike was able to get up and it was fun watching him ski. The crew began setting up for our romantic dinner on the beach and the rest of us watched the sunset and then had a most enjoyable evening. The crew had a large barbecue for us that included shrimp/prawns, squid, steak, tuna fish and chicken. Wonderful! We all enjoyed dinner and enjoyed watching as the night came upon us. Around 9:00 pm the Ombak Putih's band, made up of members of the crew, serenaded us. We danced, laughed and joined in when there was a familiar tune. It was a beautiful evening, one which I desired companionship to share it with, but I was certainly thankful for those around me.
We sailed that evening to Bima. Unfortunately, Mike and Gillian had to leave Indonesia. The new Ambassador was coming in a day and it was against the rules to have two Ambassadors from the same country in Indonesia at the same time. We said our good-byes and left early for the very intense local Bima market. I have been to many local markets around the world, so I didn't expect anything different than what I had already seen, but I was mistaken. Franz took us to the section of the market where the chicken spinner was located. Now this was the most disgusting but ingenious thing I have ever seen. First the chicken spinner (man in charge of spinning) cuts the chicken's throat, which is still alive, the chicken is then placed in a boiling pot. After a couple of minutes the very alive, very stunned chicken is then thrown into a spinner and all of its
feathers come off. The chicken is then kept alive until a buyer can be found. Now, I was grossed out by this, sick to my stomach and vowing to become a vegetarian. On the other hand, I thought this was a cleaver way to de-feather a chicken. No time is spent plucking the chicken and it reminded me of a 1950s commercial about a new fandangle washing machine. As we continued our journey through the market there were pungent smells of fish, spices and other aromas lingering in the thick hot morning air.
Our next stop was a village just 15 minutes from the Bima market known for its traditional dances. Upon our arrival the entire village (about 70) assembled for us and demonstrated five traditional dances that are done around harvesting time. The women of the village danced first. These dances were about planting the rice, how it is harvested and processed. The women were wonderful, warm and friendly and eager to show their traditions to us. The next dance was the sword and stick dance.
This was performed by two men and quite engaging. We had to step back in order not to be hit by the sword or bamboo stick. The final dance was the most anticipated. It was called the head-banger dance. It was fascinating. Two men with two young boys next to each of them would dance around. One of the men would stop and get into a stance (the young boy would as well -–kind of a protégée) and the other man would then charge and bang the man in the stance with his head - forehead to forehead. Wild. After the men each did that, the medicine man of the village joined in. The medicine man then took it upon himself to head-bang the men together. So what you have is two men at one side of the stage and the medicine man at the other. The medicine man then charged the two men, who had their ears touching each other and their foreheads in such a position that the medicine man's head hit the two men's head at the same time. It was crazy and all I could think of was “boy that must hurt,” it gave me chills.
As we were leaving Bima, Joyce asked that we stop at an elementary school. We did and this was such fun. The school superintendent was so pleased at our arrival. He assembled all of the classes, about 75 students, in one room and had them sing songs for us. Wow, all I could think of was where else would this happen? Most of the teachers were women and they were so friendly. I caught many of them laughing and pointing at me, so I wasn't sure what was being said. I knew it was not malicious, but I was curious. At the end of our tour at the school, one of the women who had been pointing and laughing came up to me and said how beautiful I was. She remarked that she and the other teachers thought I was pretty and she wanted me to know that. I was touched and it made me feel so good, what a lovely thing to say to someone.
We left Bima that afternoon and began to sail back. Our final full day would be stopping in East Lombock and then we would head back to Bali. It took most of the day and evening to sail to Lombock, so the rest of the day was spent on the deck reading, getting sun and enjoying another lovely sunset. We arrived the following morning (day 5) in Lombock. Darren and Tina decided to take the canoe and play on the water and beaches for the day and Gary, Joyce and I went with Franz to the villages of East Lombock. Here we toured the villages where the women hand-make pottery. They create the pottery in a very primitive way, all by hand and it turns out beautifully.
We left and went to the next village where the women weave beautiful cloth. We saw women of all ages weaving all on the porches of their homes. The looms sit on their laps and run parallel to the ground. They spend their entire lives weaving, every day for hours at end. It was amazing, hard work and many were in need of glasses. These are the poorest villages we had seen and you could tell by looking at the children who were terribly skinny and had potbellies, a sure sign of malnutrition. Our final stop that day was at a village where traditional dance is taught to the children. This village, aside from farming, had no other way of producing income. Unlike the pottery, weaving and cloth making, this village was the poorest of the poor. They are working with UNICEF on ways to teach the villagers other skills and helping them capture some of the tourist dollars by performing their traditional dances.
