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• London & Paris... in a family

  • From: amyem
  • Description:

    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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  • 1 year ago
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• Shell Hunting on Sanibel Islan

  • From: David LaHuta
  • Description:

    I’ve never considered myself a shell collector. Sure, I once paddled nearly 200 yards to a secluded islet in the Caribbean on the hunch that there’d be dried up sea urchins, but run-of-the-mill shells? Not me. That conch in my bathroom is just a quirky decoration. But it all hit home when I returned from a recent trip to the Virgin Islands. I heard the familiar rumble of my washing machine as it churned through smooth rocks, sea glass, and salty shells that filled the pockets of my board shorts. So it was official: I’m a shell guy.

    I guess that’s why I loved visiting Sanibel Island —14 miles west of Fort Myers off the coast of Florida’s southwestern shore. It’s one of the best places to go shelling in the United States. Call it a function of simple geography: Instead of running parallel to the mainland like most barrier islands, Sanibel is positioned east-to-west like a giant ladle in the Gulf of Mexico. As the currents roll in, so do nearly 275 varieties of seashells-- the most coveted being the brown-spotted junonia and the scallop-shaped lion’s paw. But I didn’t find any of those. Hardly anyone does, but it sure is fun to look.

    My search began on Lighthouse Beach. At the far eastern tip of the island you’ll find Sanibel’s sole lighthouse—a conical tower of wired steel meant to allow coastal winds to blow through. It’s a beaut of beacon, as far as lighthouses go, but I was here to find shells. Unfortunately I wasn’t alone. Shells are big business on touristy Sanibel and people come from miles around just to comb the island’s beaches. There was Louisa from Miami, who along with her two kids toted three full pails of ocean treasures; Margo from Fort Myers who unearthed a huge conch; and Phil and Stacy from Boston, who’ve visited Sanibel every year since the mid-80’s just to add to their shell collection. Me? I was just looking for a keeper —maybe a nice ribbed cantharus or a gulf oyster drill. And no, I didn’t know what those were before I visited Sanibel either.

    Having found a handful of colorful calico scallops, I decided to avoid the crowds and take my search elsewhere. Luckily there were plenty of options. Combined with Captiva—Sanibel’s smaller sister island—the pair have more than 15 miles of public beaches to choose from. But true shell hunters will tell you that it’s not necessarily where you go shelling, but when you go. Some suggest low tide, since a greater portion of the shoreline is visible; others hit the beach after a storm, when the winds and waves uncover shells previously buried beneath the sand. All good suggestions, but I didn’t have the luxury of being picky. This was a three-day trip—long enough to leave with a tan, but not quite the stay of loyal shelling veterans.

    Heading west I enlisted some expert advice and who better to ask then the folks at the Bailey-Matthews Shell Museum? Open in its new location for eleven years, the museum is devoted to shells of all kinds, with a full one-third of its exhibitions featuring specimens native to Sanibel and Captiva. It’s a massive place, one that my two-year-old niece would love, so as I perused the gift shop for a trinket to bring her. I posed the question of all questions for conch-lovers, and their ilk: “Where’s the best place to go shelling?” The kind lady who works behind the counter must get this all the time, because her simple reply was, “Wherever your feet are, of course!” So much for expert advice. Sensing my frustration she blurted out a tip, “Try Gulfside City Park, I hear folks are do ing well there today.”

    A ten-minute drive later I’m there. The south coast beach is buzzing with kids and families out for a swim, and the shell lady was right—I’ve hit the jackpot. Because the sand slopes gently into the sea, the beach at Gulfside City Park allows shell-hunters to safely wade in knee-deep water, uncovering hundreds, if not thousands, of shells with their toes. Instantly, I find dozens of Atlantic giant cockles and delicates rose petal tellins. A little later I dig up tiny Cayenne keyholes and spindly ladder horn snails. Eureka!

    With every step I take, more and more shells appear-- and by now my pockets are bursting. It’s a worthy take, but I still haven’t found anything bigger than my pinky finger. Suddenly I glance toward the shorelin, and there it is—a six-inch lightening whelk, so named because of its brown zig-zagging stripes. It might not be as rare as a junonia or as colorful as a lion's paw, but it’s big and it’s pretty and it looks great next to that conch in my bathroom.

    
    

    What to Know Before You Go

    >> Much like the Caribbean, peak season on Sanibel Island is from December through April so expect to find bargains in the spring, summer, and fall when hotel rates drop.

    >> At the Tarpon Tale Inn—a bungalow-style hotel near Lighthouse Beach—a one-bedroom cottage with a kitchen and private patio costs $149 in May and $119 from June 1 through December 16. The same room in peak season rents for $189, but no matter when you go, a double room at the hotel always includes two adult bicycles for the duration of your stay—which is perfect considering there are more than 23 miles of bike paths on the island. (888/345-0939, tarpontale.com).

     

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• Born with Gypsy Shoes: Family

  • From: donnamia
  • Description:

    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!

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• Backpacking in Olympic Nationa

  • From: chadallen77
  • Description:

    In the Beginning, We Were Ambitious

    I’d had the idea in the back of my head for a couple of years: climb Mt. Ranier in Washington State. I do a lot of hiking, including winter hiking, and Rainier is the destination of choice if you want to step things up a notch and get a taste of real mountaineering. It’s a difficult climb and it's modestly technical—there are glacial traverses, the weather can be extreme, and at 14,411 feet the summit push can induce altitude sickness. About 10,000 climbers attempt the summit each year, the vast majority of them as part of guided trips. Roughly half of these reach the summit. Alas, I would not belong to either of these groups.

    After roping my dad into the mission—he’s an avid mountain biker and I learned to love backcountry hiking from him—I started training. Running, cycling, hiking in upstate New York with a heavy backpack on the weekends. We booked the trip in March, and by the time September rolled around I was feeling confident I could make it to the top on our scheduled ascent the last weekend of that month. My dad was feeling pretty confident too: he’d been mountain biking on a regular basis and was working out in the gym. He’d pulled a calf muscle earlier in the summer at the company softball game, but assured me that it was “95% healed” by mid-August. Later that month, he was on his annual mountain biking trip in Moab, Utah, his final training push. I called my mom while he was there to get the real scoop on his physical condition. She confided that earlier in the week he had called from Moab to say that his calf was bothering him and that he had to “ride like a girl” (that’s my dad for you). This seemed inauspicious, to say the least. When dad got back from Utah I called and grilled him on the details of his physical fitness. He assured me that everything was good to go. It seemed plausible. Kind of. And then I met him at the airport in Seattle...
    
    He arrived a few hours before me (he lives in Michigan, I was coming in from New York), and was waiting in baggage claim when I arrived. He ambled over to greet me with what was not the minor, barely-visible limp of an old injury, but a shambling gait that clearly favored his left leg and made it look like he’d just been hit in the knee with a hockey stick.
    
    Mission Aborted

    The final summit push on Rainier is a 4000 foot vertical gain in a single morning, followed by a 16 mile descent the same day. Even at 95% fitness it would be a stretch, and this seemed more like 30% to me. I think the first thing I said was, “Are you kidding me?” My dad has an abiding belief in his ability to pull off anything through sheer force of will—and if willpower isn’t enough, he’ll usually try to make up the gap with duct tape and hanger wire. In this instance he had built a custom leg brace (he’s a Physical Therapist) out of plastic and machined aluminum. I was going to be climbing the most challenging mountain in the lower-48 with a do-it-yourself cyborg.

    
    We had a heart-to-heart on the spot, and I told him that it wasn’t really about climbing the mountain—in the end I just wanted us to share an adventure. When my brother and I were kids my dad had taken us backpacking in Washington’s Olympic Mountain range four or five summers in a row. Those trips are some of the best memories of my life, and so I suggested we bail on Rainier and do something more low key instead. I was 100% certain that we wouldn’t make the summit at that point. I think Dad was relieved—he knew I wanted to summit Rainier and that we would lose our non-refundable guide fee (next time, buy trip insurance!). But I think he also knew that summiting was out of the question for him.

    So we headed to the REI flagship store in Seattle. If you’re ever in town, be sure to check it out. Even if you’re not an outdoor junkie, it’s worth popping in to see the 65’ glass-enclosed indoor climbing wall, manmade waterfall, and mountain bike test-trails. You can also grab a decent cup of joe at the outdoor coffee shop. There’s plenty of stuff to buy for the non-enthusiast as well. If you need a new daypack and want to have a look at 200 different models, or if you’ve been dying to get your hands on a day-glow purple Nalgene bottle for your desk at work, this is your spot.
    
    We headed over to the U.S. Forest Ranger desk on the second floor, and browsed through the topo maps. We’d been to a lot of the prime destinations in the park on earlier trips, but with the help of the on-site Ranger we settled on a five-day, four-night backpacking trip up the Hoh River Valley to the glacier on Mount Olympus (no Greek deities guaranteed, though). We had planned to rent some of the extreme weather gear for the climb from our outfitter, so we didn’t have sleeping bags or a tent with us. Luckily, the REI store also has an extensive rental shop, so we grabbed some top-notch gear and hit the road.

    On The Trail

     

    At the Hoh River trailhead we phoned home to mom with our itinerary (from a moss-covered payphone booth—no cell phone reception up here), did one last gear check, and set off down the trail. Our destination for the first day was a five mile hike up the trail, the aptly-named Five Mile Island.

    As soon as we set off down the trail, I was struck anew by the scale of the Olympic forests. It’s one of the only temperate rainforests in the world, receiving an average of 150 inches of rainfall a year. I can best describe it as Jurassic—the Cedar trees dwarf anything you see on the east coast, moss covers everything, and giant ferns tower above your head.
    
    We’d heard that elk sightings had been frequent lately, and that large herds had been spotted along the trail. Not more than a mile in, on a section of the trail often used by day-hikers, we stumbled into the middle of a herd of 40 or more elk. I’d never seen elk that close; they're simply massive, and the bulls make a “bugle” call that sounds, well, like a bugle. They seemed aware of, but not frightened by, our presence-- and the herd gradually made its way across the trail about 10 yards in front of us. It was such a hypnotic procession that I completely forgot to reach for the camera. I swear it!
    
    At Five Mile Island we set up camp on a gravel bar in the middle of the Hoh River, fired up the lightweight camp-stove and boiled some water for our freeze-dried dinner. Turkey Chili with Apple Cobbler for desert. I’ve never eaten freeze-dried food except after a long day of hiking with a heavy pack. It tastes pretty good at that point, but I have a feeling it’s only edible if your body is begging for calories. We got a chance to try out the new UV water filter I picked up at REI. Instead of treating water with iodine tablets (which take twenty minutes per liter, and leave an unpleasant aftertaste), or pumping it through a carbon filter (which are bulky and awkward), these compact, pen-shaped devices sport a small UV lamp that uses the same technology employed to sterilize surgical equipment. You just swirl the lamp in a one-liter bottle of water for ninety-seconds and, presto—Giardia and all kinds of other micro- and macro-scopic critters that can ruin your trip are out of commission.
    
    The next day we hiked to Lewis Meadows, another five miles up the trail. We camped in a grassy meadow by the side of the river, and talked to some fellow hikers who had been up to Hoh Lake the day before. They claimed to have seen a dozen black bears grazing on the blueberry meadows on the slopes around the alpine lake. I’ve seen black bears in the wild before and they're amazing—but the report of seeing so many at once seemed unlikely. Nonetheless, we departed from our original plan of hiking up the valley and back to make a one-day side trip up to the lake on the following day.
    
    Bears, Bears, and More Bears.
    
    We weren’t disappointed. It was a grueling, 6-mile climb, with almost 1000-feet of elevation gain per mile. We arrived at the lake in the early afternoon, and it was everything you could ask from an alpine lake. Crystal clear, sitting in a bowl formed by the surrounding alpine meadows that led up to the four summits around the lake, and with views of the glaciers on Mount Olympus. And yes, there were bears. Maybe not a dozen, but we counted at least eight. I’ve never understood how such massive animals can get by on a diet consisting mostly of berries and other flora, but this was definitely black bear heaven—there must have been fifty acres of alpine meadows absolutely covered in blueberry bushes. There were more elk to boot. It was a hard place to leave, but as the afternoon crept on we knew we had to start back down, reaching camp just before dusk.
    
    The next morning, Dad’s calf was feeling the strain of the previous day’s haul, so we decided to lay low and explore the area around Lewis Meadow. In sum: more elk, a lazy afternoon nap by the river, a quick dunk in the icy water, and yet another freeze-dried delicacy.
    
    On the penultimate day, we backtracked down to Five Mile Island. It was raining, so rather than set up camp on the exposed gravel bar, we chose a nice, dry spot under a large spruce to set up the tent. We cooked under the vestibule of the tent’s rain fly, and settled into our toasty sleeping bags. I fell asleep to the pitter-patter of rain on the tent roof, and fell asleep to the sort of pleasant, contradictory thoughts one has after four days on the trail: Why would anyone want to return to civilization? And: I can’t wait to have a cheeseburger.
    
    If it Rains 150 Inches a Year, Chances are You’ll See Some Rain
    
    About two hours later I woke up—the rain had increased in intensity and my feet were wet. In fact, the entire floor of the tent was soaked through and my thermarest was the only thing between me and the large pool of water forming inside the tent. I poked Dad until he stopped snoring and came-to: his feet were in even worse shape than mine. Tent floors are almost waterproof, but absent a groundcover sheet (and we were absent one), they’ll eventually soak through. I struggled into my rain gear, put on my headlamp, and went out into the downpour to assess the situation. The cozy spot we’d chosen under the spruce tree had two major flaws: (1) It was in the middle of a gentle downhill slope; (2) There was an inch of pine needles on the forest floor. This second flaw had originally seemed like a virtue: pine needles make a nice soft bed, and work to relieve the unforgiving cushion of the thermarest.
    
    Now, however, the needles were acting like a giant sponge. The water rolling downhill was being soaked up by the pine needles underneath our tent, which was in turn sucking the water out of the pine needles and into our sleeping bags. I frantically begin lifting the tent edges and scooping out pounds of sopping wet pine needles with my arms. I managed to clear things out pretty well, but now the tent floor was soaked and no longer waterproof, so the water rolling downhill and passing under the tent floor was still making things wet on the inside. I was cold, wet and tired, and none of these conditions seemed likely to improve without drastic measures. By drastic measures I mean: water diversion ditches. These are strictly prohibited within the park, because they disturb the natural soil structure and contribute to erosion. But my project was relatively small, and I was, as I said, cold, wet and tired. I found a couple of sticks that vaguely resembled shovels (in the way that sticks resemble shovels only when you’re in such a situation), and begin digging furiously. Within fifteen minutes I had constructed an elaborate network of ditches, canals and drainage pools that the Romans would have been jealous of. I crawled back into the tent, we dried out the floor with our pack towels, and I took a few minutes to watch my waterworks in action. Then I was out like a light, and didn’t wake up until the clouds broke and the morning sun started to heat up the inside of the tent.
    
    We broke camp for the last time, ate some hot oatmeal, and headed back to the trailhead. Along the way we passed a couple of groups heading up the valley. We told them about the herds of elk and the swarms of bears, but they clearly thought were just spinning a yarn. I hope they were proven wrong. Back at the trailhead we packed up our gear, changed into clean clothes and headed to the closest town we could find with a burger joint.

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• A drive through Amalfi and Sor

  • From: DominiqueH28
  • Description:

    Having just moved to Italy in April, it's been me and my husband's mission to see as much as we can. We currently live in Naples, and we have so much around us within driving distance that it was hard to choose what to do first. A friend of ours gave us a travel guide for Sorrento and Amalfi, and we decided that we had to drive it. Our daughters who are 5 and 3 love to drive, so we knew they'd be game.

    Our first stop on our trip was the lovely town of Vietri which is pretty famous for it's collection of shops selling ceramics handpainted by artists whose craft has been handed down from generation to generation.

    ( below: the shops in Vietri )

    

    Most of the ceramics have fruit, scroll work, or scenery painted on them. Most of the ceramics consist of decorative pieces such as plates, tiles, bowls, and figures. The lemon, by far, was the one object used as the focus on most of the pieces. Mostly due to the fact that the Sorrento and Amalfi coastlines are famous for their lemon groves and lemons that grow to be the size of small watermelons...