Back on the ship for our final evening, the entire crew of 15 had dinner with us. It was great fun as the captain cut the conical shaped rice and we all dug in. We gave the crew their tips and then had a kissing line with Tina, Joyce and myself. A “French” kiss – one kiss on each cheek was given and for some of the crew it seemed that they were more pleased with this than with their tips.
What an incredible week, great adventures, wonderful people and a sense of peace. It was magical to be on the water, watch the incredible simplicity of life that I take for granted – the sunrise, sunset and stars. How easy life really is, and how easily I forget. This was a great way to add perspective to my life. Sailing slows one down a little and forces you to go with the wind, so to speak. I was able to see a part of the world few outsiders see and increase my sense of place in the world and continue to build my respect for others, and truly understand how very lucky I am to have the good fortune to travel.
Lessons learned from an intrepid traveler:
1. I need take an astronomy class. I never realized how much I didn't know about the sky and how much I wanted to learn about it.
2. Buy things from the villagers. If only a small amount every dollar or rupiah counts to them. I purchased a few things, how could I not sitting on the floor surrounded by beautiful gifts with women smiling ear to ear.
3. Get up everyday and enjoy the sunrise. You can always take a nap or go back to sleep. Stop at the end of the day and enjoy the sunset.
4. Learn to dive not matter what your ears think. I have never learned to dive because my ears won't pop. I get vertigo after about 10m. Gary and Joyce are about 60 and avid divers. Gary had the same problem, and refused to let it stop him. I will now try and figure out how to do the same.
5. Learn to sail. My next class after astronomy will be how to sail.
6. Get to know the crew! These guys were wonderful. Most of them are in their 20s and married living away from their family for up to six months at a time. They are charming, warm and so sincere. I stayed up late a couple of nights drinking the local alcohol ARAK (icky) and dancing with them.
7. Start a murder mystery novel with the other passengers. When we were on Komodo Island Gillian and I created the beginnings of a murder mystery involving the crew, passengers and very colorful tour guide!
Molly
Turkey with Tutankhamun: Thank
On the eve of our trip to Egypt, I thought an entry in the blog would be appropriate. Tomorrow I embark on the trip of a lifetime with my partner, Brad and his mom, Nancy. This trip has been in the works for several months and we are all equally excited to see what Egypt has in store for us.
Like many travelers, we have gone budget in the past to extend our time away from home. But this trip is different. We splurged and upgraded the flights to First and Business class. I am hoping the extra coin pays off with fully flat sleeper seats and edible food. I have this vision I will arrive in Cairo refreshed and energetic. Ready to take on the day! I will snap a photo when we land and let you be the judge.
Until my next stable internet connection--Bill
Guten Morgen von Frankfurt! We are more than half way through our journey to Cairo. Just four hours left in the air, but about two hours to kill in the airport. Brad and I ducked into the Lufthansa lounge and I thought I should post a quick update while I had the chance.
Brad’s mom made a friend on the plane and is downstairs dispensing motherly advice to Alesandra, a Polish exchange student returning home after spending time with a family in Minnesota. This is one of the simple pleasures of travel. You have the opportunity to interact with people you would never come across in any other part of your life.
If you have not been, Frankfurt airport suffers from severe over signage. In an effort to direct the weary travel in the right direction, they have gone too far. It is easily one of the most confusing places to pass through. Throw in jet lag, a language barrier and confusing signs and you have a
travel recipe for disaster. As we slowly made our way through the airport, I was struck by one of the signs. I have included a picture. I am not sure what this says to you, but to me it screams, “GET OUT! THERE IS SOMETHING HORRIBLE RIGHT BEHIND YOU!” It elicits an immediate sense of panic. I actually feel sorry for the poor little stick man running for his life. But, perhaps this is what the German sign makers intended. Either way, their exits are clearly marked.
I am a travel snob. I will admit it. It is a condition I don’t wish to fix or hide. Nothing makes me happier than an upgrade to First class.
As I mentioned, we upgraded to First/Business for this trip, and let me tell you, it was worth every
penny! I have included a picture from Lufthansa’s brand new Business class cabin. These little pods make into fully flat sleeper seats and are actually comfortable. You slide down into the plastic cocoon and the arm rests drop away giving you a 6’4” bed. A slice of heaven in the sky! Add on to that unlimited champagne and a 12” personal video screen and I kind of don’t care where we are going. “Captain, circle the globe until the champagne runs dry or we run out gas. Which ever comes first.”
We made it! After 26 hours of travel, we are in Cairo. Landing at the airport is the perfect visual introduction to the country and the city. As you descend into the desert, you can see the struggle the Ciarenes have had in building this city. Not only is it a harsh climate, but Cairo is one of the most polluted cities in the world. They wage a daily war to claim their "Paris on the Nile" back from the land. The skyline is dotted with modern structures, pockets of fertile farmland and the minarets of the cities’ mosques. This is all set sharply in context with the pyramids of Giza looming just outside the city wall. They sit like grand old gentleman keeping a watchful eye on their beloved city.
As the sun is setting on our first day in Cairo, I am thrilled to be on this adventure. This photo is from our balcony at Sofitel Le Sphinx hotel. In the distance I can hear the muezzin’s call to prayer for the faithful gathering in the cities mosques and I am struck by how truly exotic this city feels. One guide book I read said Cairo is a tough city, but if you love her, she will love you back. Right now, Cairo and I are in strong like.
Our second day in Cairo was spent exploring the city. The day started at the great pyramids. There are three in total for the Kings Khufu, Khafre and Menkaure. The oldest one dates back as
From the pyramids we traveled down a small road to the elegant Sphinx. The head is of a man, symbolizing intelligence, and the body a lion, indicating great power and strength. The Sphinx is
the guardian of all royal tombs. It is referred to as the timeless Sphinx, since no one can document the exact time period in which it was built. The nose has been missing for hundreds of years and some attributed this to a battle fought on site by Napoleon. More probable, is the theory that a band of rebels in the area used to play target practice with the Sphinx and one of them clearly had a good shot.
The day ended with shopping at a local bazaar and a chat around the hookah in a café. Tomorrow is an early day. We head to Luxor to start our Nile cruise and a visit to the Pillars of Karnack.
I want to make it clear I am not complaining about being on vacation. With that said, I am tired! In the four days I have been away from home, I have slept less than 5 hours per night. We have seen amazing sites, but a little break from the early morning schedule would be appreciated.
Today we got up at 1:30 AM and left the hotel about an hour later to make the drive to Cairo’s domestic airport. The airport was a site to behold. It mainly serves Luxor and Aswan, two tourist destinations. The check-in and security process was absolute bedlam. I wish I had taken a picture of the scene, but it was wall to wall people in a very tight space. The security consisted of an x-ray machine circa 1982 that beeped for every single person in line. I pushed down any fear I had by deciding it was good when it beeped and bad if it was silent. Once we made it through security, we stood for a few minutes in the packed departure hall before some man shouted out our flight number. The PA system either did not work or never existed. The whole thing was like a terrible travel movie. The only thing missing was the requisite chicken running loose to complete the scene.
We landed in Luxor and made a short drive from the airport to our boat, The King Ramses of the Nile. We went through a lottery system to assign rooms. Brad picked our number and got us one of the worst rooms on the boat. I know this was not his fault, but he feels bad and I am going to use it to my advantage for as long as I can! Our room is at eye level with the water, which gives one the sensation of drowning. We are next to the engine room, so as I type this I can feel our walls shaking. It also smells like gasoline down here. I have decided if I can’t take the smell or the noise, I can just light a match and take care of the whole boat in about 10 seconds!
After a snack and a break, we headed off to the Pillars of Karnack. I was not sure what to expect from this site. From the parking lot, it looked like two large sandstone walls with sphinx statues lining the entrance. However, once I walked past this area I was blown away by the sheer size and beauty of this temple.
The Pillars of Karnack (or as Brad likes to refer to them, “The Pillars of Johnny Carson”), date
back to as early as 1920 B.C. The complex consists of various temples and obelisks dedicated to the Theban gods and pharaohs. The main structure is the Temple of Amun, which is the largest religious building ever built. The scale is grand and reminds me (in a good way) of what I imagine the set of an Indian Jones movie to look like. It even included scaffolding and workers restoring the ancient scenes carved in the sandstone walls.