    In one of the shops, I was so busy paying attention to my 3 year old that I wasn't watching where I was going, and ended up kicking over a jar that was sitting on the floor. Luckliy, it didn't go far and it only chipped. I still had to buy it, much to the demands of the elderly shop keeper, but she let me off easy. She only charged me 10 euro. Somehow, I think I still overpaid....

    We also found a great pastry shop that had the biggest selection of fruit pastries I have ever seen. My two daughters had a hard time choosing which one they wanted.

    

    When we exited the pastry shop, in front of us was a lookout that was simply magnificent. You could see the entire coast of Vietri and Vietri Sul Mare. We had a hard time pulling my 5 year old away from it. The houses were built into the cliffs, and the lush greenery that wove between the houses was amazing. Not to mention the blue blue blue sea.

    

    

    Along the coast, high up on the cliff, the scenery of what is around you is amazing. Not only is the driving itself scary and fun to watch (The roads are very small, and doesn't allow for personal space. Euro drivers and seasoned italians have no problem coming within an inch of your car doors, and that includes drivers of HUGE tour buses. My poor husband had one heart stopping moment after another, as he was the driver.

    

    a scary turn

    

    Along the way to Amalfi, we passed quite a few smaller towns with their own hotels and restaurants, all claiming in 3-4 different languages, that they had the best views on their signs. As we drove into Amalfi, the traffic seemed to break, and we were given one of the best views of the drive:

    

    In Amalfi, tourists and beach goers were everywhere. The mass of tourists were in cafes, in the pizzerias, the churches, the small streets where vendors were busy trying to sell souvenirs and trinkets. My husband and I decided to take a stroll through the main part of town, and just people watch. We spotted a few churches and paintings, and watched as street performers sang, played instruments, and so on.

    

    Once everyone had had their fill of walking around, we headed back on the road, and drove towards Sorrento. The roads became extremely twisty (much to the chagrin of my husband) and the amount of lemon sellers on the sides of the road became more frequent. We were tempted to buy a supersized lemon, but when we realized the price was 3 euro a KILO and not a lemon, (we did the conversion) we decided against the nearly $7.50 price tag!

    We drove for what seemed to be another hour, through smaller towns and even more frequent tourist vendor traps, when we hit the turn off for Sorrento. The town, although we weren't able to explore it on foot, was charming. A mix of old world meets Italian tradition meets modern-day europe. Cars, mopeds, limos, tour buses, and even farm horse drawn wagons, piled into the streets. It was literally a maze of transportation devices, with eager pedestrians thrown into the mix.

    

    Even from the car we were able to see some pretty neat things. And we watched a wedding party exit a church. The bride and groom descended the steps as everyone threw seeds and rice, and then ran into the middle of the street blocking traffic in both directions for 10 minutes. The only car horns heard were those wishing the new couple well, including ours. A few more minutes of waving, shouting, and indistinct Italian well-wishing and the scene was over. the bride and groom were rushed into a vintage car and we drove off. I don't have pictures of it, but it was something I'll always remember. Such a beautiful, happy day. The last picture I have from our trip on the coast is this one of a Roman soldier, sitting back in reflection after defeating an intruding army. Quite a great picture if I do say so myself....

    

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• London: Mind the Gap and Other

  • From: oldfashiongirl
  • Description:

    London is a city of contrasts.  It's far from home, yet unexotic - kind of like a midland between the US and Europe.  Everything is only slightly different from home: same chain stores, but slightly different items; same faces, but different accents; same food, but a little bit blander.

     

    Our introduction to London began with a 2 ½ hour cattle call through customs at Heathrow.  It was horrible.  I think the crowd was close to rioting.  Normally we would be patient with the process and understand that customs can sometimes take awhile.  However, unfortunately we had arranged for a taxi to wait for us at the customs exit.  The charge for waiting was approximately $30 USD an hour, so after awhile, it got a bit expensive.

     

    We stayed at the Arran House Hotel, a classic transformed row house in Bloomsbury, the university area of London.  It was a nice little hotel, although you would be shocked to find out what $200 USD per night will get you in London.  We did have an ensuite bathroom, so that was a bonus.  The hotel also featured a very filling "full English breakfast" consisting of eggs, sausages, small chopped up cooked mushrooms, big slabs of quasi-ham/bacon, and baked beans. I had never considered eating beans for breakfast, but when in Rome……..

     

     

     

     

    We covered a lot of ground during our six days in London.  Our first full day was spent on the outskirts of the city in an area called Banglatown (in reference to Bangladesh) and we were lucky enough to be there during a curry festival.  The streets were absolutely packed with people checking out the area's abundant Indian restaurants.  We decided to visit this part of the city due to the large amounts of vintage and boutique clothing stores.  I collect mostly 40’s era garments and most of the vintage clothing was 70’s and 80’s, but I did find a lovely retro tea jar and a very pretty vintage slip.

     

     

    The next day, we walked to almost all of London's major sites.  The tube would have gotten us to all of these places just fine, but it's hard to discover off-the-map gems (like pubs!) that makes traveling so rewarding when you're stuck underground going from point A to point B.  We started the day at the weekly antiques fair at Covent Garden market (as made famous in My Fair Lady) - a great place to find antique English silver and tea cups.  Next, we headed past Trafalgar Square and through St. James’s Park, which had a surprising amount of wildlife for being in the middle of a huge city, including some giant white pelicans that were sitting in the middle of the pathway with people streaming around them.  

    

     

     

     

    We passed such famous sites as Buckingham Palace, Westminster Abby and Big Ben and finished our day with something that would let us see all of these landmarks at once - a ride on the London Eye.  The Eye has security on par with Heathrow.  After multiple bag searches and body scans, we were ready to take the ride.  As each compartment nears the exit platform, security guards sweep the pod with bomb-detecting devises.  The Eye provides some of the most magnificent views of London and was worth the wait and cost. After our ride, we hobbled back to the hotel room, and put our feet on ice!

     

    

     

    During the middle of our stay in London, we took a day tour out to the English countryside to the city of Bath and then to Stonehenge.  Bath is a very picturesque town known for its hot springs and ancient Roman baths.  Ancient lore states that the springwater cures many ailments, from the gout to infertility.  We both had a sip - it tasted like sulfur water.  Matt drank his entire glass - and passed a kidney stone a day later!  So much for its curative qualities.

    

     

    The real treat of the day was visiting Stonehenge.  The site is in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by rolling fields and grazing sheep.  As we were driving along the highway through the countryside, all of a sudden Stonehenge appeared on the horizon and we both got goosebumps.  The site is fenced off from the road and you have the choice to either look from afar through a chainlink fence, or pay to get inside to get a closer look, although visitors are kept a good distance from the stones via a roped off pathway.  However, the tour we were on was an after hours, sunset tour and our group of 20 were allowed to go wherever we wanted, including inside the roped off area.  It was an awesome experience being in that setting during a gorgeous evening at sunset and not something I will likely forget anytime soon.  Between the two of us, Matt and I probably took 200 pictures of old rocks!

     

     

    One interesting note: While we were at a rest stop on our way to Bath that morning, we were at a store purchasing some snacks to take on the bus.  All of a sudden, the store's background music stopped, the cashiers stopped taking sales, and things went quiet.  We found out later that it was a tribute to 9/11 as it had happened 7 years ago at that exact time.  I found this touching, but also somewhat shocking.  The entire time we were in London leading up to the anniversary of 9/11, there were shows on TV about it, newspaper articles about it - even the movie Fahrenheit 911 was on TV.  I wondered if the US would ever pay so much attention to another country’s tragedy, especially so many years later.  In the back of my mind, I wondered if stores/work places/etc. back home had also observed a minute of silence.

     

     

    Another famous landmark we visited in London was the HUGE department store, Harrods.  We spent a few hours there and didn’t even look at the clothes!  There are entire departments dedicated to chocolates, teas, coffees, as well as something like 13 restaurants and a large gift store.  We splurged on a traditional high tea in the elegant, top-floor restaurant, The Georgian Room.  Along with drinking some of the best tea we have ever had, all of the scones, crumpets, and sweets were very filling for something that is supposed to be a snack before attending the opera or theater. 

     

    Our last day in London was spent at the iconic St. Paul’s Cathedral.  We climbed to the top of the dome to test out the Whispering Wall. Basically, one person goes to the other side of the dome and speaks into the wall.  The sound will travel all the way around the dome back to you.  It really works - it basically sounds like you are talking to the person through a paper towel roll.  We continued our climb to the very top of the cathedral dome and were rewareded for our efforts with a spectacular view of London, including the egg-shaped building of City Hall and the famous Tower Bridge.

     

    After a cafeteria-style lunch in the cathedral's crypt, we went to the Tower of London to get a peak at the Crown Jewels and the famous ravens.  In order to see the jewels, you have to go through a maze of rooms, each with a movie screen displaying strange propaganda films about the English monarchy and when you finally get to the room where the jewels are held, everyone crams onto two moving sidewalks that whizzes you past the jewels so fast that you can barely remember what you saw. It was actually quite a strange experience.

    

     

    All in all, our trip to London seemed like a pretty typical one.  Here are some tidbits about the city that you won't find in your guidebook:

    • At every street corner, people are handing out London’s various newspapers for free.  All I know is that if our paper back home was like these, I would be one of the few Americans who read the paper every day!  The papers are about 50% celebrity gossip and the actual news is written in brief paragraphs to give you just the gist of the story.

     

    • London women are either ahead of the fashion curve or behind, I couldn’t tell. For example, a common outfit I noticed was a short skirt with bright or neutral colored leggings on underneath. I remember specifically this being declared passé in the US at least a year ago or so.  I saw many designer handbags being toted on the tube, it seemed that every woman had either a Gucci, Prada or something similarly expensive.  I guess if you can afford to live in London, you can most likely afford a designer bag.

     

    • That brings me to my next observation - London is expensive!  We were warned about this prior to our trip, but you kind of have to experience it for yourself to believe it.  Coupled by the weak US dollar, it is painful.  A few examples in US dollars: One tall mocha at Starbucks: $5.  Two rides on the tube: $10.  One hamburger and small drink in a cafeteria style setting, without tip: $16.  Getting out of the city without maxing out your credit cards: priceless.

     

    • London rush hour never ends. Traffic noise started around 5 a.m. and the roads would still be grid-locked at 9 p.m. at night with going-home traffic. It looked like an absolute nightmare.

     

    • Londoners seem like pretty patient people.  There are mass amounts of people everywhere, all the time.  There are mass amounts of cars, buses, taxis and noise.  However, I never noticed anyone getting upset that you stepped in their path on the sidewalk or heard many cars honking at each other.  But, I also noticed that no one ever really looked at anyone else.  Waves of people would pass by on the sidewalk and no one made eye contact.  On the tube, everyone just stares at their books or look vacantly above your head.

     

    • Kids and dogs do not live in London (this probably isn't entirely true, but it sure seemed like it!).  We saw maybe two children while we were there, and they were with their tourist parents.  We saw about the same number of dogs.  The entire city seemed to be filled with adults going about their busy work-a-day lives.

     

    • The English do have quirky phrases for things, such as a sign stating "Max Headroom 6 ½ Feet" that was posted above the entrance to a garage.  And before crossing a street in London, painting on the pavement will let you know whether to "Look Left" or "Look Right" for oncoming traffic.  Believe it or not, this really comes in handy.  To get on the bus you "que up" (form a line). And most importantly, be sure to "mind the gap" when getting on the tube!

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

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• Samos Greece Excellent Adventu

  • From: Dan Beamer
  • Description:

    In 1973 my wife and I chose to honeymoon on the island of Samos, Greece where she had accepted a job teaching watercolor painting at the Pythagorian Institute of Art. During that summer we spent 10 weeks on the island. The entire summer was spent relaxing on the beautiful beaches and dining at the typical flavorful restaurants on the island. The tab for our entire ten weeks was less than $1,000!

    

     

    A typical day required shopping for a picnic lunch to share with my wife after teaching, at the beach. I would begin by purchasing fruit at the fruit market. I would then buy some slices of salami and cheese from the meat market and cheese store before buying a bottle of Samos Sec wine for 25 American cents. Upon returning the empty bottle to the wine store you would get a twelve and one half cent credit towards the next bottle. My final stop would be the grocery store where I would buy ten Greek olives. The owner would think I wanted 10 liters of olives and pull out a plastic garbage bag. When I would explain that I only wanted ten olives he would next assume I wanted enough olives for 10 Drachmas (former Greek money) and would pull out a gallon sized Baggie. I would then re-explain my request that I only wanted 10 olives. Once he saw me using sign language to count out 10 olives he would count the olives and put them in a small sandwich baggie. When I would ask the merchant, “ poso kani”, (how much?) he would turn me around and push me out the door for asking such a foolish question.

     

    Over the past 35 years we have returned to Samos several times. On our honeymoon we found an inexpensive one star hotel called Hotel Artemis located on the quay of Samos town. In 1973 the rooms were only $6. per night. In 2007 we paid 30 Euros per night. The owner of the hotel is Kostas Kateris. The hotel is clean, newly remodeled and the owners friendly, hospitable, and helpful. We have stayed there each time we go. During that first summer we took side trips to Rhodes and Turkey upon their recommendation. Boats leave weekly to various Greek islands.

    Samos is an island close to the Turkish coast where one can take a short 2 hour boat trip to Kusadasi, Turkey and pay for a taxi or bus out to the ancient site of Ephesus and return to Samos on the same day. A hired taxi driver will drop you off at Ephesus and pick you up a few hours later. If you ask he will take you to a nearby restaurant, Turkish rug store, leather shop or drop you off at the bazaar in Kusadasi. The purchase of a rug may net you a free lunch for your entire party.

     

    Each time we return to Samos we find something new to explore. The island had a rich history filled with people like Pythagorus, (we all remember the Pythagorian Theorem), Aesop, Polycrates, and ­­­­­­­­­­ Aristarchus living there in the past. The writer, Carl Sagan wrote about Samos as the center of scientific inquiry. It was on Samos that it was discovered, “the world was not made by the gods, but instead was the work of material forces interacting in nature.” The tyrant Polycrates, patron of the arts, science, and engineering built a one kilometer aqueduct through the mountains. Visitors to Samos can explore the aqueduct today.

    A walk through Samos town will bring you to the botanical gardens where you can enjoy a coffee at the outdoor café as well as use the internet café located in the same area. At the top of the gardens is the Samos historical museum. Inside is the five meter statue of a Kouros discovered on the island recently. The museum has high quality sculpture and other antiquities from the classical era to the Hellenistic era.

     

    Traveling around Samos can be accomplished by car rental, taxi, bus, or motorbike The island is about 40 miles long but there is no one road that goes totally around the island thus ensuring delightful stops in mountain villages and seaside towns. We enjoy visiting the Temple of Hera and the town of Pythagorian as well as a short hike to the Potami waterfalls. The lush vegetation on Samos is like no other Greek island. We often travel to the remote villages of Vourliotes, Manolates, and Marathokampos where we spend the day hiking and enjoying the fantastic food at the local tavernas. The food on Samos is the freshest in all of Greece because it is locally grown on the island. Our favorite restaurants are located in different villages. In Samos we frequent the Octopus restaurant located on the quay and Christo’s, located on the back square off of the Lion’s square. In Vourliotes we dine at the wonderful Pera Vrisi restaurant where all vegetables are grown on the hill adjacent to the taverna, and in Manolates we always hike to the top of the village to eat at the family owned Lucas restaurant. The view of the Aegean is extraordinary from this lofty location.

     

    Other days we spend at the wonderful beaches. Places like Kokkari, Tsamadou, Lemonakia and Psili Amos offer the vacationer a choice of rock beaches or sand beaches all with the incredible turquoise water of the Aegean ea. For a change, we also drive to the far western end of the island to the area of Drakei. This is a small community where they build wooden fishing ships by hand. If you can drive down the narrow dirt road to the lower seaside village you can see the ships being assembled.