For many this is the high light of a trip to Egypt and I have to say I agree. An additional bonus specific to our trip was seeing Ben Stiller and Chris Rock. I was not quick enough to snap a picture of Chris, but I did get a good one of Ben enjoying some history.
This morning we had a bit of a break and a chance to sleep in. We toured a small temple in the town of Esna. We spent the rest of the day on the river cruising through a picturesque landscape of rugged desert mountains in the distance and lush Palm Trees and farmland along the Nile. It was absolutely peaceful. We have also been playing cut-throat Uno with some of our shipmates to pass the time.
In the late afternoon we arrived in the port of Edfu. We traveled by horse drawn carriage to The
Temple of Horus. As the sun was setting, we had the privilege of viewing this spectacular place in the most beautiful light. Construction for the Temple of Horus was started in 246 B.C. It was dedicated to the cult following the falcon god. This temple structure is considered by Egyptologists to be the best preserved in Egypt.
We arrived this morning in the city of Aswan. This is one of the most southern points you can cruise to on the Nile, because of the great Aswan damn built by the British. The town is a bustling city with about 2 million residents. The Nile is wide at this point and contains many granite islands, which the Egyptians used to quarry to build their temples.
Abu Simbel is on the agenda today. This is one of the most visited sites in all of Egypt. It lies in a remote part of the country in the western desert about 40 KM from the border of Sudan. To get to Abu Simbel, we took a short bus ride to the Aswan airport and boarded a plane. As many of you know, I am an avid traveler for business and pleasure. I don’t get scared flying, but between you and me, this experience was a little scary.
We get to the airport and Sam, our tour guide; let us know we were flying Memphis Air and not Egypt Air. Egypt Air was dicey, so I imagined Memphis Air might be just a notch below them. He goes on to tell us they don’t assign seats. Neither does Southwest, so I don’t give this detail another thought. Then Sam continues by sharing we will get a boarding card in the airport and it won’t have our name on it or maybe anyone’s name in our group. Memphis Air just hands you a boarding card and as long as you have one, no problem. This sounds sketchy, but I am a seasoned traveler, so I go with the flow.
We passed through airport security and receive our boarding cards. I have been renamed by Memphis Air and should now be referred to as Monica. We board a small bus and head out on the tarmac to our plane. From the outside it looks like a relatively new MD-80, however, from the inside it is another story. The interior of the plane is a wreck. Dirty ceiling (which makes you wonder, “How did the ceiling get dirty?”), walls and torn seats. If Memphis Air ever revamped their fleet, this plane would be a prime candidate for the “before” photo. Since there are no assigned seats, I made my way to the back of the plane and found a seat next to an Egyptian woman who appeared to be a tour guide. Right before takeoff, one of the flight attendants signaled to her and she proceeded to the front of the plane and entered the cockpit. The door closed and the plane started down the runway. I am not sure what that was about and I probably do not want to know. As we tore down the runway, I can see the wall next to me expand and contract as the cabin is pressurized. I say a small pray and hope for the best.
Since I am typing this blog, I am sure you can guess we made it. We landed at a tiny airport and boarded a bus to Abu Simbel. The site of Abu Simbel sits squarely in the desert, but has a water front view of Lake Nasser. This is the largest manmade lake in the world. From the entrance, it is difficult to tell what makes Abu Simbel a point of interest. From the backside of the structure, it looks like a large stone and sand hill, but as you work your way around, it is impossible to prepare for the awesome temple built into the rocky hillside.
Abu Simbel contains two temples one to Ramses II and the other to Hathor, the bovine
goddess. Both were built between 1244 and 1274 B.C. King Ramses built this temple in a remote area to firmly assert his reign of power had no limits. His temple is impressive with four statues of himself flanking the entrance. To the right of his temple, stands a smaller structure, but no less impressive. This was dedicated to Hathor and King Ramses’ wife, Queen Nefetari. Nefetari is believed to be the most beautiful queen in Egyptian history. The other noteworthy fact is the statues of Nefetari and Ramses are the same height. As was the custom in this time, the King would always be larger than his wife. Ramses was rumored to be so in love with Nefetari he saw her as his equal. There is further evidence to this idea inside her temple. There is a wall carving showing King Ramses kneeling before his Queen.
Of all the sites we have toured to date, I think Abu Simbel was by far my favorite. The scale of the temple and the setting alongside beautiful Lake Nasser made for an ideal experience. After the tour, we went back to the airport and boarded the same plane back to Aswan. On this flight, Monica was renamed Mrs. Nancy.
At the end of our first day in Aswan, we sailed the Nile in a Felucca. A Felucca is a traditional
sailboat used in the Nile river valley. The weather has been absolutely beautiful and today was no exception. There was a light breeze on the water and the temperature was a balmy 80 degrees. Our captain and crew sang us a traditional Nubian song as the sun set behind the mausoleum of Aga Khan. This was a perfect moment in time. The only thing that could have made it better would have been a cold drink with a lot of ice!
London & Paris... in a family
Last month my husband and I brought our three children, aged 13, 12, and 4, on our first European vacation. It was a simply fantastic trip. Thanks for reading!
FRIDAY
Our first day in London was a little rough. The flight over was great - very smooth, comfortable ride, Will slept most of the time. Everyone around him on the plane thought he was so cute when we were taking off and he said, "We're goin' up! We're goin' UP!" Funny, though, they were not as impressed upon landing, when he shouted, "We're goin' down! We're goin' DOWN!!" But anyway, we landed at Heathrow at 6:10am London time, which for us translated into 1:10 in the morning, our time. Of course we could not check-in to our hotel until 3pm, but they did store our bags for us so we could do some exploring. We call it, Extremely Tired Zombie Americans Take On London. We did a lot, though, including the National Gallery, where we saw several famous works of art - including DaVinci's Virgin of the Rocks, Van Eyck's The Arnolfini Marriage, and Van Gogh's Sunflowers. We found an outdoor cafe in Victoria Embankment Park, where for our first English meal, Jack ordered the "American Breakfast." This was basically just eggs, bacon, hash browns and toast, and, for some reason, baked beans, which I have honestly never been given with breakfast in an American restaurant. Our room still not ready, we wandered across the Jubilee Bridge to the southbank of the Thames. There we boarded the London Eye, a rather big ferris wheel type observation ride. We really enjoyed the ride, and when our pod reached the top, we were able to see a beautiful panoramic view of the city. For dinner, we wandered into a quaint little English market (imagine, if you will, a 7-11), grabbed a loaf of bread, a jar of peanut butter, and yes, because we are on vacation and all, some jelly. All-in-all, a great first day.
Today was a gorgeous day - plenty of sunshine, temps in the 70s. We are having a little trouble getting rolling in the morning, although I am not surprised - it takes me a good five days to get used to DST, which is only an hour different than what we are used to! We found a little Italian coffee shop called Costa right around the corner, which is exactly next door to a little American coffee shop called Starbucks, which is twenty yards away from another little American coffee shop called Starbucks, which is next to another... well, you get the picture. We 
fueled up on blueberry muffins and massimo (not grande, massimo!) mocha lattes and headed for Waterloo Pier on the Thames. Here we caught our double-decker boat for a tour of the Thames and the city of London. It was the perfect day for it. Our first stop was Greenwich and the Royal Observatory. We walked through a beautiful park and up a hill to the Observatory, where we walked on the Prime Meridian and stood in both the Western and Eastern hemispheres, and sychronized our watches to the Greenwich Mean Time clock. After lunch (at a Mexican restaurant, of course) we headed back to the boat for the trip back. We disembarked at Westminster Pier and walked around Parliment, Big Ben, and Westminster Abbey before heading for St. James Park and Buckingham Palace. All in all it was a good little explore of the city and helped us get our bearings a bit.
SATURDAY
SUNDAY
We are getting a little better with this morning thing. We hit Costa again for breakfast then made our way down to the Tube. We seemed to navigate things pretty well, people were asking us for help, poor souls... we rode the tube to Tower Hill where we found the infamous Tower of London. William the Conqueror built the White Tower in 1077, and his successors expanded it. It served most famously as a prison and execution site - this is where Anne Boleyn and Lady Jane Grey (among others) met the chopping block. It's most recent prisoner was Rudolf Hess, one of Hitler's henchmen in WWII. Today the Crown Jewels are housed here. We took a tour led by a Yeoman Warder, aka Beefeater, then explored a bit on our own - seeing the Crown Jewels, Traitors Gate, Tower Green, and the towers that imprisoned Princess Elizabeth, Sir Walter Raleigh, and the two young princes kidnapped during the War of Roses in 1483. 
glad we did - we saw all of London, and were able to "hop-on, hop-off" at any stop.