    A spiritual respite awaits those who drive to the Monastery Zoodochos Pigi that overlooks the breath taking Straits of Mykelai separating Samos from Turkey. Picnicing is allowed on the grounds. Near Pythagorian is another religious site, the smaller monastery of Spiliani with an adjoining ancient cave grotto sacred to early Christian worshippers. Cool and contemplative, these sites, a bit off the “beaten path” are well worth the experience.

     

    For a fun filled day you might try taking the day cruise to tiny Samio poula island with “Captain Yannis”. You can find his boat on the quay in ythagorian. For about 25 Euros he will take you out for swimming, a raucous barbeque lunch prepared by his crew and include Greek dancing lessons.

     

     

    Of course, our favorite past time is to sit in the atrium of the Hotel Artemis and visit with friends. Over the past 35 years owner Kostas has entertained numerous guests from all parts of the world. Summer at the Hotel Artemis means reminiscing with international friends from previous years. Each summer Kostas’ regular guests return from France, England, Germany, the Netherlands, Brussels, Denmark and various other places on the planet ranging from Canada to Australia, including a few Americans. It is interesting to reconnect and reminisce. After a couple of ouzos or wine and a “prominade” along the quay, around 9:00 or 10:00 pm, we venture out to find a good restaurant for the evening followed by a coffee and pastry at the Colossus café in the Lion square afterwards.

    Samos is a great place to relax and recharge your batteries. Come join the family adventure.

    

     

     

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• Austria 2008

  • From: Bryan and Mona
  • Description:

    This is a continuation of our trip to Switzerland. Read the first part of our trip by clicking the following link:

    http://mybt.budgettravel.com/kickapps/_Switzerland-2008/blog/60499/21864.html

    July 5

     

    In 1964, a little movie called the Sound of Music filmed a lot of its exterior shots in and around Salzburg. As a result of the movie’s worldwide success, numerous people have flocked to Salzburg and many different tours cater to those wanting a Sound of Music experience. Count us in this group. We took a half-day bus tour that highlighted many of the locations where scenes from the movie were filmed. First up—the gazebo where Liesl sang I am 16 going on 17 . It is now located on the grounds of Hellbrun Palace, a gift from the filmmakers to the City of Salzburg. The gazebo was built specifically for the movie. Also in the Hellbrun Palace area were the road and trees the children hung from and also Maria sang I Have Confidence .

    We then visited the Palace of Leopoldskon, which was used as the exterior of the house next to the lake—where Maria and the Captain danced at the ball, where the Countess drank pink lemonade, and where the children fell into the water trying to get out the boat. We saw the Nonneberg Abbey where Maria lived until going to serve as governess, and drove into the lake country to the town of Mondsee and Lake Mondsee where the church there was used to film the wedding scene. There were about 50 people on the bus (not all American mind you) singing along to the soundtrack as we traveled from site to site.

    Our tour guide also pointed out things related to the real Von Trapp story, such as the train station at Aigen where the family left to escape the Nazis. Although the movie has them hiking to Switzerland, they actually took the train to Italy. Also, Nonneberg Abbey was where the actual wedding took place, not at the church at Mondsee. All in all, a great tour, especially if you’re a fan of the musical.

     

    After the tour, most of us napped and then late in the day did our own self- guided walking tour of the Old Town area. We visited several of the squares (also used in the movie) as well as the cemetery at St. Peter’s Church which was used as a model for the scene where the family hid in the cemetery. However, the cemetery used in the movie was actually a recreation on the Hollywood set, and not actually filmed in Salzburg. Bryan has wanted to hear some good organ music in one of the cathedrals and was able to hear some at St. Peter’s. Afterwards, it was dinner and back to the hotel after a very full day.

     

    July 6

     

    Mona and I arose early this morning to walk through Mirabell Gardens to take pictures and enjoy the gardens prior to the crowds coming in. Fortunately, our hotel is directly across the street and we were able to get there before 8:00. Several SOM scenes were also filmed in the gardens including the fountains and steps used during Do Re Mi . It was nice to be able to take pictures of these sites without the crowds and having many people you don’t know in the picture.

    

    

     

     

     

     

    At 10:00, Mona and I attended Mass at Salzburg’s Main Cathedral. The 10:00 mass is known for its music, and we were able to hear Franz Schubert’s Mass in G , with choir, organ, and orchestra. It was a glorious way to spend a Sunday morning. The music was wonderful and we participated as best we could although the entire service was in German. Mozart was once the organist at this cathedral, so its musical roots span several centuries. The musicians were great and the acoustics were fabulous. After the service we walked around the Old Town area and went in some of the shops and also visited the outdoor markets set up in the various squares. While we were at the cathedral, Mom and Pop listened to an outdoor brass band concert in Mirabell Gardens, with the musicians dressed in traditional Austrian clothing.

     

    We rested up some in the afternoon with plans to go back to Old Town about 4:30. About that time however, a thunderstorm blew through and the bottom dropped out of the sky. We waited about an hour for the rain to subside and then went over to Old Town. The weather seemed to have chased everyone away, so we ate dinner at an Italian restaurant we had seen earlier. After dinner, Mom and I went to hear a choir sing at one of the churches in Old Town while Mona and Pop went back to the hotel. It turns out it was a high school choir from the San Francisco area. They were pretty good and the church had nice acoustics that suited the group well. Their performance barely lasted 30 minutes, so Mom and I were back before 8:00. Tonight was our last night in Salzburg, so we needed to pack and get ready for the final leg of our trip—Vienna.

     

    July 7

    Today we rented a car to drive from Salzburg to Vienna so we could make some stops and see the Wachau Valley, a very scenic stretch along the Danube River. Mona and I went to pick up the car (actually a VW Touran—more like a minivan than a car) at 7:30 so we could get an early start to our day. Mona has been leery about driving in Austria because she said all of the road signs would be in German and we wouldn’t necessarily understand them. I told her it would be fine and not to worry. Guess who was right? J

    After driving back to the hotel to pick up Mom and Pop and load the luggage, we were off to our first stop—Mauthausen Concentration Camp. Certainly not a cheery place to visit, we nevertheless felt it was an important stop in our trip, especially since we were so close. We were not familiar with this particular camp which we will try to describe, but there is a good amount of info at the following link: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mauthausen_concentration_camp

    Mauthausen was a labor camp situated at a quarry. Essentially, those imprisoned here were worked to death. To say conditions were brutal would be an understatement. There are 186 steps from the bottom of the quarry to the top. It was referred to as the March of Death as prisoners carried the stone from the bottom to the top. I walked down to the bottom and back to the top, counting each step along the way. I cannot begin to imagine the lives lived and lost here. During our visit, it was cool, gray, and rainy—a gloomy day to visit a gloomy place. May God have Mercy on all of us.

     

    We left Mauthausen and drove to the town of Melk, located directly on the Danube. Since leaving Salzburg, we’ve been cruising along the A1 Autobahn. The autobahn, usually without speed limit, has been fun to drive. With the exception of speed limits, it has seemed no different than driving our interstates. The fastest I drove was 150 km/h, which is a little less than 95 mph, and I was still being passed.

    Melk is known for its tremendous baroque abbey that sits on a bluff with a commanding view of the river, town, and surrounding countryside. It is an active Benedictine monastery that also operates a school. We toured the abbey, marveling at the ornate architecture, ending our tour in the chapel. This chapel was gilded in gold from top to bottom. A choir from America was rehearsing for a concert. We heard them sing This is My Father’s World , glorious sound with marvelous acoustics. Compared to where we had just been, it was an interesting juxtaposition of sights and sounds, and uplifted our spirits as we continued our journey.

     

     

    For the final leg of our driving adventure, we left the autobahn and drove Route 3 along the Danube to the town of Krems. This is the Wachau Valley and is definitely wine country. With the Danube on our right and numerous orchards and vineyards on our left, it was a very scenic drive, with the occasional small town dotting the landscape. Although it was still overcast with the occasional sprinkle, it was still a very enjoyable drive. We ran into one traffic snarl along the way, and followed some locals by detouring through a village whose streets allowed for two-way traffic, but were hardly bigger than the width of a single vehicle. If we hadn’t been following a local, I’m not sure we could have navigated around properly. However, it was a tremendous time saver and we continued to Vienna.

    Route 3 eventually became the A22 Autobahn and we were deposited right into the central city of Vienna. We had printed directions to the rental car center and were doing our best to follow them. It was located on the Ringstrasse or ring road around central Vienna, however the names continually change. We found the ring and were able to get over two lanes of wall-to-wall traffic in a single block in order to get to the access road next to the ring and turn the car in 2 minutes before they closed at 6:00 pm. Bryan was spectacular as the driver, and Mona’s worries were unfounded. J After that, it was a taxi to the K+K Palais Hotel on Rudolfplatz, our home for the final three nights of our trip.

    Today was a day of sharp contrasts, but one that we enjoyed tremendously. We are looking forward to exploring Vienna in the time we have left.

     

     

     

    July 8

    Our hotel in Vienna is the best one we have stayed in—it has air conditioning and is the only one with free internet access in the room. All of the hotels we’ve been in have been nice and in excellent locations, but didn’t give you internet. We expected no air conditioning as the climate is such that everyone leaves their windows open and uses fans. We did not expect to be charged by the hour for internet usage. The Austrotel in Salzburg had a free internet station we could use, but no internet in the room. The Austrotel’s computer has a German keyboard with extra keys for the umlauts and keys in different places. I only updated one day from there because the typing was chaotic. That’s why it’s sometimes been a challenge updating this blog. I’ve been typing in Word and cutting and pasting onto the ‘net, which is why the font size keeps changing. I’ll try to clean up the formatting when we get home.

    This morning we took a half-day tour of the city and a tour of the Schönbrunn Palace. We were on a double-decker coach bus where the tour was both in French and English. I thought our guide did a great job switching between the languages. We rode on the second floor which afforded us good views of the sights. Schönbrunn Palace was the summer home of the Hapsburgs, rulers for hundreds of years of the Austrian empire. Its grandeur is often compared to that of the Palace of Versailles in France, and now having seen both, I understand the comparison. We only saw a very small portion, but the opulence was very apparent. Schönbrunn also has extensive grounds to explore with several different areas of manicured gardens. The amount of money needed for upkeep must be astronomical, but judging from the crowds, I suspect they make a lot of it in ticket sales.

     

    After the tour, the bus took us back to the Opera House which is located about halfway around the Ringstrasse. We decided to walk the western half back towards the hotel and take in some of the sights we saw on our tour more up close and personal. Besides the Opera House, we saw Hofburg Palace, Parliament, Rathaus (City Hall), and the University among other sites. We also saw the memorial statues for Mozart and Goethe. We stuck our head in McDonald’s to check the Big Mac Economic Index. Austria is part of the European Union and uses the Euro. A Big Mac Combo costs €5.19, which is roughly $8.15, certainly cheaper than the $11.30 in Switzerland, but still quite a bit more than the U.S.

    After resting during the afternoon, we walked to Stephansdom (St. Stephan’s Cathedral), the pride of Vienna and a national symbol of Austria. We looked around inside, but opted not to take a tour as it was quite crowded. The square around Stephansdom is a focal point of shopping, street performers, and general people watching. We strolled down Grabenstrasse, a main pedestrian shopping area and stumbled upon St. Peter’s Church. A boy’s choir from South Africa was beginning a concert just as we arrived so we decided to stick our heads in for a minute before heading to dinner. Instead, we found ourselves staying for the entire performance as they sang both classical music and a selection of songs from their native country complete with drums, pan flutes, and other native instruments. It was an excellent performance. Vienna is world-renowned for its classical music scene, and just by wandering, we were able to enjoy a fabulous concert.

     

     

    July 9

    It’s hard to believe today is our last day here. Mona and I are doing our own thing today as are Mom & Pop. Mona and I got off to a leisurely start and didn’t leave the hotel until almost 10:00. We decided to go down to the park on the eastern side of the Ringstrasse and explore and specifically get a picture of the gilded statue of Johann Strauss. Of course, we ended up running into Mom and Pop at the park—Pop sitting on a bench reading the paper and Mom off exploring. After leaving the park, we ventured to the Segway store to see about renting them to see the city. Fortunately for me, we could. J

     

    Tooling around on the Segway was a lot of fun as you can tell from the pictures. We only rented them for an hour, but it was definitely a great way to get around and not spend so much time walking.

    

     

     

     

     

     

    After turning in the Segways, we walked the streets, exploring the shops and soaking up the Viennese atmosphere. We took a nap break in the middle of the afternoon and then headed back out later. Mona and I had dinner at a café near the Stephansdom and planned on taking in an organ concert at St. Peter’s church, but instead of being at 8:00 pm like last night, it was held at 3:00 pm. Oh well….

    Our final bit of sightseeing took us to Judenplatz, or the Jewish Square. There is a memorial there recognizing the lives lost to Christian persecution in the 1400s and 1500s. We then went back to the hotel to finish packing and get ready for a long day of travel tomorrow. We’re up at 4:00 am (Yikes!) in order to catch our 7:00 am flight home.

    July 10

    Today we headed home. The taxi picked us up at the hotel at 4:30 to take us to the airport. The hotel packed us a bag lunch since we would not be there for breakfast—very nice of them to do that. We flew Austrian Airlines from Vienna to London Heathrow. In London, we switched to American Airlines for the final leg back to the US. Doug picked us up at the airport, and after dropping him off and visiting the grandkids, we left and got home around 7:00 pm (1:00 am in Vienna, so almost 24 hours of traveling).

    It was an incredible trip. We were very blessed with good weather, good health, and no travel hassles. Being able to actually see the Matterhorn and Jungfrau with such glorious clear skies is not a given. Mom and Pop had a great time and are likely already scheming about where they want to go to next. We enjoy traveling, so I’m sure we’ll do something again with them soon. Our thanks to Mary Lou at Royal Travel Center who helped us put this trip together.

    Here are some final pictures from our trip. Enjoy!

     

    

    Mom sledding at the Jungfrau .

     

     

    

     

     

     

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• Hiking Quilotoa Crater Lake, E

  • From: steve778
  • Description:

    The Black Sheep Inn

    Getting to the Black Sheep Inn ,which is a short distance from Quilotoa Crater Lake (pictured to the right), proved to be more difficult than I had expected. The front desk attendant at the charming inn where I was staying in Baños assured me that a local driver she used for just such excursions knew the way by heart.

    How long would the trip be? Not very long, she said. Would I get right to the door? No problem. Easy trip? Not bad…

    The driver picked me up at the appointed time the next morning. I had a coffee in my hand, I remember, and turned to look out the car’s rear-view window as a friend and I started on our journey; the massive volcano that dominates Baños receded behind us for what seemed like forever.

    I can’t tell you how long the trip to the Black Sheep took; it's the kind of thing you measure in frustration. We drove for hours before we reached where we should have been hours ago. We stopped for directions a few times, with mixed results. We reconnoitered, discussed, and re-plotted our course. Then, when I wearily consulted my map (yet again), and it seemed that only a short burst of roadway separated us from our destination—we climbed onto a narrow, pockmarked dirt strip, rimmed by steep cliffs. We jerked and rattled over the road, picking up speed and then slowing to a near-stop, weaving stomach-churningly close to the cliffs, and then veering away at the last minute. We did that for a long, long time. By late afternoon, I could sense the driver’s growing desperation—he gradually increased his speed, and then increased it again; the road wasn’t getting any better; the cliffs were stubbornly treacherous.

    So I told him he could drop us at the next town, and we’d find a way to get to the Black Sheep. A half hour later, in a village whose name I forget, we piled onto a bus with a gaggle of school kids and wound our way along more unreliable dirt roads. The bus finally dropped us at the bottom of a sizeable driveway-- at the top, mercifully, was the Black Sheep Inn.

    It turns out, by the way, that there are easier and more pleasant ways to get to the lodge. But I didn’t know that until later…

    Remember, You're at 12,000 Feet

    I think it’s wise to take a day and acclimate before you make your way to the crater lake, especially if you plan to make the trek all the way back to your lodging.

    The Black Sheep Inn is at about 12,000 feet—people deal with it differently—but while I was there, all the guests transitioned easily. Still, on my first day, ascending the simple staircase to my cabin took my breath away. I’m in reasonably good shape, but I stopped at the top of the flight and rested for a moment before crossing over to my assigned doorway.

    By late the next day, I was fully acclimated. At a communal dinner that night in the main lodge (that’s the way they roll at the Black Sheep—food is included and served to the group at a designated time), a fairly large quorum agreed to hike Quilotoa the following day. A debate ensued about the transportation: Should we hire a car and travel at our leisure, or get up super-early and ride the local milk-truck to the crater? Yours truly was silent, but my friend happily sided with the early-risers. I shot her a withering look, to no effect.

    And So We Took the Milk Truck…

    I don’t want to make this sound remotely heroic. I think there are a lot of people who can hop the milk truck and complete this hike well into their 60’s, and I met an older couple from Copenhagen on Day 4 who got along at 12,000 feet perfectly well. I went hiking with them one afternoon, in fact, and we found a great little cottage that made and sold local cheese in the mountains—a legacy, it turns out, of a historical relationship between Swiss aid workers and Ecuador's government. Who knew? I bought a wheel of (very affordable) cheese, hauled it back to the lodge, and shared it.

    But back to the milk truck…

    A group of us picked up the truck in the morning and made our groggy way to the lake. You have to realize: rural Ecuador is beautiful at nearly every turn. I have pictures like this that bring back stunning memories; but there were too many pictures like that to take. The Ecuadorian Andes are simply spectacular in a way that you come to expect. Still, arriving at Quilotoa is sublime; I can’t think of any natural setting off-hand that made a deeper impression on me. The landscape is lunar; the water is a vivid green, and very still; the size of the crater (some 2 miles across) is hard to fathom. The photo at the top gives you some sense, but it doesn’t do it justice.

    The hike around Quilotoa itself is mostly flat, and not especially arduous. For folks who don’t want to do more, it’s a gorgeous and fairly simple circuit, though you’re at a heady altitude (12,000+ feet). You can circle the crater and then head home if you want to take it (relatively) easy.

    My group, though, decided to make the trek back to the Black Sheep, a hike that lasted for the better part of the daylight hours. You should be in good shape to do it, but it’s the length of the hike—and not the route itself—that makes it something of a challenge. We hiked a clear trail the entire length back, pausing to rest, talk, and eat-- and to admire the breathtaking views along the way. Periodically, grazing lambs (and baby lambs, like this one at right) brought us all to a standstill with their ridiculous cuteness. For the final hour of the hike, we were mostly silent, and the first glimpse of homebase set us plodding forward with a renewed intensity. On most hikes, I've noticed, the initial view of your destination gives a misleading impression of the remaining distance. It was no exception this time: we descended gentle slopes, and then turned corners to confront another slalom of rolling hills. Finally, we crossed a huge plateau, and with daylight failing just a little, came within the last hundred yards of the Black Sheep Inn.

    Recovery is a Rum and Coke

    After a long hike, there’s that exhilarating mixture of accomplishment and exhaustion. It’s the kind of feeling that calls for a drink—a reward, I suppose, and a tonic.

    I spent the few hours before twilight looking out towards the mountains from inside the central lodge, and pondered whether I would hike again tomorrow. I didn’t ponder very hard. And I didn’t bother myself with decisions.

    I just sipped one or two really good rum and cokes, ate some fattening food at the shared table, talked to guests about things I can’t remember anymore-- and did absolutely nothing.

    Then I got up super-late the next day, the way you do on vacation, if you know how to do it.

    Tips

    >> Ecuador’s weather is fickle, but the mix of altitude and sudden bursts of intense sunlight made for unexpected sunburns. Bring sunscreen, and pack it on hikes. Always.

    >> On weather (again): all the guidebooks say it rains a lot, and it does-- but I experienced little more than frequent showers. The real challenge was managing cold and heat; pack layers, and add and subtract as the temperature changes.

    >> Ecuador’s currency is the American dollar. Don’t worry about changing your money if you’re coming from the U.S.

    >> As of a few years ago, Ecuador could be unsafe at night. I’ve been reading lately about security improvements in the country, but until I see more proof, I’m sticking to this advice: travel during the day.

    More Photos and Videos from the Trip

    PHOTO: Quilotoa, View 2 | PHOTO: A Sense of Scale: Me at Quilotoa | PHOTO: View Near the End of the Hike

    VIDEO: View at the Crater | VIDEO: View at the Crater, Take 2

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• A Big Weekend in the Big Apple

  • From: BobSullivan
  • Description:

    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.

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• Switzerland 2008

  • From: Bryan and Mona
  • Description:

    Alps, Here We Come!

    Our last big trip was 2006--Pop's dream vacation to Australia and New Zealand. We celebrated his 70th birthday watching penguins and cruising Milford Sound. Now it's Mom's turn. We leave for Switzerland and Austria on Tuesday. Our first stop is Lucerne. We hope to update our trip occasionally from the road. Check back and see the progress!

    June 24

    We've finished packing and getting ready to go to the airport. Mom & Pop have finished their coffee and we're ready to load the car for our 2 hour drive to the airport. I've been to Geneva & Lucerne--15 years ago--and am looking forward to a return visit, but this will be the first time for Mona, Mom, & Pop. Time to go so we have plenty of time to get through the TSA lines.

    June 25

    We arrive in Zurich on-time at 7:30 AM even though both of our flights experieced delays. After the mandatory stop at the ATM, we hopped on a train and headed for the city. The Swiss are excellent at public transportation. The train station is in the bottom of the airport and connections are extremely easy. We walked down the main shopping district--the Bahnhoffstrasse--and window shopped at Prada, Tiffany's, etc. We took a two hour city tour by bus in order to familiarize ourselves for our return in a week--not the best tour we've ever done, but good enough to see where we want to spend some time when we come back. After our tour, we took the train to Lucerne for our first two nights.

    We paid to have our luggage sent all the way to the Lucerne train station, so we wouldn't have to claim at Zurich airport and keep up with on the trains. Definitely the way to go--once you check in at the airport, it is tagged and handled all the way--kudos to the Swiss!! Mona and I walked around town exploring the old fortifications and climbed two of the towers along the remaining wall, while Mom & Pop rested in the room. After a delicious dinner of Alplergronen (think a hearty mac & cheese), we returned to the room to crash, as our bodies lacked sufficient sleep and we hope to quickly adjust to the new time zone. The picture at left is of the Chapel Bridge, a wooden bridge across the River Reuss, dating to the 14th century. The stone octagonal tower predates the bridge by a century.

    June 26

    The Euro2008 Football Championship—soccer to us Yanks—is taking place while we are here. After crashing at 8:30 last night, we were awakened about 11:00 to lots of screaming and horn honking after Germany defeated Turkey. I was able to go back to sleep about 12:30, but Mona was up until 2:30. We awoke a little after 8:00 and met Mom and Pop for breakfast. The Hotel des Alpes is right on the river in Old Town and we ate outside overlooking the river. A great way to start our day. This hotel is in a perfect location and we would definitely recommend it to others.

    We did our own self-guided walking tour of the Old Town section, seeing the Chapel Bridge, Jesuit Church, Spreurbrucke (another historic wooden bridge), and several of the squares around the City. After an afternoon nap, the four of us ate dinner on the outside terrace on the roof of the Manor Department Store. They have a great cafeteria that is popular with the locals. The meal was very good and much more reasonably priced than a lot of the restaurants we saw.

    It’s been very overcast today with a few sprinkles here and there which have prevented us from seeing Mount Pilatus or taking the cog rail to the top. After dinner, Mom, Mona, and I went to see the Löwendenkmal (Lion Monument). It is a spectacular lion carved into a sheer face of rock—33 feet long and 20 feet tall. It’s located in a small park, and we were able to enjoy it all to ourselves. We understand it is rare to have the park to ourselves, but we went about 8:30 after dinner and it was beautiful. It is memorial to the Swiss soldiers that died defending the French king during the French revolution. I understand why people say it is a “must see” while in Lucerne. It’s noble, majestic, and heart-breaking at the same time.

    

    

    June 27

    Today was a travel day as we departed Lucerne and took the train to Interlaken in the Bernese Oberland—the heart of the Swiss Alps. Before leaving Lucerne, we toured the Swiss Transportation Museum—comparable to our Smithsonian but on a slightly smaller scale. I liked the train section the best, as it showed the ingenuity of how the Swiss adapted their train network to navigate the mountainous terrain.

    We rode the Golden Pass line which has panoramic train cars for viewing the scenery. We stopped in the town of Brienz which is billed as a center of Swiss woodcarving. Brienz is at one end of Lake Brienzersee and Interlaken is at the other end. We looked at some of the shops and then Mona and I found a giant chessboard on the edge of the lake and played a quick match before meeting Mom & Pop back at the Train Station.

    Our hotel in Interlaken is the Hotel Du Nord, right on the main street about a 10 minute walk from the train station. We’ll be here for five nights and take day trips to the surrounding areas. We had dinner at a restaurant across the street, where a local brass band played while we ate. Now it’s off to bed so we can get an early start on our day tomorrow.

    June 28

    We’re up early this morning to catch an 8:00 train to go high into the Alps—our destination: Jungfraujoch—the “Top of Europe” where we arrive at the highest train station in Europe at over 11,000 feet. The weather is spectacular—clear blue skies and views as far as the eye can see. We are treated to great views of the Jungfrau, Eiger, and Monch peaks. At this altitude, the peaks are still snow-capped and we have to don extra clothing, but it’s all worth it. We understand that there is frequently rain and/or cloud cover so we could not have asked for better weather. There are several vantage points to admire the views and take pictures and we saw them all. We also visited the Ice Palace where there were several sculptures carved into the ice and went sledding on snow discs.

    The trip to the Jungfrau required two changes of trains at Lauterbrunnen and Kleine Scheidegg and took 2½ hours to reach the top. On the way down we stopped in the town of Wengen (roughly half-way between LB & KS) which sits on the edge of a cliff overlooking the valley with great views of the peaks. There are no cars in Wengen—the only way to reach it is by train, foot, or cable car. After taking in the town for a bit, Mona and I put Mom and Pop on the train back to Interlaken and we hiked down the mountain from Wengen into Lauterbrunnen. The trail was quite steep, but we were treated to spectacular views and a variety of trail types, including portions that went right through families’ yards or farms.

    We caught the train in Lauterbrunnen back to Interlaken and arrived about 6:30, had dinner with the folks, and turned in early. Tomorrow we are planning to go to Zermatt to see the Matterhorn—the weather forecast is very promising and we are hoping for a repeat of today.

     

    June 29

    Deja vu—up early to catch the 8:00 train, this time to Zermatt. Once again, we have clear blue sky with nary a cloud in sight. Like yesterday, our trip to Zermatt requires two changes of train—one in Spiez and the other in Visp. The total travel time was a little over two hours and we arrive in Zermatt about 10:15. Zermatt is at the south of Switzerland near its border with Italy. Like Wengen, Zermatt is car-free although there are little electric “mini trucks” that cart hotel guests and luggage from the train station to their hotel. The weather is glorious, mild temps and clear blue sky. We can see the Matterhorn from the town, but we decide to go up to Rothorn, a neighboring peak to get the quintessential Matterhorn view.

    You reach Rothorn via funicular then gondola and finally a cable car. We were not disappointed! We soaked up the views and atmosphere with very few people (and of course took lots of pictures). We met a couple from England who stayed in Zermatt a week last year and never saw the Matterhorn because of the weather, so we know today was a special treat. On the way down, we stopped at each intermediate point for a quick look around and had lunch at a restaurant located at the point where you change from gondola to funicular for the final leg down the mountain. I ate apfel streudel mit vanillasauce out on the terrace with gorgeous views of the Matterhorn. Mom ate the same, but Mona opted for ice cream with hers. Vanilla sauce is a thick cream sauce served warm—certainly not to be confused with ice cream, but a nice flavor to complement the streudel.

    After strolling through the streets of Zermatt and catching a glimpse of some type of professional tennis tournament, we took the train back to Interlaken, arriving about 6:00. We left glorious weather to return to rain in Interlaken. We cannot see the Jungfrau, so we know what a special two days we have had weather-wise. Tomorrow we plan on visiting Bern, the capital of Switzerland. He hope for more great weather, but regardless we’ve been blessed so far.

     

    June 30

    For the third day in a row, we are out early to catch the 8:00 train, this time to Bern, the capital of Switzerland. Bern is less than an hour away by train, so we are there before 9:00 to begin our visit. The old town area of Bern dates to the 1400’s and is extremely well-preserved. All the buildings are stone as construction with wood was banned after a big fire in 1405. We took our own self-guided walking tour of the Old Town area. Mona and I split up from Mom and Pop and each did our own thing. Mona and I went to the Bear Pits to see the brown bears on display. Bern’s original name was Bärn, named after the German word for bear—bär. The bear is featured prominently on the city’s coat of arms and is a beloved symbol of the city.

    Bern is quite a charming place, especially for a national capital. Less than 200,000 people live here. Probably the coolest thing we saw while we were there was the Zytglogge Clock Tower. The tower was part of Bern’s original city wall. The clock was constructed in the tower between 1527 and 1530. It is completely mechanical and must be “wound” once per day by winding the five 200 kilogram weights 90 meters high into the tower. The clock features an astronomical clock face that tells the time of day, day of the week, month, date of the month, phase of the moon, and astrological sign. It also has a rooster that crows, a jester that rings bells, and a carousel that twirls as part of the chiming of each hour. We took a tour and were able to climb to the top of the tower and see all of the inner workings. It was fascinating to see how all of the parts worked and hard to believe that such an intricate system was designed and built 500 years ago! Just viewing the clock from the street isn’t but so impressive—you must take the tour to have a full appreciation.

    Unfortunately for Bryan, it was one mishap after another. For all of you close friends and family reading this, ask him about his misadventures involving a guide book, a camera lens cap, and the seat on a train. Trying to write about it doesn’t do it justice. To cap it all off, we ended up on the wrong train on the way back to Interlaken and were half-way to France before we caught our mistake and had to double back. Fortunately, our rail pass is for unlimited travel so it didn’t cost us anything.

    One final note for all you sports fans: Spain 1 - Germany 0. Spain wins the Euro football championship for the first time in over 40 years. Until tomorrow. . . .

    July 1

    Today was laundry day as we’re about half-way through our trip. We found a self-service laundry across the river from Interlaken in Unterseen. Unterseen is adjacent to Interlaken across the Aare River and its name also translates into “between the lakes.” The washing machines are smaller than ours so Mona and I had to divide our stuff into two loads. It cost us the equivalent of $10 USD to wash and dry a single load of clothes. Glad we’re only doing that one time.

    Everything in Switzerland is much more expensive than the US. Switzerland retains the Swiss Franc (CHF) as its unit of currency and not the Euro. The current exchange rate is about 1:1 so something that is 10 CHF is roughly $10.00. To give you a frame of reference using the Big Mac Economic Index, a Big Mac combo at McDonalds in Switzerland will cost you 11.30 CHF or about $11.30 which is twice what it would cost in the US. We’ve been eating big breakfasts which are included with our hotel room and eating granola bars we bought with us for lunch, so dinner is the only meal we are buying. Even so, it’s hard to find a meal that is less than $20 per person.

    We spent the morning doing laundry. In the afternoon, we left Mom and Pop to fend for themselves and Mona and I took the train to the Town of Murren, on the opposite side of the valley from Wengen. Like Wengen, it sits on the edge of a cliff high on the mountain. Murren was included in our rail pass so we didn’t pay any extra even though a portion of the trip was on a cable car. The final leg on the train went right along the mountain edge which provided for spectacular views. We hiked all around the town and were planning to hike to the neighboring town of Gimmelwald but a thunderstorm began to roll in and we went back to Interlaken. We managed to avoid any additional rain back in town and spent the remainder of the evening strolling the shops and packing. Tonight’s the last night in Interlaken. Tomorrow we take the train back to Zurich where we will spend our final two nights in Switzerland.