Our last day in London. Buckingham Palace does the Changing of the Guard ceremony on odd days this month, and as luck would have it, today is April 29! We made our way down the Mall to the Palace, every now and then dodging raindrops. We waited outside the wrought iron gates, along with what may have been every other tourist in London. Gotta do it, though! Right on time, the Guards, accompanied by the Horse Guards and the band, march down the street and through the Palace gates. After much pomp, circumstance, and rifle-twirling, they were on their way out again. We walked from the Palace gates through the beautiful St. James Park and on to Westminster Abbey.
nally hopping off at Tour Eiffel. We walked around it, enjoying the many different views. I always kind of thought it was just a really big erector set, but it really is beautiful. The whole area surrounding the Tower is a park, with lots of green grass, gorgeous flowers and blooming trees. The only disappointing thing was the line to get in. It was as if every line at every Disney ride had converged to make one Super Line and take over the world. So we took some pictures and got on with our lives.
We walked through the beautiful cathedral and around the outside. We did not get up into the tower, though (see yesterday's post regarding the lines).
had a little picnic in the park. Then a French policewoman yelled at everyone to get off the grass so we moved the picnic to a bench.
After exploring the Tower, we headed back to our tube stop and decided to explore a different area of the city. We walked from our hotel in Trafalgar Square to Leicester Square, which can best be described as the Theater District, and on to Piccadilly Circus, which is pretty much Times Square without the really tall skyscrapers. We tried to avoid it, but we somehow ended up in the Trocadero, a huge, garish mall-slash-arcade place. The kids eyes lit up just as John's and mine started to glaze over. They of course went right for those "claw" games, where you try to manuever the claw to pick up some prize and drop it in the hole so you can get it. And this claw machine had iPODS in it! Now, any of you who have been to Gators with us know that we tell the kids EVERY TIME that they would do better flushing their money down the toilet, they can't win those games. And you also know that EVERY TIME Jack comes back a winner. Well, he wasn't as lucky this time. Leah, on the other hand... hello, little purple ipod shuffle!
MONDAY
Today we decided to go total tourist and get tickets for the double-decker tour bus. We are so
Our first hop-off was to St. Paul's Cathedral, an amazingly beautiful church in the city. The cathedral was destroyed in the Great Fire of 1666, and rebuilt by Christopher Wren. It's dome stands 365 feet high. After St. Paul's we rode through West London, past 10 Downing Street, Kensington Gardens & Palace, the Marble Arch, Hyde Park, and so many other sights. Our next stop was Harrod's, the immense department store where rumor has it, you can buy anything you want. Ronald Reagan once asked if he could buy an elephant. The Harrod's employee did not miss a beat and replied, "Asian or African, sir?" We decided against purchasing any wild animals this time, but we did spend some time in the toy department and bought some fudge on the way out! We got back on the bus, and then we saw a celebrity, so we jumped off to have our picture taken with... Justin Timberlake! He was pretty cool, but seemed a little, distant. Stiff. Waxy. We also saw some of his waxy friends at Madame Tussaud's.
After hitting the Beatles Shop (across the street from the Rolling Stones Shop), and searching for Abbey Road (we didn't find it), we finished the evening at a true English pub, The Sherlock Holmes, where we (well, some of us) ate fish & chips and mushy peas. And tea.
TUESDAY
If all I did on this entire trip was walk through Westminster Abbey, it would have absolutely been worth every minute and every penny. It is literally the most staggeringly beautiful place I have ever seen. I cannot even begin to describe it. Photography is not allowed inside, and believe it or not I am grateful for that because no photo that I could have taken would do justice to what I remember it to be. I am very drawn to English history and to walk through the halls of this place and actually touch the tomb of Queen Elizabeth was indescribable. We also beheld the final resting places of many others, including Mary, Queen of Scots; Anne of Cleves; Henry V; Henry VII and Elizabeth of York; Edward the Confessor; Geoffrey Chaucer, Charles Dickens; Rudyard Kipling; George Handel; Sir Laurence Olivier; Charles Darwin and Sir Issac Newton.
And that was how I wanted to remember London, so we walked across Westminster Bridge to the South Bank and had a great lunch at Giraffe, a funky restaurant with a motto I can believe in. Then we headed back to the hotel to do laundry and pack up. Early morning wake-up call tomorrow, when we board the Eurostar and head to the Chunnel for Paris!