     

    July 2

    This morning we said goodbye to Interlaken after 5 wonderful days and boarded a train for Zurich. We stopped in Brienz and caught a bus to visit Ballenberg – the Swiss Open Air Museum for Rural Culture. This museum is located on about 160 acres and contains around 100 rural houses, farm buildings, etc., from all regions of Switzerland. These structures date as early as the 1500s and were dismantled and reassembled in their original state. They also had demonstration crops and various period farm implements, and some houses had furnished interiors to give you a sense of what life was like hundreds of years ago. Admission was free with our rail pass.

    It was very interesting to see the various styles of architecture and building construction from the different regions within Switzerland. I was amazed at how much Pop knew about the various plants, tools, and equipment, but since he grew up on a farm, I shouldn’t have been surprised. We left early afternoon to finish our journey to Zurich, changing trains in Lucerne, and arriving in Zurich about 5:00 PM. We are staying at the Hotel Montana near the train station and Swiss National Museum for two nights. After dinner and claiming our luggage at the train station, we called it a night as we needed to catch up on sleep for tomorrow.

    July 3

    Today was a surprise day for Mom and Pop as we didn’t tell them in advance what we would be doing (although Mona did spill “some” of the beans a couple of days ago). First up was a visit to Maienfeld and the land of Heidi . Heidi was one of Mom’s favorite books as a child, and Maienfeld was the inspiration for the setting of the story as it was a favorite holiday spot of the author’s. We took the train to Maienfeld (about 1.5 hours from Zurich) and then hiked about45 minutes through the town and up the mountain past fields of grapevines to the Heidiland House and Museum—a re-creation of the setting from the book. Although there wasn’t much to see at Heidiland, we enjoyed the scenery very much and Mom had a great time reminiscing about the story. Maienfeld is a quaint town with narrow streets that is still very much an active farming community. The farming appears to be mostly vineyards, and we saw lots of tractors rumbling through town.

    After our visit to Heidiland, we took the train back to Sargans (all of 7 minutes) and caught a bus for part two of our surprise adventure—a visit to Liechtenstein. Sargans is a Swiss town on the border and we caught the Liechtenstein bus to Vaduz, its capital. Liechtenstein only has about 34,000 people living there—smaller than the county we live in. Mom and Pop can now add another country to the list of places they have been. We strolled the town and saw the Parliament Building and Castle where the prince and his wife live. I also bought a canceled stamp commemorating the Euro2008 Football Championships. Our guidebook says that philatelists covet stamps from Liechtenstein.

    We returned to Zurich about 5:00 and were greeted with rain. We had dinner at the Manora restaurant and returned to the hotel to rest up for the evening. Our best bets for dinner (variety and price) have been the restaurants within the department stores—Manora is in the Manor Department Store. Tomorrow we will sightsee a little more in the morning before boarding a train for the 6 hour ride to Salzburg. Switzerland has been fabulous and we look forward to more exciting adventures in Austria. Internet connections have been sketchy, so until then….

    July 4

    Happy Independence Day! Today we leave for Austria. Mona and I were up early to do a final walking tour of the city. We walked along the Limatt River and took pictures of the skyline. We visited the Lindenhof which is a city park overlooking the river with great views ot the Grössmunster Church. We had the place to ourselves as it was only about 8:00 and the city had not yet awakened. We found another giant chessboard, but decided against playing a match.

    We visited St. Peter' Church which has the largest clockface in Europe on it's tower. We then crossed the river and visited the Grössmunster and saw a 14th century statue of Charlemagne in the crypt of the church. We made our way back through Niederdorf, an old area with narrow cobblestone streets and lots of shopping and restaurants, though none were open. Although Zurich was not as quaint as the other cities we visited, we felt like we got a good feel for the city. We met back up with Mom and Pop--Mona and Mom checked out the shopping beneath the rail station and Pop stuck his head in the Swiss National Museum while I watched the luggage and updated this blog.

    We left Zurich at 1:30 for the 6 hour train ride to Salzburg. We are staying at the Austrotel Hotel about a 15 minute walk from the train station. We're across the street from Mirabell Gardens, where certain scenes from the Sound of Music were filmed. Tomorrow, we are taking our half-day Sound of Music bus tour of various sites. Mom is giddy with anticipation. Tomorrow's entry will likely be all about our tour. Stay tuned!

    ************

    Our blog is beginning to exceed the space allowed. Click on the link below to continue reading about our adventures in Austria.

    http://mybt.budgettravel.com/kickapps/_Austria-2008/blog/79418/21864.html

     

     

     

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• San Fran: Best. Coffee. Ever.

  • From: steve778
  • Description:

    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 .

    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.

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

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• Trequanda, Italy

  • From: jbergman75
  • Description:

    I finally get why people go to Tuscany and love it. Yes, Tuscany is beautiful (I mean look at this hilltop town in the sunset), and yes, the food is pretty incredible (our family friend, Linda, had pici with wild boar ragu EVERY day for lunch--she seriously could not get enough). But it's the way of life that I found most intoxicating. The villages that haven't changed for hundreds of years. The bakeries where people go to buy their bread on Sunday mornings. The vineyards, olive groves, fig trees and fields of wheat.. I was in love with it all by the end of the week.

    My parents, Chris and Ron, and their best friends, Linda and Rich rented a villa for the week where we all stayed (me, my partner Alex, my brother and his wife, and Linda and Rich's daughter and husband). The reason was to celebrate my parents' 40th wedding anniversary--it was their dream to have everyone go to Italy together. We did the requisite hill-town touring during the day, and ate enormous meals at night, usually at the trattoria in our town, Trequanda, or at a local pizza place (we were WAY out in the middle of nowhere.. it was a 20-30 minute drive to any other town). Linda's daughter was eight months pregnant and we joked that if she had the baby in Italy, she'd have to name it Trequanda. The villa was enormous and had a slightly odd decor. We took a series of pictures posing next to a life-size ceramic tiger and with our heads in between two gigantic vases in the shape of heads--they sort of resembled John Lennon and Yoko Ono.

    

    We took walks (see left). This photo shows Chris, Ron, Rich and Linda on a walk behind a 12th century abbey, the name of which I'm forgetting now. My dad had this whole walking tour planned, but we got about a half mile down this road and turned back. Hunger called.

    

     

     

     

     

    Springtime was a great time to be there--the wildflowers were stunning. This hillside is covered in mustard flowers. There were red poppies and purple irises by the sides of the roads, and wisteria blossoming everywhere. It wasn't heaven on my allergies, but I dealt with the scratchy eyes.

    

     

     

     

     

    Siena was undoubtedly my favorite town. We were lucky. We visited on a Thursday (in early May) and there were very few tourists. In fact, the Campo was packed, but with local Siennese, sprawled out in the warm sunshine, enjoying the day. We got lost in the city's streets and tried to hit all of the different neighborhoods (each has a different symbol, like a unicorn or porcupine, and they compete for top neighborhood during the annual Palio horse race in the Campo in July. I think my favorite spot was Santa Maria della Scala, one of the oldest hospitals in Europe. The hospital, which is more than 1,000 years old, was recently closed and turned into a museum. The walls and ceilings in what was the main ward are covered with frescoes showing how medics treated the sick at the height of Siena's power (before the black plague decimated the city in the 1300s) and cared for the orphans of the city.

     

     

    Another shot from the Campo in Siena.. this little boy was chasing a pigeon which you can kind of see mid-flight. It almost flew directly into us.

    

     

     

     

     

     

    And to the left is why I didn't love Florence. Too many tourists. In contrast to Siena, Florence was a nightmare. We didn't get into a single site, although we did have a nice boozy lunch at Buca Mario. I figured if I wasn't going to get into the Duomo, I was at least going to have a couple glasses of wine with my risottino ai funghi porcini . Anyone going to Florence should seriously eat here. I was super impressed. www.bucamario.it/eng

     

    

     

    Alex and I finished our trip with two days in Venice. I had visited the city 10 years ago with my brother and hated it. I thought there were too many tourists jammed into San Marcos and the food was mediocre and expensive. I'm glad I went back. We couldn't have had a more different experience. We found plazas off the main grid where Venetians hung out, drinking spritzes (aperol and white wine with a green olive on a skewer) and showing off their white sneakers, big sunglasses, and tight T-shirts. We also took in the Peggy Guggenheim museum, housed in a very cute house right on the Grand Canal where Peggy used to live. This neon light piece was in the sculpture garden behind the house.

    Here's Alex back in Tuscany somewhere. I don't have any shots of us posing in the house with the John and Yoko heads (or of baby Trequanda who is due any day now). I will try to add some later. My family is to the right (from left: my brother, me, my mom and dad).

    

     

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• Girls Weekend Away... New Orle

  • From: amyem
  • Description:

    Laissez les bon temps rouler!

    
    They say New Orleans is famous for both it's food and it's music. After spending a fantastic weekend there with two girlfriends, I would say I definitely agree! In fact, we are not sure if we should call this weekend "Amy Drags Susan and Rebecca to New Orleans to See Ben Harper" or "Amy, Susan and Rebecca Eat Their Way Through the Crescent City." Either way, we had a great time and we of course have some pictures to prove it!
    
    We made a pact not to eat at any chain restaurants while in New Orleans (after all, we live in the Boring Chain Restaurant Capital of the World!). We tried to soak up the regional cuisine as best we could and boy, was it worth it! We got into the city Friday morning around 10am, so we walked around the French Quarter for awhile before stopping in at The Corner Restaurant on Decatur St. for some gumbo and jambalaya.
    After a day of walking the streets of the French Quarter, we found a dinner of oysters, shrimp, crabcakes, and gumbo at The French Market Cafe. It was pretty neat watching the local fishermen pull up and deliver bushels of seriously huge shrimp they had just caught - our dinner was quite fresh, I would say!
    We were looking forward to having breakfast at the famous Cafe Du Monde - but when we got there the line for a table was about 30 people long. We decided to seek out something else we had been wanting to try: Po'Boys. So we stopped in at Johnny's Po'Boys and were not disappointed. I ordered the Shrimp Po'Boy and it was really yummy. I think many people agree that Johnny's Po'Boys are the best, judging from the line!
    Our next stop was, yes, for more food. Since we were headed across town for the music festival soon, we stopped in at The Central Grocery Co. for a famous muffuletta to go. We actually devoured the thing later that night, before I remembered to snap a photo... but let me tell you, that was GOOD.

     

     

     

     

     

    As luck would have it, Southern Candymakers shop was located right next door to our hotel. We stopped in for some of the best pralines I have had... I recommend the peanut butter pralines, especially when warm...
    The next morning, we decided to head out early and beat the crowds to Cafe Du Monde. It worked. We found a table right away and ordered the breakfast New Orleans is known for - cafe au lait and beignets!
    On our way out, we did end up stopping at a "chain" restaurant - but only because we were told it had some of the best gumbo (yes, more gumbo). And it did. Bubba Gump's, for the record.
    And I suppose no trip to Louisiana would be complete without a bag of Zapp's chips... ours were Key Lime flavored. They were... unusual tasting, but I would not say they were awful!
    Luckily, we found ourselves walking quite a bit this weekend - so we didn't feel too bad about all the fantastic food we ate!
    
    Music is everywhere in New Orleans. There is always a festival happening, a live band playing, or a street musician performing. It is a city with a soundtrack, and hearing and enjoying the different kinds of music really colors the experience.
    On Saturday we hopped on the Canal Street streetcar and headed up to City Park, the site of this year's Voodoo Music Experience. After listening to a few bands and waiting on colossal, horrendous bathroom lines, we finally got to see what we came for.
    New Orleans is a fantastic city, and we can't wait to get back.

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• That's Amore: Our Italian Adv

  • From: blairherzog
  • Description:

    To celebrate the twentieth anniversary of our first date, my husband and I took a trip we'd long talked about but never gotten around to planning - a journey to Italy.  It was difficult deciding which areas of Italy to see, but we finally chose the Cinque Terre, Tuscany, and Rome.  To say our trip surpassed my wildest dreams would be an understatement.  Welcome to our Italian adventure!

    The Charming Cinque Terre

    After flying into Milan, it took several trains to reach the Cinque Terre (which means Five Lands), but it was completely worth venturing off the beaten path to visit this quaint, charming, and friendly coastal area of Italy.  The Cinque Terre consists of five small hillside towns that each looks like it's literally spilling into the ocean.  The towns have all been in existence since Medieval times and have the ancient lookout towers and historic stone churches to prove it.  The shops are quaint, the people are friendly, and the views are breathtaking.  We especially enjoyed just roaming the streets, as well as the twisting stairs and alleyways (which also qualify as streets in a place as old as the towns of the Cinque Terre,) taking pictures of lovely archways and windows, and watching the locals hanging their laundry out as they conversed from window to window.

    Getting Around the Cinque Terre

    Don't expect taxis here, and whatever you do, don't plan on renting a car.  In the Cinque Terre, there are three options: trains, hiking, and boats (although boats may not be available year round.)  Oceanside trails passing through olive groves and terraced vineyards connect the five towns of Monterossa, Vernazza, Corniglia, Manarola, and Riomaggiore and are a lovely way to travel - but be warned, the trails get progressively more difficult the farther north you go.  So, based on your hiking ability, we advise hiking between the more southern towns and taking the train between the northern towns.  We used the low-priced Cinque Terre Treno Card, which admits you to both the trails and the trains.  And we sometimes found the train schedules difficult to follow in the Cinque Terre, so when arriving at the station, we advise asking a clerk when the next train to your destination is due.  Overall, the trains are a pretty easy way to hop between the towns if you choose not to hike or tire of it.

    Where To Stay in the Cinque Terre

    We chose to make the town of Manarola our home base.  It's the least touristy of the towns and we found our hotel, the Ca' d'Andrean simple but perfect for our stay.  It's a steep walk up the hill with luggage, but worth it for the view of lemon trees and terraced hillside gardens out our shuttered window each morning.  The staff here was especially helpful in mapping out future parts of our trip.  For nice, clean accommodations, we highly recommend the Hotel Ca' d'Andrean.

    While Manarola was our favorite, when we visit the Cinque Terre again, we will gladly consider staying in any of the other towns.

     

    Highlights of our Time in the Cinque Terre

     

    We found something truly unique and delightful at every turn in the Cinque Terre, so it's hard to narrow it down, but here are a few faves:

    1. The quaint, bustling Riomaggiore waterfront
    2. The especially charming Medieval streets of Corniglia (pronounced Cornelia, by the way)
    3. The view of Vernazza from the trail leading to Monterosso
    4. The ancient monastery high atop Monterosso

    Cinque Terre Fun Facts

    1. Cat lovers rejoice: Cats are plentiful in the Cinque Terre - you will see them everywhere you go, including on the trails.
    2. Residents of the Cinque Terre towns are more likely to own a boat than a car.
    3. Before the 20th century, each town was so isolated that most people married residents of their own tiny community.

    Finding Romance in the Cinque Terre

    Romance was pretty much everywhere here, but here are a few tips for romantic moments with your significant other:

    1. Look out over the Mediterranean by moonlight from Manarola's "vineyard walk."
    2. Dine on Vernazza's waterfront Piazza Marconi
    3. Stroll between Manarola and Riomaggiore on the wide promenade of the Via dell'Amore - the "walk of love."

    If you want to stop and smell the roses - or the sweet scents of lemon trees and lavender in the air - schedule some time for the Cinque Terre in your trip to Italy. We spent only two and a half days there and wished we'd had more time to simply soak up the slow-paced seaside charm of this traditional slice of Italy. Italian charm at its best.

    Under the Tuscan Sun

    From the Cinque Terre, we took the train to LaSpezia, where we rented a car. Warning: Driving a car in any sizable Italian city is a challenge when you can't read the signs and don't know the general rules and customs of the road. But once you get out of the city into more rural areas, driving is fine.

    Our plan to drive through Tuscany, hitting as many hill towns as possible along the way, worked out well. We spent two days meandering the twisting roads across rolling gold and green hills, stopping to soak up Medieval history along the way. It was amazing to be driving along and suddenly see an ancient fortified city appear in the distance.