WEDNESDAY
Today was another adventure - we boarded the Eurostar at St. Pancras Station in London and headed for Paris! It was an excellent way to go. Fast, smooth ride, breakfast served at our seats... we just sat back, relaxed, and watched the French countryside roll by. We disembarked at Marne La Vallee-Chessy, the station serving Disneyland Paris, and made our way to the hotel. After checking in, we walked around Disney Village, ate dinner at Rainforest Cafe, and hit the hotel pool, complete with water slides and screaming children. Mon Dieu, are we back in Orlando?
Cheers, London! You surpassed my expectations - we shall meet again.
Bonjour, Paris!
THURSDAY
Happy May Day to all!
May Day (May 1) is a holiday celebrated in many parts of the world, including France. There is no school, no work, and lots of places are closed. Guess what lots and lots of people decided to do today, on their day off? Yes. They came to Disneyland Paris.
We had fun, though, despite the crowds and intermittent rain. We visited one of the two parks today - Disneyland. It is set up a lot like Magic Kingdom, with several "lands" spoking out from the castle in the middle. Here we saw Sleeping Beauty's castle rather than Cinderella's, complete with a fire-breathing dragon in the basement. We saw some familiar sights: Big Thunder Railroad, the Carousel, Buzz Lightyear, Space Mountain; and some new ones: Pinnochio's Voyage ride, and an Indiana Jones roller coaster.
It was a nice, relaxing day - tomorrow we hit the City of Lights!
FRIDAY
After a pleasant French breakfast at our hotel, we ventured to the RER station to catch the train into the city. Everything went smoothly and we disembarked at Charles de Gaulle Etoille. The very first thing we saw as we walked up the stairs from the underground was the amazingly immense Arc de Triomphe.
This became our starting point as we made our way down the Champs-Elysees, which is the grandest boulevard in Paris - the beautiful tree-lined street is littered with high-end shopping and outdoor cafes. Perfect for high-heeled women in mini-skirts walking with their little poodles! We wandered down to the Seine, where we boarded a batobus - a hop-on, hop-off glass walled & ceilinged tour boat.
We cruised down the river and back again, fi
We walked around a bit searching for lunch, and found a cafe back on the Champs-Elysees. We ate some sandwiches on baguettes (Leah had a croissant and a pain du chocolat). We strolled through Nike Paris and then found the hugest Hagen-Daas shop ever, and got some ice cream. We then decided to call it a day and head back to our hotel. We will be back tomorrow for more sightseeing! Hope all is well with all you yanks over in the New World.
SATURDAY
Today we made our way back into Paris. First on our list to visit today was Notre Dame.
We then took a stroll through the city, over the river and past the Sorbonne to Luxembourg Gardens. We found a little shop that made baguette sandwiches, paninis and crepes - so we got some lunch and
After lunch we headed back to the river where we got back on the batobus and cruised around the river to the Louvre. The museum is amazing. We saw the Venus di Milo and The Mona Lisa, but the most impressive art was the building's architecture!
After the Louvre we headed back to the hotel. Tomorrow we plan to get in to the city a little later, so we can be there in the evening and see why they call Paris the City of Lights!
SUNDAY
We covered a lot of ground today. And I have the blisters on my feet to prove it! We got in to the hotel after midnight, so I'm afraid this will be a short post... I will try to add to it later on.
We had a relatively late breakfast and headed for the city around
MONDAY
Flying Carpets over Agrabah (like Dumbo), Cars Rally (like teacups, but in cars from the movie), and the Cinamagique and Animagique shows. We also rode on Crush's Coaster, a roller coaster ride based on the turtles from Finding Nemo. Disneyland Paris is the only WDW park that has this ride, so it was new to us! The guys went first and convinced Leah and I to try it, they said it was so much fun. They lie. Actually, Leah loved it, and I agree it was very well done. That's all I will say about that.
Back to Disneyland! Today we visited the other Disney park, Walt Disney Studios. A lot like MGM in Orlando, but much smaller. We (some of us) did Rockin' Roller Coaster, the Backlot Tour,
Will got to meet a lot of characters, he got a kick out of them and enjoyed posing.
TUESDAY
Today we head home. We have had an outstanding 12 days in Europe, and I think we are all ready to return to reality for awhile. At least until our next adventure!