    Where to Stay in Tuscany

    We made our home base at the Castel Bigossi, a lovely thousand-year-old castle in the heart of Tuscany near the fort town of Monteriggioni. It was off the beaten path, but we enjoyed the drive through the countryside, dotted with still more historic towns, each time we returned there. The exterior and grounds of the Castel Bigossi were lovely - the perfect Tuscan postcard - and the staff was friendly, talkative, and helpful. The interior was an unusual mix of modernity (spiral staircases and an elevator) and history (ancient wood beams on the ceiling of our bedroom) and all the rooms in the castel are spacious suites - more room than we needed, but we didn't mind. This would be a great place to stay for a longer visit than the two nights we spent there.

    Other thoughts on accommodations: Tuscany also boasts many agriturismos - these are working farms that also provide bed-and-breakfast type accommodations. And if you're more of a city person, all the hill towns offer rooms, as well.

    Getting Around Tuscany by Car

    Like I said above, once you're away from traffic, driving is a breeze, but be warned: Italian street signs and American street signs differ greatly. In Italy, roads are not marked with any sort of name or number, so it's hard to tell where you are most of the time, even when following a map. You are instead guided by arrows that point the way to the nearest town in any direction, and these tend to appear in groups at the frequent roundabouts.

    Also, be prepared for crazy drivers who will merrily pass on blind curves and motorcycle riders who consider it perfectly acceptable to pass between two cars without a lane. Our advice: Drive safely and normally, but be on guard.

    Medieval Hill towns Aplenty

    The Tuscan landscape is dotted with lots of Medieval hill towns, each with its own personality. Meandering through these places was fascinating not only because we were walking streets and seeing buildings that have been there for nearly a thousand years, but also because these are all still thriving communities where people live and work. Wandering the stone streets and piazzas, I expected to see knights in shining armor come riding up on horseback any minute.

    It would be difficult to see all the hill towns in the region (yes, there are that many,) so we picked a few that sounded especially appealing based on guidebooks and advice from our hotel staff. A few of our favorites were:

    1. Montepulciano: This is a must for wine-lovers, but even without being into wine, we enjoyed the Medieval sights here a great deal. We spent time hanging out at the large Piazza Grande with its unfinished Duomo, built around 1600.
    2. San Gimignano: Fabulous Medieval architecture, including fourteen remaining watch towers, some dating from the 10th century. And if that's not enough for you, this town also boasts the World's Best Gelato in 2006, 2007, and 2008 at the Pluripremaia Geleteria
    3. Montalcino: What made Montalcino outstanding for us was the fabulous castle-like fortezza (that's a fort) built in the 14th century. Dark clouds looming overhead while we were there made it appear particularly eerie.

    Note: As hill towns go, Siena is the largest in the region and pretty much considered a must-see. Personally, we were disappointed by how modern and commercialized even the historic part of town is (Foot Lockers and other American mall-type stores lined the stone streets.) But it's still worth a stop for the stunning Duomo, dating from 1215, and the huge Piazza Il Campo where a wild, no-rules horse race is run every July and August.

    But Back to the Rolling Tuscan Hillsides

     

    We made a small project out of locating some of the best-known postcard views of Tuscany's cypress-lined roads - a task made more difficult by the lack of road signs. However, before leaving home, we Googled on the topic and found other travelers' notes on how to reach some of these scenic spots. Finding them felt like a special victory! But with or without them, we came home with countless pictures of fields teeming with red poppies, villas flanked by vineyards, and some lovely cypress-lined roads we stumbled across on our own.

    Note: As we traveled the winding roads that criss-cross Tuscany, we were kept company by the abundance of American music on the radio - everything from Dionne Warwick to Bruce Springsteen to Green Day.

    Finding Romance in Tuscany

    Romance is pretty easy to find in Tuscany, too, but here are some recommendations:

    1. Enjoy in the stunning view from the walls of Montepulciano over a glass of their famous wine.
    2. Stroll the quiet town of Volterra after dark.
    3. Take a lazy drive along cypress-lined roads, delighting in fields of wild poppies, Italian villas, and ancient fortresses.

    Tuscany is a must-see for those who enjoy lovely, rolling landscapes. The rich Medieval history and striking hill towns are wonderful perks to this region teeming with romantic ambience.

    All Roads Lead to Rome

    All roads may lead to Rome, but here's a tip: leave your rental car at the airport and take the train into the city. Even that was a bit of a challenge - remember, Italians don't seem to value signage as much as we do in America - but it was still by far the best choice.

    You can look at Rome in two ways: it's a zoo or it's a party. Choose the party attitude and you'll have a much better time. This large, busy city seemed to have as many pedestrians as cars, and it was usually unclear who had the right of way, especially on small streets left over from older times.

    Getting Around Rome

    To walk or take the train around town? It's a toss-up. Rome is a walking city, but things are often farther away than they appear and you can put many a mile on your sneakers by day's end. On the other hand, some of the subway terminals were confusing to navigate and had broken ticket machines, or they were far enough out of the way that it just seemed simpler to walk.

    The streets are confusing - remember, this is a very old city, full of twists and turns. Our advice: Follow the signs toward major landmarks and don't be frustrated if you get lost. On one particular evening, after listening to street musicians for a while at the popular Piazza Navonna, we started the twisting trek toward our hotel, following signs and making good progress - we thought - until, about fifteen minutes later, we emerged right back onto the Piazza Navonna. We just looked at each other and cracked up laughing.

    Where to Stay

    We made our home in Rome the LaResidenzia Hotel, near the Via Venetta, a major thoroughfare. Despite the fact that two lap dance clubs sit directly across the street from the hotel, we were very happy with our choice - which is to say we never really saw any traffic at the clubs and they seemed very quiet. Like our other Italian accommodations, the staff was knowledgeable and friendly. Sitting areas in the lobby were spacious and elegant, our room was nice with lots of storage and a turn-down service, and a pretty good breakfast buffet was included in the price of the room.

    Ancient Rome - Walking Through History

    If you're a history lover, this is why you're here. We loved the Colesseum and the Forum, as well as Palatine Hill (where many Roman rulers built their palaces.) Our advice: It's worth it to pay for the tours here. Not only do you get good, interesting information along the way, if you enter with a tour, you bypass the long lines to get in.

    We spent a couple of hours roaming around the Colesseum, and more time outside, just taking pictures and enjoying the ambience of the area. As this was a sight I'd only dreamed of seeing, it felt almost surreal to actually be there. I had the same reaction to the Roman Forum and enjoyed knowing I was walking the same paths Julius Caesar and so many other historic figures had traveled. I found myself wanting to take a picture at every step to be sure I captured it all, and I truly felt the impact of being in the cradle of modern Western civilization.

    Roaming Around Rome

    Of course, there's much more to see here than just the ancient ruins. We enjoyed sitting on the Spanish steps, hanging out at the Trevi Fountain, touring the Pantheon (an amazing piece of ancient architecture,) and taking in the views from the Victor Immanuel Monument (although not as famous as some stops in Rome, you can't miss it on your way to the Colesseum - it's an enormous building that looks like a giant wedding cake.)

    Rome is filled with countless piazzas - or town squares - both great and small, and each has it's own personality. Some are large, sporting numerous cafes, shops, fountains, and street artists, while others are smaller and less busy. It was fun to be walking along a narrow street and suddenly exit into another new piazza and see what it had to offer.

    Adventures at the Vatican

    How many people can say they've been kicked out of St. Peter's Basilica? I don't know, but we are now among that number. More to come on that in a moment.

    First, some facts. This is another place where it's wise to pay extra and enter with a tour group - it cut our wait considerably and we truly got a lot out of the tour. Also, you must where clothing that covers your shoulders and knees to be admitted to St. Peter's Basilica.

    Our tour covered St. Peter's Square, the Basilica, and the Vatican museum, including the Sistine Chapel. Upon entering the Basilica, we'd barely gotten started when an angry man approached our tour guide and began yelling at her in Italian. She reported that we were being thrown out because he didn't believe we were a real tour group and that she'd bring us back later. Weird but true, and we never did really understand what happened there. But on with the show.

    We were, honestly, a little let down by the Sistine Chapel, which I'd long looked forward to seeing. It's an amazing piece of art, yes, but the ceiling is higher than I'd envisioned, so it's really pretty difficult to see. The whole room was packed with people craning their necks to try to take it in, which made everyone prone to bumping into each other. Plus you can't take pictures (understandable) and you can't talk (less understandable.)

    After the chapel, it was back to the church, but we had to pretend we were not a tour group. (Again, confusing, I know.) But we enjoyed the un-tour of the basilica and were taken aback by the scope and size. Particularly notable items in the church: the famous Pieta by Michelangelo, the enormous canopy marking the (official but who knows) burial spot of St. Peter, and a statue of St. Peter to which, tradition holds, one should hold onto the toe, make three wishes, and they will come true.

    One nice thing about being kicked out of St. Peter's Basilica: when we returned, hours had passed, and the sun shone through small windows in the dome, casting a heavenly glow on the floor, which made for amazing photos.

    A Few Tips for Your Time in Rome

    1. You can sit on Roman ruins in the Forum and Colesseum - they are so plentiful that they are literally set about to be used like park benches - but whatever you do, don't sit on the ground near the Trevi Fountain (policemen blew a loud whistle in my ear for this and looked at me as if I'd knowingly committed a heinous crime.) And definitely don't sit anywhere inside the Victor Immanuel Monument, where you will also be firmly chastised by a whistle-wielding guard.
    2. Hungry for a taste of home? McDonald's are everywhere in Rome, and we happened to visit what might be the fanciest one on earth - a two-story affair complete with marble stairs, replicas of famous Roman statues, and a separate gelato bar, dessert bar, and breakfast bar in addition to the normal counter.
    3. Need to use the bathroom? In Rome - and everywhere else in Italy - it's wise to carry some toilet paper or (as I opted for) individually packaged Wet Ones. Toilet paper just isn't a hot commodity there. And be prepared to find yourself squatting over a hole in the ground - which, oddly enough (to us Americans anyway,) usually come complete with fiberglass inserts around the hole, so that it's not dirty, but it's quite awkward and just makes you ask: Why? In Rome, we often took advantage of McDonald's bathrooms - they weren't the cleanest, but we knew we'd at least get a commode.
    4. Want to drink a Coke? Your best bet - again - is McDonald's. At gelato shops or bars (in Italy, a bar is what we think of as a quickie mart crossed with a snack stand or deli) you'll usually pay the equivalent of $3 or $4 for a 20 ounce bottle, and should you be unfortunate enough to be thirsty near the ancient sites, you may pay up to $8 at a portable concession stand.

    Finding Romance in Rome

    Rome is busier and a bit more challenging in ways, but you still need not look far for romance here:

    1. Toss a coin over your shoulder in the Trevi Fountain and it's said you will return to Rome.
    2. Share a bicycle built for two at the city's largest park, the Villa Borghese
    3. Share a bottle of wine on the Spanish Steps, then stroll the city as dusk turns to night. The Forum and Colesseum are particularly striking to behold at nightfall.

    Ah, Rome. Two-thousand years of history and culture and architecture. It's a lot to take in, but it would be a crime to visit Italy without fully embracing it's exciting, bustling capital.

    Ciao!

    We travel a lot, but our trip to Italy was truly the romantic adventure of a lifetime.

    Final tip: Take your time exploring romantic Italy, and eat a lot of gelato because it's just not as good at home, no matter what anyone says.

     

     

     

     

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• Authentic Caribbean--Nevis, We

  • From: LTBergren
  • Description:

     

    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...

     

     

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• Costa Rica 4: Scream of a Baby

  • From: TimothyState
  • Description:

     

    Scream of a Baby Tarantula

    The top of the volcano exploded like a firecracker. Even from our distance of a couple kilometers, we could hear the lava popping out of Volcano Arenal as it belched glowing flows of lava, which cascade down the mountain like sparks showering over a crowd on the fourth of July. What appears to be small sparks are easily large, molten boulders. The sun set quickly behind Volcano Arenal and the afternoon’s rain clouds built to release a torrent of rain we’ve never seen before. For hours, water came out of the sky. Three inches of rain easily came down in the first hour, if the water level in the pool was any indication. The pace did not let up through dinner, nor did it long after we feel asleep in our room at Volcano Lodge outside the village of La For Tuna .
    

    “Isn’t this sort of staying to close to the volcano?” Sean mused over dinner. “If it explodes we’re dead.”
    

    “It’s been exploding in the same manner since 1968,” Dan said.
    

    “It’s not like Mt. St. Helens,” said Tony, “where pressure builds for years and then it explodes all at once.”
    

    “I’d be more concerned about the volcano that’s not exploding daily,” I added.
    

    After dinner, we retired to the porch outside our room. For an hour we watched rivers of lava, and Sean finally regressed, “Okay, this volcano stuff is pretty cool.”
    

    While the rainstorm put a damper on our up-close and personal evening tour with Volcano Arenal, we saw plenty from our rooms, making for an explosive close to the day. We had arrived at the point of our tour: to take Tony, for his birthday, on a tour of the rainforests and all its side attractions.
    

    The day started early with a traditional Tico breakfast of rice, beans, and eggs as we sat watching the sun rise on the canyon at Canyon House . While eating, Alexander, our guide for the next three days, showed up and introduced himself. Shorter than any of us, he’s got dark, long wavy hair, and confesses he’s bad with names. After a day, he called me, “Hey photographer.”
    

    We left San Jose in a mini bus reserved for us, and headed north from the city on Highway 1, the Pan-American Highway, into the foothills surrounding the central valley. We passed through Alajuela , where old colonial buildings ring a beautiful central park serving as a town square that people relax in throughout the day. Just beyond Alajuela, we made a first stop at a coffee plantation.
    

    “See, in Costa Rica, we gave all the money from the military to the teachers and the schools,” Alexander explained. “We have no military, so we have ninety-five percent literacy. So nobody wants to pick the coffee beans. So Nicaraguans can come for three months at a time and pick the coffee beans, and then they go back.”
    

    With Nicaraguans picking coffee beans around us, he showed us the plant.
    

    “The coffee bean cherry is ready to pick when it is bright, bright red,” Alexander explained. “They don’t all turn red at the same time, so they have to be picked individually.”
    

    Alexander broke open a coffee cherry.
    

    “See, there are two beans for every cherry.” He offered me a bean. “Take the bean and suck on it. Don’t eat it or bite it. Just suck on it.”
    

    We each put a coffee bean in our mouth, tasting its sweet honey-like nectar.
    

    “My father has an organic coffee plantation,” Alexander explained, “and growing up, I used to go in the field and just suck the juice of the coffee bean.”
    

    We continued north through the villages of Poasito and Vera Blanca . Someone in the van passed the gas of a hundred dead horses, the aftereffects of rice and beans at breakfast producing silent giggles from the peanut gallery in the back of the bus.
    

    “That smell you smell is sulfur,” Alexander said. “We’re passing right now through two volcanoes.” The silent giggles grew louder. He pointed to the left, “Right there in that cloud is Volcano Poas, and to the right in that cloud is Volcano Barva. Depending on the weather and what way the wind blows, it can be really stinky.”
    

    Passing over the continental divide, entire slopes were covered in what looked like black tarp.
    

    “What are those hills covered with?” Tony asked.
    

    “That is the marijuana,” Alexander said. “We cover it so no one knows it’s marijuana.”
    

    “Oh?” I say. His sense of humor playing into my American stereotypes.
    

    He laughs.
    

    “Those are covers to keep the clouds off the plants. We are in the cloud forest, so there is dense fog most of the time. Without them, how do you say it? Moss? Moss grows and kills the plants.”
    

    Shortly after crossing the continental divide, we arrived at La Paz Waterfall Gardens , high in the cloud forest of Costa Rica. Alexander explained to us as we hiked deep into the forest the differences between a cloud forest and a rain forest, and how the rainforest is dependant on the cloud forest to keep everything moist. The tree cover was dense, and with a dense fog, it was dark in the forest. We hiked up and down cliffs, at points, the trail navigable only by the stairs that have been suspended from the side of a rock cliff. At the end of the trail is the magnificent La Paz Waterfall, cascading down forty meters.
    
    
    “Does anybody have a barrel?” Sean asked.
    

    “A barrel?” Alexander stops in the trail and turns around, a look of confusion.
    

    “Yeah. Haven’t you heard of Niagara Falls?”
    

    “Niagara Falls, yes. What do you use a barrel for?”
    

    “To go over the waterfall in.”
    

    “People ride in barrels over waterfalls?”
    

    “Yeah. They used to do it all the time at Niagara Falls.”
    

    “That is crazy. If you have a barrel, you can ride over the waterfall, but I don’t come get you. Whatever you say. You are my boss.”
    

    We had lunch in the cloud forest, where a lodge had been built. The lodge was open air without walls and the canopy of the cloud forest was just a few meters away, providing the illusion we were lunching in the treetops.
    

    We made our way out of the mountains following lunch, descending very quickly on a curvy road from nearly 5,000 meters to just 200 meters above sea level. Turning a corner, Alexander slammed on the breaks and we lurched forward as he quickly came to a stop.
    

    “Flat tire! Who helps?” He said. “I kidding. Tarantula in middle of the road. But just a baby tarantula.”
    

    We jumped out of the car and walked back to a tarantula slowly making its way across the road, one furry leg at a time. Tony and Sean went wild snapping photos of a tarantula on pavement.
    

    “You got macro? Use your macro, you get good picture.” Alexander said. “Real close-up.”
    

    Shortly another bus marked by a yellow sign and the word “Turismo” stopped. Tourist buses are marked with this sign, giving us away long before anyone could spot the camera or the excessive jungle wear. A blonde German woman rolled down the window on the van.
    

    “Tarantula.” Alexander pointed to the giant spider crawling along the path.
    

    She looked down and started screaming the scream of a hundred schoolgirls. Other buses of tourists and a truck rolled up, all coming to a stop while the woman continued to scream as if the tarantula were about to charge her car. Alexander jumped down on his hands and knees and began to blow at the tarantula, encouraging him to cross the road a little faster. A tarantula crossing the road in the cloud forest had created complete gridlock, grinding commerce and transportation to a halt.
    

    Tarantula safely across the road, we got back in the bus and started under way again, clearing the traffic jam.
    

    “That lady make a lot a noise for just a baby tarantula,” said Alexander. “Tarantula no dangerous unless they think you try to be mean. Then they squirt out a poison like they poopied it out, and if it gets you, how do you say it? You get really big.”
    

    “You swell up,” I said.
    

    “Yeah. You swell up. I hate to hear the noise of that woman she make when a big tarantula come."

     

     

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• Doolin, Ireland- Near Death Ba

  • From: tharrow
  • Description:

     

    Magical tales of leprechauns and mystical images of the Emerald Isle have danced in my head since I was a young girl. I have always dreamed of Ireland.

     

    Before I could change my mind, or come to my senses, I set off on a solo journey that I hoped would turn out to be the adventure of a lifetime. I bought an oversized backpack, an overpriced plane ticket and made my way via JFK, to Ireland. 
    

     

    As cliché as it may sound, I set off on this soul-searching journey hoping to rediscover myself. By traveling alone, I planned to re-think and refocus my life goals. Because I didn't know much about Ireland, I had no idea where to go. A day before taking off, I did some research on the Internet trying to figure out where to go. A Google search for "best places to visit in Ireland" gave me over a million hits. Slightly frustrated, I decided to pick an airport and just play it by ear. I settled on Shannon airport on the West coast, mainly because of its beautiful rugged coastlines I saw in pictures.   

     Doolin (County Clare)

    This is where my journey begins. Getting here requires a short layover in Ennis and a long bus trip through some windy mountainous roads. For those prone to motion sickness, even slightly, Dramamine is a necessity. I don't normally have motion sickness problems, but I end up eating my entire two-week supply of Tums. Maybe it was the winding roads or the constant jerking motion of the bus, or maybe it was the fact that a couple of my fellow passengers, who obviously forgot their Dramamine, were vomiting on the bus. For most of the ride, I hang on to the seat-back handles in front of me, with a death-grip. Come to think of it, maybe that should have been a clue that this would be a rough ride. In my 36 years on this planet, I've managed to live through some scary car rides-Manhattan taxi rides topping my list. After the last one of those a few years ago, I fully expected to at least earned an "I rode in a New York city taxi… and survived" t-shirt. The bus ride to Doolin made the taxis seem like a Sunday drive with Grandma.

    I've been stuffed in the backseat of speeding compact cabs in Mexico, all the while praying to the bobble-headed Jesus stuck to the dash, hoping he understood English, but this bus ride, in the countryside of Ireland, takes the cake. The roads here are so narrow the driver locks up the brakes each time an oncoming car approaches. When I step off of the bus in Doolin, I am so grateful to still be alive and to not have vomited, that I thank God and fight off my strong urge to kneel down and kiss the road.

     

    Doolin is known as the place to go for the real feel of Ireland. It is the home of traditional Irish music where famous Irish musicians are known to drop by to play a few sessions. Despite the five hour time difference from my home in Richmond, VA. And a total journey of 28 hours, I'm exhilarated and ready to begin a new adventure.

     

    My first night I stay at the Aille River hostel- a 300 year old renovated cottage. I don't know much about hostels, in fact I know nothing other than there was a recent horror flick out about them, which luckily, I've never seen. I have no idea what to expect, other than the €15 cash only per night price tag. The quaint stone-front hostel sits just across a little stone bridge. Cows and sheep graze nearby. A lonely-looking donkey walks along side of me as I get closer to the hostel. I explain to him that I don't have any food and he stares at me, obviously disappointed.

     

    When I walk through the door, I meet Karl, the hostel manager. He looks like he hasn't shaved or showered in a while and has a pungent odor to him.  Later, after taking a small survey in the pub, I learn that deodorant isn't high on the priority list of the Irish, in fact most don't use it. Maybe that explains Karl's unpleasant aroma.  He is extremely friendly and chatty with everyone as he explains the rules of the hostel. There are free laundry facilities, internet and a full kitchen. He shows me to my room, which he explains has enough beds for eight people, both guys and girls. "Whoa. Wait a minute. Guys are sleeping in here with me," I ask. "Yep, unless you get a private room, which is €45," Karl says. "Don't worry, you'll be ok."  I ask him to show me the private room, which more closely resembles a linen closet with a bed. I decide to take my chances with the co-ed room. I pick an empty bottom bunk and attempt a quick nap.

     

    My nap is cut short, because of the racket outside of my open window. Cows are moo-ing and just like dogs, when one starts, they all join in. I hear sheep baaa-ing in the distance, and my donkey friend in the yard next door joins in too with his hee-hawing sound. Because, I've never heard a real live donkey, unless Saturday morning cartoons of my childhood count, I never knew they actually sounded like that. The barnyard orchestra causes me to break into a fit of hysterical laughter. Luckily, there are no witnesses.

     

    After giving up on the nap,  I check out all five pubs within walking distance of the hostel. I learn after walking into Fitzpatrick's, a modern looking restaurant/ pub across the street, that the Irish tend to eat dinner after 7:30. I have the place to myself, so I sit and chat with Keiran, the bartender. He recommends the special for dinner, Seafood Risotto. Giant hunks of salmon and other fresh fish fill my bowl, along with various shellfish and shrimp. It's a bargain for only €14 euros and ends up being the best meal I will eat in Doolin.  Keiran tells me that the music usually starts around 9:00pm and ends whenever the players stop playing or the pubs decide to close.

     

    At 9:00pm the sky is still surprisingly bright. Apparently, it doesn't get dark here until almost 11:00pm during summer. Winter here must be incredibly depressing with so little daylight. In search of music, I head to McCann's pub, a favorite spot of the locals. The pub is deserted on the outside, but inside is standing-room only, with a great band playing in the corner. I order a Guinness and try to find a spot to stand. I can say that the rumors about Guinness in Ireland are true, the beer tastes much better than the Guinness sold in the states. At home, I won't even drink it, but here, not to sound like some kind of beer connoisseur, but the Guinness is rich and creamy with chocolately undertones. My bartender tries his best to make a shamrock design in the foam of my beer, but instead of shamrock, it looks more like a penis, which makes me laugh. He still gets an A for effort.   

     

     

    The next morning I awake to blinding sunlight streaming through the curtain-less windows. It's an extremely rare (which I later learn), beautiful warm sunny day in Ireland. Today, I unintentionally embark on a crazy adventure. Karl suggests I take advantage of the day and hike to the Cliffs of Moher. "Don't go on the tour. You have to hike there. It's the only way to see the real beauty," he says. Two girls staying at the hostel, Kerri, a lesbian from California and Sara, a crazy-looking German girl, overhear my conversation with Karl and ask to join me.  "You will come to a gate that is marked "Do not enter. Danger, but just ignore it and keep going," Karl says.

     

    After walking miles, we run out of trail and have to jump across gaps where the path has washed away into the ocean below. We climb over rusted barbed wire fences, under electric fences, through fields filled with cattle, which brings me to my next adventure. While crossing through one particular field, I decide to snap a few shots of the peaceful grazing cattle. Apparently, these cows don't like their picture taken (Maybe in another life they were Amish)  A big brown fellow decides to run after me. At first, being a good hundred feet away, I think it's cute, but as he gets closer and noticeably larger, panic sets in. I start screaming and running as if, well as if, I was being chased by a mad cow. This would be a really stupid way to die, I think.  I don't know what makes him give up, maybe he was just having a little fun with me, but he decides, like a few men that I've dated, that I am not worth the chase.

     

    We follow the path for the next few miles along the base of a mountain, the sea to the right of us. The scenic walk is gorgeous and peaceful, more than I ever imagined it would be, until the trail suddenly comes to an end. Standing at the edge of the cliff, we weigh our options. Either we head back a few miles to try to find a different path, head straight up the mountain, or jump. Since we don't want to die today, we hesitate for a few minutes. Sara starts heading up the mountain yelling for us to follow her. "Come on, let's go," she says.

     

    Kerri slowly follows behind her muttering something about being terrified of heights. Without much thought, I follow behind them, straight up the mountain. It only takes a few minutes to realize I made a huge mistake. I pause to look down the mountain and panic sets in. I am wearing my brand new Asics running (not hiking) shoes. They haven't even met my treadmill yet. They are brand new, stiff and definitely not meant for climbing mountains.

     

    I pause, trying to decide whether going back down the mountain is even a possibility.  I take one baby step down and feel myself losing traction. Down is definitely not an option for me. With a deep breath, I turn back around and climb further, clutching fistfuls of grass with each step up the mountain. I stop every couple of minutes, both trying to control my racing heart and shaking hands and to pray that I survive this.  I practice my yoga breathing, short inhalations and long exhalations. Luckily, I have my camera around my neck. It takes the blame for my constant stopping. "It's so breathtakingly beautiful. I have to capture this," I yell to the girls climbing ahead of me. I'm also trying to distance myself from them. As horrible as it sounds, I know if either of them loses traction and falls, they will definitely knock me off of the mountain and into the rocky cliffs below us on the way down.  If I survive this, I promise God that I will never ever take my life for granted again.    

     

    Obviously, I make it to the top of the mountain or you wouldn't be reading this. Once we reach the top and make it to our destination, the touristy part of the Cliffs of Moher, we are a little disappointed at what we see, especially after the journey we have just taken. Isn't life just like that sometimes though? "It's not the destination, it's the journey."   

     

    On the trip back into town, I feel so exhilarated and happy simply at being alive. Maybe this adventure, this near-death experience is just what I needed to put life into perspective for me. We strike up a conversation with two old Irishmen chatting on the side of the road.

    "Two fellows jumped off those cliffs yesterday. Found em' a couple hundred meters apart," one man says.

    "How do they know it was suicide," I ask. "Did they leave notes?"

    "No, but that's where everyone goes to end it," he says.

    After the experience I just had, I can't help but wonder if either of them were accidents.

     

    We walk to McCann's pub for lunch where I order the fish and potato cakes, as recommended by the waitress, who tells me they're "lovely." They look and taste like deep-fried-fish-flavored-mashed-potato-balls, not exactly what I'd call lovely. At €10.50, they weren't exactly a bargain.  I consider wrapping them in a napkin and giving them to my donkey friend later, but my rumbling stomach reminds me that I'm starving. Outside, an old man sits at a weathered picnic table strumming his guitar and singing. Two country-looking guys sit with him singing and laughing loudly.  They insist we sit and sing along with them. We spend a few minutes talking to them and head back to the hostel where we part ways for the evening.

     

    I have dinner at O'Conner's Pub, another favorite spot of the locals. It's about a 10-minute walk in the opposite direction from McCann's. There are no tables available and the crowd is elbow to elbow. I grab a single empty stool at the bar and order dinner. Traditional instrumental music has the crowd tapping their toes and bobbing their heads to the rhythm. Following the bartender's suggestion, I settle on a starter (Irish appetizer) of king prawns wrapped in pastry and an order of brown bread. Tiny salad-sized shrimp wrapped in fried phyllo dough arrive (€10). I take a bite and chew and chew and chew the greasy rubbery concoction. I try, but can't bring myself to force this down, even with a Guinness chaser. On a positive note, the brown bread with Irish butter is delicious.

     

    Because I don't want to be too far from my hostel, I finish my night at the place across the street, Fitzpatrick's.  Walking along the street in this town after dark is a bad idea. Crime is non-existent, but so are street lights and shoulders along the road for walking. Fitzpatrick's is booming with a young, attractive crowd. Keiran, the bartender tells me the large group is a wedding party from Limerick. I meet several people, including Chicago's governor, Pat Quinn who tries to engage me in a political discussion, which bores me to tears. I make friends with a couple of friendly college-age guys who suggest I visit the city of Galway next. I tell them I'll think about it.

     

    The handsome dark-haired musician works the crowd with his solo guitar playing and singing. Most everyone in the crowded bar, including me sings along to every song. You just can't help it, the air is electric. "Sweet Caroline" by Neil Diamond has everyone hitting high notes. Johnny Cash's "Ring of Fire" has the crowd singing and stomping their feet to the rhythm. Most all music is American, with the exception of a few well known Irish songs. It's only after hearing a packed bar full of Irish people sing Lynryrd Skynyrd's "Sweet Home Alabama," that my life feels complete.

     

    The next morning, I awake to a sound that I become all too familiar with, pelting rain on the roof. It is chilly, windy and raining sideways. "Aww, you get used to it." Karl says when I ask how they deal with this type of weather all of the time. I bundle myself up the best I can, with the clothes I've brought and walk about a mile to the nearby farmer's market. About 30 vendors sell their goods inside of the large yellow building. A quirky looking Irishman sells produce outside. The farmer's market reminds me of a church craft fair with a few food vendors. Just inside the door, a cheese vendor sits behind giant wheels of cheese. There's sheep, goat and cow cheeses, all sold by the slice. Further inside there are several stands offering breads, pastries and pies. For breakfast, I buy a slice of fresh cheese and a soft yeasty sweet potato roll all for €1.60.

     

    After my breakfast, I make my way towards the bus stop to head to Galway. I stop in a little cottage bookstore along the way both to get out of the rain and to warm up a little. I have a latte and can't resist ordering a warm chocolate croissant from an overfilled basket sitting on the counter. A few of the shops I've been to in this town keep the pastries in baskets on the floor, which makes me imagine tiny mice nibbling on them (when the customers aren't hovering over them in wet muddy shoes). I sit at a little cloth covered table, which is actually an antique sewing machine nestled beside a wood-burning stove. Annette, a gorgeous blonde-haired blue-eyed German girl from my hostel stops by my table for a moment to say hello. She's also waiting for the bus to Galway. Later, we become fast friends on the bus ride and she even invites me to come visit her in Germany in a few days. I tell her I'll see what happens.

     

    Gentle Irish music plays throughout the old bookstore. The scent of crackling wood and coffee fills the air. As I drink my latte and feel myself warming up, I find that I am content and at peace for the first time in a very long time in my life. I sit a few moments longer watching the falling rain through the bay window. Feeling a little sad, I silently say goodbye to Doolin.

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• Our Rick Steves Village Italy

  • From: kk6t
  • Description:

    My wife Robin and I have been very fortunate to have traveled to some fantastic destinations. This is an excerpt from my journal on our Rick Steves' Village Italy tour. The tour was two weeks long and visited some of the most picturesque villages and hilltowns in the Tuscany and Umbria regions. Picturesque may be an understatement......I took more than 3000 pictures during those two weeks.

    Day 1

    I was a little nervous about today. Today is September 11th and we had to fly from London (see Pre-Tour London section ) to Venice to start our tour. We had to leave the hotel at 4:30AM to make our flight and the airport (Gatwick) looked like an ant colony that had just been disturbed but other then that we had no problems. Once we were on the ground in Venice I was able to relax a little.

    We followed the directions we had been given and took the bus from the airport to Padua. The bus ride was somewhat of an adventure. Every time we came to a sign showing Padua (Padova) the driver went the opposite direction.....every time!

    

    Eventually however we arrived at the Padua bus station.From there we took a taxi to our hotel. What a ride.....I thought I drove crazy. If there was a bicyclist or pedestrian in the road the taxi driver would pull up behind them to within inches and then blow the horn. A couple times I had to close my eyes because I was SURE we were going to launch the Padovan in our way into orbit!! Needless to say we made it to the hotel safely and I can assure you that no Padovani were injured in the making of this blog!

    "The World is a book, and those who do not travel read only a page." - St. Augustine

    Our hotel is very nice and the owners are very friendly. After dropping our bags in our rooms Robin & I along with Susan & Kerry wandered through the old portion of Padua and stopped for some lunch which we finished off with some excellent gelato. The gelato will become a daily goal that we will pursue with dogged determination!

    

    After returning to the hotel and cleaning up we all met in the breakfast room of the hotel. This was our first chance to meet our guide Julie and the intrepid travelers with which we would be spending the next two weeks. I was amazed at how diversified our group was. They ranged from first time European travelers to at least one who was on their sixth Rick Steves tour.

    We had west coast people, east coast people and everything in between. We even had one person from St. Thomas in the U.S. Virgin Islands. It was an exciting afternoon listening to everyone and beginning to gel as a group. Our big task at the meeting was to pick a "buddy", someone who would be responsible for us and for whom we would be responsible. My buddy was a very easy choice....big fun loving, outgoing Ron! We learned that Sharon's luggage hadn't arrived. She had spent a couple days in Venice before Padua and so far her luggage hadn't caught up with her.

    

    Julie, our guide spent quite a bit of time going over what we could expect on the trip and how the tour would be run. Julie has an incredible wealth of experience with international travel and she would be a great wealth of information during the trip.

    With all the formalities behind us the last item on our adjenda for the evening was DINNER. We all adjorned to the "La Cova Ristorante". Dinner was mushroom risotto, meat with grilled vegetables and a delicioso chocolate dessert. Julie our guide picked out an excellent red wine to have with dinner. It was a wonderful evening. After dinner we had a nice stroll back to the hotel and had time to reflect on our first day in Italy. If the first day was any indication we were in for a memorable trip!

    Day 2

    This morning we had our first group breakfast in the hotel. It's very nice to be able to sit with new people and talk about what you did yesterday and what you're looking forward to today. Of course not everyone is a morning person and I expect to be thrashed with a cream pitcher more than once!

    

    After breakfast (no cream pitchers yet!) we met up with our local guide Christina and she took us to see the magnificent frescoes at the Scrovegni Chapel. The frescoes were done by Giotto between 1303 and 1035 and represent one of the most important masterpieces of Western art. The frescoes depicts events in the lives of Jesus Christ and the Virgin Mary and cover the entire chapel. Our group was only allowed to remain in the chapel for 15 minutes because of the damaging effects of increased humidity from our breathing and warm bodies. I could easily have gone back for a couple more 15 minute sessions. To stand in the chapel and gaze up at these frescoes done seven hundred years ago just takes your breath away. Unfortunately, photography was forbidden.

    "Travel has a way of stretching the mind. The stretch comes not from travel's immediate rewards, the inevitable myriad new sights, smells and sounds, but with experiencing firsthand how others do differently what we believed to be the right and only way." - Ralph Crawshaw

    Next we were given a special treat. Julie our guide and Christina had managed to get us permission to see the anatomy theatre (Teatro Anatomico) at the University of Padua. The university was founded in 1222 and is the second oldest university in Italy. It was started by a group of students and professors from the University of Bologna looking for more academic freedom.

    

    The Teatro Anatomico was created in 1594 and is the oldest, permanent anatomy theatre still in existence today. The reason for it's construction is easy - accademia was booming in Padua in the late 16th century and there were more medical students than could comfortably fit around a dissecting table.

    One of the interesting 'facts' regarding this facility is that human dissection was illegal when this theatre was first used and that to remedy this the dissecting table was able to be flipped over - displaying an animal dissection on the reverse side and hiding the human dissection in case of intruder. True or false......who knows?

    After the University of Padua Christina showed us the way to the open air market at the Piazza delle Erbe. This is what is so great about having local guides. They know the area and they know all the local venues. It was wonderful to have Christina for the day. She made all the difference in getting to know Padua.

    On the way back to the hotel Christina took us to see the Basilica San Antonio (Basilica of St. Anthony). The basilica is actually three different reconstructions that took place between 1238 and 1310. This is where St. Anthony is buried and several of his relics (tongue, jaw and left forearm) are enshrined for viewing. I found it interesting that the architecture of the basilica is mainly Gothic but the chapel where the relics are exhibited was done in the Baroque style by Parodi, one of Bernini's pupils.

    We had some free time late in the afternoon so Robin & I walked over to the botanical garden (Orto Botanico) for a quick tour. It is part of the university and dates back to 1545. We didn't have enough time (seems to be a theme!) but we really enjoyed our visit and got to see quite a variety of plants from all over the world.

    

    After our free time we all met up with Julie back at the hotel for some wine tasting. This was quite unexpected and we were able to sample quite a range of Italian wines. Following the wine tasting we were on our own for dinner. Susan, Kerry, Donna L., Joan, Nancy, Roy, Robin & I decided to all go together. We had a very tasty meal and it was nice to be able to learn more about some of our travel partners ......... more

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• Frisbee, Fussball and self-cle

  • From: bberwyn
  • Description:

     

    

     

    “Planning a trip is half the fun,” I mutter, typing yet another set of dates into the CheapTickets.com search box. I repeat the mantra to myself, trying to stay calm while booking tickets for our summer trip.

    Who ever coined that phrase never had to arrange three different itineraries starting in Denver, with connecting flights in Frankfurt, Zurich, Istanbul and Amman, then returning from Munich and London on different days. On top of that, we need to find someone to look after Comet the Golden for three weeks — and he’s pretty picky. I feel like Chevy Chase, trying to set up National Lampoon’s Ultimate Family Vacation.

     Luckily, I have the world’s mellowest girlfriend. She has plenty of experience planning and implementing complex travel arrangements, so I thought I might get off easy on this one.

    “You'll have to do it this time, babe," Leigh says, snapping her laptop shut heading to work after searching travel web sites for an hour.

    “Not good,” I say to myself, eyebrows starting to twitch stressfully.

    I’m the ideas guy. I can envision a Grand Tour: Belgian waffles, fairytale castles, strudel in Salzburg, gondola rides in Venice and Sacher Torte in Vienna. Details are not my strength. Heck, I can barely remember my own phone number and I only glance at my bank statements about once every three months.

    But with the help of a professional and courteous United Airlines telephone reservation agent, the deal miraculously is done in a mere 45 minutes, and somehow, the tickets end up costing a few hundred dollars less than the straight Denver-Frankfurt roundtrip fare — go figure!

    So in this age of the magically shrinking dollar and full-body searches at the airport, the only remaining question is whether we’ll be able to stretch our money for the duration of a three-week trans-European rail odyssey, spanning Holland, Luxembourg, Belgium, Germany, Austria, Slovakia, Slovenia and Croatia.

    Here are some highlights:

    June 25: “I’m a Believer”

    After weeks of anticipation and about 45 minutes of packing (we travel light), it’s time to go. We load our bags into Leigh’s Nissan and head down I-70, bound for DIA.

    “We need a theme song, Dad,” my son says, dialing up the Smashmouth cover of the old Monkees hit on our iPod:

    “I thought love was only true in fairy tales

    Meant for someone else but not for me …”

    It’s a catchy melody and it sticks, so on the way to the airport and for the next few weeks, we belt it out whenever there’s a tense moment or even just a lull in the action:

    “And then I saw her face / Now I’m a believer

    Not a trace of doubt in my mind

    I’m in love / I’m a believer

    I couldn’t leave her if I tried.”

    Our overnight flight takes us near the Arctic Circle. It’s late June, just a few days after the solstice, so the sun barely dips below the horizon before popping up again on the other side of the plane. Leap-frogging time zones, we zip across the Northern Hemisphere. Dylan snoozes in the window seat, while Leigh and I snuggle under the thin blanket, marveling once again at the miracle of modern jet travel.

    June 26: Germany

    Frankfurt is buoyant after a 3-2 German win over Turkey in the Euro 2008 semifinals the night before. The soccer-crazy nation is in hangover mode so we breeze through customs and rush toward Leigh’s transfer gate, where a long line makes it seem unlikely that she’ll catch her flight to Istanbul. I pull aside a flight attendant standing guard near the rope line and explain the situation. Humility seems to be the best option.

    “My most beautiful and revered girlfriend simply has to be on that plane,” I say, bowing in what I hope is a respectful pose. I’ve never had much luck finagling upgrades, but in this case, my sincerity seems to work. Leigh slips under the sash and is whisked down the corridor, headed for a swing through Turkey and Jordan. The plan is to reconnect in Frankfurt 10 days later for the next leg of our excellent European adventure.

    Dylan and I board a train for Munich. There, we’ll try to sleep off our jetlag and explore the city where I was born. I also spent a few rewarding years as a university student there in the late 1970s. Dylan is too young for beer, but I’m looking forward to introducing him to some other Bavarian highlights.

    A few rounds of UNO on the train give Dylan a chance to brush up on some basic German. Teaching him to say the colors and numbers of the cards will help him develop an ear for the language — Rot, Blau, Gelb … Eins, Zwei, Drei … It’s our favorite travel game, easy to carry and kids everywhere know how to play. We’ve made friends with youngsters in Jamaica, Mexico and France over games of UNO.

    Within a few hours, we’re ensconced at the Hotel Jedermann, just a couple of blocks from Munich central station. It’s our second visit to this hotel, and once again, we’ve reserved a budget room with a rooftop view of the city.  As soon as we stash our bags, we rush into the hall to see if our favorite amenity is still there.

    “I want to try it first, Dad,” says Dylan, racing toward the WC that houses a funky and high-tech self-cleaning toilet. Both of us are fascinated by this gizmo, and Dylan reports back:

    “It’s still working, Dad, just like last time!”

    Sure enough, after I flush, a blue cleaning unit scoots out over the seat, which turns around a few times until things are as good as new. We can’t resist an extra flush, just to watch it go, and name a few public restrooms back home that  would benefit from this technology.

    Check out an ad by the Swedish company that makes these toilets at www.youtube.com/watch?v=o5ul7prwoiM.

    Still running on Rocky Mountain Time, we settle into a downtown café. Along with an international crowd we watch Spain outclass a strong Russian team 3-0 in the second Euro 2008 semifinal. We’re rooting for Germany in the final, but after watching the Spaniards dominate Russia with speed and pinpoint passing, we’re not about lay down any bets.
    

    June 27: Savoring Sausage

    It’s not always easy being a 10-year-old world traveler. One day, you’re happily chomping on tater tots in the school cafeteria; 24 hours later, your dad may be asking you to check out a package of frozen pig tongues or to sample a bowl of curried goat stew.

    But Dylan steps up when we’re on the road, so he doesn’t blink when I tell him we’re headed to Viktualienmarkt to eat veal sausage and pretzels for breakfast.

    The open-air market near Marienplatz, the heart of the city, is one of my favorite spots in Munich. Locals mingle convivially with tourists. Spreading checkered tablecloths on long tables shaded by giant chestnut trees, they rinse fresh radishes in one of the fountains and settle down to enjoy Brotzeit, the traditional Bavarian mid-morning snack.

    Dylan cautiously eyes the plump pair of Weisswürstl and the pool of sweet, grainy mustard on his plate. But after I show him how to peel the tasty treats — or better yet — to simply suck the savory flesh out of the skin, he gets into the spirit, washing down the snack with Spezi, a mix of Coke and orange Fanta. We cruise the stalls for a while, admiring mounds of fresh chanterelle mushrooms and stacks of rolls covered with poppy seeds.

    JUNE 29: The Long Walk 

    

    After meeting my dad in Linz, Austria, we set out to spend a day exploring Passau, where the Danube, Inn and Ilz rivers converge to form a scenic backdrop for the historic bishop's seat. In a few weeks, my dad plans to meet some Florida friends at the riverboat docks and wants to see the lay of the land, so as not to waste any time when they arrive.

    Since the town is fairly small and the cruise boats all anchor in the same place, the reconnaissance doesn’t take long. But it gives my Dad a mission for the Passau visit — a good thing, because just casually strolling through medieval alleys and arches isn’t his style. He’s not an incidental traveler, so it’s better to have a sense of purpose, even on a lazy vacation day. Once we’ve finished scouting the harbor, Dad decides he wants to take us to his favorite Passau beer garden for lunch, luring us with promises of the most succulent Schweinebraten (pork roast) and the sweetest strudel ever.

    Dylan and I are both hungry and ready to eat. Nearly every café and gasthaus we pass looks good to us, as waiters carry out heaping trays of schnitzels and French fries. But Dad convinces us the walk will be worth it, so we meander along the narrow spit of land between the confluence of the rivers all the way to the tip, where the muddy Danube flows alongside the milky green of the glacier-born Inn River and the darker green Ilz.

    In lieu of lunch, Dylan decides to feed a fleet of ducks patrolling the shoreline, but since we don’t have any bread or crackers, he throws down a few mint candies. Much to my surprise, the birds actually chow down on the sweets, so I quickly stop him, thinking that I don’t want us to be responsible for poisoning the town’s friendly flock.

    “It’s right around here somewhere,’ my Dad says, stopping to scratch his head and get his bearings. We wander past baroque churches and restored frescoes until we reach the train station, then head down the main shopping street until finally we find the oasis, sheltered by leafy linden trees. Unwittingly, we’ve done a lap around the entire town, ending up just a few hundred meters from where we started, hungrier than ever.

    The sausages and slices of crunchy suckling pig are marvelous. We wash it down with the local ale, and thank Dad for taking the long walk with us, all while questioning his navigational skills.

    July 6: Eurailing

    The first part of this European trip is winding down. Dylan and I board a train bound for Frankfurt, where he’ll make his first solo airline flight to meet his Mom in Dublin. We recap the highlights: churchyard Frisbee, swimming in the Danube, a thrilling Euro soccer championship, pretzels in Munich, hiking to the Dachstein — and our favorite — the self-cleaning toilet!

    We fire up the iPod one last time. Rocking out to All Star by Smash Mouth, we charge our cell phones, camera batteries, laptop and the Nintendo DS all at the same time. We are running out of outlets, though, so the nice people in the seats next to us have agreed to let us run a few extension cords into their power plugs. Enjoying a smoo-ooth cup of coffee and slice of Apfel Strudel, we speed past bright red poppies blooming in golden wheat fields.

    We only have one complaint; our train doesn’t have a name, as far as we can tell.  Other trains rolling in and out of the Linz Hauptbahnhof have cool monikers, like the “Superfund,” headed for Zürich, the “Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart,” bound for Salzburg, and so on.

    Why our train doesn’t have a name, we’re not quite sure, but we will ask the conductor later. It’s not fair. Our train is shiny, fast and new. We’re covering some fine countryside and crossing some of central Europe’s great rivers.

    Since the route passes near ancient and scenic villages clustered around hilltop churches, we decide our train deserves its own name. When we get home, we're going to file a complaint with the central train-naming committee at Austrian Railroad headquarters.
    

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